The Fading Trilogy: Fading, Freeing, Falling: Includes 2 BONUS short stories: Hoping and Finding Forever (36 page)

When I take a step back, the heel of my boot snags on a divot in the asphalt and I trip, falling on my bottom. I begin to panic when I hit the ground. All I see is that dumpster, and I can't get up fast enough.

I can't even hear Jase as I see his lips move as he squats in front of me. Quickly, I pull myself up and Jase follows, grabbing my shoulders, he puts me back in the car. I lower my head to my knees and begin to sob uncontrollably.

When Jase gets in the car, I start screaming, "Get me out of here! Go! Get me out of here!"

He doesn't say a word as he starts the car. I sit up, with sobs wracking me. I'm still screaming when I see the back door open, and Ryan comes out. His eyes meet mine, and I can see the shock in his face as I'm crying and screaming at Jase to drive.

He rips out of the parking lot as I hear Ryan yelling my name.

Covering my face with my hands, I continue to wail.

Jase pulls the car into a gas station and throws the car in park. Getting out, he comes around to my side, opens my door, and kneels down beside me.

"Candace, I need you to breathe. Calm down, okay?"

But I can't. That night keeps replaying in my head. That dumpster. Jack ripping off my clothes. Digging my nails in the asphalt, trying to get away. It all flashes through me.

"Candace, look at me. What's wrong?"

Letting my head fall in my hands, I say, "That's the alley. That's the alley Jack..." I still can't bring myself to say that word, but no words are needed when Jase pulls me into him and holds me.

"Oh God," he mutters over and over as I cry.

My sobs begin to weaken, and fatigue overcomes me. I release my hold on Jase and fall back into the seat, thoroughly drained and exhausted.

"Let me take you back to my place, okay?"

My eyes sting from the mixture of tears and makeup, so I keep them closed and nod my head.

Walking into Jase's apartment, I head straight to his bedroom and lay my head on his pillow. My head is pounding, and my body is weak. Jase lies down next to me and holds me.

"What can I do?" he asks hopelessly.

"Just make it go away," I mumbled. If only he could, I just might have a fighting chance to be myself again. Instead I lie here, as I have so many times before: pathetic, weak, and broken.

Letting out a sigh of defeat, he tells me, "I wish I could. I would. I would do anything to take this away from you."

I know that he would too, but hearing the pain in his voice brings on another slew of tears.

We both jump when there is a loud pounding on his door. I sit up when Jase gets out of bed.

"Stay here," he says as he shuts the bedroom door behind him.

I soon hear Ryan's loud voice demanding to know where I am and Jase yelling at him to give me space, when the door suddenly opens.

Still crying, I look up at Ryan, and he gently closes the door behind him and rushes over to the side of the bed where I am sitting. Kneeling between my legs, he holds firmly onto my knees. I hate seeing the pain and confusion in his eyes. I continue crying and repeating, "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Ryan. I'm..."

Grabbing me behind my back, he slides me off the edge of the bed and onto the floor with him. "What happened, babe?"

Hiding my face in my hands as I cry, I keep apologizing. He pulls me tight against him, and I wonder what I could possibly say to excuse this breakdown. He's going to want to know, and I don't know what to do.

He takes my wrists and pulls my hands away from my face, "I need you to talk to me."

Looking down at my lap, I say the first thing that comes to my mind, "I just...I got myself too worked up and had a panic attack. I know you wanted me there tonight, but I couldn't."

"Why couldn't you just tell me?"

"I was embarrassed. This has happened a few times in the past, but only Jase knows that I have these."

He wraps me up in his arms, and I feel horrible. I didn't lie, but I still feel guilty.

When I'm calmed down, he backs away and looks me in the eyes when he says, "You could've come to me. Jase isn't the only one you have, you know?"

The hurt in his eyes is too much, and I have to look away, but he lowers his head to catch my dropping eyes. "I need you to trust me enough to talk to me." Nodding my head he continues, "I understand you and Jase, but I know how I feel about you." He takes a moment before softly saying, "I want you to need me more than him."

Feeling the need to defend myself, I say, "He's all I've ever had."

Taking my hand in his, he places it against his chest when he tells me, "You have me now too."

I feel myself falling for him even more when I hear the sincerity in his words. Fisting his shirt in my hand, I wrap my free arm around his neck and hug him.

"Let's go home," he says into my ear, and I know that when he says home, he means his place, and I like that.

School started back up this past week and so far, it seems that apart from my dance studios, classes should be fairly easy. Leaving my Technique Instruction lecture, I text Ryan to let him know I'm coming over a little earlier than planned since all we did was go over the syllabus.

The other day I was looking at the matted photos that I had seen back in November and when I asked to see more, he offered to show them to me this afternoon. I have been fixated on the photo I originally saw of the curve of a woman's back. I've been trying to not let my curiosity get the best of me, but I can't help but wonder who the women are in his photos.

