Remembering Phoenix (19 page)

Her mouth falls agape, but I don’t have time, nor do I care, to hear what she has say in response to that. If I hear one more high pitched giggle from her, I’ll pluck my eardrums out myself. The only person I care about just disappeared. She probably thinks I hate her. The irony is outstanding.

I’m just pissed.

“Hey.” I tap on Lizzie’s shoulder once I get into the kitchen, where she and Randi are chatting. “Where did Charlie go?”

Lizzie spins around quickly, crossing her arms over her chest. “Slayter,” she warns, her blue eyes burning into me, “what the hell did you do to her? I warned you. Months ago I warned you that she wasn’t some girl you could play games with. She’s not like other people. She’s been through so much shit, Slayter.”

“Play games? Who the fuck is playing games, Lizzie? I’m not the one who said we were
nothing.
No, that would be your sister,” I grit out. “Now tell me where she went.”

“Why?” She taps her foot waiting for me to respond.

“Why what?” I ask, my voice clipped. “Why do I have this innate need to make sure she’s okay? Because she’s fucking ruined me. She’s weaseled her way into my head, and there’s no getting her out of it. And I know she’s not like everyone else. She’s bruised. She’s guarded. She’s different. But dammit, I don’t care.”

Lizzie flings her dark hair over her shoulder. “Why should I tell you where she went?”

“Because,” I rub my hands over my eyes. “Because, Lizzie, I’m fucking falling in love with your sister and I need to figure this shit out before I let it get to that point. And I need to makes sure she’s okay.”

She gasps, her eyes widening in surprise. “You love her?”

I shake my head, pinching the back of my neck, aggravation burrowing into my bones with every passing second she stalls telling me where Charlie went. “I said I was falling in love.”
No, asshole. You’re already there.
“Now tell me where she went, Lizzie.”

“She went to her house,” she mumbles.

I nod and salute with my hands. “That’s all I needed to know. Thanks.”

“Slayter…” she calls after me.

I throw my hand up. “I’ve got her, Lizzie.”

I stand there with my head propped against the cold metal of her apartment door. My heart is nearly pounding out of my chest with adrenaline. She’s so close, yet feels so far away. I fight with myself on whether I should just turn this knob to see if it’s unlocked. Do I walk in unannounced, or knock like a gentleman?

I decide quickly—fuck being a gentleman.

I shimmy the knob, and it turns easily, letting me know it’s unlocked. I figured.

As soon as I step in, the silence of the apartment covers me. I can see the glow of the television dancing around her living room as I slam the door shut. If she didn’t already know someone was in here, she sure as hell does now. I walk into the living room to wait on her, and prop up on the wall, one leg kicked up against it. A good twenty seconds pass before her bedroom door swings open. Charlie storms out—bathrobe on and hair in a towel—with a baseball bat in tow. When she catches sight of me, she holds her hand up to her chest and gasps, “What the hell are you doing here? You just about gave me a heart attack.”

“You should start locking your door. Then you wouldn’t have random men barge in unannounced.” I kick off the wall, stalking towards her. Her eyes widen. Once I’m in front of her, I grab the baseball bat out of her hand, tossing it to the floor.

“I could have hurt you,” she whispers. Her wide eyes look up at me. They’re still glazed over from the alcohol she downed at my house. She thinks I was ignoring her, but I was paying attention. I’m always paying attention.

I laugh. “With that?” I ask, pointing to the bat on the floor. “Besides, that’s already been done.” Her face crinkles in confusion. I have every intention of making her aware, though. I grab her wrists, walking her backwards until her back hits the wall, and pin her arms above her head. “We’re nothing, Charlie? Is that what you think?”

Eyes glassing over with liquid emotion, she murmurs, “No.”

“Oh, but we are, remember? That’s what you told your sister without thinking twice.” I tug at the tie on her bathrobe, letting it drop to her sides, exposing her bare body underneath. I pull the towel off of her head, her wet hair falling down her face. Her head drops. I place my index finger underneath her chin, tugging her face back to meet mine before trailing my finger all the way down her body until I’m
there
—that spot I’ve come to thoroughly enjoy and used to think was mine. I guess it never was, because how can she be mine when she’s so fucking lost in her own head she refuses to stay found? I slip my finger inside her as a whimper escapes her lips. “What this does to you is nothing?” I ask, pumping harder, circling my thumb around her clit.

“No,” she moans. “It does…everything.”

I stare at her for a, not able to move my eyes from her face. My fingers work feverishly as her body starts to writhe against my hand.

“Then why hide us? Not wanting to shout it to the world is one thing, but why couldn’t you admit it? Are you ashamed of me, Charlie?”

She shakes her head no. Her body trembles. “I’ve never been ashamed of you.”

I slip my fingers out of her. “Oh, but I think you are.”

She looks up at me. The absence of my touch affects her. I see it in her eyes. I can feel it in the atmosphere as the mood goes from high velocity from her impending orgasm to emptiness in a matter of seconds.

My eyes roam her face, studying her features—her left eye with a tiny gold speck at the edge of her pupil, her heart shaped lips that I love to taste. Her breathing remains labored as she stares, wide-eyed, into my eyes. I see it. It’s written all over her face. The absolute fear of the unknown. The guilt of feeling anything at all. She tries to hide from herself and everyone, but I see right through that veil she’s wearing.

