Falling

26

“What are you doing?” I ask when I see Candace walking down the stairs still in her pajamas. “Get that cute, little ass of yours upstairs and change into your running gear. It’s already after seven.”

She walks into the kitchen to where I am and says, “I’m gonna pass,” as she pulls down a coffee mug from the cabinet.

“You passed a couple days ago too. What’s going on?” I ask. Candace loves running, so I don’t get the sudden aversion.

“Nothing,” she says while she stirs the sugar into her coffee and takes it to the living room.

“Not buying it,” I call her out. “What’s up?”

“I can’t tell you,” she says coyly when I sit down next to her as she leans back, propping her legs across my lap.

“You can tell me anything. Now spill it,” I say while I run my hand up her calf and behind her knee. I love these legs.

“Uh uh,” she says with a shake of her head. “You’ll make fun of me.”

“Now I’ve got to know,” I respond with a much too curious grin.

“You can’t tease me. I get enough of that from Mark and Jase.”

“I can’t promise you that, babe. Come on. Out with it. Why won’t you run with me anymore?” I question.

“Because I’m scared,” she says and then quickly takes a conveniently long sip of her coffee.

“Scared of what?”

“We’re almost out of creamer.”

“That’s because you use a crap-load of it. Stop trying to distract me. Scared of what?” I ask again.

She takes a moment, and I can tell she’s trying to hide her grin when she admits, “I’m scared I’m gonna break my leg or something.”

“From running?” I ask as a chuckle slips out under my breath.

Nudging me with her foot, she says, trying to defend, “Yes, from running. It could happen.”

“From running?” I repeat. “Candace, you’re not gonna break your leg. That’s ridiculous.”

“Okay, maybe not a break,” she says when she sets her mug down on the table. “But something could happen. Pulled muscle, strained ligament. That would ruin everything. My audition is in a few weeks, and getting this solo could be the difference between having a job after graduation or not.” Although I find her seriousness amusing, she is, in fact, completely serious.

“Okay, so no running. Well, I’m proud of you for walking down the stairs this morning without any assistance. That was a big risk,” I joke with complete mockery, and this time, when she nudges me, I grab her ankle and shift to move between her legs. “You’re putting your tiny feet in a dangerous situation when you nudge me like that,” I say and then kiss her along the ticklish spot on her neck.

She begins to giggle and squirm underneath me when she tries to throw out a firm tone as she says, “Are you threatening me, Ryan Campbell?”

“You’re cute,” I continue to tease as I devour her neck with my mouth, and she can’t seem to manage to get any words out around her fit of laughter. When I pull away, she has a wide smile, but it fades with her laughter. She stares up at me and doesn’t say anything.

“What is it, babe?”

“Nothing,” she says softly.

“Tell me.”

“It’s just . . . You give me butterflies. That’s all.”

Looking down at that pretty face of hers, I tell her, “Fuck butterflies. I feel it all when I’m with you,” before kissing her. She grips my shirt in her hands, and I decide to forego the run to spend the morning making out with her.

I haven’t seen Candace much in the past couple of days now that I’m losing out on my morning runs with her. So when she texts me that one of her lectures got cancelled, I jump on the opportunity to snag some time with her even though I’m hanging out with Gavin.

In Fremont. Do you have enough time to meet me?

Yeah. Where are you?

The Barrel Thief.

In the middle of the day?

The Barrel Thief is a well-known wine and whiskey lounge that works with one of the distributors that Blur deals with. The owner called me this afternoon to swing by and sample some of the new ales he got in, and when Gavin called to hang out, I invited him along.

Think of it as a work thing. ; ) I’m here with Gav.

I’ll be there in 10.

When she walks in and takes off her raincoat, she slides into the booth next to me with a big smile on her face.

“What’s that smile all about?” I ask.

“You two are the only ones in here. Are they even open?”

“Ryan has good connections,” Gavin says, and when I kiss her temple, I tell her, “The owner is a friend of mine. Wanted to show me what one of his distributors was able to get him.”

“Where’s he at?”

“Had to take a call. Here, try this,” I say as I slide the glass over to her.

She takes a sip and says, “That’s surprisingly good. What is it?”

“Maudite. It’s from Chambly. Good, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Figures she would like it,” Gavin says with a smile.

“Why’s that?” Candace asks him, and he responds with, “‘Cause it’s the most expensive.”

She laughs at him, saying, “You’re cheap.”

“With girls? I tend to be,” he jokes with her.

“I feel bad for them,” she shoots back, and he agrees with a chuckle, “Me too.”

I watch their banter, and I’m relieved that what happened at my loft last week isn’t playing into Candace’s attitude towards him.

