Any Way You Want Me (6 page)

Chapter
11: A Stolen Life

           
While
he had hoped against hope that it wouldn't come to pass, Gatlin had known what was
coming; that Kylie was going to leave him. And, he wasn't surprised at her
reasons either. He didn't blame her. It wasn’t the first time he'd been accused
of being emotionally closed.

           
Usually, by the time one of his exes left, he was ready for it to end anyway.
His work had always been his priority, but with Kylie, it was different. She
breathed life into him. She made him see the world through different eyes. She
made him see … period.

           
Gatlin took a seat on the nearest bench. The reality that Kylie was no longer
part of his life literally took his legs out from under him.

           
As he looked around the park on this beautiful spring day, he took a moment to
really
see
things, not just
look
at them.

           
He looked at the rustle of the trees, and took in the sound the leaves made as
the wind whizzed through them.

           
He looked at the young couple who passed in front of him holding hands. They'd
last, he thought, just by the way they walked, almost leaning into each other,
instead of away from each other..

           
He looked at the college-aged young man throwing a ball to his dog. He couldn't
tell who was enjoying the game more — the laughing young man or the excited
little terrier.

           
All of a sudden, Gatlin felt like he'd been living a stolen life — so much of
it had been taken from him because he hadn't dealt with his past.

           
How much more of it was he willing to give up?
he pondered, as he opened
the emotional door he kept under lock and key at all times.

.
. .

           
"Stop it. Stop hitting my mom!" Gatlin yelled, jumping in front of
his mother to prevent his father from landing another blow.

           
"This is between your mother and me boy! Move outta the way," his
father said in his drunken slur.

           
"Gatlin, go to your room. It's okay, honey. Mama's ok."
            "No
you're not okay. You're not mom. I'm not leaving you," Gatlin cried, his
seven-year-old voice cracking with fear as he did his best to drag his mom from
the room.

           
As his father's fist prepared to land on his mother again, Gatlin kicked him in
the groin. He doubled over in pain, shouting, "You miserable little piece
of shit! I'll kill you for this! I'll kill you, do you hear me! I'll kill
you!"

           
Gatlin's mother ran to his father's side. "Honey are you alright? Are you
alright?" she said, wiping blood from the side of her lip with one hand
while she consoled his father, who continued to writhe in pain on the floor,
with the other.

.
. .

           
Gatlin had mentally catalogued hundreds of these types of memories from his
childhood. But this particular one stuck with him more vividly than the others.
And he wasn't sure why until he realized that it was when Kylie had said to him
during their last argument, "
I believe in love — and I won't let
anybody take that dream away from me."

           
When
his mother had gone to his father to comfort him, instead of coming to him as a
frightened, desperate 7-year-old, he realized the power that love had. His
mother had loved his father beyond all rhyme and reason — even beyond her
child, he thought.

           
He didn't realize it, but that had been the moment he'd stopped believing in
love. Love hurt. It was cruel. It wasn't kind. It wasn't loyal, or it was loyal
to the wrong people.

           
Sitting on a bench in Central Park on this sunny, spring day, a butterfly
landed close to him, providing a much-needed break from reflecting on his
tortured past.

           
It flapped its colorful wings slowly back and forth, as if it was content to
just enjoy the warmth of the sunshine. Gatlin stared at it. He'd never observed
a butterfly before. Ever … just like he'd never seen and felt real love before
… ever.

           
Until Kylie.

           
I can't lose her
,
he thought.
I just can't.

           
The
butterfly took flight as he stood to leave.

Chapter
12: To Believe in Love

           
"
I believe in love — and I won't let anybody take that dream away from
me."
Kylie's words reverberated over and over again in Gatlin's head
as he lay in bed that night.

           
Could he start to believe in love too? Had he already started to? He loved
Kylie; he knew that for sure. But he'd never connected it to believing in the
concept of this thing called love, which had only caused so much grief in his
life.

           
Why hadn't his mother left? If she had, she might still be alive and he
wouldn't have been shuffled from foster home to foster home as he grew up. He
might have a relationship with his father, who was still serving time in prison
for her murder.

           
This thing called love had figuratively killed everything a person was supposed
to hold sacred in life, especially a child. It had destroyed his sense of
security. It had skewed his knowledge of what was right and wrong. It had
ripped away his ability to love. It had literally killed his family.

           
And then Kylie had come along …

           
Hope and love were fluttering inside him, like the wings of a butterfly
flapping in the sunshine.

           
Could he make the leap into full-blown belief? Could he trust enough to share
all of himself?

