24. Carlee
Chapter 24
Carlee
My hands are trembling as I stomp up the stairs toward the apartment like a brat. I’m torn. I don’t know if I want to cry, scream or rejoice.
He’s here .
I’m struggling to comprehend it. How did he find me after all this time? More importantly, why did he come? The last time I saw him he slammed the door in my face. What’s changed?
The last thing I wanted to do was send him away, but the desperate part of me—the one who knows the truth—needed to reinforce the reasons why he couldn’t stay. The bigger part, however, the one consumed with longing, wanted to hold on tight and never let go. But sadly, the consequences of that are too dire.
I pause when I get to the top of the landing and take a few shaky breaths. I think I’m on the verge of having a heart attack. I rub the heel of my palm over the stabbing pain in my chest. The initial shock is wearing off and the reality of what this means is starting to set in. Shit . This is bad .
What the hell was Reece thinking agreeing to this? He has no clue of the devastation this decision can bring. And I virtually just sealed Grayson’s fate by agreeing to let him attend my class, all because my greedy mouth salivated over a damn dessert. I want to kick my own ass.
I’m scared shitless that the last two and a half years of suffering have been for nothing. That the people I’ve been protecting all along are no longer safe. Has all this heartache been for nothing?
I enter the apartment and head straight toward the kitchen. Tossing the bag on the counter, I slump onto the barstool and bury my face in my hands. I need to come up with a strategy and fast.
Grayson’s coming back on Saturday, and there’s nothing I can do to change that now… one day shouldn’t be a problem, right? What are the chances of anyone finding out he’s here? I may have agreed to three lessons, but somehow, I need to find a way to keep him from returning.
I’m not sure how I’m going to do that. The last thing I want to do is hurt him any more than I already have, but he’s left me with no choice.
My mind scrambles with endless possibilities, but I know Grayson is determined, I saw it in his face just now. This is not going to be easy. If he only knew how badly I wanted him, how hard it’s been to stay away, or the reasons why, he’d understand. I can’t tell him though, I know that. The fallout from knowing the truth will be catastrophic. It will not only ruin him but also the people he cares about.
Opening the bag in front of me, I lean forward and peer inside. I’ve been craving this cake ever since I returned to Temecula. I can smell the delicious, sweet coffee aroma through the box. Any other time I’d be already scarfing into this beauty, but my insides are too churned up to even think of eating.
Despite that, I still flip the lid and inhale deeply through my nose, that’s when I notice something shiny lying beside the cake. It’s a fork. Does he think I don’t own cutlery? I may be a little rough around the edges at times, but I’m not a barbarian.
I lift it out of the box and see writing engraved just above the four prongs. ‘ I forking love you, ’ it says. My breath hitches as I hug the piece of metal to my chest like the lovesick fool I am.
Goddamn him.
The fork is still clutched against my body when the door to our apartment opens and Reece enters. I drop the offending piece of cutlery on the countertop and swing around in my chair. Reece raises an eyebrow the moment he notices the stink eye I’m sending his way.
“I passed Grayson just now,” he says, all smug-like. “I take it from that look on your face you saw him as well?”
“Don’t say his name… I hate him,” I lie.
Hate is the last word I’d use in a sentence with the name Grayson Edwards, but I need to keep up the charade; if I don’t, Reece will become suspicious. He’d lose his shit if he knew what was really going on here.
I’ll admit in moments of weakness there have been times I’ve contemplated confessing everything to him, wondering if there was something he could do to help, but deep down I knew I couldn’t put him in a position like that. Not after everything he’s done for me. This is my mess and something I have to live with.
“Right,” Reece says, sarcasm dripping from his voice. “That weepy face you’re sporting has hate written all over it.” He rounds the island and I see his eyes dart down to the fork I dropped when he came in. I go to reach for it, but his reflexes are faster than mine. He snatches it up before I can, and his eyes slightly widen when he reads the inscription. “Hate,” he scoffs. “Don’t think I didn’t see you hugging this thing when I came in. It’s from Grayson I presume?”
“Nope.” I lunge for it again, but he maneuvers his arm out of my reach.
