Come to Me Quietly (Closer to You) (14 page)

She burrowed her fingers deeper into my skin, pleading.

No
.

I edged back, forcing her legs to drop free as I supported her at her waist, her knees weak as she grappled for footing when her feet fell to the floor.

I steadied her before I pressed my hands to her shoulders and forced myself back.

Her fingers fluttered up to touch her lips, so much like they had done when the first of the fireworks had blanketed the sky. “Jared?” It came low, a breathy question whispered into the dimness of the suffocating hall.

“Shit,” I mumbled, stumbling back from the girl who held so much power over me, the one who chased away every rational thought.

I didn’t deserve her.

I never could, no matter how fucking badly I needed her.

Hurt wrapped her tight, just as tight as she wrapped her arms protectively over her chest.

What had I done?

I shook my head as I backed away. “I am so sorry, Aly.”

Turning, I rushed down the hall, pushed through the throng of sweating bodies, and burst out the front door, gasping at the reprieve of the thick night air.

Pain hit me full force, as clearly as if my eyes were closed and I was living it all again, the day I destroyed everything, took my family’s joy, the day
she’d
died and taken my soul with her.

I don’t get to have this.
 

At eleven seventeen the next night, I finally put my key in the lock and turned the knob. I hadn’t come back to the apartment at all last night. Facing her after what I’d done felt impossible because I knew what I now had to do. There was no other way around it. I’d fucked it all up, ruined it, the way I always did, and now it was time to pay.

A deep ache clamored in my chest when I stepped through the door and into the low-lit apartment, the only illumination bleeding from the small light under the microwave in the kitchen. This would be the last time I’d enter it.

And honestly, it made me fucking sad because the last month had felt like
something
, like I wasn’t just existing, but there was some kind of purpose to it all.

Only I’d been deluding myself because I’d always known it’d come to this.

Most of all, this hurt because I was going to miss
her
.

Latching the door behind me, I took in the silence of the empty room. At the end of the hall, Christopher’s door sat wide open, the room vacant. The only sound in the apartment seeped from the thin walls of Aly’s bathroom, the dull hum of the shower telling me she stood under a steaming fall of water.

I rubbed at the soreness on my chest. Yeah. It was unbelievable just how much I was going to miss her.

I couldn’t help wondering what she was thinking. Was she hurting after what I’d done to her? After I’d left her standing there confused? Used? Because that’s what it had been, hadn’t it?

Me consumed with the way she made me feel, the way she filled up this fucking void in my chest like she belonged there. Me deceiving myself that for a few seconds it was okay.

But this was Aly. My Aly. And I’d used her because I wanted her so badly and because I’d never known anything that felt so good. Her presence was like this balm I didn’t understand, solace in the insufferable night.

So like the asshole I was, I’d taken.

I pressed the heels of my hands into my eyes.
Shit
. I was always fucking taking.

Guilt had eaten at me all night and day. I shouldn’t have touched her, shouldn’t have allowed her to touch me. Now it lingered on my mouth and swam in my spirit, the memory of her kiss.

Overpowering. Intoxicating. Too much.

The sickest part was that I wanted more. I had to get out of this apartment, out of this city, before all this shit caved in on us, before we imploded and there was nothing left of either of us.

The shower squealed as it was shut off, and the metal curtain rings screeched as they were pushed aside.

Thank God Christopher was gone. I wasn’t sure I could handle sitting on the couch beside him, acting as if everything was normal after everything had gone to shit, after I’d pinned his little sister to the wall, after my hands had been on her. He would fucking kill me if he knew what had gone down last night, and he had every right to. I wished he would. I deserved it.

Now I would give her an apology. Try to explain myself a little.

The hardest part was it seemed as if none of my reasons or explanations fit together because it felt like maybe Aly and I did. I heaved a breath through my pursed lips and shoved that dangerous thinking aside. Without a doubt, that wasn’t possible. I wasn’t made for anything but ruin.

I’d apologize the best I could and promise her I’d pack my shit; then she’d never have to see my sorry ass again.

