Too Close to Resist (22 page)

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

K
YLE
SAT
IN
his office for the rest of the afternoon staring blankly at his computer. Occasionally he’d register that there was still a smear of blood on either hand and he should wash up. He should...

But then he stopped, because there was no reason to do much of anything. He’d ruined everything. How could he go back? He couldn’t go back to Grace; he’d hurt her too badly. And his life at MC was different now, too. He might be able to act like cold, bland Kyle again, but everyone would know.

Everything he’d built, everything he’d tried to give himself, and he’d ruined it. Not his parents, not Grace, not love. Just him.

A knock sounded at the door. He couldn’t even muster up the energy to hide his hands, to find a tissue to wipe his nose. It all seemed completely hopeless.

Until he heard Grace’s voice. “I wanted you to know I’m going over to Leah’s.”

He swiveled in his chair, halfway to pushing himself out of it before he realized he needed to keep his distance. She didn’t meet his gaze; she was practically hiding behind the half-open door. She was afraid of him, and he had no right to anything. “You don’t have to leave. I should be the one to—”

She held up a hand, stepping farther into the entrance of his office. “Just for the night. Just because I need a friend. You’re not going anywhere. This is your home.”

He wanted to tell her it was hers, too. Or that she was his home. Anything that might fix what he’d broken, but he knew better than that.

He didn’t fix things. He broke them.

“I wanted you to know because I couldn’t find Jacob. I texted him, but just in case he doesn’t see it, someone will know where I am.”

“All right.” He couldn’t look at her face anymore. Or the slope of her shoulder and the fuzzy bright blue sweater she’d changed into. He couldn’t look at the paint splatters on her jeans or the rainbow socks she was wearing. He couldn’t look at any of it or his throat would close in on itself and he’d never breathe again.

Maybe that would be for the best.

“You should clean yourself up.” She reached out, her hand wavering in his vision, as if she meant to touch his face, and he almost leaned into it, but she dropped her arm before he had the chance.

“I don’t know...where I am exactly. I need to figure that out, but you have to know, you have to believe you’re not like them. No matter what happens with us.”

He looked at her face, swollen eyes, red cheeks, more tears dripping down her face. Not like them? What a joke. He’d hurt her. All because he couldn’t keep from acting out. He was
exactly
like them. “And yet you’re crying.”

She expelled an uneven breath and looked up at the ceiling. “I...I need some time. I need to wrap my head around this. I need...” She shook her head. “I’m not sure, but I’m not walking away, Kyle. I’m taking a step back.”

“You should walk away. You have to walk away. You deserve better.”

“I deserve whatever the hell I want,” she snapped. She wrapped her arms around herself, sniffled. “I love you. What happened... It doesn’t change that. Maybe it changes us and what happens between us. And maybe it doesn’t. I don’t know.” She shook her head, taking a deep, shaky breath, and his chest ached, ached so hard he couldn’t breathe.

“I’m going to figure it out, though. So don’t...don’t go away. Don’t be... Just give me time. Time to figure out what I can accept.”

“You shouldn’t accept anything, Grace. Accept the truth of what you saw. It does change things. It changes everything.”

“No. You don’t get to tell me what changes. That’s my choice. Do not tell me what I should or shouldn’t do or feel. I get to work this out. I get to decide what I want. I don’t care what happened, I am in charge of my life. Got it?”

In charge of life. Wasn’t that a laugh? Or maybe he was in charge of his life, and he was just a complete failure at it. She seemed so sure she had control over hers, and yet time and time again life threw things at her beyond her control. Her mother’s cancer and missing out on college, Barry’s attack, the fire, him and his dad. How could she think she had any control over anything?

But she did. Shoulders back, eyes defiantly on his despite the tears. She really did believe she was in charge.

“I’ll be back tomorrow, and then we’ll talk. Okay?”

Kyle didn’t agree. He couldn’t. What would change? What could? He’d still be the man who’d bring violence into her life if they somehow worked this out. Maybe not every day. Maybe not even every year, but enough. She didn’t deserve today, let alone a future of todays.

“You know what? It’s not an option.” She turned on a heel and stormed out.

