Life After Taylah (13 page)

“So,” Kelly says, turning back to me. “Why do I need to kill you?”

“I just completely fan-girled over Keanu. I mean, really bad—it was mortifying.”

Liam chuckles and Kelly shakes his head.

“He has that affect on women.”

A beer slams down beside me and I turn to see Nate, standing next to us, staring at his hands.

“Hey Nate,” I dare to say.

He doesn’t say hello. He just murmurs, “You got a minute, Avery?”

“Um,” I hesitate, staring at Kelly and Liam who are giving me
what’s going on
looks. “Sure.”

He turns and walks out. I quickly follow him. He leads me out the back door and towards the small park on the grassland behind Kelly’s cabin. I stop at the swings and decide sitting on one is best, I don’t trust my legs. Nate doesn’t sit; he just stands and stares into the darkness, not saying anything for the longest time.

“Nate, I . . .”

God, I don’t even know what to say. I don’t know how to feel or what to think. What am I supposed to say to him? I can’t ask him why he kissed me; I can’t ask him what it meant. It should mean nothing—it shouldn’t affect me because he
isn’t
mine. He’s never
been
mine and he’ll never
be
mine. I just don’t want to lose a friendship that has come to mean something to me.

“You into my brother,” he says, suddenly. His voice is low and gruff.

“What?” I say, shocked and a little confused.

“I said, are you into my brother?”

“Keanu?” I squeak.

“Yeah, fuckin’ Keanu,” he barks.

I shake my head, fingers wrapped around the chains of the swing. “I don’t understand . . .”

“I saw you out there with him, so I’m asking—are you into him?”

“I like Keanu. He’s a great surfer and he’s somewhat of an idol to me . . .”

“That’s not what I’m askin’,” he hisses. “I’m askin’ if you want him.”

Anger boils in my chest. “Jesus, Nate, what business is it of yours, anyway?” I snap. “You’ve made it very clear that this friendship means a whole lot of nothing to you. I don’t understand what you want from me.”

He lets go of the pole he was holding onto and storms over, taking hold of the chains on my swing and leaning down so we’re nose to nose. I forget to breathe again. This happens a lot around Nate. My entire body becomes aware of him, the skin at the back of my neck prickles and I swallow, trying desperately to keep my emotions at bay.

“What I want,” he grinds out, “I can’t fuckin’ have.”

“Then why are you here? Why are you making me feeling like I’ve done something wrong?”

He drops his eyes down, taking a deep, strangled breath. When he looks back up at me, some of the anger has slipped from his expression.

“The only thing you’ve done wrong, Dancer,” he murmurs, staring into my eyes and then dragging his gaze to my lips, “is be so fuckin’ perfect that you’re impossible to resist.”

“That’s not what I ever meant to do,” I squeak. “I’m not like that. I was never trying to do that, Nate. I just wanted a friend . . .”

“Shit, I know that. You think I don’t know that? You’re as good as they come, as pure as you are beautiful.”

I force my eyes to stop misting, force my heart to stop pounding, but I can’t stop my voice from shaking when I whisper, “Please stop.”

He steps closer, brining his face only millimeters from mine. “Don’t you think I want to stop?” He breathes. “Don’t you think I want to get your face from my mind? Don’t you think I want to forget about you? I can’t. I’m trying, and I can’t. This isn’t something I’ve ever felt before in my life and I don’t know how to deal with it.”

“Nate,” I gasp as he lets his lips graze mine.

“Turn me away, Avery. If you don’t . . . I’m not sure I can find the strength.”

I’m shaking all over, and my heart is tearing in two different directions. One wants him; it wants him so fiercely it hurts. The other is logical, it knows this is wrong, and not just for Lena but for Jacob. It’s not fair, and it’s not right. That side of my heart is trying to win; it’s fighting hard against the stupid part to win the battle. Apparently that battle takes too long, because Nate makes the choice for me.

He crushes his lips against mine.

I lose my breath in loud whoosh, and then all I can feel is him: the warmth of his lips, his hands on either side of my face, his thumbs stroking the soft patches of skin there. I part my lips and once again our kiss turns heated, tongues dancing, lips crushing, breath mingling. I don’t let go of the swing, too afraid that if I do there’ll be no turning back for me.