I can take every piece of her and never actually have her heart. I could own every part of her body, but I’d never own her soul. She can’t give me something that she’s locked up so tight even she can’t get to it. Charlie lost the ability to let her heart lead her a long time ago. She’s lost ownership of her soul little by little over the past two years. Her accident took more from her than I could ever imagine, but she’s doing the rest of the work all by herself.

She blink several times. “You can’t do that.”

“What?” I ask. “This?” I drop my face to hers, nipping at her full bottom lip. She moans from my touch. She tries to suppress it, but that urge to grab a hold of me, losing herself in the moment, it’s too hard to fight. And I damn well won’t apologize for it.

I slip my tongue between her parted lips, savoring every moment she kisses me back. My heart pounds in my chest. My dick throbs in my jeans. I know where this is going. I feel her slipping; she’s drifting away from me. I just hope like hell I can put it off as long as possible.

I release her wrists. Her hands fall, then gripping my shirt, tugging me closer to her. I slip my hands in the opening of the robe, sliding them around her back. I reach down, pulling her up until she’s in my arms, straddling my waist with her legs. Her warm lips feel so perfectly against mine. Her tongue slides against mine as her arms wrap tightly around my neck. Her cherry blossom scent engulfs me, and my chest cracks at the thought of never smelling it again.

I can feel the erratic beat of her heart against my chest, and I know she feels it too. But feeling and accepting are two very different emotions, and Charlie isn’t accepting of feeling anything at all.

I suck on her bottom lip, giving us both a chance to catch our breath. When her eyes flutter open, I can see the slight crinkle dissipate in the corner of her eyes as they turn dark and distant. And just like that, she unhooks her legs from around me, dropping them to the floor, giving me no option but to release her.

Charlie steps away from me quickly, her back hitting the wall. Hastily wrapping the robe around her, she ties it shut.
She’s hiding from me
. She shakes her head disapprovingly. “Stop. We can’t do this.”

“Do what?” I ask, anger starts to fill my bones as she refuses to look at me. I know that Charlie. The one who refuses to look you in the eye because she’s pushing. She’s pushing away, and I know I won’t be able to pull her back to me this time.

Her guard goes back up. Her stance gets taller. Her face tightens. “I’m not the girl for you, Slayter. I can’t give you what you want. What you deserve.”

“What I deserve?” I laugh bitterly. “What I deserve is whatever the hell I want.” I take a step closer to her, only inches separating us now. “And what I want is you.”

“You can’t have me,” she says, her voice barely audible, completely going against the hard exterior she’s now showing.

“I’m not asking you to love me, Charlie. I’m not getting down on one knee and asking you to fucking marry me. I’m just asking for
you
. Any part of you you’re willing to give me is enough for me.
You’re
enough for me.” My voice grows with every word spoken.

“I’m not anywhere near enough,” she says, her voice feather light. She fiddles with the string on her bathrobe. “I’ll never be enough for a guy like you. I wasn’t enough to be a mother. And besides…” Her eyes dance around, examining the room behind me before they finally fall on me again. “You deserve more than just
enough,
anyway
.
You deserve someone whole, someone who can give you the entirety of their being. I can’t give you that. I can’t give you my heart, because I don’t even think I have it to give.”

“That’s bullshit!” I snap. I slap my hands against the wall behind her. Anger pricks my every nerve. Angry because life fucked her up. Angry because she can’t truly live until she lets go of guilt. And she’ll never let go unless she’s got something to hang on to. She’ll never have anything to hang on to unless she remembers. And there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.

I’m not falling in love. I’m there. I’ve been there for longer than I care to admit.

And I guarantee you she’s about to lay one huge blow to a heart that only beats for her.

“Go home, Slayter.”

“No.”

Her eyes narrow. I can see the pain all over her face. I can hear the heartache in her every word. She’s got a heart alright. She’s got a heart so big it aches, longs, and yearns for something I can’t give her.

Her son.

“Leave.”

“Don’t run, Charlie.”

“I’m not running anywhere,” she says through gritted teeth. “I’m telling you to leave my apartment. I don’t need you trying to save me.”

“I’m not trying—“

“Leave!” she yells, flinging her hand in the direction of her door. Tears spring in her eyes, but refuse to fall. “I’m not a charity case. You can go on about your life, now.”

“Charity case?” I ask. “You think you are a charity case for me?” I laugh bitterly, interlocking my hands over my head. “You’ve got it so wrong. So fucking wrong.”

“The only thing I ever had wrong was thinking that it was okay to open myself up to you. I shouldn’t have, and it was a huge mistake.” She takes a deep breath. “Now get the hell out.”

“Fine,” I say. “I’ll walk away right now, but know that doesn’t mean I’m walking away from you. When you need someone to help pull you out from sinking under, call me. You might have given up on yourself a long time ago, but I never will. Because whether you like it or not, I’ve got you, Charlie.”

I lean down and, cupping her face between my hands, press my lips to hers. I kiss her like it’s the first time, but knowing damn well it could be the last.