When To Let Go (33 page)

An extremely tired Violet sat hunched over her coffee in the corner of her favorite coffee shop, the one she frequented every morning. She preferred making the time to sit down and enjoy her drink, instead of rushing off with it to go. Ryder had taught her that.

Her phone was in one hand, Parker's number lighting up the screen. Her thumb dangled over the talk button. It had been like that for the past twenty minutes while she decided if she should call or not.

He was probably still asleep, even if it was ten o’clock on a Sunday morning. That was one of many excuses.

Her thumb hit the button, bringing it to her ear. One part of her screamed to hang up, the other, stronger side, kept that phone firmly in place while it rang.

What the hell was she even going to say?

To her disappointment…or relief (she couldn't figure out which) his voicemail picked up.

Violet found herself prattling out a response that had her cringing at how awkward she sounded, “Uh, hey Parker, it's me...Violet...I, uh,” she sighed. “I just really missed you and wanted to hear your voice. Silly, right?” She let out a forced laugh, which had her face-palming. This was why people wrote down what they wanted to say, “Anyway, I wanted to see how you’ve been. Call me...or don't…I'd understand.” She hit the end button before she could find out if it was possible to die from humiliation.

She stayed with her forehead in her palm for another ten minutes, regretting the call.

The normal sound of the cowbell dinged against the metal frame of the door, something that continually happened there.

Violet had a sudden urge to look up and see who it was.

She had to blink several times as a familiar silhouette casually walked in, taking a place in line.

How was that possible?

She rubbed her eyes, believing it had to be an illusion.

It wasn't.

Parker was there. In line. At her coffee shop.

As he waited, his head moved around, inspecting the place. Violet held her breath, waiting for him to find her.

She couldn't believe this was happening. Why was he there?

When he caught sight of her everything in her body came alive, as though it had been dormant, waiting for this moment, waiting for
him
.

The side of his mouth curved to the side, his head continuing around the room with no further attention, except occasionally he looked over his shoulder at her. It was almost like they had never met before with the way he was acting towards her. It oddly gave her a rush, a certain acceptance to allow her body its desire to summersault for joy at the sight of him, instead of getting caught up in all that had been, all that had kept them apart.

He kept glancing over at her as he waited for his drink. She couldn't take her eyes off of him, wondering if anybody else could feel the current passing through the room between them, it’s feeling so strong she thought for sure somebody would mention it.

After thanking the barista for his drink he strolled toward Violet. She straightened further up in her chair as he came closer.

His mouth was still tipped to the side, as though he knew a secret she didn't. He placed a hand on the chair opposite hers, “This seat taken?”

Violet shook her head no.

He casually sat down; the only thing giving his nerves away was the quick swipe of his palm on his thigh.

“I don't normally do this,” he explained with a sheepish insecurity she didn't know he possessed.

Violet cleared her throat, not sure if her voice would cooperate, “Do what?”

“Invite myself to sit at a stranger’s table.”

Her head tilted to the side, confused.

He went on as though she wasn't, “I couldn't let myself leave without talking to you.”

“I'm glad you did,” she still didn't know what game he was playing.

Both sides of his mouth extended upward, teeth showing from his smile. He extended his hand, “I'm Parker.”

She stared at the hand he held out, waiting for her to take it.

It dawned on her what was happening.

He was giving them a Do-Over, a chance to start fresh.

She fought the tears that burned her eyes and the tightness in her throat. It's like magic the way he appeared at the very moment she needed him, needed this; a way for them to try again.

She accepted his hand, smiling through blurry eyes, “Violet.”

He pretended she wasn't on the verge of crying, carrying on the conversation, “That name suits you. It matches your eyes.”

There was no way he could truly see her eye color with the tears coating them. What he saw was from memory, something neither one wanted to forget.

He swiped his palms again, “I’m going to get straight to the reason I came over. Would you like to go on a date with me?”

She wiped away a tear that tried to escape, “A date?”

“Yeah.”

All she could do was stare at him.

Insecurities showed once again on his features, “I get it if you don’t. I’m some strangely-pierced, tattooed stranger in a coffee house. I probably look like a criminal.”

She grinned, “I like the tattoos.”

He leaned further towards her, seductively coating his voice, “You do?”

She took a sip of her coffee, “Mm hm.”

“I’ll cover my body in them then.”

She laughed.

“What time should I pick you up?”

She immediately responded, “Seven.”

“Nah, that doesn’t work for me. Let’s make it three.”

“For dinner?”

“Alright, alright, you convinced me. We’ll make it a lunch date.” He stood up, his chair scraping against the floor. “I’ll see you at noon.”

“Don’t you need my address?” She called out for him as he left.

He winked at her, “I have my ways.”

