Chapter 21
TWENTY-ONE
KAYA
My body vibrates with frustration as I stare down at the screen.
I always want you, Fire Eyes.
“You have a funny way of showing it,” I grumble as my fingers aggressively tap out a response.
Could’ve fooled me.
I need to see you. Tonight.
Please
He must be joking. Four days and not a single word. Had the cooking classes been in session this week, we would’ve been forced to deal with what happened sooner. We may have talked like civilized people.
But it’s been four days, and every minute that’s ticked by has festered the wound he inflicted.
Why?
He wants to see me, talk with me face to face, apologize in person. My nice side would give him the opportunity. But she left the building, and I refuse to make this easy for him. What he did hurt. So if he really wants me, if I am more than some conquest, he needs to prove it.
Because apologizing in a text message is unacceptable. You deserve better.
Good start.
At least we agree on one thing. I do deserve better.
Adriel would be an ideal match. His passion for helping people supersedes his intelligence and makes him infinitely more attractive. He’s young, has a clear picture of his future—I only know this because my parents asked a barrage of personal questions at dinner—and is the most ambitious doctor I’ve met outside my family. I could follow my parents’ insistence on a relationship with Adriel and be happy.
But in the process, I’d sacrifice other things I want in life. Like deep-rooted passion that only comes with falling in love with the person you choose. The fire that simmers just beneath the surface when your person is nearby. The constant need for more and feeling like you’ll never get enough.
I could be happy with Adriel, but he isn’t who I want.
If Ray craves me the way he says he does, he needs to fight—for me, for him, for us, for what we could be. His energy, his desires, need to match mine. Because I refuse to settle for less.
Do you want him?
It’s as if he hears my thoughts.
Do you really want me to answer that?
You don’t
Those two words reek of arrogance. Cocky bastard.
No worries. I bite too.
Don’t be so sure.
Three dots dance in a gray bubble as he types a response. Minutes pass and the screen dims. The bubble disappears and reappears again and again. By the time his message comes through, I expect a novel.
I’m sorry, Fire Eyes. Sorry I opened my stupid fucking mouth and told you to leave. Sorry I wasn’t brave enough to ask you to stay. Sorry I wasn’t smart enough to figure out how to explain to Tucker why you’d stayed the night. Sorry I come with baggage that seems to outweigh my rational mind. Sorry I wrecked us before we really had the chance to get started.
The backs of my eyes sting as I read the message again, as I picture him frustrated and visibly upset.
God, I want to say yes to him. Tell him he can see me tonight. Tell him to come over so we don’t have to do this in inflectionless messages.
But he hurt me. And to right those wrongs, he needs to work for it. He needs to earn my time.
Tonight wasn’t an “official” date, but my parents are trying to set me up with him.
As soon as the message is sent, a pang in my stomach steals my breath. Insensitive as it is to send, I won’t lie to him. Tonight will not be the last time I see Adriel. Not if my parents have anything to do with it.
NO
FUCK NO
The pang is replaced with thrill as I stare at the screen.
Fight for me. If you want me, fight.
Please, Fire Eyes. I need to see you. I don’t care where, but it has to be tonight.
My thumbs hesitate as I mull over what to say. In the end, the same thought circles again and again… I want to see him. I want to do this in person. So, I cave… with stipulations.
What about Tucker?
With my parents. They’ll keep him overnight.
Quickest response yet.
Fine, but I make no promises. You hurt me, and I won’t forget it.
I’m not trying to be cruel, just honest. No sense in sugarcoating it.
And I’ll regret hurting you every day going forward. There aren’t enough apologies in existence to give you.
Before I have second thoughts, I send him my address and directions once he is on the Imala estate. He thanks me profusely and says he will see me soon.
For the next hour, I question if I made the right choice.
In a snug black T-shirt, houndstooth utility pants, and black sneakers, Ray dominates the foyer with his presence. Unlike previous times we’ve been in the same room together, he keeps his distance—just out of arm’s reach—and looks more nervous than I feel.
“Thanks for agreeing to see me.” His brow creases as he rocks back on his heels. “Can we sit?”
“Of course.”
I lead us into the living room and take a seat on the couch. He sits at the opposite end with his hands in his lap. I won’t admit how his distance hurts as much as his behavior the other night. But him intentionally adding distance between us is a blow to the chest.
“I panicked,” he says as he runs his fingers through his hair. “I freaked out, made an irrational decision, and hurt you.” Glassy brown eyes stare across the couch and pin me in place. “I will never forgive myself for what I said. For what I did. For how I hurt you. And us. The second I thought it, let alone said it, I hated myself. You have to know I regret it.” He leans forward, drops his elbows to his knees, and rests his head in his hands. “If I could go back and do it differently, I would. In a heartbeat.”
Frustration and devastation shape his frame as he presses the heels of his palms to his forehead.
“Then why?” The biggest question of all. If he hates what he did, if he instantly regretted it, why did he do it? Why put either of us through misery?
He turns his head to look in my direction. Dark shadows blend with sorrow and paint the skin beneath his eyes a pale purple. “Have you ever been so thoroughly destroyed by someone it warps the way you look at everyone else?”
I shake my head.
