Darker Water (30 page)

I missed him. He’d become a constant in my
life, a support beam I could lean on whenever I lost my balance. I
wasn’t mad anymore, just confused. It all happened so fast—I went
there to explain what he’d seen at my place and then suddenly my
skirt was hiked up and his pants were down. But he stopped as soon
as he really heard me. I knew he didn’t want to hurt me. He would
never hurt me. I should have stayed or at least said something
better than “I don’t care.”

“I don’t care” sounds pretty final.

Things between us had just gotten too
complicated, and it was better to reassess things before anything
else could go wrong. I figured after a day or two, we’d be ready to
talk. I waited for his call all week—he always called. Except this
time. So maybe me walking out the door was all the goodbye he
needed. And maybe I would have to live with that.

“Shit.” It’s not as if I couldn’t call him. I
kept putting it off because I was afraid. What if that really was
goodbye? Maybe it should be.

When I got home, there was a letter on the
floor just inside my door. My name was written in his messy
scribble and was missing the ‘Y.’ Thank god Hillary hadn’t found it
or she might have thrown it away. I hadn’t told her what happened,
but she wasn’t dumb and I’m not much of an actress. A weeklong
moping session is hard to miss.

I closed the door to my room and sat on my
bed before opening the letter. Carson hated paper, so it made
whatever he’d written more personal. Because I knew he would never
have done it for anyone but me.

Lane,

I can’t do this not-talking thing anymore. I
tried being patient and waiting for you to call but you didn’t call
and I don’t have any patience.

I need to talk to you. Please. In public. I
promise I won’t touch you again. I just need to make sure you’re
okay, have a few more chances to tell you what a fuck-up I am, and
say goodbye.

I’ll be at the café in our regular spot from
6:30 until it closes. If you can’t make it tonight, that’s okay
because I’ll be there tomorrow night too. And the next, just in
case you’re busy tomorrow too. Then I’ll probably take the hint and
leave you alone.

I want you to know that I’ve done a lot of
shitty stuff in my life, but I’ve never regretted anything as much
as I regret that moment. I wish there was a way I could take it
back.

If I don’t see you again,
was
scribbled out, replaced by,
I need to see you again.

Carson

I thought about it until seven-thirty, the
decision flipping back and forth until I got dizzy. Should I go? Or
was a clean break better? All of Carson’s other relationships ended
that way, after far less time. It was the way all the frogs had
done it, too.

Yeah, and look how much closure that gave me.
Shit. Okay, I’d go. But it wouldn’t be to say goodbye.

I’d spent the last five days replaying what
happened, where it went wrong, what I should have done, why there
was no reason on earth for her to forgive me.

Everything had changed, and our
relationship—if we still had one—would never be like it was. I
didn’t think I could miss something so much, care about anything
enough, to not be able to sleep or work or focus without it.
Without her. I’d fucked it up and I’d fucked it up good.
Impressive.

But I didn’t want her to think I was just
another frog and that she was wrong to trust herself. That wasn’t
fair. She went into this hoping I could help her move past the
damage other men had done. It was supposed to be a lesson in
getting what she wanted on her terms, instead of being treated like
shit on someone else’s.

I’m not sure when things changed for me. When
it became as much for me as it was for her, to watch her find out
she deserved so much more than she’d ever gotten.

Instead, I’d blown it all into itty-bitty
pieces in a fit of frustration and stupidity, of not wanting things
to change and thinking I could manhandle them back to what they
were. I knew better than to trust my instincts and let myself react
so quickly. I knew better, and I’d done it anyway. Because it was
something I couldn’t control. Not now, not ever.

So I’d tell her how sorry I was, and I’d tell
her how amazing she was, and I’d say goodbye. If she gave me the
chance.

I stood as soon as she walked in, suddenly
acting like a thirteen-year-old boy at a school dance. I forced
myself to stay still even though my whole body fought me on it.
There wasn’t a single part of her I didn’t miss. Not one.

Her hair was up the way I like it—made it
easier to get to her neck. That wasn’t going to happen anymore,
though.