“Liar. It’s not one of ours, and I’ve witnessed how lovesick that guy is for you. This has his name written all over it.”
He waves the fork in front of my face, and I have to stop myself from snatching it out of his hand and stabbing him in the arm with it.
“So what?”
“So,” he says, leaning forward, “I’ve never seen you hug my cutlery like that. That speaks volumes. When are you going to admit you still love him, Carlee?”
“Pfft. I wasn’t hugging it; I was wiping it on my shirt to remove the germs. And FYI I don’t have a weepy face. If you think that, you need to have your eyes tested.” He chuckles because he knows I’m full of shit. “Grayson Edwards is the number one dick on my dick list.”
“Okay,” he says, placing down the fork and holding up his hand to stop me from continuing. “I don’t want to hear that word coming out of your mouth.”
His frown makes me laugh. I still remember how awkward and downright mortified he was when I got my first boyfriend at sixteen. The poor guy was not only sweating, but squirming in his seat as he tried to give me the birds and the bees talk. He needn’t have bothered; I was already quite knowledgeable in that area. After all, I’d lived with Roxy for thirteen years. Her conquests were frequent, like a revolving door… a constant stream of live-in porn.
“Dick,” I repeat the word, and Reece’s disapproval is evident as he turns to walk away. “Dicks, dicks, dicks. Enormous dicks, teeny-tiny microscopic dicks, thick dicks, pencil dicks, gigantic, fat juicy dicks, a humongous bag of assorted dicks,” I yell to his retreating back, and he flips me the bird over his shoulder.
That’ll teach him to meddle in my life.
My stomach is in knots as I make my way downstairs to prepare for my little ninja class. I couldn’t even eat breakfast, which was a first for me. I love these kids and usually look forward to my time with them, but not today. I’ve been dreading it since Grayson showed up here on Thursday.
I head toward the storeroom, that’s situated next to Reece’s office, to collect the box that contains the thin, square, pine boards I’ll be using in today’s lesson. Pine is a soft wood and easy to break if you hit it with enough force. My kids are only small, but these boards are no thicker than a piece of cardboard. A local lumber guy makes them for us.
This class isn’t as strict as the others; it’s more about teaching the kids discipline and the basic karate moves, preparing them to rise through the ranks as they get older. We’ve been practicing our hand movements for the past few weeks, so today I’m going to be giving them their first test.
I head back out to the main arena once I have what I need. We don’t usually let the parents stay during class, it’s less of a distraction for the kids, but today being a test day, they’re invited to observe and take pictures of their child if they wish.
Last night Reece and I set up a row of chairs along the far wall so they had somewhere to sit.
Class isn’t starting for another twenty-five minutes, so my breath catches in my throat when I round the corner and find Grayson standing there waiting. He’s wearing his white Gi, which is pronounced ghee, and damn does he look sexy.
It’s compulsory that all our students wear the correct attire. It symbolizes spirit and readiness to train. Reece supplies the uniforms to the kids whose parents can’t afford them. He wants everyone to feel equal. Just another thing I love about that man. I remember how proud I was when he presented me with mine all those years ago. I wore it like a badge of honor. It made me feel included, which was something I wasn’t used to back then.
Grayson is a beginner, so his belt is white, which I notice is tied loosely in a knot, slung low on his waist. It’s not the correct way to wear it, but I’m too tongue-tied to voice that as he pushes off the wall and heads in my direction.
Damn he’s sexy.
I tear my eyes away from him so I’m not tempted to ogle, but my stomach does a flip-flop as he approaches. I’m filled with a mixture of excitement and worry.
Despite Grayson’s slight limp, he still walks with his sexy stagger. Confident to a fault. This man is too attractive for his own good. It almost killed me to give him up, but it doesn’t change the fact that I need him gone by the end of this lesson. How I’m going to accomplish that? I’m not sure.
“Morning, sunshine,” he says, popping that delicious dimple of his. This man doesn’t play fair. He never has. He extends a hand toward me. “I bought you a coffee from down the street, with hazelnut syrup, just the way you like it.”
I eye the cup in his hand and sigh as I tuck the box to one side and reach for it. “Thank you.”
