Freed (27 page)

“Say it, dammit. Say what you’re feeling right now,” he demands again, relentless as ever.

My eyes fly open. “I want you, dammit,” I cry. “I love you.” His eyes widen, like he didn’t think I would actually admit it. He’s not the only one who’s surprised. Ah, God. It feels so good. Then I can’t shut up. “I know it. I feel it. I want it. Loving you is so damn easy that it terrifies me. Not loving you, but the fear of losing it because I’m not good enough.”

I’m barely finished speaking before he picks me up and crushes me against him. He holds me tight, not talking, not moving. We’re both breathing hard, like we’ve run a damn marathon in soaking wet clothes, and I guess, in a sense, we have. Finally, he moves us over to the couch, collapsing onto it with me in his arms. I shift and fit myself against him, laying my head on his chest.

I shiver against him, realizing how momentous this night has been for the both of us. “I haven’t said those words since I was a little kid.”

His arm tightens around me. One hand plays at my hair. “How’d it feel?”

Scary
.
Fulfilling
. But mostly …“Freeing … and I love that it was you.”

“Remember when I said I like a challenge?”

“Mmm, hmm … ” I hum, utterly spent.

“It’s a good damn thing I do, because I see you always giving me a run for my money, little fighter.” I laugh against his chest. It’s a weak effort, but it’s genuine.

“Remember when I thought you were a manwhore?”

“Have I ever told you how much I hate that word?”

With the last dregs of energy I possess, I pull my chin up against his chest and stare into his eyes. “I just need a little time, Ransom. You give me everything, and I want to return that, but after everything you’ve helped me unlock, it still feels like there are pieces of me that are frozen. I just want to be whole for you. For
us
. I don’t want you compromising for me. I want to be everything to you, and until I feel sure of that myself, I don’t want to rush this.”

“I love you,” he whispers softly, and it tears at my heart anyway. “You love me too. And as long as that’s our truth, you can have all the time you need, Denver.”

Chapter Twenty-one

Denver

H
AVE YOU EVER
seen a wreck about to happen and felt powerless to stop it? In the aftermath, everything you can think to do is not enough. Would even make things worse? That’s how I’ve felt about my life over the last few years. I seized control over it using the only means I knew. Only, it wasn’t right. It wasn’t enough, and it made things worse. Then … John Ransom. His name is an entire sentence. He’s the first on the scene, the jaws of life, and the medic. He knows just what to do, and not only that, he’s good at showing you what to do, too.

What he showed me is so shockingly simple that it makes me feel foolish, but I guess that’s thing about perspective. When yours is screwed, nothing makes sense. Nothing is as simple as it should be. Until it is unraveled and dissected and set to rights, you are screwed.

Ransom didn’t push for anything more than making me tell him I love him—more times than I can count over the past few weeks—and each time I said it, it just got easier and easier. It made me see what it is I need to feel loved and feel like I can return his love without reservation.

Only thing is, while Ransom helped me sort through so many things, there were certain pieces that I had to heal on my own. Namely, confronting my parents. The fact that I’d never been hugged or told I was loved after a certain age, began to taunt me like a childhood bully that I needed to put in its place, and it became clear to me that that was where my confidence and my emotions remained captive. It was time for the hold it had over me to be eliminated. And even knowing I might have faced rejection couldn’t stop me from at least trying. I had to try. I had to tell my parents how I felt. I had to tell my dad the awful things that had happened after he left us. It was painful, but it was a truth that needed to come into the light. Hiding it only served to make me feel at fault—make me feel guilty. I also had to tell my mom how much it killed me to have her choose men over me. In the past, I’d dealt with that by getting angry and locking myself away. What would happen if I told her how much it hurt—told her how much I missed her? I had to find out, even if I didn’t solve anything.

Sitting in front of my fireplace, curled up with a good book, I feel a sense of peace. Granted, things are far from perfect, and I know that’s not even possible. Just the simple fact that I’m doing the things needed to make it better, makes all the difference. And it doesn’t matter that I’m home alone. My mom is off with Blake, and no one I love is helping me bring in the New Year, because for the first time in years, I feel comfortable in my own skin and confident in who I am and what I want. I know that when the time is right, I will be surrounded by people who love me, and that is something I’ve never known with certainty before. So, while it would be nice to have company, I’m perfectly content to be alone, because I’m not lonely.

My phone buzzes at my side me, shaking me from my reverie.
Austin just threw an entire brick of firecrackers into the bonfire. Hope you’ll still love me deaf.

I roll my eyes at the phone.
As long as he doesn’t maim my favorite part of you, I’ll still love you.

Favorite part? Do tell.

I’m more of a shower than a teller.

God, I miss you.

Miss you too.

You OK?

Yep, it’s quiet here. And really freakin’ cold. Catching up on reading.

Educational?

You could say that. ;)

I love you naughty.

I love you. XO

Scrolling back through our messages over the last few weeks is like reading a diary. Some of it is sad, most of it is encouraging, and all of it was well over due.

Just landed in MS. It’s hot and humid here. WTF? In other news, made my dad hug me and talk to me on the drive.

Told my dad everything—all the evil step-father shit, all the Greer stuff, all the momma drama. Bright point—all the Ransom goodness.