She walked over slowly, cautiously, and then
pointed to the coffee cup in front of her chair. “That for me?”

“Yeah.” I’d been replacing it every fifteen
minutes so it would be hot when, and if, she ever came.

She came. She was here.

And I’d forgotten all the things I wanted to
say.

We sat down and were silent for a few
minutes. This was stupid. After I fucked something up, I was
usually pretty good about making things right, so why was this so
hard? Because it was going to take words, not cash.

Determined to say something, even if it
wasn’t what I’d planned, I leaned forward and rested my forearms on
my thighs. “I don’t expect you to forgive me.” Because I didn’t
deserve it. “I know what I did—it’s on repeat in my mind. All the
ways I screwed up. I didn’t mean to hurt you but I did, so…”

I took a breath. “I think you’re fucking
incredible, Lane. No, that’s not right. You
are
fucking
incredible, no thought necessary. The guy you choose—Kevin or
somebody else”—
please
, let it be someone else—“will be the
luckiest man alive. If he forgets that, if he hurts you, walk away.
Run away. Whatever you have to do. Don’t stay there because you
think he’s going to change because he’s not. People can’t
change.”

“Yes, they can. People change all the
time.”

I wasn’t going to argue with her or discuss
how wrong she was, because I’d lost the right to be her friend.
“Anyway, I just wanted you to know that it had nothing to do with
you and everything to do with me. I’m really sorry.” I stood up
when I ran out of ways to apologize. “Just…try not to pick any more
frogs.”

She grabbed the bottom of my shirt as I moved
to leave. “We talk about a lot of things but always avoid the
important stuff. Why?”

I shook my head, knowing the answer but not
knowing how to say it. It was too hard, too close, too late. If I
let her all the way in… I
couldn’t
let her all the way
in.

“What were you trying to prove?” she
asked.

“I didn’t want you to go back to him. I don’t
want you to get hurt again and I know he’ll do it. So I guess… I
know it’s hard to believe, but I was trying to protect you. To
remind you that you were happier without him. Didn’t work out so
well, though.”

“Yeah, I noticed that,” she said, letting go
of my shirt. “Kevin came by because he wanted to get back together.
His wife dumped him, and he needed an idiot to listen to him whine
and then screw him, so he could forget about it for a while.”

I closed my eyes. She could screw whoever she
wanted for whatever reason she wanted. The sex meant nothing to me.
But
she
meant everything to me.

I know sex is just sex. Two bodies combining
for a little while, feeling good, and then splitting apart. Except
for her and me. For us, it was better than that—our bodies matched,
we
matched.

No, we
used
to match.

“But I’m not an idiot.” She sighed. “Well,
okay sometimes I’m an idiot. But I’m not
his
idiot anymore.
So I told him to go. Nothing happened. I’m proof people can change,
Carson. I’m never going back to the person I was. So sit down and
talk to me.”

I slowly went back to my seat and waited for
her to tell me what would happen next.

“You scared me.”

“I know. If I could do it over again—”

“Don’t,” she said, shaking her head. “Don’t
ever do it again.”

I looked at her, unsure of what that
meant.

“After Kevin broke up with me, I swore I’d
never give anyone a second chance, but I’m going to give you one.
Is that a bad decision?”

“No.” But a second later, I wasn’t sure ‘no’
was the right answer. I would never screw things up this way again,
but I’d screw them up some other way. Maybe a worse one. It was in
my DNA to fuck up everything good. But I wanted it to be true and I
would try. Really fucking hard.

“I shouldn’t have assumed you were with him
again.”

“No, you shouldn’t have, but I shouldn’t have
let you believe it. I could’ve told you right then, but I thought I
needed space. I still do. Not much—I want to keep hanging out if
you do, but not as often, especially not overnight. Because…it’s
messing with my head.”

I knew the feeling. “I can do less often.” I
nodded even though I didn’t want to. “I’m really sorry, Lane.”

“You’re a total liar,” she said with a small
grin. “You apologize all the time.”

“Just to you. And only when I mean it.”

“You make me happy for a bunch of reasons,
not just the sex. You know that, right?”

