Anxious Love (Love Sick #1) (6 page)

His voice sounded so sweet and so sexy. It tickled my skin and my core. My heart raced, and I found it difficult to take a deep breath. I was an expert on anxiety attacks and on how to avoid them. Instead of avoiding it and falling into a panic, I embraced it.

I lay on my bed and placed the phone on my chest. I listened to my body that had betrayed me so many times before and let it feel what it was feeling.

"Where are you?" I asked.

"Just passing Canal on my way home."

"Where do you live?"

"Warehouse district."

"Are you walking?" I asked.

"Yeah, but I can grab a cab and be back in like five minutes."

I smiled and covered my mouth to prevent myself from saying yes. "Just talk to me, okay? Tell me a story."

"What do you want to know?"

"Tell me what it was like getting drafted."

"The happiest and saddest moment of my life."

"Why were you sad?"

"I guess because when I imagined it as a kid, that moment when the team called, and the commissioner said my name, other people were in the picture that didn't make it in real life."

I sat up on my bed and placed my hand over my heart. It ached to hear the sadness in his voice. "I'm sorry about your mom." I had read she had passed away his freshman year of college. His father had died when he was ten. He had no brothers and sisters. He had experienced so much loss in life. In light of everything, I felt bad about what I said as he was leaving.

We both remained quiet for a while.

"You still there?" I asked. My voice cracked.

"Yeah," he said, his tone quiet.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring up a sad subject."

"No, it's okay. I don't mind talking about her, really. I have a great family. My uncle is like a father to me, and my cousins and I are best friends. I try not to let my tragedies define me. Trying to change the narrative."

"But sometimes, that’s all the people around you see. It's not fair."

"Yeah. It happens. When my mom died, I got hurt in the first game of the season and everyone said it was probably for the best. I was the most recruited defensive lineman coming out of high school, but it was okay if I didn't make it because you know... his mother died," he said in his whispering announcer's voice.

"Then, in my senior year, I dominated."

I smiled as the pride in his voice came through the phone line.

"They did this story on me for the NFL Network, and it was all about how I overcame so much and achieved so much despite losing my parents."

"Oh, wow."

"It's like all my defeats and victories are seen through this filter because my parents are no longer here."

I remained silent. I didn't know what to say. I wanted to do or say something, but because of my own issues, I wasn't sure I was capable of giving him what he needed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring you down," he said.

"No, it's okay. I understand what you mean. More than you know." I whispered the last part, but I knew he heard me.

"Well, after I got drafted, I did sign a contract that paid me like a gazillion dollars, so there's that."

I laughed out loud; loving the way Ryan defused the tension in the air. "That's cool."

"I told you that because if I can't win you over with my charm and my good looks, I figured my money will keep you around. You know at least until the second or third date."

"A gazillion dollars?"

"Yeah." He chuckled.

"It might get you to a fourth date." I lay back down. "After that, you're going to have to get creative to keep me around."

"Any suggestions."

"You're a grown man. Figure it out."

I really was on deadline.

I had used that excuse in the past to avoid doing stuff, but now, when I had a reason to test my courage, I had to get this book out to my editor or miss the window.

Ryan called every morning and every night. We continued to get to know each other, sharing stories. Every day, he’d ask when we could see each other, and every day, I’d deflect the question. By the third, I heard it in his voice; he was tired of my answer.

"Leah, am I going to have to come over there and drag you out?" He grunted into the phone. The sound vibrated into my chest. "You can't work all the time."

"I can’t help if your timing is lousy." I wanted to yell through the phone, yes I can. It was because I was working on a new story that I felt calm and relaxed to the point I wanted to get to know him.

When I wrote, I poured all my anxiety, nerves, and teary-eyed angst into my novels. It was what my fans loved most about them, and why they devoured them. As soon as I put one out, a day later, they were asking for another one.

I felt the calmest when I was writing. Writing had triggered my recovery. Getting on paper the tragedy of my past allowed me to wake up every morning and take a breath.

Hearing Ryan’s voice allowed me to breathe, too.

"Okay, that's it. I'm on my way."

"I won't let you in."

"Then I'll break down the door."

I sighed. "Do you really think this macho shit is going to work on me?"

"What does work on you?” he asked, his tone more inquisitive.

"Am I that big of a mystery?" I had been in my office and walked into the living room. I stopped and slid down the wall in the hallway. I pulled my legs to my chest as I waited to hear his answer. How he saw me was important.

"You're a little guarded, but I get it. You don't know me."

"You're so open to everything. I'm not like that. I want to be, but..." I ran my hand up and down the wall over my head. "It's hard for me."

"Well, I'll help you. If you'll let me." He was walking around, and I heard street noise through the phone. "You can start by coming out on the balcony so I can see your pretty face."

The balcony door was open, and I could hear his voice from the street.

I hung up the phone, scrambled to my feet, and ran out onto the balcony.

"There she is." Ryan stood on the opposite side of the street and had his hand open and in the air.

All the calm, soothing feeling I had talking to him changed when I saw him. His bright eyes and honest smile made my heart race. "What are you doing here?"

"Since you can't come out and play, I thought I would come by and bug you until you agree to come hang out with me."

"You want to come up?"

"Nope, I'm fine right here. I told you I would let you get your work done." He sat down. "I'm just going to sit here until you agree to go out with me."

I giggled and sat down on my balcony, my legs dangling over the side. The smile on his face made my insides twitch. I peeked between the slats in the balcony, checking out his strong legs as they dangled off the stoop. One hand rested on his hip while the other lay on his lap. His T-shirt hung loose, but I could make out the contours of his shoulders. He wore light jeans and blue tennis shoes.