He itched to go after her. To apologize. To fix it. But what was there to fix? What was done was done, and he didn’t believe, except for maybe one pitiful second, that she’d really come back tomorrow and say they could work this out.

He was a violent, out-of-control piece of trash. It was what he’d come from. What he’d always been and continued to be, no matter how much he deluded himself into thinking otherwise.

Pathetic, that he’d never really learned the lesson his parents had instilled in him since birth.

He’d never be strong enough to do what needed to be done. And he’d never be enough to make anyone, let alone himself, happy.

He sat there for a few more minutes, until he heard the front door open and close. Finally he pushed out of his chair, crossed to the window. The headlights of Leah’s truck shone in the misty dark, and he watched until Grace hopped in and the truck disappeared.

He trudged down the hallway to his room, but stopped halfway. Screw it. He’d avoided getting drunk for ten years. Being drunk meant losing control. Being drunk meant he was more like his parents than he wanted to believe. It meant giving in to violent impulses, right or wrong. It meant being everything he fought against.

If tonight wasn’t an occasion to break that vow, nothing was.

Kyle turned back and went down to the kitchen. He rummaged in the liquor cabinet until he found a bottle of whiskey. He took it out to the front porch, into the black, misty night that suited his mood.

Unscrewing the top, he took a long pull that threatened to make him gag at the bitter taste. Instead of backing off, he took another drink. He wasn’t going to let a little bad taste get in the way of his mission. Operation: drown the pain with alcohol.

That was how people like him dealt with bad stuff anyway, wasn’t it? It had been stupid to think he was somehow better than this, than his parents, than his past. A real funny joke.

Didn’t the altercations with his father prove all the control he thought he’d had was a lie? A fantasy. He wasn’t in control. He never had been. A man in control didn’t fall in love with a woman who deserved better.

Ten years, and he’d ignored every setback telling him the truth. You did not escape the Rosedale Trailer Park. You did not escape the Clark family legacy. You could pretend, but it’d never be true.

The sky was black and starless. The air was wet with a weird rain that couldn’t quite be classified a drizzle. He wished it would storm. Lightning, thunder, pelting rain. Wash away everything and anything.

It took a few hours to get through half the bottle. He was queasy and unsteady and he was pretty sure if he could get a few more drinks down, he’d have the wonderful consequence of passing out.

Wouldn’t that be nice?

When Kyle heard a car pull up, his heart leaped.
Grace.
He laughed bitterly. Apparently his hope couldn’t be killed no matter how many doses of reality he got.

Whoever was pulling up at the house at eleven at night was not here to tell him everything would be okay. Not here to tell him he could love Grace and not hurt her. They could be together and he wouldn’t ruin everything.

Instead Kyle heard Jacob stomping up the walk as he muttered to himself about damn electricians.

Kyle was drunk enough to believe Jacob wouldn’t notice him. That in the dark of night, he was invisible. Him and half a bottle of whiskey. Speaking of the whiskey, he took another slug.

Jacob’s foot stomped right next to his, and then Jacob stumbled and swore. “What the hell, Kyle? What are you doing sitting out here in the dark?”

Kyle didn’t answer. What
was
he doing? It felt like drowning.

“Are you drinking?”

The incredulous note in Jacob’s voice was enough to make Kyle laugh. “Yup.” Kyle held the bottle up in silent cheers. “Want some?”

“Okay, you’re drunk. Or at least halfway there. What the hell is going on?” Jacob paused, sticking his face all too close to Kyle’s. “Something happened with Grace.”

Not a question. Why would it be? What else would prompt him to throw away ten years of control and not hurting and feeling as though he wanted to curl up and die? This really was all her fault. She should have kept her distance all those weeks ago, like someone with half a brain.

“All right,” Jacob muttered. He disappeared inside, Kyle assumed to check on Grace. But a few minutes later, Jacob reappeared. He took a seat next to Kyle on the stair and unscrewed his own bottle of alcohol.

It took a few minutes for Kyle’s brain to click into enough gear to make everything out. To understand. This was commiseration, not condemnation.

How...weird.

“So what happened? Do I need to beat you up?”