Oh shit. I couldn’t remember if I knew that
or not. All I could focus on was how much I didn’t
want
to
know that. I should get out of this while I still could, use her
need for space as the beginning of a larger one. So she’d avoid the
damage I could do to her.

“That’s the biggest problem,” she said.

No, it wasn’t.
I
was the biggest
problem. She was wrong to give me a second chance. But if I told
her, I’d have to walk away now and I couldn’t do that. Because I
was weak and stupid and selfish, just like my father. The only
difference between him and me was that I hadn’t hit Lane, I hadn’t
made her feel worthless. But I would—it was inevitable. Because I
was weak and stupid and selfish.

I started asking Carson to do more and more
with me—mostly carrying raw wood and moving the lily pad tables to
the storage area as I finished them so they wouldn’t get bumped. I
loved the company, though I wasn’t as crazy about the mess he left
behind when he finished one of his Getting Handy projects. I didn’t
think it was possible for someone to get
worse
the more he
practiced.

But I didn’t say anything because I figured
the more time we spent together, the faster things would go back to
the way they’d been. Unfortunately, all it accomplished was that we
had more time to feel awkward and unnatural around each other. And
I was sick of it.

Since a lot of our time together had been in
his bed, I planned an ambush as close to it as I could get him. My
drawer and his uselessness with tools were the perfect excuse.

“Can you bring me a screwdriver?” I called
from inside his bedroom. “My drawer is stuck.”

He came in, holding the screwdriver out,
glancing at me and the bed uncomfortably. As soon as the tool was
in my hand, he flipped around and started walking away.

I grabbed his arm and tugged so he would face
me. “Knock it off.”

“Knock what off?”

“I don’t like this, what we’re doing now. I
want to go back to the way we were. You haven’t made a lewd comment
or touched me in two weeks.” And that meant he wasn’t being
himself. “I want you to go back to the way you were.”

“But you said—”

“I don’t care what I said.” I stepped in
close. “Kiss me.”

He hesitated, his body at war with his mind.
“Are you sure? I thought we weren’t—”

“Kiss me.”

With achingly slow movements, he put his hand
on my hip, his other under my chin. His lips brushed mine so
gently, so hesitantly, so not-Carson-ish. Something I never thought
I’d get tired of became irritating. I wanted him to take control
and be who he was, who I needed him to be.

“More,” I whispered. “I want more.”

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“More of you won’t hurt me, but you treating
me as if I’m about to break any second is. Something has to change,
and by ‘something’ I mean you.”

I didn’t wait for him to make a decision. I’d
already made it for him. This was what I wanted, so I took it. If
he had a problem with it, he’d let me know. I undid his pants and
wrapped my hand around his cock, tightening my grip until his groan
turned into a curse, and I felt him start to get hard.

“Lane.” It was a warning. One I wouldn’t
listen to. This was how it all went to shit, and this was how we
were going to get it back.

“Do you want me, Carson?”

He flicked his head as if the answer was so
blindingly obvious, the question was insulting.

“Do you?”

“Yes.” The word came from deep in his chest,
an almost desperate sound. “I always want you. I want to touch you,
kiss every inch of you, and hear you scream my name. I’m amazed I
get anything done because being with you is all I can think about.”
He put his hand over mine, stopping my gentle strokes that had
already made him completely hard. “But I don’t deserve it until you
can trust me again.”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

His eyes were intensifying, his breath
speeding up, his grip tightening. This was working almost too well.
“Yeah, but—”

“Have you ever lied to me? Hidden anything
from me?” Like I might be but didn’t want to think about,
especially not right now.

“No.”

“Then you should shut up, and do what I want
you to do.” I needed this and for everything between us to be right
again. I could deal with the other parts later.

That night was one of the best we’d ever had,
both of us focused on one thing—letting the past and the future go.
Even though our conversations were severely limited, consisting
mostly of exclamations and swearing, I knew Carson was back.
Tomorrow, I’d start seeing his eyes light up with desire and
amusement whenever I was around. And every time I caught him
looking at me and saw his smile grow, I would feel beautiful and
special and wanted. For exactly who I was.