Rustling echoed from her bathroom. A drawer opened and closed, and a cabinet door banged shut. I imagined her standing in front of the mirror, drying off, then slipping on those sleep shorts she always wore. How wrong was it that I was hoping so? That I wanted nothing more than to endure living through the sight of Aly dressed like that one more time?

That’d be the last thing I took with me – the memory of her kind face mixed with that body. The two combined made me dangerous for her to be around, and I was putting an end to it all.

I stopped outside the bathroom door and rested my forehead against the wood, listened to her subtle movements on the other side, and wished things were different than they were.

What
I was getting ready to do was going to hurt worse than any conscious decision I’d ever made.

I kind of wanted to laugh because all of a sudden I was thinking about all the phrases they’d used while I was in juvie, during the sessions they’d placed me in because that’s where they sent all the junkies. I’d thought all of it bullshit because they knew nothing about me. They’d talked about the withdrawals we’d experience, but how it would be so much easier while we were on the inside and separated from all the temptations on the outside. They’d warned us that once we got out, we’d have to be careful to stay straight, to keep our noses clean and the triggers at bay.

Two weeks ago I’d made the decision to keep my trigger close. Aly was the greatest temptation I’d ever had, and I’d decided to pretend that just extracting myself from her room would be enough. As if seeing her every day wasn’t going to wear me down. I should have known I would slip.

I was assaulted by visions of Aly pinned up against the wall by my hips, the feel of her body and the taste of her skin.

I’d slipped, all right.

Fallen.

Heaving the air from my lungs, I turned away, crossed the hall, and let myself into the stillness of her room. I didn’t know what the hell I was thinking, just going in without her permission, but I felt like this good-bye had to happen here. In the place where she’d affected me so deeply. The lights were off, but her blinds were drawn, and the lights from the parking lot below spilled onto the floor.

Her bed was all tussled, the sheets twisted and tied, and I pictured her there last night, tossing as she turned, sleep evading her as she longed for me.

And I knew she did. I’d felt it in her touch. She wanted me just as intensely as I wanted her.

Those sheets looked so damned inviting. Like a creep, I had the urge to bundle them up, to press them to my nose, to breathe in all that was Aly before I walked away.

Yeah, it’d be wise to avoid her bed.

I pulled the chair out from under her dressing table and turned it around to face the room. Then I carefully sat on the hard, wooden chair. I fidgeted as I took in her space, tugging at the hem of my T-shirt. Everything here was so distinctly Aly. Comfortable. Right.

One of her sketch pads lay on the floor. God, I wanted to know what she kept inside them so badly, to get a little further inside her head, to catch a glimpse of her soul. I could so easily cross her room and look inside, but I instinctively knew whatever she had there was as personal to her as the words I wrote in my books. I was still shocked by the impulse I’d had to give her a little glimpse into mine, the words I’d left on her pillow. I wanted to show her that even though I could feel no joy, I could still see beauty. That night when I lay awake with her sleeping in my arms, it was all I could see, the beauty in this girl.

I tore my attention from the pad because there was no chance I’d disrespect her privacy like that, and I let my eyes trace her bookshelves, the pictures on her walls, memorized her space.

As if I could ever forget it.

Agitation bounced my knee, each passing second excruciating. I didn’t know what I was going to say to her, but I refused to be a coward and disappear without an explanation. Even if telling her good-bye was going to kill me.

I froze when I heard the bathroom door open across the hall.

This was it.
 

The knob to her room rattled as it turned, and I swallowed hard when Aly came into view. Her hand was on the doorknob as it swung open, her body in motion until she stumbled back when she saw me sitting in the shadows. Her hair was wet, and she’d obviously run a comb through it. The length of it fell in long sheets that had deepened to black, and errant strands curled where they clung to her shoulders. She was wearing those same tiny pink shorts and a matching tank, the softness of her breasts swelling at the top, the long stretch of her legs exposed.

Instantly I was hard.

