Ruined (21 page)

When I'm with Kellan, I feel whole. Complete. Less ruined. More of me. But he doesn't want me. He wants more for me, or what he considers to be more. I want more of him. All of it makes my stomach hurt.

"Are you mad at me?" Reed finally asks.

"Yes."

"Thanks for your honesty," he says with a laugh.

"Anytime."

"Look, Willow, I know you care for Kellan, but is that what you really want? A felon?"

"Why do you keep focusing on that? Isn't that being a little judgmental?"

"No. A jury was judgmental when they threw him in prison, Willow."

"Even the father of those kids has forgiven him."

"And I'm happy for that. Kellan deserves that. But he doesn't deserve you."

I shake my head and sigh, leaning back and closing my eyes. When I open them again. we've been riding for five hours. Another nine to go.

"Are you hungry?" he asks. I nod my head and we pull over. Reed has made sandwiches and put them in a cooler in the back so that we can eat and ride. That's okay with me because I don't want to sit across from him at a restaurant and talk.

We eat quickly and get back on the road. Nine hours is a hell of a long time in the car with someone who has royally pissed you off, that's for sure.

When we finally pull up to the hotel, I'm exhausted from being tied in knots emotionally. So much has happened in the last twenty four hours that I don't even know what to think anymore.

We get out of the car, and Reed grabs both of our suitcases. "I can get mine," I say reaching for my black suitcase. He pulls it back out of reach.

"You might be mad at me right now, but I'm still a gentleman," he says with a wink. We walk into the lobby, and Reed goes up to the desk to check us in. The parking lot was packed, and apparently a lot of the convention goers are staying here.

We finally make our way up to the desk, but I hang back to get a look at the people arriving. I notice license plates from as far as Oklahoma out in the parking lot.

"I'm so sorry, sir. This was definitely our mistake. I can offer you a voucher for your next stay with us..."

"Whats going on, Reed?" I ask, finally paying attention again.

He shakes his head and laughs as if the irony is too much for him. "They overbooked. We only have one room. With a Queen sized bed."

Okay, this is all a little too convenient. I feel like I'm in a predictable movie. Oops, we ran out of gas. Oops, we only have one bed.

"Reed, fix it," I say sharply as our eyes meet.

"He can't fix it," the lady says from behind the counter. "We are overbooked. This is the only room we reserved for you. I'm so sorry. Our new girl..." the woman starts explaining, but I don't care. How in the world am I supposed to sleep in the same bed with Reed Miller for two nights without regretting it?

***

Reed unlocks the room, and walks in turning on lights as he goes. It's not a bad place, and pretty roomy as hotel rooms go. There is, in fact, one bed with the requisite ugly hotel bedspread. I put down my purse and look out the window. We're on the fourth floor and overlooking the city of Providence.

"Willow, I'm sorry again," he says.

"No biggie. As the front desk lady said, it's their fault. And we're here on business, right? We can do this. I'm sure reporters have to do all sorts of stuff like this all the time." I fake a smile and sit down on the little pinkish colored chair in the corner. Who decorated this place?

"Are you hungry?" he asks. It's almost midnight now, and we only had the one sandwich along the way.

"Starving."

"Should we order a pizza?"

"Sounds good. What time is our first seminar tomorrow?"

"Eight."

"Ouch."

"Yep. This one is on the ins and outs of social media as it relates to news reporting." He's reading from the packet that lists all of our seminars.

"Fun," I say flipping through the Bible I find in the end table drawer.

"Pepperoni okay?" he asks as he dials the number for room service.

"Yep."

We unpack our stuff and get into comfortable clothes. Reed changes into athletic shorts and a blue t-shirt, and I can't help but notice how handsome he really is. He's so put together. So packaged up and ready to go. I slip on my favorite black yoga pants and a gray cami. I can see him looking at me, but I try to ignore it.

"If Kellan hadn't shown up, would I have had a chance?" he asks me suddenly. I'm facing the window looking out at the lights of the city. It's a good question. He sure had a chance when he kissed me, but it can't happen. He doesn't know who I really am, and he would never want me after finding out about my past.

"I don't know, Reed. It doesn't matter. Look, the reality of it is that Kellan gets me. He understands me. We have a lot in common."

"You mean because you killed your father?" he asks. My chest tightens and I feel like I'm going to pass out. I take a deep, ragged breath as I swing around and look at him.

"What? How did you..." I can't even form words. He walks slowly toward me.

"It's okay, Willow. Calm down, sweetie. It's okay," I can hear him saying, but my legs start to give way and I feel myself falling. He scoops me up and carries me to the bed. I feel a cool compress on my head a few seconds later. "Willow, take deep breaths..."

Finally, I start to regain my composure and look at him. He doesn't look mad or upset or disgusted like I thought he'd be. He looks accepting and loving and stable. This is so confusing to me.