She slouched into her chair, a big, goofy, dream-like smile on her face.

The knock at Violet’s front door sent her body into a frenzy of adrenaline, nerves, and excitement.

How could the simple act of opening a door feel like such a monumental thing?

She slowly opened it to find Parker standing there in worn jeans and a buttoned up gray shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal his tattooed forearms. The scent of a fresh shave and Pure Sport hit her lungs. It was a familiar smell that made her homesick. Homesick for the man in front of her. That realization forced a smile from her lips.

“Hi,” he greeted with a sexy grin, visibly admiring her up and down.

He had never been so obvious before.

Her stomach dipped in a way she hadn’t experienced since the first few times he had started kissing her, almost a decade ago.

She had purposely worn green, his favorite color on her. He always remarked on the color of her eyes when she wore it.

“Want a tour?” Violet gestured to the two bedroom condo she shared with her brother, who at the moment was at the gym (his favorite pastime). He liked to work out so hard all he could do was pass out after.

“Sure,” Parker answered, eyes never leaving hers, causing further dips in her stomach.

He remained focused on her throughout the whole tour, making her self-conscious.

“You don’t really care to see any of it do you?”

He smirked, “No.”

“Shall we get lunch then?” She hated how nervous the idea made her. She couldn’t seem to wrap her head around the fact that she was going on a date with Parker. She didn’t allow herself to overthink it; there were too many reasons why she shouldn’t.

His steady grin faltered, turning down.

Just like that her optimism evaporated, thinking this was the moment he changed his mind, confusing her like he always had.

“First things first.” He rubbed his hands together, “You need to know a few things about me. First, although all night long I’m going to want to kiss the hell out of you, I’m not ready yet. That leads me to the second thing. I haven’t had sex in over a year. I used to be a bit of a sex addict, so we will be taking things painfully slow. I don’t want you thinking it has anything to do with you, because fuck, if I’ve ever wanted a woman more. And third, there’s a reason I became that way. A reason I plan very soon on telling you, I just don’t want it to ruin our first date.”

“Okay. Anything else?”

“You’re beautiful.”

Violet didn’t know whether to roll her eyes or swoon, “Are you sure about the no kissing thing?”

“Yup, so stop trying to make it harder on me with that look you keep giving me.”

“What look?”

Parker opened the front door, ushering her to go first, “Like you’re madly in love with me.”

He followed behind her as they left.

Violet talked over her shoulder, “Please, this is our first date. I don’t know anything about you. Well, that’s not true; now I know you’re cocky.”

Parker came beside her, his hand brushing hers, “Nope, you can’t say that word in front of me. The word ‘cock’ cannot leave that mouth if I’m going to keep my hands off of you.”

Violet placed their hands together, both trying to conceal a smile, “I’ll make sure to say it regularly then.”

He groaned, “You’re not going to make this easy on me, are you?”

“Where would the fun be in that?”

“I hate you.”

“I don’t care.” Ryder meant it too. Maggie knew by now that no matter how mean she was he still came back the next day, forcing her to do her exercises.

Her body was slowly regaining function, mainly due to Ryder and his relentless persistence, not once allowing her to wallow in self-pity. She now had use of her legs, the left still needing work as she limped and hobbled on it.

“Do you want to get out today?” Ryder bargained when he could tell she was slacking. Whenever she was done for the day he always forced her to do one more set.

“No,” Maggie lied, huffing through the strain. Some exercises were downright excruciating to get through.

The mention of a drive had her pushing forward, knowing Ryder would keep his word and not take her if she didn’t try her hardest.

Often as her reward for finishing he took her for rides on his motorcycle. Cars no longer had a hold on her. All she saw when she looked at one was destruction and loss. One day Ryder knew she needed to get out and get away, as she had been particularly grumpy that day. He thought getting some fresh air would be the magical cure. She remembered thinking,
if only life were so easy
. He proposed a drive where she went on his motorcycle. Turns out he had been right. Taking the bike out cleared her mind and allowed her the freedom to be in the moment, to feel peace and not the deprecating self-loathing that had taken over her life. They’d cruise for as long as Maggie’s body could handle, a smile on both their faces the entire time.

They usually ended the ride at her parent’s house, where Ryder would stay and have dinner, sometimes staying to watch a movie with the three of them. Maggie’s favorite was when the ride ended at his place where they’d do the same, but without the hovering of her parents, or – like today – his moms’ house.

Dinner was still cooking, so Ryder led Maggie to the hammock in the back, helping her walk there. Their rides, on top of her physical therapy, left her body achy and sore.

She got in first with his assistance, then he eased in himself, draping her body on his, chest to chest.