"You know this is just as distracting. I can't get any work done with you watching me."

"Nope, not leaving."

"Ugh." I blinked, as Ryan's eyes grew wide. I looked down and saw Sophie on the balcony below. She wore a red sheet wrapped around her torso and nothing else. "You two are ruining my chance to get my freak on with a very well-endowed ginger."

"Oh, my God," I said.

Ryan stood up and chuckled.

"Aw, Soph, thanks, babe," a man's voice boomed from her room. I shook my head.

"Okay, tell me the problem," Sophie said.

"There's no problem," I said.

"She won't go out with me."

His assessment of the situation irritated me. I wanted to go out with him; I was going to go out with him. I never said I wouldn't; I just didn't know how.

"Okay, let me intervene here and maybe I can move this along." She turned her head up to me. "Leah?"

"Yes, Sophie."

"Do you want to go out on a date with Ryan?"

"I do, but—"

"No buts." She turned back to Ryan. "I know your answer. Okay, so Ryan."

"Yes, Sophie." He matched my tone, teasing me. I smiled despite myself.

Sophie stared off into the sky for a minute.

"Tomorrow afternoon. I want you to get a picnic together. Either buy it or cook it. Whatever you think will make the best impression." I watched Ryan's face but focused on Sophie's instructions. "At 2:00 pm, Leah will meet you at Audubon Park in the open field just west of the fountain." She turned back to me. "Leah, you show up at 2:15 pm because it never hurts to make a man wait for a minute. That sound okay?"

"Yeah." I nodded my head.

"Ryan?"

"I can do that."

"Terrific." She clapped her hands, and her sheet slipped. Ryan's face turned red, and he looked away, but I could see him shaking from here. "Oops, sorry. So now that it's settled, Leah, go back to work. Ryan, go do whatever it is you do when you're not bugging my little Leah."

"Okay, I'm going." Ryan squared his shoulders, walked across the street, and looked up; his head craned back. "Leah?" he whispered in a loud voice.

"What?" I asked in the same voice.

"I can't wait." He blew me a kiss, and while the move was cheesy and obnoxious, the kiss landed smack dab in my core, and I moaned under my breath as he disappeared under my balcony. I stood up and walked to the north side as he walked back in my view. He turned and smiled before making a right at Decatur and disappearing from my sight.

Later that night, Sophie's tentative knock passed through my door.

"Come in," I called out from my office as I continued to type.

"Hey," she said with her head lowered as she peeked in the door to my office. I finished a sentence and closed the computer.

"How was the ginger?"

His face lit up when she realized I wasn't mad.

"He was okay. I mean it's a shame when you have so much but don't have a clue what to do with it."

"Well, maybe he needed someone like you to teach him."

"I taught him some stuff all right." She collapsed in the overstuffed chair opposite my desk and peered out the open balcony door.

I cleaned my desk, putting the reference books back in their place on the bookshelf that covered the wall behind me.

"You okay with tomorrow? I didn't push you, did I?"

"Yes, but it's okay. It's not a bad idea really."

"I thought it would be good. We went there a couple of weeks ago, and you were fine. I mean you were good, right?"

"Yeah," I said with raised eyes. I was basically fine. Sophie didn't need to know how much self-talk and positive affirmation it took for me to leave my house that day. She had no clue that I took a full pill about three hours before we left the house to make sure it would temper my anxiety until after I arrived. No one knew how much physical and mental effort it took me to leave my home daily to face the world. If they did, they would put me back in the hospital.

Every day, I woke up and got dressed, showered, brushed my teeth, washed my face; everything any normal person did to start their day. I sat at my desk or the kitchen table and mapped out my day. I created a list and charted my route. I worked in alternative routes and always, always had an escape plan to get myself back home. Armed with all this information, I walked to my front door and stood there. Sometimes for a few minutes, and other times, it could be for an hour. I looked over my list, and I made an assessment on whether it was worth it or not.

Real OCD, I know.

If it was worth it, I went about my day, adjusting my plan and route and determining the value of each step. Not until I returned to the safety of my home and the familiar and comforting click of the door as I locked it behind me did I take a deep breath. A breath that was nowhere full enough for what I put my brain through, and often, I would collapse in bed, unable to function normally for a few days.

That was a good day.

If I determined it was not worth it, I berated myself all day and night until I got up the next morning and did it all over again.

"Leah."

I blinked and snapped back to the present.

"Should I not have done that?"

"No. It's okay. I want to go." I leaned back. "I like him. I want to give it a try."

"That's so great." Her face beamed like a proud mother. "What can I do to help?"

"I don't know yet. But I'll let you know, so stay close." I winked.

"You know Mark, Allie, and I will do anything for you. You've helped each of us so much. We owe you."

"You don't owe me."

"Yes, I do. I know you think your issues make you a difficult friend. And that it's hard for you to let people in, but what you lack in immediacy, you more than make up for in sincerity."

I grinned remembering why I loved Sophie.

"Do you allow yourself to think about her?"

I leaned forward and placed my chin on my hands as my elbows rested on the desk.

"I think about her all the time." I blew a piece of hair out of my eyes. When it wouldn't move, I stood up, tucked it behind my hair, and retreated to the living room. Sophie followed.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bring it up."

I turned toward her. “No, it's okay. I don't mind talking about her. I feel guiltier when I go a few days and don't mention her. My therapist calls it survivor's guilt."