Igniting the Wild Sparks (54 page)

I plead, “Baby, come home.”

“I’ll be home soon.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Why haven’t you called me?”

“Because there’s nothing left to say.”

“
Yes, there is
. We
need
to talk.”

“You’ve said plenty.”

“No. I have more to say.”

“Great,” she answers gloomily.

“No. That’s not what I meant.”

She brokenly sighs. “
You’re off the hook again.”

“From what?”

“Me.” She sniffs and the phone rustles like she’s moving it away from her face. “You don’t have to put up with me anymore.”

“What?”

Her voice takes a dive. “All I’m doing is nagging you to do something you don’t want to do. Now I have my ultimate answer. You can be single and not have to worry about marriage looming over you.”

I shake my head at the windshield. “No
, that’s not what I want!
I’ll fix this
.”

“Finn, you can’t
. I’ve tried to not want what I want, and so have you. I don’t want you living your life constantly being hounded by me to get married. I can’t promise you that I will ever stop wanting it and you can’t promise me that you’ll ever start.”

I squeeze the steering wheel until
my knuckles almost snap. “Becks, don’t do this. We’ll work it out.” I close my eyes and lean my head back against the seat, and say up to the ceiling, “I’ll change. I’ll give you anything you want. Just don’t do this.”

“
But that’s it. I don’t want you to do something or be someone you’re not just to make me happy. I did that to you with the bridge and now with this job. You’ll resent me even more. I know I’m holding you back. You can go to Baltimore now.” I hear her cry away from the phone and I raise my head. I’m an asshole for telling her about why I haven’t taken the job. I’ll choose Hadley Beckett over anything.

I yell, “Forget Baltimore! I want
you
!”

“You’re screwing up your career because of me! I never wanted you to do that! I want you to take the job!”

“I’m not going alone!”

“Yes
, you will. I want you to be happy.”

“I won’t be
happy without you.” Wincing, I urgently shake my head and bellow, “I
love
you!”

“I love you, too, Finn. I always will. I’ll never stop loving you.” She quickly inhales before shouting, “That’s why this hurts so much!”

Taking some rapid, deep breaths, I watch the mail truck leave the lot, and see Pam coming back from lunch. I’m sure anyone in the lot can hear me yelling inside my car. Calmer, I gently implore, “Becks, come home.
Please
. We
need
to talk.”

“Finn, you need to take the job before it goes to someone else. You’ll be so much better off without me pestering you. We can still be…friends.” Her voice breaks on the last word
, as well as breaks
me
.

Returning to
the edge of losing my fucking mind, I punch my door with the side of my fist.
“Friends?
Becks, no! Fuck the bridge and the job! You’re
all
I want!” I indignantly roar. Pulling at my hair, I’m helpless.

I’m losing the only woman I’ve ever loved.

Now panicking, I look aimlessly around the parking lot from my seat. “We’ll talk about what you want! I’ll do anything!”

“My proposal is off the table. I can’t keep doing this with you. It hurts to keep hoping.”

I deeply inhale, and shaking my head, I obstinately say, “It’s not just hope. I’ll make it right.”

“You can’t. I’m going to go. I’ll…”

I urge, “Come to my apartment tomorrow. We’ll talk.
Please
give me that much.”

After a small amount of silence
, she whispers, “I can’t.”

“Yes, you can. Fuck. Please, don’t do this to me, Becks.” I gasp from the sharp pain surging through me at the thought of losing her because of my fucking stupidity. “Please don’t break up with me on the phone,” I plead. “At least do it in person.”
So I can desperately beg you on my knees not to.

“Finn...”
She’s trying not to cry more, but her strained voice belies her anguish. She tearfully says, “I’ll always love you beyond, Sparks.” She hangs up and I roughly bounce my head against the headrest. I’m her Sparks. She’s my Becks.
She can’t fucking do this
.

She was on her knees, giving
me an ultimatum of the worst kind:
Marry me or lose me.

And I kicked her in the stomach and left her to bleed.

Throughout the rest of the workday, I run through the gamut of moods, except for happiness. That one’s lost on me. By the time I’m on camera, I’m lethargic from the sips of the Jim I kept hidden in my desk in a water bottle. It’s a good thing I’m not conducting an interview or doing
The Wild Side
because I’m totally not here.

I want to call Becks’ dad to see if she’s okay, but if I did, he would never in a million years confirm if she’s there. He’s going to protect his little girl from me. Too bad he didn’t do a good job of that in the emergency room.

As I hand Cara my mic she asks, “You still heading to Montrose?”

I curtly say,
“No.” Thanks for reminding me.

“So, it’s okay if I come with you?”

I debate whether I still should take her to my place. I’m in no mood for company, but I can’t be a complete asshole to everyone around me. Just Becks. Fuck me.

I shrug and head to my office with her following me
. “Whatever.”

Unlocking my desk drawer, I check my phone. No messages from Becks. Why
should
she leave me one?

I testily glance up at Cara. She grins and says,
“I’ll make you smile.”

“Not likely.”

“I’ll find a way.”