“Let me help you with that.” When I shift the box further out of his reach, he shakes his head. “Still as stubborn as ever, I see.”
I shrug instead of answering. I’ve never played a damsel in distress. It’s not who I am.
I can feel his eyes taking me in as we move across the main floor toward the mats. “How come you get to wear a black uniform? When I got mine the only option they gave me was white. Yours is so much more badass.”
“Because I am badass,” I say, making him chuckle. “By rights, you need to be Shodan level or above before you can wear all black.”
“Shodan?”
“First-degree black belt.”
“Ah, I see. How long will it take me to get a black belt?”
“About five years.”
“You’re kidding?” Glancing at him, I grin instead of answering. “Damn.”
Busying myself, I start preparing for my class. Grayson hangs back, but I feel his eyes tracking my every move. I need to stay focused. How am I going to put a stop to this, especially now he has Reece on his side ?
When the first kids arrive, they dash in my direction for our customary fist pump. I love these little guys, seeing their eager, sweet faces is usually the highlight of my week.
“Morning, Miss Carlee,” they each say.
“Morning,” I reply, greeting them individually.
My eyes dart in Grayson’s direction and I notice he’s already gaining a crowd. I shouldn’t be surprised. He’s a people person, everyone loves him. The kids all hover around throwing question after question his way, while the mothers stand there and gawk. It’s annoying, but I can’t blame them, he’s a gorgeous son of a bitch. It was impossible not to notice the endless attention he garnered when we were together.
“Are you new here?” I hear one of the kids ask.
“Sure am, today’s my first class.”
“Are you a teacher?”
“Nope, student.” He points down to his white belt.
“But you’re not five.” That statement comes from Marcus. He’s a cheeky little shit. I’ve had to rein in his attitude more than once.
“Who says I’m not?” Grayson replies.
“Look at you, you’re a giant. You must be like a hundred.”
I drop my chin to my chest to hide my smile. “Marcus,” his mother scolds, and I roll my lips together to hold back my laugh.
“Maybe I just eat all my veggies, kid. You should try it sometime.”
Grayson looks over at Marcus’s mother and winks, and I swear she sways on her damn feet as her face turns beet red. He’s still got it, the swoony bastard.
After we gather in a large circle and bow in, the kids assemble into four lines, spreading out so we can practice the moves we’ve been learning over the past few weeks. I have Todd, one of the teenagers from our black-belt class, walking the floor today helping everyone with their technique.
Grayson stands at the back which I’m thankful for, and I notice Todd spending a few minutes with him, showing him the proper stance. He towers over everyone and looks out of place, but that doesn’t stop him from gaining the attention of every female in the vicinity.
Unlike them, I try my best not to look at him. I’d like to say he’s doing the same with me, but I can feel his eyes burning into my flesh the entire time. It’s unnerving.
We move through the front punch, back fist strike, ridge, and knife hand strike first. We’ll be using the palm heel strike to break through the wood today. I leave that move until last so it’s fresh in their minds.
The entire class calls out “Kiai,” which is pronounced key-eye, in unison with each strike. It’s traditionally used to intimidate or startle opponents, but at this level, it’s taught to help instill confidence in harmony with their moves.
Once the practice is over the kids take a seat on the mats, taking turns to come up to the front where I’m kneeling. Each student breaks through the wood in either one or two attempts. I’m proud of them.
I grab the next piece of wood from the pile as I look over at Timothy, or Timmy as his grandmother calls him, nodding and encouraging him to come forward.
He’s been hanging back purposely; he and Grayson are the only two left to take their test. He’s not only the smallest, but most timid and uncoordinated kid in the class, but he’s got a lot of heart.
I’m not sure what Timmy’s story is, but I know his grandmother has full custody of him. She told me he’s been getting bullied at school, and she was hoping these classes would give him some much-needed self-confidence.
Poor little guy.
I have a real soft spot for the underdog, maybe because I was once one too. For some reason I always seem to gravitate toward him during class, giving him extra attention to help him succeed. I know what this place did for me and I want him to get the same thing out of it as I did.