“Are you drinking your water?” she asks me, and I hand it to her.

“So how long do you have?” I ask.

“About an hour before my studio begins. It’s my three-hour day and then I have to work the late shift tonight, so I won’t be over till after eleven.”

“Okay,” I say as I reach over to hold her hand.

“Hey, Candace,” Gavin says, and the next words out of his mouth come as a shock to me when he tells her, “Look, I feel bad for the shit I said the other day. I’m sorry if I embarrassed you.”

Never have I seen Gavin own up and apologize to anyone. It’s out of character for him, and I appreciate that he would do that.

“Thanks, Gavin,” she says to him, and I can see that she appreciates the gesture as well.

“It was a dick thing to do.”

“Don’t worry about it. Really,” she tells him.

We spend the rest of our time chatting about nothing in particular, and then head out after making plans to stop by Gav’s place in a few days.

When I pull up to Candace’s house to pick her up, I see her roommate’s car sitting in the drive. Candace has been trying to avoid her for the past couple of days after Kimber upset Candace when she told her that she wanted her to move out after graduation. I couldn’t get a clear answer when I asked about the rift between them, but I hated seeing her so upset when she told me about the conversation.

“Hey, babe. You ready?” I ask when she opens the door and steps out into the cold mist.

“Yeah.”

I help her into the car, and when I get in and start driving to Gavin’s place for the party he’s throwing, I ask, “How’s everything with Kimber?”

“She’s been in her room all evening. There’s just nothing to say.”

“You could at least try talking to her,” I suggest, but it doesn’t surprise me when she shuts down the idea.

“It wouldn’t do any good,” she says softly as she looks out the side window. I reach over and pull her hand into my lap, deciding not to mention it anymore.

Pulling up to Gavin’s house, I park along the curb that’s lined with cars. It’s been a while since I’ve been over to his place, but the past couple times we’ve hung out since that awkward day at my loft with Candace, it seems that he’s been trying to make an effort, so I’m here, reciprocating.

I take Candace’s hand in mine as we walk inside. There aren’t a ton of people here yet, and she doesn’t seem to be affected as I start introducing her to a few buddies of mine. I think I’m more uncomfortable than she is, but I know what they’re thinking about her—about what I’m doing with her—and I’m already regretting bringing her here. These people know my past all too well, but for them, my past is still my present because I don’t talk to them all that often, aside from the infrequent run-ins when they drop by the bar.

“It’s about time you guys showed up,” Gavin says when he walks over to us. “Help yourself to whatever is in the kitchen.”

“Hey, Gav,” Candace says.

“Hey, gorgeous. I can’t believe you haven’t left this ass-hat for me yet.”

Smiling at him, she pokes, “If it weren’t for your delicate language, I might consider it.”

“Leave her alone,” I tell him, feigning irritation, before taking her to the kitchen to get a couple beers. But as soon as we walk in there, my gut confirms that this was a bad idea. Gina is standing with a group of women, and the wink she shoots me makes me very nervous. I hand Candace her beer and send Gina a message when I lean down and give Candace a kiss before taking her back into the living room.

I don’t want to say anything because I don’t want to draw any attention and embarrass Candace. Plus, last I heard, Gavin was still fucking her, so I’m just hoping that for Gavin’s sake, she’ll stay away from me.

We take a seat on the couch with one of my old college buddies, and after introducing him to Candace, we begin catching up. I keep my hand on her knee while I talk to my friend, but my mind is elsewhere. Bringing Candace here was more for her than for me. She had expressed to me that she was curious to get to know my friends since I’m now a part of her small circle with Jase and Mark, already knowing so much about the three of them. But these friendships here are superficial. None of them have a clue about Candace, and probably just assume she’s a random chick I’m banging. There was a time that I would hang out with these people on a regular basis, but it’s been a while.

The evening wears on, and eventually Candace leans into me, saying, “I’m gonna go get another drink. Want one?”

“Yeah, babe. Thanks.”

When she heads into the kitchen, Gavin flops down next to me.

“What the fuck is Gina doing here?” I ask under my breath.

“Dude, relax. She’s chill.”

“You still seeing her?”

Cocking his brow at me, he says, “First off, you know I don’t see anyone. But I haven’t hooked up with her in a while. Between you and me,” he says when he shifts himself on the couch, “she was only fuckin’ me to get to you.”

“What?”

“Yep. Her roommate told me, and that’s when I backed away from that crazy bitch,” he says with an exaggerated shudder.

“That’s sick,” I tell him and then add, “And you’re trying to tell me she’s chill?”

