Must Be Love: (Nicole and Ryan) (A Jetty Beach Romance Book 1) (20 page)

I ignore her and go over to my dresser to get some clothes.

"Ryan." Her voice is so soft. She comes up behind me and rubs her hands along my shoulders and down my back. My cock finally stirs. Thank goodness. At least it still works.

I put my hands on the dresser and close my eyes, feeling her hands caress my skin. The hollow space in my chest gapes.

"Are you all right?" she asks.

No. Don't listen to me. I'm lying but I can't bring myself to tell you the truth.
"Yeah, I'm fine. I haven't been feeling well this week."

"I'm sorry. Are you sick?"

"Something like that," I say. I grab some cargo shorts and a t-shirt.

"How was your trip?"

"What trip?" I ask.

"I thought you were in L.A. this week," she says. "Didn't you have a photo shoot?"

Holy shit. I missed it. The art director left me a voicemail, but I haven’t bothered to listen to it yet. Fuck. "Right. No, it was canceled."

I slip my feet through a pair of boxer briefs and pull them on.

"Are you sure you want to get dressed right now?" she asks.

I pull the shirt over my head.

"Because what I'd like to do is easier without these silly clothes," she says, slipping her hands around my waist.

I step away. My body is responding to her, and for some reason that makes me angry.

"Not now, Nicole."

She stands next to my dresser, gaping at me. I pull on my shorts and go into the kitchen. The apartment suddenly feels so small, like the walls are closing in. There isn’t enough room for two people—nowhere for me to get away.

"Is there someone else?" Her voice is so small, so scared.

I look up at her. "No. What are you talking about?"

She tucks her hair behind her ear. "Are you sleeping with someone else?"

"No," I say. How could she even think that? "No, of course not."

"Then what's going on?"

"Nothing," I say.

"But … I just got here, and I haven't seen you, and you don't want…"

I do want. And I don't. I want the emptiness to go away. I want to feel like I can get out of bed in the morning and work, and take pictures, and fix the front steps, and fuck Nicole until we both scream for mercy. I want to love her like she deserves to be loved. But I can’t.

I’m sinking, and I can’t take her down with me.

"Not right now," I say. "You just got here, and you want me to jump right in and fuck you over the back of the couch?"

Her mouth hangs open and a flash of anger crosses her face. "Why do you keep doing this?" she asks.

"Doing what?"

"Being an asshole."

"If I'm such an asshole, why do you keep coming down here every weekend?"

She puts her hands on her hips. "So this is my fault? Seriously, Ryan, there's something wrong with you. One minute you're the most sensitive, generous man I've ever met. Then something changes. You're cold and closed off. Then you apologize and sweet Ryan comes back, and your excuses always sound so damn reasonable."

I stare at the counter and don’t answer. She’s right. What can I say?

She comes closer. "Talk to me. Tell me what's going on."

I want to. Fuck me, I want to. But this hell I’m living in isn’t somewhere I can bear to take her. She’s beautiful and sweet and pure. I’ll ruin all that. I'll drag her through the mud with me, soiling her along the way. It isn’t right. She deserves so much better.

"You know what? This back and forth bullshit, I don't think it's working," I say. "We spend all week apart and then you drive down here. It doesn't make any sense. How long are we supposed to keep doing this?"

"I don't know," she says. "I guess I thought we'd figure it out."

"Figure what out?" I ask. "There's nothing to figure out. We had some great sex or whatever, but come on, we both knew this couldn't last."

Her lower lip trembles and I look away. I can't bear to see her.

"We had some great sex? That's it? That's all this has been to you?" Her voice rises with every sentence. "What about last weekend? You introduced me to your family."

You asshole. You're hurting her.

But I'll hurt her so much more if she stays.

"Maybe that was a mistake."

I lean against the kitchen counter, my hands pressed against the granite. I don't look up. Without saying a word, Nicole picks up her things and storms out through the studio. Seconds later, the front door slams shut.

I stand there, holding myself up with my arms, feeling like I’ll collapse to the floor. Her tires spit gravel as she peels out and zooms up the long driveway.

Just like that, she’s gone.

"Fuck!" I throw my head back and yell. I knock over a box of cereal, spilling its contents on the floor, then pick up a mug and launch it at the wall. It smashes, falling to the ground in pieces, and leaves a dent in the drywall.

I run my hands up and down my face. I am such an asshole. I am the worst fucking human being on the planet. What the hell did I just do to her?

I stumble over to the couch and sit down, leaning my head back. Rain patters against the windows and the waves crash against the sand outside. I close my eyes, feeling the awful void taking over. It’s better that she’s gone. I never should have gotten involved with her in the first place. I’m not any good for her, and I knew it all along.

She’s better off without me.

I race down the highway, no idea where I’m even going. Home? I don't really have one. The little room I’m renting is hardly home, and I still haven't found a new apartment. I could go to my parents’ house, but I don't want to explain things to my mom. She'll be all practical and remind me how long-distance relationships hardly ever work. The last thing I need is my mother telling me this is for the best.

Trying not to swerve off the road, I send Melissa a quick text.
In town. Need u.

Tears run down my face. What the hell just happened?

I knew something was wrong as soon as I got to Ryan's house. His apartment was a mess. Dirty clothes were strewn around the floor, to-go cartons sat on the counter, and the sink was full of dishes. I thought I could start things off on the right foot by joining him in the shower, but he wouldn't let me in.