I can already tell he’s apprehensive as he bows his head and slowly makes his way toward me. I hope he can find his inner strength to complete this task, it’ll be a blow to his psyche if he doesn’t.
“Hey,” I say when he stops in front of me. He hesitantly raises his head, making eye contact. “You’ve got this.”
He nods, but it’s not a confident one. I place the piece of wood down on the floor beside me.
“Get into your stance.” He complies, placing his right foot forward. He’s left-handed, so he’ll step with the same leg to help put more force behind his strike. I widen his legs a little. “Put all your weight on your front foot and hold up your hand. Good. Now show me your palm strike?” He does as I ask, and I tilt his fingers back further so his palm is protruded. I don’t want him to get injured. “Perfect. You’re ready.”
I pick up the piece of wood again. Grasping the edges, I hold it out in front of me. “Step forward, and use your palm to hit the center, okay?” He nods again, this time with a little more finesse. “I want to hear a big, loud Kiai from you.”
He strikes but there’s little power behind it, and his Kiai is barely audible. His entire body deflates and I hear him sigh.
“Hey.” I place my hand on his shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze. “You can do better than that, I know you can. You just need to hit it harder, that’s all, and your Kiai needs to be louder. I want Reece to be able to hear you over there.”
Timmy looks up, glancing behind me where Reece is sparing in the far back. This time his Kiai is louder, and his palm strike a little harder, but it’s still not enough to break through. I hear a few of the kids snicker behind him and notice the tears that are now pooling in Timmy’s eyes. It makes me livid.
“Hey,” I call out, glancing around the class, even though I know exactly where it came from. “We are a family here; we encourage and support each other, not tear each other down.”
My eyes zero in on Marcus and his mate, Brody. They’re the popular kids in the class. These two think they’re better than everyone else.
“I can’t do it,” Timmy whispers as a tear slides down his cheek.
Placing the wood in my lap, I quickly wipe it away with the pad of my thumb. “Look at me,” I encourage. My heart squeezes in my chest when his big brown eyes meet mine. “You can do this, and you will. Have I ever lied to you?”
“No,” he says, shaking his head.
I place my palm flat on his chest, over his heart. “You just have to believe it in here.” Then I lightly tap his forehead with the tip of my finger. “And in here.”
He nods again and a small, lopsided grin tugs at his lips.
My eyes snap up when I hear. “Tim-mee… Tim-mee… Tim-mee.”
It’s Grayson, bless his sexy ass. He starts to clap his hands while chanting and the rest of the class join in. They’re loud and boisterous, and some of the other patrons in the gym stop what they’re doing and watch on. It’s the exact type of encouragement Timmy needs.
“See, we all believe in you,” I tell him. “You just have to believe in yourself.”
This time he stands tall and pulls back his shoulders as he gets into position. “Kiai,” he screams as he launches forward and the wood splits straight down the center.
The room erupts into cheers, and a huge smile bursts onto Timmy’s face. It’s the first genuine one I’ve seen him give since we’ve met. It warms my heart.
Holding up my hand, I’m beaming as I high-five him like I did the others.
Some of the kids jump up, crowding around Timmy, patting him on the back and congratulating him, then Grayson swoops in and lifts him off the ground, positioning him on his shoulders. He grabs Timmy’s hands and holds them up in the air as he starts doing a victory lap around the outer edge of the mats.
Timmy throws his head back and laughs as tears rise in my eyes. I glance over at his grandmother and see her swipe her fingers over her cheeks. It’s a moment Timmy won’t forget in a hurry, and I have Grayson to thank for that. He made a small moment in time incredibly special for a little boy who desperately needed it. I couldn’t love this man anymore if I tried.
When the class finally settles down, I grab the next piece of wood and rise to my feet. I’m still smiling as Grayson saunters my way, I can’t help it.
“Thanks for what you just did,” I say when he comes to a stop in front of me.
He shrugs it off. “It was nothing. That Marcus kid is a little prick.”
I bite back my laugh because I agree.
Grayson takes another step closer, towering over me. I crane my neck and my gaze meets his. That familiar magnetic pull between us is palpable, so much so I have to look away.