“Dancer,” he murmurs, trailing his lips over my jaw.

I shut my eyes and my head drops back. He takes the chance to run his lips down my throat.

Every thing in my world stops. It just stops. I can’t hear, I can’t see—the only sense I have left is to feel. And I feel—I feel all of him. I take in every emotion he’s pouring into me, and I take it willingly. Against all
odds.
Against everything that’s
right.
Against everything that
should be
.

He’s the only thing I
am
in this moment.

“Avery?”

The sound of a voice calling my name has reality crashing down on me so hard and so suddenly that I gasp and wrench my lips from Nate’s. I scramble backwards off the swing, landing with a crash on the ground. I can hear Kelly calling my name in the distance and I realize what it is I just did. I’m that woman. The woman who takes a man away from the pain in his relationship; the woman that becomes the monster; the woman that becomes his happy place; the woman that
always
ends up alone.

I don’t want to be that woman.

I shove to my feet, my entire body shaking. I lift my eyes to Nate’s and I see his expression is equally as broken as mine. I know what I have to do—I have to do it for him, for me, for Lena, for Jacob and, most of all—for Macy.

“Don’t do that again,” I say, my voice strangled. Those are the hardest four words I’ve had to say in my life. “You can’t ask me to feel something I’m not allowed to feel, Nate. And,” my voice breaks and I get that horrible, crying voice that doesn’t make this easier, “and you can’t expect me to be strong enough to say no. I
can’t
say no to you, Nate. If you push, I can’t keep away. I don’t have the strength. You affect me in a way no one has
ever
affected me. So, I’m asking you—just don’t do it. Don’t make me become someone I’m not—because I will, Nate.
For you
, I will.”

I turn and hurry off before he can say another word.

Because if he speaks to me, if he begs, if he looks at me with those lost, broken eyes . . . then I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep away from him.

“N
ate,” she moans, her head dropping back, her pink lips parting. “More.”

I drive my body into hers, filling her, completing her, claiming her. Her hands are on my back, nails biting into my skin. She feels so good, so fucking sweet, so fucking perfect.

“Baby,” I murmur, taking her hips in my hands and lifting her hips, driving deeper.

“Yes,” she cries, nipples hard, body arched and ready to release. “Don’t stop.”

I bolt upright in bed, sweating, hard as a fucking rock and disorientated. I run a hand down my face and close my eyes, clenching my jaw tight. I can’t do this—I can’t keep dreaming of her every night. She’s always there, in my head, in my thoughts, consuming me. I’m a fuckin’ bad man. It’s not fair for me to even contemplate being with another woman—it’s the most disrespectful thing I could ever do to my wife, regardless of our problems.

I need to get out of here. I need to get away.

Maybe I’ll go interstate for a race, take a few months away, give myself a chance to stop this shit. Give me a break from Lena—maybe then I’ll miss her. I need to miss her—I need to realize what I’ve got. I need to try.  I need to be a good man.

I swing my legs over the side of the bed and slide out, not wanting to disturb Lena. I walk out into the kitchen and flick on the light, then I take a glass and fill it with water, swallowing it down quickly.

Get out. Fix this. Forget her.

Three things—none of them simple.

~*~*~*~

“W
hat?” Lena cries, crossing her arms and glaring at me. “You’re not going to race interstate, Nate. No way.”

“I need to and you know it. Things are bad, Lena. I need time. I need to get my shit together.”

“You’re just trying to find an easy way of ending this,” she yells, throwing her hands up. “Don’t be such an asshole. If you’re going to end it, then just fucking end it.”

“Fuck,” I growl. “I’m tryin’ here. Do you think it wouldn’t just be easier for me to end this? Jesus, of course it would, but that’s not how it should be. I’m trying to do the right thing here—trying to fix something that I’m more than sure is broken.”

“You’re only doing it for Macy, because you know if you leave me I’ll take her and you don’t want to lose her. You aren’t doing it for me.”

She’s both right and wrong about that. The biggest reason I try is in fact for Macy, because she deserves both her parents in her life and I know that Lena will make it extremely difficult for me to see her if I walk away. The idea of not seeing my daughter breaks me—it tears me fucking apart. But, aside from that, I don’t want to hate Lena. I want to see if there’s something left—we both deserve that effort.