"How did you know?"

"I'm a reporter, Willow," he says with an ironic laugh.

"How long have you known?" I still can't look at him, so I put the cold rag over my face and hang my head.

"Since after our kiss. I had to know why you weren't willing to let me in."

"Did you tell anyone?" I ask, suddenly worried about my mother and Bruce.

"Of course not, Willow. I wouldn't do anything to ever hurt you intentionally. But I don't understand why you would hide this. You didn't do anything wrong..."

"People hated me after that, Reed. We had to leave our hometown. I had to change my name. We had to start over. Why would I want people here to know? So everyone can hate me again?"

"Willow, I'm not sure you can ever heal from this until you take control of it."

"Excuse me?"

"You helped Kellan take control by doing that interview, right?"

"I guess..."

"Well, you have to stand up for yourself. You know that you had no choice. You were faced with a life and death situation that wasn't fair and was unimaginable. No one has the right to judge what you did."

"That sounds all good in theory, but people did judge me. We had death threats."

"And that was five years ago and across the country. When are you going to trust the people who know you right now?"

"Trust is too dangerous," I say standing up and walking back to the window. "You can't take anything at face value in this world, Reed. When everything seems fine, it can all come crashing down."

He walks up behind me and puts his hands around my waist. I don't move them for some reason. "Or it can all turn out just like you've always wanted. In the end, you drive your own destiny, Willow. Which road are you going to choose?"

I stand silently for a moment. "You know, I really thought you were going to judge me. I thought you'd run like the wind."

"Exactly. What you thought would happen didn't. It turned out better, right?" I nod and then look down. "You have to give people a chance to support you, Willow."

"I'm scared, Reed..." I say turning around instinctively. He pulls me in and hugs me tightly, kissing me on top of my head. The move reminds me of Kellan, and I feel a pang in my heart. What am I doing? My emotions are so completely confused right now that I can barely stand myself.

"I know you are. And I don't want to push you. But I do want you to understand that Kellan isn't your only choice here. You don't have to choose someone damaged just because you think no one else would want you, Willow, because I want you," he says putting his hand behind my head. He kisses my forehead slowly and softly and then repeats himself. "I. Want. You."

We stand for what seems like an eternity holding each other in front of the window. Our moment is only interrupted when the pizza guy finally arrives and knocks on the door. We spend the rest of the night talking and eating pizza. When we finally get to bed, it's almost two in the morning and we have to be up early.

Now, the obvious question comes. The elephant in the room is a Queen sized bed. I put on my tank top and shorts that I brought to sleep in. They're a little more revealing than I would have brought had I known we'd be sharing a room. And a bed.

"I'm going to call housekeeping and ask for some extra blankets and pillows," he says.

"Why?"

"So I can make a pallet on the floor..."

"Reed, come on. We're adults. I think we're mature enough to keep our hands to ourselves, don't you?" I ask hoping that he'll agree. He nods and smiles.

"I'll try."

"You'd better try hard," I say throwing a pillow at him as I pull down the covers and sheet.

"You just try to keep your own hands to yourself, Willow Blake. No means no. This sexy body of mine is hard to resist, but try to maintain your composure," he says grinning as he slips off his shirt and pants until he's standing there in a pair of black boxer briefs. Um. Hello. This might actually be harder than I thought.

We climb into the bed, and I flip the beside lamp off which washes us in the complete darkness of night.

"Goodnight, Willow," Reed whispers as he turns away from me. Thankful we didn't have a "scene" of some kind, I say goodnight and slide down into the covers.

He's coming toward me. There's nowhere for me to go. The look in his eyes says death. Terror. I can't catch my breath. I hold my chest, but there's no oxygen to be had. I seem to be choking on my own fear. I beg him to stop. I beg him to let me live. But he seems intent on killing me.

I see a knife. I can't use it. I can't hurt him back. He doesn't mean what he's doing. He's sick. I love him. He held me as a baby. He helped me learn to ride my first bike. It was pink and had streamers that blew in the wind from the handlebars. He called me Princess, and he finger painted with me. He let me dance on his feet, and he made ice cream sundaes with me. Always with extra cherries. He loved my mother and me.

His hands are around my throat now. I can feel his thumbs digging into my neck, and light is slowly becoming darkness now. Maybe I should just let him do it. I can't be worth much if he's trying to kill me. Maybe this will solve his problems. He'll go to jail and he'll be forced to get sober. He'll understand what he did, and he'll get better. Maybe it won't be so bad.

Something inside of me is welling up against my wishes. There's something fighting back from the inside. Fight or flight, maybe? I learned that in science class. I see my hand sliding across the white countertop toward the big butcher knife. He doesn't see me moving. He's staring into my eyes, but I don't know this person. He has no conscience, no heart, no emotions. He's not my father. He's a demon possessed by rage, and I have to save myself.