Chapter
13: Breaking the Cycle

           
The
last two weeks had been the hardest of Kylie's life. She'd told her editor that
she would be working from home for a couple of weeks because she had some
personal issues she was dealing with.

           
He hadn't given her a problem about it, simply saying, "Meet your
deadlines, no problem." It's one of the things that had kept her at
The
City News
. Larry, the managing editor could be a hard-ass sometimes, but he
was also very fair. Pretty much as long as you made the mandatory monthly
meeting and met your deadlines — turning in killer stories, of course — he
didn't hover.

           
Of course, the real reason Kylie wanted to avoid the office was so she didn't
have to see Gatlin. Her emotions were still so raw, she needed time to at least
let a scab start to grow over the scar on her heart before having to face him
on a regular basis.

           
What she didn't know is that she needn't have worried. Gatlin had done pretty
much the same thing; although he took the unofficial route by staying out of
the office as much as possible. As a crime reporter, it wasn't hard to do. Even
when he wasn’t working on a particular story, he could do ride alongs with
detectives, or interview various different sources to come up with a story.

.
. .

           
"The official cause of the death of Ms. Bocelli is a drug overdose,"
the coroner was saying.

           
Gatlin and Kylie were at the press conference for the release of the official
coroner's report for
Anna Maria Bocelli, the young celebrity who'd died
almost four months ago.

           
Squeezed in with what seemed like 200 other reports, Kylie was just to Gatlin's
right. He never knew it was possible to miss the actual scent of  a
person, he thought as her hair brushed against him.

           
Kylie was acutely aware of Gatlin. Even though she was ostensibly focused on
what was going on in front of her, she couldn't have repeated a word the
coroner said. Thank goodness she wouldn't have to due to the marvels of modern
technology like recording devices.

           
"Do you want to cab it back to the office together?" Gatlin said.
"I'm sure Larry would appreciate the expense report savings," he
continued, striving for a light tone.

           
"Sure," Kylie said. "Since we have to get right down to putting
this story to bed, makes sense."

.
. .

           
"I'm tuckered out," Kylie said three hours later as they filed the
final version of the story -- at least this installment. Larry, her managing
editor, had been right. This story had legs. Almost four months later, there
was still new things coming to light about the deceased starlet that made it a
hot story still.

           
Kylie lifted her arms over her head and stretched back in her chair.

           
She'd forgotten just how much fun it was working with Gatlin. Ideas flowed from
him quick, much like her mind worked. He was also a much better note taker than
she was, lending details she might have missed or had to dig for had they not
been working on the story together.

           
The thing she appreciated most about working with him though was that he was a
consummate professional, just like she was. In spite of the personal history
between them, once they got down to work, it didn't affect the process at all.
The work just flowed, as it had from day one.

           
"Yeah, me too," Gatlin said. "It's been a long one," he
responded to her remark about being tired.

           
Standing up to grab her purse, Kylie said, "Nice working with you again
Matthews," trying to keep things casual. "Have a good night,"
she said and turned to leave.

           
Now that work was done and the personal history between them was front and
center, Kylie wanted to escape as soon as possible. She'd forgotten how golden
his eyes were; how his face looked with stubble on it; how his jeans fit just
right; how deep his voice was, and how incredibly sexy he smelled.

           
All of a sudden, she felt claustrophobic — suffocated by her need for him.

           
"Kylie, do you remember when you said to me, '
I believe in love — and I
won't let anybody take that dream away from me
,' he said all of a sudden,
taking her by surprise.

           
She stopped in mid-stride, her purse only half way on her shoulder, as she
turned around to face him.

           
"Yes, I do."

           
"I never wanted to take your dream away from you, you know. I wanted to
give it to you … but I didn't know how."

           
"What are you trying to say Gatlin?"

           
"That the sun will never shine as bright for me if you're not in my life
Kylie. And butterflies … well, they'll only ever be caterpillars for me without
you."

           
"I love you. I want to build a life with you because without you, I know
I'll only ever live a half life — not a full, joyous one filled with
butterflies and sunshine. You made me see the possibility of that life gift
Kylie, and I want to give you the same."

           
"Gatlin, I'm not quite sure what to say," she said bowing her head.
She didn't want to see the love so evident in those sparkling, cat-like eyes.
It was too hard because the problems that tore them apart remained. "I
…" she began.

           
"Will you just let me finish before you say anything?" he interrupted
her, almost pleading.

