Pushing the Limits (13 page)

Go to art school as far away from Illinois as possible.

Graduate and find a job.

Never stop painting.

Create something worth making—and I plan to do just that.

As I head to my Monday restorative art class, my earbuds pumping with Adele, Professor Van Bergen steps right out in front of me, scaring the earbuds right out of me.

Grabbing my iPhone to mute the music, I flash an annoyed glare and wait for this unfortunately meet and greet to pass.

“Oh, hi, Aspen.” Her voice sweet with sugar, but laced with fake politeness. “I was just in Morgan’s class…” she pauses and corrects herself. “I mean
Professor
Hampton’s classroom. He was showing me one of your pieces, and I have to say I’m very impressed. He seems to think you’ll go far in your career.”

Returning her fake smile with one of my own, I mimic her sweet, fake tone. “Thank you. Your opinion means
so
much to me.” I place a hand over my heart, pretending to genuinely care about her opinion.

The undercurrent of my statement doesn’t go unnoticed and she stands taller, trying to assert her importance. It would be comical if she didn’t seem to have an infatuation with Morgan and my relationship—even if there is no relationship.

Clearing her throat and tilting her nose to the ceiling, she says,  “As it should. Tell me, Aspen, are you still planning on going to graduation school after you graduate?” She doesn’t give me a chance to answer, railroading on. “Because, it’d sure be a shame if anything got in the way of
such
a promising future.” She mimics my gesture by pressing a hand over her heart and pretending as if she really gives a shit.

My eyes narrow in on the conniving bitch. My mouth opens to respond, but I quickly close it. I’ve got a dozen inappropriate things I’d love to say right now, but I know my boundaries. She smiles in victory and pats my shoulder as she takes a step to walk around me. “Ta-ta, Aspen.”

Ugh!
I want to throw one of my high heels at her, but they’re way too valuable to waste it on someone like her. Plus, I’m not sure I could really get myself out of that jam.
“Sorry, Dean Fletcher. The shoe just slipped off my foot and flew into Professor Van Bergen’s face.”

I curse under my breath and continue walking to my classroom. Hopefully, the universe will help me out and a crater will fall to Earth and land right on top of her, sparing me the time and energy of having to plot something myself.

But just in case the universe doesn’t come through for me, I better start thinking of something myself.

CHAPTER TEN

MORGAN

I remember waking up one morning in Ohio, the ground covered in fresh snow. Being born and raised in Southern California, it was a rarity to get snowstorms. On my way to work, I underestimated the conditions and slid my car right into a ditch. It flipped once and landed in the culvert, my head smacking against the window in the process and causing a slight concussion.

The cliché of how your life flashes before your eyes is exactly what I wasn’t expecting. Ignoring the pain and relying on the anger to get through day to day, I hadn’t expected to see my life with her flash through my mind the moment I thought I could possibly die.

As I lay in the hospital, I recalled those flashes, which brought up the very reason why I left in the first place. I hated that I thought of her at that moment. I hated that she even crossed my mind. I hated I gave her so many years of my life that ended up being wasted.

So when my phone rings with her name flashing on my screen, all those painful feelings rush back in, anger boiling right back up inside.

“Is there a reason you’re calling?”

She clears her throat before responding. “I’m just checking up on you.” She pauses, but I don’t speak up. “I heard about Ryan.” Her words are genuine, but hearing her voice again makes me want to punch a hole in the wall, which I’ve done several times before because of her.

“It was six months ago,” I reply harshly.

“Well, I didn’t have your newest cell number. I ran into your mother last week and she gave it to me.”

Of course she fucking did.

“It wasn’t hers to give out,” I state firmly. She’s the last person I wanted to hear from.

“Look, Morgan…” I hear her hesitant breath through the phone, and I’m quick to cut her off.

“Don’t.” I hang up and let out a frustrated breath. She’s the last person I want to hear from or to have her pity. In fact, I didn’t want anyone’s pity. But Jennifer—the very person I was about to walk down the aisle with—I don’t want anything from her at all.

“Morgan?” I hear Natalia call out from the hallway.

“In here, Short Stuff.” I brush a hand over my face to wipe the firm lines off my face. The last thing I want is for her to worry about me when I’m always worrying about her. “Whatcha need?” I ask as soon as I see her waltz in.

She sits on a chair and shrugs her shoulders. “There’s a dance tomorrow night.”

