Up to Me(40)

I wonder if they make any night creams laced with formaldehyde, I think obtusely as I take in her smooth, taut skin.

“Hi, Mom. Sorry to wake you.”

She steps back and lets us into the foyer. “Not sorry enough, I see.”

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. My mother has always been the type that can’t let something go. She’ll get something stuck in her head or fixate on a particular oversight and she’ll beat it to a bloody pulp.

“I suppose not,” I say agreeably. “We won’t keep you up. This is Gavin. I’ll show him to one of the guest rooms. I’ll take the other. You won’t even know we’re here.”

She hmphs and closes the door behind us. “You know the rules,” she warns, looking pointedly at Gavin.

“I know, but I told you he’s just a friend, Mom.”

“I know that’s what you said.”

This time I do roll my eyes. “Well, I’ll see you in the morning. ‘Night.”

I reach for Gavin’s hand and tug him forward.



********



To be as exhausted as I am, I’m having a terrible time getting to sleep. All I can think of are the things I didn’t say. The things I didn’t do or enjoy because of fear, because I don’t trust myself. It was never about Cash and not trusting him because he’s a bad boy. Yes, he is a bad boy. In some ways. But that’s not the problem. Being a bad boy doesn’t make him a bad person or a bad companion. But I couldn’t see that past my own bias. I didn’t trust my judgment. After having made so many wrong decisions and let my feelings blind me, I finally found someone worth loving and I froze.

And it couldn’t have happened at a worse time.

Now I’m stuck with all the unsaid things, all the regret for having been afraid. For not having acted. Or spoken. Or jumped.

If, by some miracle of God, I get another chance before all this is said and done, I won’t be such a coward next time.





CHAPTER TWENTY- Cash



I’m too jacked up on adrenaline to sleep. The closer dawn gets, the more anxious I get about how all this will go down.

I look at the clock. With no windows, I can’t see the sun coming up, but I know it is. And it makes me think of Olivia, hopefully sleeping peacefully at her mother’s house. Alone.

The thought of Gavin possibly curled up next to her makes me ill as hell. With a growl, I throw my arm over my eyes and try to clear my mind.

But it doesn’t work. I can’t stop thinking about her.

Maybe if I call and let it ring just once…

She isn’t exactly a light sleeper. One ring shouldn’t wake her if she’s sleeping. But if she’s awake…

I hit the key for the number of her disposable cell and the phone automatically dials hers.

It rings once and I pause. Just before I hit the button to hang up, Olivia’s hushed voice comes on the line.

“Hi,” she says simply. I smile. I can almost see the shy look on her face as she says it. And in that one word, I can hear the she’s pleased I called. Now, I want to drive to her mother’s house, sneak in the window and have slow, quiet sex with her against the wall.

“You’re awake.”

“Yeah. Can’t sleep. You either?”

“Nah. My head won’t shut up.”

“I know the feeling.”

There’s a long silence, during which I’m sure she’s wondering what it is that I want. Before I can speak, though, she does.

“I’m glad you called actually. There’s something I want to tell you. It’s something I should’ve said earlier, but I didn’t. I should’ve. And now I regret that I didn’t. When we were face to face. But I’m an idiot, so...”

I smile into the dark. I’d be willing to bet a thousand bucks that she’s fidgeting with her hair. She does that when she gets nervous. And it’s very obvious now, by the speed of her rushed words, that she’s nervous.

“What did you want to say?” I’m pretty sure I already know. I know how she feels about me. When she’s not fighting it and not getting lost in the piles and piles of past shit that clog up her thoughts sometimes. And I would hope that, after everything that’s happened, she knows how I feel. But she’s a damn woman. I think they like having things spelled out for them. Unlike men, they need the words, the definitiveness of them. Men don’t. But I wouldn’t mind hearing her say them anyway.

I hear her deep breath and I imagine her squeezing her eyes shut like she’s jumping off a bridge or something. Taking the leap. And, to Olivia, it probably feels like pretty much the same thing.

“I think I’m falling in love with you,” she blurts.