My knee bounced faster as I struggled with the intense urge to run or maybe give in to a repeat of last night.

Motherfucking trigger.
 

I raked a shaky hand through my hair while Aly remained rooted in the doorway. I couldn’t tell if she was pissed or relieved or confused. Troubled green eyes darted across my face as if they were searching for some sort of clue, and I wondered just how badly I’d injured her when I walked away from her last night.

My jaw ticked, and she just stared.

What the fuck was I supposed to say when she was standing there looking at me like that? When her chest rose and fell in a heavy pant, her eyes wide with surprise, her mouth slack with what looked like relief.

“Jared,” she finally said so quietly. She made my name sound like a statement, maybe even an answer.

She’d wondered if I would return and now I was here. And God, I didn’t want to leave.

Her eyes softened, though her expression remained intense, and her chin lifted as she stepped forward and latched the door. She reached behind her and blindly turned the lock. The little click sounded deafening in the silence of the room, like this overt warning that there’d be no running tonight.

But running was exactly what I’d be doing.

Aly laid the full force of her eyes on me, their intensity pinning me to the hard wooden chair.

Shifting in discomfort, I searched for words in a situation where I didn’t want to speak, because really all I wanted to do was stay. I leaned forward to rest my forearms on my legs, threaded my fingers together, and dropped my head while I gathered my thoughts. Then I lifted my face to meet hers and whispered slowly, “I’m so sorry, Aly.”

“You’re leaving,” she said, the words not so much a question but an accusation.

Straightening, I groaned and scrubbed both palms over my face, dropped my hands back to my lap and looked up at her.

“What else can I do? I’m so sorry, Aly. I’m so fucking sorry. I don’t know what came over me last night… .” It all began to flood, a rush of words that couldn’t be contained in my mouth. I had to get them out so I could
get
out. I couldn’t be closed in here with her, with her scent and her smile and everything that was Aly that had become the only thing in this world that I wanted.

“I mean, I did
fucking
know. I was so pissed off because that dickhead wouldn’t stop touching you.” Harshly, I ran my hand over my head and down to my neck, hoping it would quell that feeling that rose in me again, the possessiveness I felt for her like this poison that I had to somehow expel. “It made me fucking crazy, and I fucking ruined it. I’m sorry I ruined it, Aly, but I warned you that I would.” My head tipped to the side, my eyes tightened in emphasis as I tried to make her understand. “I told you I’d make you regret this. I knew this was happen – ”

My words died on my tongue when the expression on her face shifted into something I wished I couldn’t make out. I wanted her to be pissed, to be angry with me the way she should be, but instead she was looking at me a little like I’d been looking at her for the last month. Her eyes were tender, but her lips were parted, and something like need rose and sucked all the air from the room.

I drew in a ragged breath. “Aly… ”

Don’t.
 

I barely shook my head.

Slowly she began to approach, and I sank farther back into the chair the closer she came, my knee bouncing harder as she timidly inched up in front of me. Her movements were slow, hypnotizing, and I couldn’t stop myself from watching those legs. My eyes darted to her hands. She was rubbing her thumbs over her fingertips as if she were searching for some kind of friction or maybe looking for confidence. My gaze flicked up to meet her face. A color I didn’t understand had darkened her eyes. There was no looking away as she crossed the room, and my head continued to tilt back, locked on her, lost in this place where I knew I absolutely shouldn’t fucking be.

She stopped just a breath from me.

My hands dropped slack, dangled at my sides.

Everything became heavy. My fingers twitched, and I had to force the air in and out of my lungs.

I swore I could actually hear Aly’s heart beating as she hovered in hesitation an inch away. She blinked hard, squirmed before she looked at me with determination. “Jared, I don’t want you to leave.”

“Aly… I… ” What was I supposed to say? Because I didn’t want to leave, either.

I had to.
 

Erasing the last of the space between us, Aly allowed the front of her legs to touch my knees, and she groaned as if the contact seared her. She wavered, before she reached out to run the back of her hand down my face, testing me. Tempting me.