“I...” Well, there was that lovely stabbing feeling of pain that had been alleviated briefly. Right back where it belonged. Deep in his chest. Beat him up. Why did everything revolve back to that? Violence and fists and retribution.

Because that’s all you are.

Kyle took a long drink, stared at the dark in front of him. “I want you to buy me out of MC, or find someone who can. I’m out. I’m done. I’m moving far, far away.”

“Come on, dude. Look, whatever happened between you and Grace, it’s not enough for you to leave over. I know you didn’t cheat on her and I know you didn’t physically hurt her or anything, so whatever problems you’re having, you can work out.”

“She saw me lay into my dad. I might not have physically hurt her, but I sure as hell gave her a glimpse into what I’m capable of.”

That knocked the earnest support right out of Jacob. In fact, Kyle was pretty sure he leaned away.

“Your dad, huh?”

“Somehow got out early.” Kyle took another long drink, so much so everything started to get a blurry. Yeah. More of that. “Started in. So I hit him as hard as I could. He hit me back. And Grace was right there.”

“What’d he say?”

“Huh?”

“Your dad. What’d he say that made you hit him?”

Kyle wasn’t sure how he’d expected this conversation to go, but Jacob’s calm questioning wasn’t it. Maybe it was the alcohol. Maybe he was hallucinating or misunderstanding. “Just the same old shit.”

“What’s the same old shit? I’m curious.”

Again, Jacob’s tone was even and calm, and Kyle didn’t understand. He didn’t know what to do with it. “He...brings up...” Kyle cleared his throat. What was the point in telling Jacob this?

Then again, what was the point in not? He didn’t have anything to hide anymore. Any hope that he could hide away all the demons inside him had died the minute his fist had connected with his dad’s face while Grace had watched. “I held a gun to his head once, so he likes to talk about the time I almost killed him.”

“That was right before U of I, right? When they both got put in jail?”

Kyle swallowed. He felt jittery and off-kilter, and it wasn’t just the alcohol, it was his best friend taking this all in stride. “Yeah.”

“Is that all?”

“All?”

“Yeah, all. He didn’t say anything else? He just brought that up and you laid into him?”

“I... He talked to Grace.”

“Ah.”

“But, that doesn’t mean... I hit him in front of her. After everything she’s been through. I hit him with her
right
there. She saw that, and it’ll happen again, and even if she knows I’d never hurt her, she’d see me hurt someone else again and again and...that isn’t right.”

“No, it’s not.”

“So it’s over. It has to be over.”

“That’d probably be best.”

The relief was so heavy, it made his shoulders sag. Finally, someone who agreed with him. Finally, someone got it. “So you’ll buy me out.”

“No.”

“But—”

“And I think if Grace wants to work things out, you should.”

“But...
You
punched
me
a few weeks ago for sleeping with her. How can you think—”

“Because I did in fact punch you, that’s how I can think. After knowing what you went through, what Grace has been through, I never should have laid a finger on you, but I did. Doesn’t mean I’m going to start beating up children or shooting drugs or whatever. It means I let my emotion, my confusion, my anger get the better of me and I made a mistake. A really shitty mistake I’ll always feel bad about, but I don’t think it means I should shut everyone out for fear I’ll hurt them, too.”

“It’s different.”

“Why?”

“Because it is.” He slammed the bottle down, too hard. Maybe a dam had broken. By punching his father in front of Grace, he had no choice. That violent, out-of-control part of him was now the biggest part. The part in control instead of the little kernel of himself he could keep under wraps except when it came to one person.

“The thing is...you’re not Barry. You’re not your dad. You’re Kyle, and you got yourself out of a pretty shitty situation and I’ve always admired that about you.”

“But...”

“But you have to believe that you did get yourself out. That you are out. You’ve got to believe you deserve what you have, even if your dad can get under your skin. Even if you do make mistakes. Grace and I can’t do that for you.”

Jacob stood, patted Kyle on the shoulder. “Don’t let your dad take away from you what you could have just because you’re afraid you don’t deserve it. This is your chance to finally see what the rest of us do instead of convincing yourself you’re no good. Look beyond a few shitty mistakes and see that you’re actually a pretty decent guy. I’m going to bed. Think about what I said.”