Tears rim his dark eyes a beat before he sits up and blinks them back. “I have. Not that it’s an excuse for my behavior.”
No, it’s not. But it explains his defense mechanism. His need to throw up internal walls, mask his emotions, and keep people exactly where he wants them, in his control.
“The last time I let someone all the way in and left myself completely exposed, she kidnapped our child in the middle of the night, changed her number, and disappeared. Six years.” He drops his head onto the back of the couch and sighs. “I searched for him for six years before she showed up out of the blue, signed over her parental rights, and told me she couldn’t do it anymore .” He scoffs. “Not that she wanted to be a parent in the first place. Which is the biggest irony of all.”
Closing his eyes, he pinches the bridge of his nose. “Since his return, Tucker’s been in therapy. It took weeks for him to not fear me or my parents.” He pauses and swallows. “We were strangers. He barely said a word the first year. Acted out daily or curled into a ball on his bed. For months, he was terrified of the dark but wouldn’t let me stay in the room with him. We saw progress, but nothing monumental. The therapist said it could take several years for Tucker to recover.”
He rolls his head on the cushion and meets my gaze. His dark, glassy eyes steal my breath as we simply stare at each other.
“Until you.”
What?
He must see the confusion on my face.
“Tucker has opened up more in the past six months than he did the whole year prior. I attribute a few things to that.” Another pause. “But since the last week of school, he’s been more… of a kid. Carefree. Silly. Affectionate.”
Does Ray know about my talk with Tucker? Wouldn’t be bad if he did; just surprising. Most students don’t relay our sessions to their parents. The only time I do is when further guidance is needed or the child is a danger to themselves or someone else.
“We haven’t been seeing each other since the last week of school,” I pose.
“True.” A slow smile softens his expression. “But Tucker knew you by name the first day of cooking school. He hugged you. In that moment, I knew it was you. You brought Tucker back to life.”
I’ll never forget the fierceness of his hug that day, the way his face lit up.
“The only people Tucker hugs are me, my sister, and my parents. And it was months before our first.”
Warmth blooms in my chest and roots itself beneath my breastbone. I love all my students, but a select few have my heart. Tucker is one of them.
“Sorry we veered off track. I just needed to put that out there. Give you some backstory.”
Unable to stand the distance between us, I scoot closer to him, enough to rest my hand on his forearm. “Thank you for telling me, for trusting me with that piece of you.” I stroke the lines of his tattoo with my thumb. “But it doesn’t change the fact that you hurt me.”
He shifts his arm and takes my hand in his, lacing our fingers. “I know. I’ve never hated myself as much as I did in that moment.”
“I felt used.” I yank my hand from his, needing zero distractions. “Like a notch on a bedpost. A convenient lay.” I cross my arms over my chest and shiver. “A conquest.”
He sits up straighter, turning until his knee bumps mine. “You are none of those things. I did not use you, and I hate that you think otherwise.”
“What am I supposed to think?” I pin him with a glare. “If our roles were reversed, how would you feel?”
Silence stretches between us.
“Exactly.”
He reaches for and takes my hands, his rough thumbs stroking my skin. “I learned long ago to not set expectations with other people. Hard lesson.” Sadness lines his eyes as he shrugs. “But I will do whatever it takes to make this right.”
“I won’t make it easy.” The words are out before I have a chance to filter my thoughts.
“Good. I wouldn’t want you to.”
A nagging voice in the back of my head says there has to be more to it. If he panicked, why would he ghost me for days? Why wait until we bump into each other to reach out?
Since he sidled up to my and Clarissa’s table at the end of May, Ray has pursued me. He made his attraction to me evident. Asked for a date and wouldn’t give up until I said yes. Gave me a nickname and never shied away from his feelings.
We went from all to nothing, and it doesn’t line up.
“Why didn’t you reach out?”
He pales and closes his eyes, inhaling a deep breath before meeting my gaze once more. “After you left Sunday, after I literally screamed at the heavens for my fuckup, I went inside, cleaned up, then considered texting to apologize.”
“But you didn’t.”
“I didn’t.” He shakes his head. “Brianna messaged around that time. Said she wanted to see Tucker. That she needed my help.”
My eyes widen, every protective bone in my body on high alert as I squeeze his hand. “Did she see him?”
“No.” He scoffs. “She used him as an excuse, came to town, went into the diner, pestered my dad, then showed up at my work and asked for money.”
An audible gasp leaves my lips. “Seriously?”
“So many times, I wish we’d never gotten involved. But then I remind myself I wouldn’t have Tucker. He’s the only good thing to come of her.”
Couldn’t agree more. “Does Tucker know she was in town?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “She put him through enough hell. I won’t let her do it again.”
My heart hurts for an entirely different reason. I also understand why Ray didn’t reach out sooner. Were I in his shoes, I wouldn’t be able to think clearly either.
Hours pass in minutes as we inch closer on the couch and talk through the night. We share pieces of our past, our hearts, and what we want for our future. More than that, we open ourselves up and put our exposed hearts on the line.
As sunlight peeks through the windows, Ray promises to never hurt me again. And I believe him. He asks me for another date tomorrow—well, today—and I say yes. We agree to meet up at the festival after some sleep.
And when he wishes me sweet dreams, it feels as though things are back where they should be.