As we leave the office, I resentfully roll my eyes behind her. Why in the hell did I agree to her hanging around me? All I want to do is drink the bottle of Jack I bought the other day; drinking tonight until I forget who I am and what I’ve done.

We take the elevator down to the lobby and walk out to my car. Cara babbles on about some vacation she’s going to be taking. I don’t care what the hell she’s going to be doing. The only woman whose whereabouts I care about is shredding my heart from 153 miles away, if I’m right about her being at her dad’s.

The ride to my apartment is quiet. Cara texts her roommate to give her my address
, so she can pick her up later. I could be a nice guy and offer to take her back to the station to meet her roommate, but I honestly am not feeling that charitable tonight.

I unlock my door and throw my k
eys haphazardly on the counter. She asks, “Are you okay? You seem worse than this morning.”

Not giving
an answer to her question, I deflect as I take off my gray suit jacket. “Do you want a drink?”

“I’ll take a beer if you have one.”

“Yep.” I toss my jacket onto a chair and go to the fridge as she leans against the bar.

Popping
the top off, I hand her the bottle. “So, you really do like all kinds of sports,” she observes, looking around my living room.

I take a swig of m
y beer and say, “Yeah. There’s some I don’t care for, but most of them I enjoy.”

“What’s your favorite?”

I walk to the couch as I loosen my tie and she follows me. “I like the outdoors. Baseball, soccer, skydiving, snowboarding, and riding my dirt bike are the big ones.”

“Skydiving? You actually like doing that?”

I mumble, “I love it.” Though, it’s a touchy subject for me at the moment.

“Does it scare you?”

“No. Ricky does it, too. We do most shit together.” I cross my ankle over my knee and take a drink, while she looks at the pictures hanging on the walls or sitting on the entertainment center.

“I’ve gathered that
from all these pictures in here of the two of you.” She doesn’t comment on the pictures of me with someone else. “Hmm. Snowboarding? Are you any good?”

I shrug. “Not that great, I guess, since I’ve broken a wrist, an ankle and two ribs from doing it. Ricky’s better at it than me.”

“So, it’s a lot of fun?”

“Well, yeah. I actually have pictures from our last trip. They’re on my laptop. I’ll get it and show you.”

“Okay.”

I set my
beer down and go to my bedroom, since I used my computer in there last, sliding my tie off as I go. I need a distraction, anything to keep me from giving in and talking more about what’s bothering me. I don’t need Cara to see me lose it. The last time I came close to crying in front of someone was when I was with Ricky, and that was in the dark in the back of his cruiser, but I stopped before I was full-on blubbering like a damn baby. Nobody will ever see me doing that shit.

I pick up my computer from the chair in the corner and when
I turn around, Cara is in the doorway. Feeling annoyed that she’s in my room, I irritably gripe, “I was going to bring it out to you.”

“Oh. We can sit in here
, if that’s okay.” She looks around as she walks over to my bed. “I can see how much you love baseball and soccer now.”

“Um, yeah.”

She takes a seat on my bed and I stand next to it, feeling uncomfortable and more irritated with her sitting there. It feels like she’s infringing on the sanctity of Becks’ and my love by being in here, as crazy, or cheesy—like Becks called me—as that sounds.

She pats my blue comforter. “Sit.”

My gaze falls behind her where Becks and I have made love countless times—her caramel hair falling over me while her hands were in mine, my hands on her hips as her tight warmth surrounded me; confessing our love to each other before our mouths fought for domination and our bodies sent us to another place together. Her remark at the beach suddenly slams into me.
“At least you got laid one last time!”
No. It
couldn’t
have been our last time.

“Finn, you’re not okay. What happened?”

I haul my eyes away from the bed and the memories to look at the woman, who is not my Becks, sitting on
our
bed. I grit my teeth until my jaw crackles. “I can’t, Cara.”

“Can’t what? You can tell me. Please sit.”

“I can’t talk about it.” My eyes fall to her green, low-cut blouse and then back up to her smile.

“You need to talk to someone. Come on.” She nods her head to the mattress. “Sit down.”

Indecisive, yet deciding I don’t want to argue anymore, I put my laptop down at the end of the bed and robotically sit, but keeping a distance from her. I lean forward with my elbows on my thighs, clasping my hands, glancing down at the floor as I unwillingly splutter, “She’s breaking up with me.”

“She is? Where is she
? You talked to her?”

I say to the carpet, “Yeah.
I think she’s at her dad’s in Annapolis.”

“I’m sorry she’s doing this to you.”

“It’s all my fault.”

“No, it’s not.”
Cara shifts closer to me. “Do you think it’s because of Greg Rodwell?”

“No. She swore to me she doesn’t love him. They’re only friends. I have to believe her.”

“I don’t know. They seem like they’re more than friends.”

“She promised me they’re not having an affair.”

“You don’t think he’s the reason she’s breaking up with you?”

“No.
It’s nothing to do with him.
I
hurt her.”

“She’s hurting you, too. She doesn’t seem to care.” I briefly glance up at her and she waves her hand at me. “Look at you. You’re a
fucking mess.”