He’s gone through a lot of different emotions. Seems to have settled on “regret” and wants “to fix shit.” Yep, this is where I got my potty mouth.

OMG! My dad told me he loves me. And I told him I love him too. Insert big, cheesy smile!

I’m going to puke. He’s flying back home with me. Wants to sit down with my mother.

Blake’s staying at a hotel, but we were told it’s only temporary. We’ve got no right to tell her who she can be with.

Got everything out on the table with mom, but not before she stormed off no less than six times. It was a process.

Told my mom she hasn’t hugged me since I was ten. She screamed at me and called me a liar and a manipulator.

She gave me a hug and whispered she was sorry. Only thing is she thought I was asleep. She sat and stared at me forever before she made her move. When she did, though, I told her I was sorry too and that I forgive her.

Blake’s going to rehab. My mom feels guilty, she’s gonna drop him off and tell him that she’s divorcing him so that “the counselors can deal with the fallout.”

My dad leaves today. I’m so sad. We made a lot of headway with the new colt, but I wish he could stay and see it through with me.

Umm … just walked in on my parents hugging and crying. Looked WAY intimate. Is this a good thing?

This morning, before my mom left for Utah, she told me that she wants to get “it” right, but not to expect more than baby steps, and to be prepared for her to screw up. That sounded familiar, and it was something I definitely got. I told her that she was amazing just for trying.
Yes me!
I admitted that. And to my mother!

The sound of knocking at the side door has me switching off my cell and tossing it on the couch. I look down to make sure my pajamas are presentable. Standing on my tippy-toes at the door, I peek out and spot Greer.

I promise myself not to let the past that he brings with him spoil this little peace I’ve found, before I swing the door open. I smile at him, and he smiles back. It’s like a real one, which makes mine go wide. The setting sun hovers over his shoulder, illuminating him with the last rays of sunshine. My breath catches at how much better he looks these days—almost golden again. I swallow hard at the sudden lump in my throat.

Greer shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels a little. I know that’s his casual stance and not his nervous one. That makes me happy. “Hey, Denver. Busy?” he asks.

I glance down again at my pajamas, laughing at how pathetic it must seem to be nineteen, home alone on New Year’s Eve, and dressed for bed before the sun has even set. “Just a hot date with a romance novel and a fire. Wanna come in?”

He nods at me, and I play hostess, getting us some drinks (non-alcoholic) before I lead him back to the living room by the fire.

Greer sits, but then stands back up just as quick, and pokes at the fire a bit. I wait patiently for him to give me a clue, but when he rambles about random things and adds logs, arranging them just right, I intervene.

“Greer, the fire’s fine. Did you come just to hang out, or you got something on your mind?”

He puts the poker down and turns to me with his hands on hips. “Your dad stopped by my place before he left.”

My brows shoot up. “Really?”

“Yeah, we had an … interesting chat. He threatened to cut my balls off and feed ‘em to me if I ever hurt you or anyone else like that again. Then he talked to my dad and found out what all I’ve been doing. You know, with trying to make amends and get myself right?” I nod. “He told me I was a good boy once, and I’ll be a good man, and that I’m on the right track now. Then he slapped me on the back of the head and took off.”

“I had to tell him, Greer. He had to understand the whole picture.”

“No, I get it. I’m glad you did. If a father can forgive a man for doing that to his daughter, maybe there’s something of worth in me to forgive.” He slides down on the other side of the couch, exhaling as if another stressor has been removed.

Leaning toward him, I pat his hand quickly before sitting back. “Of course there is. I’m really proud of you for working so hard. I know it’s not easy.”

“Me too. Proud of you, that is.”

“Greer, can I tell you something without you getting the wrong idea?” He nods. “I’m sorry I never told you I loved you.” My eyes sting with true regret. “I did. I do love you.” His blue eyes shine bright with tears.

“I love you too, chicken,” he whispers gruffly. “And I always will. But, we can never be together. I know that now. One thing I’ve figured out through all this is that I didn’t know myself very well. It was like I was no one without you … that’s not right, and it’s not healthy. And, it’s too much to put on another person.” He laughs lightly. “I will say it feels good to hear you say it—to know it wasn’t one-sided—even if it is too late for us.”

I had always wanted to be the girl who wanted to
want
him and kicked myself for not being able to, but I can’t dwell on that anymore. “My head was so twisted, I couldn’t see it, but when things went south with us and I had nothing and no one to hide behind anymore, it became crystal clear. I hate that it took all that for me to see it and admit it, but other times, I wonder if it hadn’t happened like it did, would I be where I am right now? Getting my head together? Getting my parents back?” I shake my head and sigh. “I don’t know. All I know is I’m pulling the good out of the grips of the bad and running with it. I’m not going to let the darkness pull me back under.”

Greer and I spend the next couple of hours talking like old friends catching up after years apart. I don’t know that we can be an everyday presence in each other’s lives. Somehow I think that might be pushing the limits, but he can be that forever friend. The one you don’t have to share every single thing with, but when you come back together, it’s like no time has passed, and you pick up where you left off. I’ve heard about those. It sounds nice.

After I lock up behind him, I look around my house and know without a doubt that what I want is two hundred miles away, and I can’t wait another second for him. I glance at the clock, noting that it’s barely nine. I make a mad dash for my phone and fire off a text.