“You’re wrong,” I mutter. “I’m doing it for both of you.”

She shakes her head. “If you go, then go, but don’t expect me to wait around.”

“Shit, Lena, do you want this to end? Is that what you want? If it is, then let’s cut all ties and call it off now, so we don’t have to keep going through this fucking shit. I can’t get myself together if you’re not in it too. So if you want to end it, then fuckin’ end it.”

Her eyes widen and she shakes her head quickly. “I don’t want to end it. I just . . . it’s just . . .”

“I get it,” I say, fully understanding her hesitation. “So that’s why you need to let me go. It’ll only be a few months. It’ll be good for us.”

She stares at me, but slowly nods.

“Okay,” she says, her voice tired and worn. Just like mine. “Okay, Nate.”

“N
o, Avery,” Jacob snaps, slamming his fist on the counter. “You’re not going, I’ve said no and that’s the end of it.”

I cross my arms, my heart aching for more than one reason. The first is because in the last month I’ve created a level of dislike for Jacob I’ve never had before. Suddenly everything he does isn’t right—
he’s
not right. He’s not Nate. I hate myself for that. The second is because I miss Nate. I miss him so much it hurts. It’s been a month, and I know he went interstate to race a couple of races. It’s not the same without him here.

I’m lost.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” I say to Jacob, my voice icy, my heart turning colder and colder towards him as the weeks go on.

“I can tell you what to do because without me and your father, you’ll never be able to afford it.”

I’ve asked him if I can go with Kelly to his next competition in Queensland, Australia. He’s not willing to let me go, especially not with Kelly. I told him I was going anyway, but he’s refusing me, and without his money or my fathers, there’s no way I can afford it. It hurts. We’re in a relationship and yet there’s no say-so for me. He makes all the choices and if he says no, then that’s it.

“Why is it such a big problem?”

He gives me an expression that allows no argument. “Because I don’t like Kelly and I don’t trust him. How would you feel if I went away with a woman?”

I sigh, because he’s probably right. Maybe I’m just trying to find a way to escape.

“Fine, Jacob, if you’re not happy with it then I won’t go.”

He nods, straightening his shoulders. “I’m not happy with it, so you’ll stay here. Now, I’m going to work. I’ll come by later and take you out for dinner.”

I nod and watch as he turns and leaves me. Why does my heart feel like it’s only being ripped apart more and more as each hour goes on?

~*~*~*~

H
e didn’t come and take me out to dinner. No, I got a text message saying he was working late and would come over later.

Come over so he can have sex with me and leave—his nightly sedation.

So, I decided to do the only thing that made sense. I found a bottle of vodka, threw myself on the outdoor lounge and got drunk. I don’t drink a lot; I don’t have the chance to. Dancing takes up so much of my time, and my diet is quite strict. I’ve got no way near the diet of the other dancers, the ones who dance professionally, but I certainly can’t allow myself to gain weight if I want to teach properly.

So alcohol is rare—therefore it went straight to my head.

Now I’m staring at my phone, frantically telling myself that it’s not okay to text Nate. It’s not okay to want to know how he feels. It’s not okay to even think about him. He’s away—he went away because of me. He doesn’t need me making it worse, but I just need to know. I have to know, I just need him to understand that one day I hope we can be friends again.

But that’s not what I end up typing. I try six different times with six different messages, and I delete and scream more than I actually manage to get anything out. What I finally send I instantly regret it. I sound like a silly little teenager who can’t take a hint. I shouldn’t have sent anything, nothing at all, but my fuzzy, scrambled brain doesn’t want a bar of logic.

Avery: I know . . . I know I shouldn’t care, but . . . I . . . I can’t stop thinking about what happened and . . . well . . . shit . . . I just want you to know—I miss you, Nate. I just miss you.

I throw my phone across the back deck and put my head in my hands. What if his wife was there? What if she reads that? When did I stoop so low? When did I become the woman I knew I would despise? When did I stop fighting for right and edging towards wrong? I’m failing my friends, my family and myself, but I can’t seem to stop myself wanting what I can’t have.