Gavin starts to respond, but I’m no longer listening when Candace walks back into the room, fuming mad. She doesn’t even stop when she passes me and snaps, “Take me home,” and then heads out the door.

Grabbing her coat, I don’t say shit to Gavin or even look back when I go outside.

“Candace,” I call out, and when she gets to my jeep, she turns, and I see the humiliation all over her face as she yells at me, “Did you sleep with that girl in there? Gina?”

I release a hard breath, hating that I have to do this to her, but she cuts me off before I can even open my mouth.

“Forget it. Just take me home.”

She opens the door and hops in. She’s pissed and rightfully so. I knew it was a mistake to bring her to Gavin’s. Why the hell would she want to see what I’m trying to forget? I don’t know what the fuck Gina said to her, but I hope I never run into her again.

As I start driving back across town, Candace is silent, staring out of her window.

“I didn’t know she was going to be there,” I start to tell her, needing to clear the air because I can’t stand her being upset like this. “When I saw her, I didn’t want to say anything to draw attention.”

She doesn’t speak. She only pulls her one knee up to her chest and turns to face out the window, giving me nothing but the back of her head. I don’t know if she’s crying or not, but the fact that she won’t talk to me hurts.

“Candace, say something.”

But she doesn’t. I know she wants to go home, but I’m selfish and don’t want her to run from me, so I take her to my place. Pulling up to my loft, she quietly says, “Ryan, I really just want to go home.”

I don’t respond when I get out of the car and walk around to open her door. Holding out my hand for her, she doesn’t protest when she takes it and follows me inside and up to my room.

“Ryan, what are you doing?” she finally asks when I drop her hand to grab her some clothes from my dresser.

“You’re not going home. Here,” I tell her when I hand her a pair of my boxers and a t-shirt.

She takes them and makes her way into my bathroom, closing the door behind her. I quickly change, not enjoying a second of this tension, but I’m not letting it go unresolved.

“Ryan,” she calls to me when she cracks the door open. “Can you bring me my purse?”

Picking it up off the bed, I go hand it to her before she shuts the door again. It bothers me that I’ve never seen her undressed. That she always hides herself in my bathroom to change. I’ve never been so in the dark with a girl before, and I don’t know what to make of it.

I turn the lights off but leave the shades on the panoramic windows open so that I can watch the rain that is now falling hard. The moon must be full with the glow of the clouds that casts a faint bluish hue throughout the room.

When she finally comes out of the bathroom, I watch her as she pads across the wooden floor and climbs up onto the bed. I never get tired of seeing her in my clothes, and when she slides in, I instinctively pull her into me, face to face.

“Talk to me,” I tell her softly.

She lets out a slow breath and is so forthcoming with me when she says, “I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you, and I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I just . . . I don’t like feeling the way she made me feel. It’s embarrassing.”

“She was nothing to me.”

Looking down, she hesitantly asks, “When did you . . . I mean . . . How long ago?”

“August or so,” I give her honestly. I brush her hair back when she closes her eyes and quietly say, “They were only there to distract me, but when I saw you, you faded everything I needed distracting from.”

“Did you love any of them?” she asks when she opens her eyes and looks at me.

“No.”

“Do you love me?”

“I’ve only ever loved you,” I assure her, not even wanting to think about the absurdity of her question.

When I roll myself on top of her, she doesn’t miss a beat when she pulls me down and kisses me. It’s strong and sure. It’s the first time she has ever kissed me this way, and I feel like I need it right now. The confirmation that we’re okay. I return her intensity when I dip my tongue inside of her mouth and start running my hand down her neck, over her shirt, and between her breasts. She fists my hair, and I’m gone.

My desire for closeness takes over, and I need to feel her skin against mine. Slipping my hand under her shirt, I notice she’s still wearing her bra when I take her in my hand. Her nipple hardens as I slide it between my two fingers, and when I press them together gently, her body arches up into mine, and I can’t control the moan that comes out of me.

“God, I want you,” I whisper when I sit back on my heels and pull her up to me. I can see it in her eyes, the want, so I don’t ask as I slowly start peeling her shirt off when she lifts her arms up.

Tossing the shirt aside, I look at her as I gradually run my hands down her sides. She’s perfect in her purple lace bra. She doesn’t have large breasts, but fuck, she’s sexy as hell, and I just want my hands all over her.

I peer into her eyes when she cups my face in her hands, and my heart starts beating in a way it never has before. “Babe . . .”

As I lay her back down, I drag my lips along her neck as she holds on to the sides of my head while I keep trailing down. I suck her nipple into my mouth, dragging my tongue over the swollen bud. Heat courses through me, and I need to feel more of her when I begin to run my fingers along the underside of her waistband. Hooking them under the fabric, I sit back, and when I slightly tug down, I see it.