Cuddling in the hammock had become their favorite spot. It hadn’t always been that way. At first Ryder would lean against the tree by her feet, or on the ground next to her. Maggie eventually wore him down and he joined her, stiff and uncomfortable. Somewhere around the seventh time he eased into it, letting her rest over him. Now he seemed to enjoy these moments just as much as she did.

Ryder had become her rock, something solid to hold onto.

Maggie exhaled, her body relaxing into his, “Do you only like me now because I’m damaged?”

He laughed softly, rumbling his chest, “No.”

Maggie flushed in embarrassment, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to imply you liked me. I just figured…you know… with all the time you’ve spent helping me…”

“Maggie,” Ryder released a heavy sigh that tickled her scalp. “I’ve had a crush on you since the first day I saw you.”

She lifted her head, “No you didn’t.”

“I did. I swear,” he gently laid her head back down on his chest, tense whenever they became face to face. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m not the best with people.”

She smiled, snuggling her head into the crook of his neck, “I like that about you. I like that you’re not like everybody else. You’re the kindest, sweetest person I’ve ever met.”

“Yeah, I’m a real man,” the mockery in his tone exposed his insecurities.

“Don’t do that. Don’t put yourself down. Not everybody wants some brute of a man who pounds his chest.”

“What is it that
you
want?” He quietly questioned.

She thought about it for a moment before responding, “Someone who will love me through it all, who has seen me at my worst and loves me anyway. Someone who always sees the good in me even when I don’t. Someone like you.”

Maggie could feel Ryder’s heartrate increase, pounding through his chest straight into her ear. She liked when she had an effect over him. Sometimes during exercises she’d purposely touch him, just to see the goosebumps pebble up and around where her skin had been.

“I don’t deserve you though,” she admitted more to herself, the words finalizing it in a way that crushed her.

“That is the furthest thing from the truth,” Ryder exposed himself to her like he never had before. “You don’t even know what you’ve come to mean to me. You’re my light at the end of the tunnel. You need to get past this, to believe in yourself again.”

A leaf fell from a branch, swaying its way down to Ryder’s stomach.

“I’m not the same person as before.” Maggie picked the leaf up between her fingers. “The girl you first met
or
the one you traveled with.”

“I know.”

Maggie twirled the leaf between her index finger and thumb, “I don’t think I’ll ever be her again.”

“It doesn’t matter,” he firmly conveyed, in a way that Maggie felt inclined to believe him. “It was more about the way you made me feel. The hope you gave me.”

That was funny; he had become the same thing to her. He was keeping her out of the darkness, a place she would have happily gone if he hadn’t been there, reaching out a hand to her.

“Do you know what fallen leaves do?” Ryder asked, tapping the leaf in her hand. “They break down into the earth's soil, nourishing it, helping to provide it with what it will need to grow stronger.”

“I know what you’re doing,” Maggie told him, holding the leaf to her chest. “But it’s not the same thing.”

“No?” Ryder took the leaf from her hand and lightly trailed it along her face. “I think it’s pretty darn close, but it’s never going to happen if you won’t let it.”

“How?” How was she supposed to get over what she had done, or at the very least move past it? She had killed a man. A wonderful man. A man with a bright future. A man of worth. A man who was an important part of who she was. She could barely recall a childhood memory that he hadn’t been a part of.

“You could start by visiting his parents,” Ryder suggested with caution, always getting a strong reaction from her in the past.

Maggie shook her head “no” through the entire sentence.

She wasn’t ready. She wasn’t sure if she would ever be ready.

“You have to let this go before it eats you alive.”

Maybe that’s exactly what she wanted it to do.

“What if I went with you,” he offered. “We could go right now.”

“I can’t,” Maggie pleaded. Surely he understood.

“Rip the band aid off, Maggie. The worst case is that it sucks you further into the black hole you’ve been living in, right?”

Was that all?
She felt the urge to reply.

Ryder continued before she had the chance, “You’re headed there anyway. I know the signs. Either way, you need to do it Maggie. I know you, and it’s eating you up inside.”

“You don’t know me,” she snapped, reminding her of how cruel she had been to him at the beginning of her recovery. She hated that she had treated him so poorly.

Ryder didn’t take offense, knowing he
did
know her and she knew it.

He perhaps knew and understood her better than her siblings; something she never thought possible.

Ryder eased out from under her, “Come on.”

She stayed in place, watching him leave.

Her legs began moving over the side of the hammock of their own accord. Before she knew it her helmet was strapped on and she was wrapping her arms around Ryder, letting him take her to the one place she never wanted to visit.

The ride was far too short before they arrived at the Kings.

Ryder let her sit behind him while she worked up the courage to knock on the door.

“Will you go in with me?” She asked in a meek voice, not a single ounce of courage to be found.

“Of course.”