When he came out, wrapped in that towel, little beads of water dripping down his amazing body, I wanted him more than ever. I expected him to come after me, the way he usually does. I even thought about taking my clothes off before he got out of the bathroom, surprising him by sitting naked on his couch, or spreading out on his bed. It’s a good thing I didn't. I feel rejected enough as it is; if he’d denied me when I was naked and ready for him, the humiliation would be unbearable.

Not that what he said wasn’t bad. The back and forth isn’t working? It was a mistake to introduce me to his family?

Sobs choke me, and my shoulders shake. Melissa texts me back.
I'm home. Where are you? Do you need me to come get you?

I tap a reply.
OMW

My vision blurs and the rain pelts down. I hurt so bad, I want to throw up. Or scream. Or punch someone. Maybe all of the above. Why is Ryan doing this?

Why did I let myself fall so hard for him?

I make it into town without crashing and pull up in front of Melissa's little house. Moss-green with white trim, her house has daffodils growing out front and a gravel path leading to the door. I hop out and dash through the rain. Not that I care about getting wet. I must look a mess, as hard as I've been crying.

Melissa throws open the door before I even have a chance to knock. "What happened?" she asks. "No, don't talk yet."

She ushers me to the couch and wraps a fluffy blanket around my shoulders. I take shaky breaths and try to stop crying, but the tears keep coming. Clutching at the blanket, I settle into the cushions and wait while Melissa bustles around the kitchen.

Melissa emerges with a serving tray bearing a mug of steaming tea, two shot glasses filled with amber liquid, and a bowl of potato chips.

"I don't have any ice cream," she says and puts the tray down on the coffee table.

I sniff. "That's okay."

She hands me the shot and takes the other one for herself. I toss it back. Tequila. It goes down easily, spreading warmth through my belly.

"There's more where that came from," she says. "Now, spill."

I wipe the back of my hand beneath both eyes. "I think Ryan just broke up with me."

"He did what?" she asks, her eyes wide. "Oh, hell no." She snatches her phone off the table.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm texting Ryan to tell him what a dumbfuck he is."

"No, Mel, don't," I say, my voice pleading.

Melissa groans, but tosses her phone down next to her. "Fine. I'll wait. Tell me what happened."

"I don't even know," I say. "Honestly, things have been up and down for a while. Mostly up, but he gets in these moods. It's like he's tired and doesn't want to do anything. I've been worried about him, but he always claims he's fine."

"He's a guy. They always say they're fine."

"Yeah. So, I showed up this morning and from the minute I walked in, he was acting weird. Like he wasn't even happy to see me. He came out of the shower, and normally we'd start off with some mind-blowing sex, but he said no. There he is, dressed in nothing but a towel, and I was practically throwing myself at him."

"He turned down sex?"

"Yep. Totally shot me down."

"Shit."

"Right? I was so shocked, I didn't know what to say. My first thought was he'd been sleeping with someone else. He was so cold and distant." My voice breaks, and I take another breath to steady myself. "When Jason was cheating on me, that's how he acted. He avoided me, wouldn't look at me."

"Do you think Ryan is cheating?" Melissa asks.

"No," I say. "I asked, straight up, and he said no. I believe him. There wasn't any dishonesty in his voice when he denied it. And unless the girl is a fucking slob, he hasn't had anyone else in his apartment in a while."

"Good, because if he was cheating on you, I'd have to do more than text him. Dick-punch the fucker, maybe."

I shake my head. "No, but it doesn't matter. He said this isn't working. Then he said introducing me to his family last week was a mistake."

"He really said that?" she asks.

"Yeah," I say, pulling the blanket around my shoulders. I want to disappear inside it. "Last weekend he told me he loved me." My voice trembles and fresh tears run down my face. "He said it, Mel. Why the fuck did he say that if he didn't even mean it?"

Melissa puts her arm around my shoulder and draws me in. "Oh, sweetie."

I rest my head on her shoulder, crying softly. I feel like I was run over. Everything hurts.

"I'm so sorry this happened," Melissa says. She rubs slow circles around my back. "You'll be okay. We'll get you through this."

When I caught Jason cheating, I felt like my life was at an end. Everything stopped. I fell apart. I cried in front of Sandra, ran away to my parents’ house, and spent my days feeling sorry for myself. Looking back, I hate the way I acted. Being upset is normal. I spent a lot of time believing my life was going in a certain direction, and in one second, it all came undone. But what really bothered me, what I mourned more than the loss of Jason, was the loss of the story I created.

I wanted to impress people, to show them a small-town girl could go out and live the dream. For a while, I thought I was. Popular boyfriend, college degree, great job, surely that marriage proposal right around the corner. But none of it was real. The boyfriend was anything but great. My job might sound important, but it’s boring. The marriage proposal? Well, thank goodness he never did, because what a disaster that would have been. I held onto that life for years longer than I should have—I can see that now. I did what I thought was expected of me, tried to hold the threads of that fairy tale together. Wasn’t that what I was supposed to do? Isn’t life a set of steps, one leading to the next, moving you on to the next, better thing?

No. It really isn't.

So I let myself wallow in misery after Jason. I’m not going to let myself get away with that again.