When I arrive, the door is unlocked, so I let myself in. I don't see Ryan when I enter, so I call out, "Ryan?"

"Back in my office," he yells.

Walking down the hall to his home office, the door is cracked. I lightly knock before I enter.

"Hey, babe," he says as he leans back in his leather chair from behind his desk. "Come here."

I walk around his large desk as he scoots his chair back. He stretches his arms out and envelops me as I sit on his lap.

"How were your classes today?" he asks as he brushes my hair off my shoulder.

"Uneventful, but it's only the first week. Nothing but going over the syllabus for the most part."

"I'm glad you're here. I've missed you," he says as he brings my head down so that he can kiss me.

I've been working more while Roxy rearranges the calendar to accommodate everyone's new class schedules. When I'm not working, I have been in the studio adding choreography and rehearsing my solo. Auditions for our final production are next month, so there hasn't been much time for Ryan and I to spend together.

"So, don't be mad, but..." I start when Ryan interrupts, "Oh, God."

"Just listen," I say. "When I was on campus today I ran into Stacy Keets who works at the Henry Art Gallery. She was telling me that one of her pieces got picked up for a gallery show next month."

"So, you want to go?"

"Yes, but I was thinking that you could submit one of your photos."

"Babe," he says as he cocks his head to the side. "Those are just a hobby that I hardly even take seriously. I'm far from having them displayed in a gallery of all places."

Rolling my eyes at him, I continue, "Well, I happen to love the few photos I've seen. They're a lot better than you think they are."

"You're cute," he teases.

"I'm serious, I think that you should at least submit something and see if it gets accepted. If not, nothing lost, right?"

"And if they are?"

"Then you can take me as your date for the showing," I say with a sly grin.

"If I say I'll think about it, will that suffice?"

"Yep."

Laughing at me, he buries his head in my neck and starts nipping the curve of my shoulder, which he knows is my ticklish spot.

Giggling uncontrollably as he playfully assaults my neck, I manage to push him away and hop off of his lap.

"Show me all your photos so I can pick out the ones for you to consider submitting," I tease.

Rolling his chair back to the wooden credenza on the wall behind his desk, he slides one of the doors open and pulls out a stack of mattes.

"Here, boss," he says with a wink and then follows me as I start making my way to the living room.

"Want something to drink?" he asks.

"Yeah, anything hot."

Taking a seat on the couch, I cross my legs under me and make myself comfortable as I look at the first photo. It's a black and white image of a woman's neck and collarbone. It's backlit so everything is black except for the outline of the curves. Flipping to the next, it's another similar sensual photo. Then a photo of a naked woman lying on her back with her legs seductively crossed. I keep flipping, until my stomach is knotted up so tightly that I can't look anymore.

I set the stack facedown on the coffee table and stand up.

"I'll be right back," I say as I rush to the bathroom and shut the door behind me.

Seeing the one photo a few months ago seemed so harmless compared to all the ones I just saw. Who are all those women, and why is every picture so sensual? What is he doing with me? I could never be what those photos are, and I know he can't possibly see me in that way. I don't think I want him to see me that way. No, I definitely don't. It's not me. I'm...no, I can't even finish my thought.

Thoughts begin to flash quickly through my head, and I can't tell if I am overreacting. If he looks at women like that, then what is he doing with me? I have never really felt unsure of Ryan, but maybe I should be.

My thoughts seize for a moment when I hear Ryan tap on the door, and I wonder how long I've been in here going crazy. Apprehensively, I open the door.

"What are you doing?" he asks suspiciously as he takes a step in, and I take a step back. He can read my apprehension and gives me a confused look. "Babe, what's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Dropping his head, he lets out a breath of irritation at my lie.

"Is it the photos?"

I don't respond when he asks, but I know it's all over my face.

"Candace, you asked to see them. You knew what they would be of."

"I know, I'm sorry. I didn't think they would all be like that."

He walks in front of me and leans against the sink and says, "They're just pictures, that's all."

Sitting down on the closed toilet seat, I say, "But...they just seem so intimate."

"Babe, don't."

I look up at him and ask, because I need to know, "Did you sleep with them?"

"Yes," he responds honestly.

"How many have you...?"

"A lot."

"And you photograph them?" I say with a tinge of disbelief.

"No. I've only photographed a couple women. Most of those photos are the same person."

"Oh," I say as I drop my head, now more worried than ever. I feel uneasy sitting here in front of him when he's just told me all of this. I can't help but think what those women must have meant to him. Did he talk to them the same way he does with me? Were they all in his bed, the bed I sometimes sleep in? And what am I to him?

He crouches down in front of me and says, "I know what you're doing, and you can stop. None of them meant what you mean to me. I never had or wanted a relationship with them."