They both got off the bike, Ryder extending his hand out for her to take. She stared at that hand, not because she was unsure of taking it, but because she understood the sacrifice, no, the gift he was giving her. He wanted her to take his hand, to draw strength from him.

She wasn’t deserving of it. She selfishly took it anyway. He gave it a squeeze.

She held on for dear life as they walked up the path to the King’s house.

Ryder didn’t intervene as she took her time before knocking. It had to have been close to ten minutes before her hand finally rapped lightly on the door.

Carol opened the door almost immediately.

It was clear she was surprised to find Maggie standing there.

Ryder squeezed her hand again.

Words pumped out as though the two were connected, “Are you and Malik free to talk?”

Carol started to speak, but the words croaked. She cleared her throat, trying again, “Of course.” She opened the door wider, motioning for them to enter, “You know where the living room is. Make yourself comfortable. I’ll go get my husband.”

Ryder and Maggie took the loveseat that was across from the couch.

Ryder took the hand that he was holding onto his lap, letting both of his wrap around her tiny one, engulfing it. A thumb rubbed rhythmically along her skin, soothing her while they sat in silence, waiting for the couple to return.

“Maggie,” Malik greeted, trying to be cheerful, apprehension written in his undertone and features.

“Hi,” Maggie tried to smile; it came out plastic and fake.

Carol was right behind her husband with some lemonade that nobody touched, taking a seat next to Malik.

Carol and Malik tried making small talk, stopping when the couple before them only answered with robotic, monotone answers.

Ryder gave Maggie’s hand another squeeze.

Maggie squeezed back in a death grip, taking whatever she could from him as she spoke, “I needed to come here to apologize.” She held her free hand up as the couple opened their mouths to respond, “Before you say anything, I need to get this all out.”

Maggie clutched harder to Ryder’s hand as she expelled the words she had inside of her, “I’m so sorry.” She shook her head, it wasn’t enough. She swallowed in air that kept getting trapped in her lungs. “Sorry isn’t enough. No word is. I just…I just wish it was me instead. God, how I wish it was me.” Tears set fire to her eyes as she held them back, and a lump so deep it hurt clogged her throat, “I should have come sooner. I’m a coward. I couldn’t face the two of you. Not after what I did.” She had to pause to keep it in and not let the tears win, “I’m not here for forgiveness. I don’t deserve it, nor do I want it.” She shrugged, placing a hand over her mouth, the fingertips resting over her cheek, swiping away drops of fallen regret and remorse.

Malik spoke first, “Thank you. I would be lying if there weren’t moments I had wished the same thing.”

Ryder’s grip tightened just as strong as hers. Maggie patted the top, reassuring him she was alright. She needed to hear his words, no matter what came out.

Ryder had been right.

She was finding peace.

At last.

“There are nights I wonder if I’ll ever make it out of the darkness,” Malik continued, reaching out for his wife’s hand. “No father should have to know the pain of losing a child, but Xavier,” he choked back the name, putting a fist to his mouth. “Sorry, it’s still hard to say his name out loud. He would never forgive us if we didn’t forgive you. He would have told us about the hundreds of races the two of you had, how this time things went wrong–”

Maggie had to cut in, the pent up emotions finally releasing, tears cascading down so fast she couldn’t stop them, “Because of my need to win. If I hadn’t had to prove myself, he’d still be here.”

Carol began crying with her.

Maggie went with instinct. She limped over to the woman who had mothered the boy they would always have in their hearts, a special section reserved only for him.

She sat next to her and the two women held each other, weeping.

Maggie didn’t try to apologize anymore, even though that’s all she wanted to say, over and over again.

“He wouldn’t have wanted it to be you,” Carol sobbed, holding on to Maggie. “No matter whose fault it had been, he wouldn’t have wanted it to be you. He would have been living as a shell if it had been you. He loved you. So much.”

The two women cried harder at the admission.

“Neither one of us holds resentment,” Malik came around to the other side of Maggie, joining in on the unleashing of tears and emotions. “We’re honest to God relieved you and Vi came out alive. And now we all have an angel looking over us. You know he’ll do everything in his power to make sure we all get to live the rest of our lives in all the happiness and luxuries we desire.”

Maggie couldn’t help but laugh through the tears, picturing Xavier negotiating with God on how much interference he was allowed. No doubt he’d win.

Carol pulled back, taking Maggie’s face into her hands, “There’s only one thing you could do for us.”

“Anything,” she pleaded.

“Let what happened go. Don’t let your life pass you by. Live it for the both of you,” Carol pulled Maggie back in for a hug, whispering into her ear. “Visit us every month, tell us of the adventures you are living, big and small. Be the Maggie we have always known and loved; the one our son was so enamored by.”