           
"Kylie I don't blame you for breaking things off with me. You had every
right to and you were wise to do it. Everything you said is true. I've never
been able to let anyone in, as you put it. Ever … until now."

           
"Will you go to dinner with me? I know you must be hungry and goodness
knows I am.  I'll tell you the whole sordid tale of my life. Everything.
Then if you decide that you still don't want to be involved with me, well, I'll
have to find a way to deal with that."

.
. .

           
Two-and-a-half hours later, as they sat in O'Reilly's Steak Pub, Kylie absorbed
all that Gatlin told her with tears in her eyes.

           
"Dear God Gatlin, how did you turn out to be such an amazing man? You know
how many people don't break the cycle; who go on and repeat the past? I thought
I loved you before, but …"

           
She stopped, and simply squeezed his hand across the table.

           
He squeezed her hand back in silent gratitude for her understanding and
empathy. "You know, I think one of the reasons I'm so drawn to crime reporting
is that it gives victims a voice. As you know by my tendency to shut down, many
of them don’t feel like they have one. And even when they do, they don't trust
it."

           
"While I didn't turn out to be violent like my father, I have done my
share of emotional damage to women I've been with by being so closed. You're
the first woman to make me want to change that; to make me realize I have to
change that to live a full life."

           
"One of the things I love about you is your optimistic outlook on life.
You always see the bright side. I don't think I've ever met anyone who … eats
life like you do."

           
Kylie burst into laughter. "You think I eat life? … I like that!"
Perhaps another thing to put on a t-shirt, she said, reminding him of the time
he said she should put the phrase,
'
I don't
question, I just enjoy
' on a t-shirt as a reminder of a life
philosophy.

           
"Yes you do, and you make me want to eat it too instead of cringe away
from it." Turning serious, he said, "I know I have a lot of emotional
work to do Kylie, but I'm asking you to hang in there with me. I don't want to
shut you out of my life ever again. I don't want to lose you. I can't lose
you."

           
"I'm a brooder, so I need time and space to think sometimes, but I won't
shut down and not communicate with you. I need you, as much as I need air in my
lungs and food in my belly. I won't do anything to jeopardize losing you
again."

           
"One more thing … will you promise me something?" he said.

           
"Yes, if I can," she said, still in shock over just how tumultuous
his life had been and how openly he was sharing it with her now.

           
"I'm so used to shutting down that it's become habit; one I'm determined
to break. So if you feel that I'm locking you out, make me aware of it and I
promise you I'll let you back in."

           
"I promise," she said, squeezing the one hand she was holding with
both of hers. "It's all I could ever ask of you Gatlin," she said,
her watery smile lighting up her face.

           
"One more thing," he said.

           
"What's that?" she replied, fishing for a tissue in her handbag. The
tears were flowing freely now … for what he'd been through as a child, for the
possibilities the future held for them and for the love that overflowed for him
right at this second.

           
Waiting for her to find her tissue, Gatlin scooted closer to her in the leather
booth of the Irish pub. Cupping her face in his hands as she wiped her happy
tears, he said, "I know this may seem a little out of left field, but will
you marry me Kylie?"

           
"Some things you just know for sure … and what I know is that you are the
only woman in the world for me. You literally brought me out of the darkness
into the light. You breathed life into a being that existed as a shell of a
person."

           
"I see how you light up like a Christmas tree when you talk about your
parents. I want that for us. I know we can have it. So will you? Will you marry
me?"

           
Kylie's eyes widened. She hadn't expected a proposal — not in a million years;
not this soon. "You don't have to marry me Gatlin. You can have me any way
you want me … as long as I know your heart is open to loving me and sharing
with me."

           
"The way I want you is as my wife Kylie. It's the only way I could
possibly have you. I need to know that you'll be mine — and only mine —
forever."

           
Unable to speak, Kylie simply shook her head and leaned into Gatlin.

           
She'd never expected when she woke up that morning that she'd be engaged to the
man she loved more than life itself by nightfall.

           
Each sought the other to solidify their future with a kiss. Gatlin's tongue
caressed her bottom lip, slipping inside her cozy mouth in the forever dance of
promised love.

           
Kylie returned his ardor, completely oblivious to where she was. Feeling the
kiss getting out of hand, Gatlin eased back, still holding her in his arms.
"Ready?" he said.

           
"I've never been more ready for anything in my life," she responded,
her face in a rapturous smile.

           
The double meaning of her words weren't lost on him.

           
"Me neither, my love. Me neither," he said, looking forward to the
promise of this night … and the rest of their lives together.