I retreat a step, putting some distance between us. I’m not sure how this is going to work with our height difference. I had to get on my knees for the kids. I extend my arms nevertheless, holding out the board. “Assume your position,” I instruct.
He raises an eyebrow suggestively, and the twinkling in his eyes tells me his mind has gone straight to the gutter. “I’d like to put you in a certain position,” he whispers, and I have to fight the sudden urge to clench my thighs together.
It’s only been a few months since he took me against the wall at Emma’s wedding, but it seems like a lifetime ago.
Clearing my throat, I ignore his comment.
He lets out a small sigh before getting into his stance. Letting out a loud “Kiai,” the heel of his palm moves swiftly toward the wood, his technique is impressive for a beginner. To the rest of the class, it isn’t visible, but his hand pulls up just short of coming into contact with the board.
“Oww,” he moans, shaking his hand so dramatically I have no choice but to roll my eyes. I know he’s doing this solely for Timmy’s benefit, and I’ve got to say, I admire him for it.
He plays it up even more on his next turn, hopping around like a lunatic. The kids and some of the adults laugh.
“Would you like some eggs with that ham?” I ask, struggling to keep a straight face.
Chuckling, he throws back a sexy wink, and I want to climb him like a tree.
As Grayson readies himself for another try, the most incredible thing happens. Quiet, shy, and incredibly reserved Timmy starts to chant, “Gray-son… Gray-son… Gray-son,” at the top of his voice.
This time he breaks through the board effortlessly. I’m grinning like a fool when I raise my hand for a high five, and it’s not until Grayson’s eyes slightly widen when they zero in on my palm that I realize my mistake.
Busted .
I quickly scrunch my hand into a fist and start to draw my arm back, but he’s too quick. His fingers wrap around my wrist, halting me. I wait for him to pry my fingers open, but instead, his free hand grasps hold of my chin as he tilts my head to the side. I hear his sharp intake of breath the moment he sees the tiny red heart tattoo on my neck, just below my ear. It matches the one on my palm. The two favorite places he always loved to kiss.
“Carlee,” he whispers, and everything in me wants to turn around and flee, but I can’t. I have a class full of kids and their parents watching on.
“Don’t,” I say, jerking my head out of his grip .
He was never supposed to see them. I’ve had these tattoos going on two years now. Maybe it was a misogynistic move on my part, to punish myself for the predicament I now find myself in, but I’d like to think I did it as a reminder of everything we once shared. The part of our relationship I could hold on to.
His lips may never touch my skin again, but those tiny little hearts are a souvenir of our love. Nobody can steal that from me.
His questioning eyes scan back and forth between mine as I retreat a few steps, dragging my gaze away from him and clapping my hands a few times to get the attention of the kids in the room. He’s searching for answers I can’t give.
“You guys did so well today,” I say, raising my voice. “I’m proud of each and every one of you… good job. Let’s form a circle and bow out.”
When the class is finally over, a few of the parents approach me asking for photos with their children, and I’m grateful for the distraction. It doesn’t stop my eyes from flicking in Grayson’s direction though. He’s standing to the side talking to Timmy’s grandmother. I have no doubt she’s thanking him for what he did today.
People start to dwindle out as I gather my things ready to head back upstairs to the apartment.
“Carlee,” Grayson says, suddenly appearing at my side. “I’m going to have a celebratory milkshake with Timmy and his grandmother at the café down the street, would you like to join us?”
His hand rubs across the back of his neck as he anxiously awaits my reply. I wish I could say yes. Letting him down yet again only makes that ever-present guilt intensify. He’s the sweetest man and deserves none of this .
“I can’t.” I force out a smile, even though I feel like crying. “I’ve got to get ready for work. My shift at the bar starts soon.”
“Okay.” The disappointment I see on his face tears me up inside. “I’ll see you next Saturday then.”
“Sure.”
“Enjoy the rest of your weekend,” he says, tentatively taking a step backward.
“You too. Enjoy your milkshake and safe travels home.”
“Thanks.” He nods once before turning and walking away. It’s only then that I let my heartache show.