“Oh?” I lift my brows. “What kind of dance?”

“It’s stupid.” She lowers her eyes.

“Natalia…what kind of dance?”

“It’s just a Valentine’s Dance.”

“You don’t want to go?”

“No, it’s stupid.” I notice the little wrinkles around her lips, and I know there has to be more to the story.

“Didn’t someone ask you to go with them?” I ask, wondering if eleven-year-olds still think boys have cooties or not. She stays silent, not moving or making a sound, and I know I’ve nailed the issue. “I take that as a no,” I say softly, hoping she’ll feel comfortable enough to talk to me about this. I know she’s grown up without a mom for half her life, so I assume her and Ryan were close and talked about everything. “Are you sure you don’t want to go and just hang out with your friends?”

She finally looks up at me with a scowl. “No. I said it’s stupid, okay?” She stands up and marches out of my office, and I’m left with my jaw on the floor, wondering what the hell just happened. She’s the one who came looking for me in the first place and mentioned the dance. Did that mean she wanted to talk about it? Why else would she bring it up then?

I’m stumped as I try to think it through. I seriously have no clue what I’m supposed to do. Of course, she wants to go, but I guess the boy she wanted to ask her hasn’t asked her yet?

Ah, fuck if I know.

I turn my laptop off and walk out to find her. She’s in the living room flipping through channels, staring at the TV as if her life depends on it. I know she hears me walk in, but she doesn’t acknowledge it.

I grab my keys off the counter and shout, “Come on. Let’s go.”

She finally looks up at me, dumbfounded. “Where?”

“To the store. You need a dress, don’t you?”

Her face drops. “Do you have wax in your ears? I said I wasn’t going.” She turns away again. I don’t know if this is where I should be handing her a pint of Ben & Jerry’s or a magazine or something, but I’m not about to let Natalia mope around all night when I know deep down she wants to go.

I walk toward her, grab the remote out of her hand and switch the TV off. “Hey!” she screeches, but I ignore it. I grab her by the arms, lift her up and toss her over my shoulder. “What are you doing?” she screams, kicking her legs and hitting me with her pathetic little fists. “Put me down!”

“What? What was that? I can’t hear you over all the wax in my ears!” I walk out to the car and throw her in the passenger seat. “Buckle up.” I grin at her before slamming the door, and she flashes me a death glare.

I get in the driver’s side and start the engine. I have no idea where to buy a dress for a girl, so I quickly call up my mother.

“Hello, darling,” she answers.

I’m in a hurry, so I bypass all the ritual greetings. “Where do I go to buy a dress for Natalia?”

“Oh! What’s the occasion?”

“A school dance. Where do I go?”

“I’d go to Petunia’s on Stanley and Rivers. Does she need her hair done?” I turn and glance at her. Her hair is up in one of those messy knots. “Yes.”

Two grueling hours later, I’m back home with a half-satisfied eleven-year-old and an appointment to get her hair done tomorrow afternoon. She’s pretending to be annoyed by my persistence, but I notice the corner of her lips tilting from the smile she’s trying to hide.

As I’m tucking her in for the night, I kiss her forehead and say goodnight. She mumbles a response and just before I head out, she calls out my name.

“Yes?” I turn and ask.

I can’t see her eyes because she’s buried herself in the blankets, but she mumbles back a response. “Thank you.”

The corner of my lips tilts up as I stare at the back of her head. “Anytime, Short Stuff.”

The more I think about her, the more I think I’m going crazy.

I left California for this very reason.

To get away. To never get hurt again. To avoid putting myself out there and feeling vulnerable around someone again.

But she makes me want to risk it. Not only my heart but everything that I’d jeopardize as well.

Instead, I worry about hurting her. Aspen Evans could very well be the woman to bring me back to life or the woman to destroy me. The real question is would she ever consider letting someone like me in? My past has held me back in a lot of ways, but besides that, I’m raising an eleven-year-old child. Aspen’s so much younger than I am with a whole world of possibilities in front of her. Would she even take the chance?

Better yet, could I even let her knowing that I’d possibly be holding her back?

The self-doubt eats at me as I think it all through, but the more I think about it, the more I’m certain I’ve lost my mind.