No.

Suddenly, reality stabs into my chest, and I feel everything I never wanted to be true pour out of me. Time freezes. I can’t breathe, and the panging inside of me is unbearable. I know I can’t deny what I see, but I want to. Because it can’t be. It just can’t.

God, don’t let it be.

Slow motion. Everything moves in slow motion as I bring my hand to her hip, and with a trembling thumb, I drag it across what I can no longer blame on head-trips. I brush it again, not wanting to believe what my eyes see. A thin black outline of a tiny heart. That tiny heart from that night.

The thudding of my chest is painful; it’s the most painful thing I’ve ever felt in my entire life, and before I know it, she slings hers arms around me, but I’m in shock. I can’t fuckin’ move. I’m too scared.

It can’t be her.

Not her.

Not that girl.

Not my girl.

Squeezing my eyes shut, it’s all I see now. Her bloody thighs. Her beaten face. Her shredded nails.

“God, please! Stop!”

I hear it. Her voice. Her shrieking, desperate voice. Opening my eyes, I’m jittery. She has to feel it. Her body is clung tightly to mine, and I realize that I’m not touching her. I feel like I can’t touch her. Like I don’t know how, but I force myself to. And when I cautiously wrap my arms around her, I feel her shaking too. And now everything is clear. I can’t pretend that I don’t know exactly why she’s shaking. I’m such a fuckin’ dick, rubbing up on this girl because I can’t fuckin’ control myself around her.

God, what the hell is wrong with me?

Her body begins to soften into mine, and I don’t know what to say. How do I tell her? Do I tell her? Do I say something?

Say something.

“Candace.”

“Please, don’t say anything.”

Her voice is pleading, so I don’t. And now, I’m scared to take my hands away from her. Like she would break if it weren’t for my arms. I keep her close when I lie us down and pull the sheets over us.

She’s doesn’t say anything else, and the silence rings in my ears. My head is loud. It’s a maniacal filtering of memories, flashes weaving together to form a solid image that’s undeniable. But I denied it. How could I have done that when it all makes sense now? Every panic, every startle, her fear of crowds, her night terrors, her constant hesitation with intimacy. And fuck. That dumpster. How stupid could I be? She stood right there. She panicked . . . in my parking lot. My bar. That’s why she’s never come back.

I can’t be with her.

I have to be with her.

God, I love this girl so much. I can’t let her go even though I know I should. But with me, I have the guarantee that she’s safe. And I need her. Because it’s only with her that I’m finally realizing that I can be the man I never thought I could be, and I don’t think I could be this way with anyone else but her.

Lifting up, I scoot back so that I can lean against the headboard, bringing Candace with me and tucking her head under my chin. I don’t want to lie to her, but do I tell her who I am? Does she even know that someone was there? This girl has been hurt so much, and by too many people, that I can’t have my name added to that list. I can’t do that to her. And for what? What difference would it make, if any at all? For this, I resolve to not say anything. I just can’t do that to her.

This shit hurts. Bad. And now, every time I close my eyes, I see her lying there naked, raped in the alley of my bar. It’s like someone’s slowly gutting me. And for the first time in years, I let myself break. Candace has long fallen asleep in my arms when I feel the first of many tears roll down my cheeks and into her hair.

When I release the pain, I see that I hold so much of the blame. I heard her from inside. I heard the banging around, and I ignored it. If I would have just gone out there, I could have saved her. I could have done so much more than I did because I dismissed the ruckus for a couple of drunken guys. She was being raped when nothing but a brick wall separated us. How could I be so irresponsible?

We’ve taken our slow time getting to know each other, but now I feel like she’s different, and I don’t know what to do with that feeling. I always knew she was hiding something. Jase even told me that she was going through some tough shit, but this? I don’t know what to do with this. I feel like an ass for all the times I’ve tried to touch her in ways that were too much for her and she had to stop me.

I’ll never be able to tell her how sorry I am. There aren’t enough words. There isn’t enough in this world that I could give her to show her how truly fuckin’ sorry I am. So I sit here and cry for her because I don’t know what else to do. I love this girl beyond anything. Love her from a place in my heart I never knew I had.

So now . . . now she sleeps in my arms while I stay up, because sleep isn’t strong enough to take me out of my head tonight. When I close my eyes, it’s August, and I’m hovering over my Jane Doe. The girl I spent weeks wondering about. The girl that kept finding her way back into my head, only to realize that I’ve had her in my arms for months now.