Besides that, right now I have Natalia and the fact that she is going to her very first school dance tonight. I don’t know how to feel about that, honestly. I’m freaking out. Add one more thing to the pile of things I’m not sure I’m doing right when it comes to raising her. At least my mom could help get her ready, which speaking of…

“Come on, let me see!” I call out again, groaning at how long they’ve been. Natalia’s been in her room for hours with my mom. She got her hair and nails done this afternoon, so I can’t imagine what’s taking so long.

“Just one more minute!” I hear my mom call back.

I can’t hold in my sigh, but it’s not in frustration, it’s from the ache in my chest. This moment of seeing Natalia dressed up and ready for her first dance is something that Ryan should’ve been able to experience with her. He’d be so proud of his little girl but probably ready to threaten any little boys who tried to dance with his baby.

Today really hits home that her dad won’t be around for all of these important milestones. I worry that all these special events in her life will be tainted with sadness because he isn’t here. When I came back, I made the decision to dedicate my entire life to making sure Nat was taken care of and help her heal so she can thrive, but moments like this break my heart.

I grab a beer from the fridge, and by the time I slam the door shut, I see her walking toward me. She’s absolutely glowing in a sparkling blue gown with her hair up in curls and light makeup. Her smile is so wide, nearly touching her eyes.

“Wow…” I smile. “You look beautiful, Shorty.” She blushes, and I know she’s going to have an amazing time.

“Thanks.” She smiles wide again. “And thank you for doing this.” She brushes her hand casually along her dress. “Even if I think this whole dance thing is stupid.” She purses her lips together but tilts one side up in a crooked smile.

“Well, even if it’s stupid, at least you’ll look good doing it.”

She laughs and wraps her hands around me. “Thank you, Uncle Morgan.”

“You’re welcome, Natalia.” I wrap my arms around her and kiss the top of her head. “We should get going.”

“Pictures!” my mother interrupts. “I need some pictures first.”

Natalia releases her arms and groans. “You get one.”

My mother manages to get seven, and when she’s satisfied, we head out.

“Are you meeting some of your friends?”

She stares out the window. “Amelia will be there.”

“Oh, good.”

“She has a date, though.”

My eyes widen.
Since when did eleven-year-olds date?

“Meh, you’re too young to date anyway. Boys should still have cooties at your age.”

She turns toward me and grins. “Oh, they do. Girls just don’t mind anymore, I guess.”

“Hmm…well, you could always ask a guy to dance with you.”

She snorts and rolls her eyes. “Yeah, like that’s going to happen.”

I reach over and pull her hand into mine. “It will, Shorty. Maybe not tonight. Maybe not anytime soon. But some day. You’re going to have guys waiting in line to dance with you.”

“Well, if that’s true, you better tighten the deadbolts.”

“No worries. I’ll just leave my rifle out in plain view.”

“You don’t have a rifle.”

“I could.”

“But you don’t.”

“Fine. I could get one, though.”

“You’re ridiculous.” She laughs.

I pull up to the school and watch as students fly out of cars all over the parking lot. They’re all dressed up, much more than I ever did at their age, but I guess times have changed.

“Have fun, okay?”

“Sure thing.”

“Call me if you want me to come get you early. All right?”

She opens the door and steps out. “Fine.”

“Bye!” I call out as she slams the door.

And just like that, she’s walks away and joins the rest of the students flocking to the door.

Red, pink, and white decorations cover the doors and windows of the school. It looks like a scene from the eighties and all I can do is smile at the memories of my previous Valentine’s Days.

Before Jen, I never even acknowledged the stupid day. After Jen, I drank until the memories were a blurry reminder. I’d go out with the guys, pick up a chick, and bring her home. Of course, she thought it meant we were going to be a couple and have a future, but I made sure to clear that up by morning that there wouldn’t ever be a chance of that happening.

I settle in with a beer and movie. Just as I kick my shoes off, my cell rings.

It’s Natalia.

“Shorty. Everything okay?”

“Yes, I’m fine.”

“Then what is it?”

“I-I just wanted to tell you thanks again.” I hear the giddiness in her voice, and I can’t stop the proud smile that forms on my face. “I’m really glad you made me go.”

A sense of pride overwhelms me. This whole time I’d fear I was somehow screwing this up. I have no idea what I’m doing most of the time, but this gives me a little validation that it’s in the right direction.

“Anytime, Natalia. I’m glad, too.”

“I’ll call you soon, okay?”

“Sounds good. Have fun.”

We hang up, and I gladly stay in all night waiting for her call.