by Roni Loren
But I’ll wait for you. Because I can’t not. You’ve gotten to me, Rush. You’re in here with me, maybe have been since that very first night in Harker Hall, and I don’t want to shake it anymore. So if you ever want to call, talk, share completely inappropriate fantasies, I will always take your call.
Always.
D
Marin didn’t know how long she sat on the floor in her foyer. Or how many times she read the letter. But she made it to her appointments. And she made it to catfish and beer.
And when she went to bed that night, she made her first call.
34
Six weeks later
Donovan rolled down the windows, letting the summer breeze smack him in the face. He’d forgotten how beautiful this place was. Or maybe he’d never really seen how beautiful it was. Last time he’d been here, he’d only focused on the fog, the gray skies. But today, the sun sparkled over the bay and the russet-colored bridge stood out proud against the hills behind it. He could see why the Golden Gate was such a popular place to die. If you wanted your last memory to be of something majestic, this was it.
But he had a different view that kept drawing him. Taped to the dashboard of his rental car was a photo he’d received a few days ago. As soon as it’d popped up on his phone, he’d stopped at a copy shop to get a color print of it. Marin was at a table in the po-boy shop with a group of co-workers around her. Everyone was smiling, probably a few beers into the night, and Lane had his arm draped over the back of her chair, giving Marin bunny ears.
They all looked happy.
She looked happy. Without him.
Something tight clenched in Donovan’s chest.
He parked the car, lucky to snag a spot in the small lot, and climbed out. He could remember doing this the last time, going through the same motions. Taking deep breaths, feeling the wind whipping off the water, seeing the tourists strolling over to walk the bridge. Having one purpose in mind.
This is where he needed to be. He’d been a lot of places these past few weeks, but it all came back to this. He grabbed the picture of Marin, put it in his pocket and then walked toward the bridge. He could smell the sea air mixing with the fumes of the cars whizzing by, hear the roar of waves crashing against rocks in the distance. Everything was so much the same from last time.
Comforting and terrifying all at once.
He stepped onto the walkway and grabbed the railing, feeling disoriented for a second. Heights had never been his favorite thing. But when he got his bearings, he made his way to the center of the bridge to find the spot he’d taken the photo from. To find the spot where he’d almost climbed over the railing. Crisis-counseling signs were posted on the bridge. There is hope. Make the call. He hadn’t seen those the last time. He’d seen nothing but churning water.
A few people glanced his way as they moved past him, just another guy blending in with the tourists. But he wasn’t here to be a tourist. Like last time, he was here for one reason.
He neared the center of the bridge. The water looked calm and deadly as it stretched out beneath him. The city of San Francisco hummed along across the bay. Alcatraz stood watch in between. The world went on, indifferent as always.
It didn’t take him long to pinpoint the spot he wanted, knowing the details of the view by heart. He blinked in the bright sunlight as his steps slowed. The photo on his wall was in full color now, stretching along his right as far as he could see. A stunning postcard. A painful memory.
Then, he did the thing he’d promised himself he’d never do again. A thing he’d gotten good at over the last few weeks. He turned toward the view and stopped moving. He stopped moving and looked down at the water and didn’t try to block anything out.
The same questions he’d posed to himself all those years ago drifted into his head now.
If I jumped, would someone care?
If I jumped, would I care?
Donovan gripped the rail and closed his eyes, breathing in the air, feeling the precariousness of his position above the water. Then he smiled—big and broad and full. He opened his eyes, peered over his shoulder, and stopped a young couple who was strolling by. He held up his phone. “Would you mind? I suck at the selfie thing.”
The girl smiled and adjusted the camera she had hanging around her neck, her ponytail swinging. “Sure. Would you mind getting one of us after? We’re on our honeymoon and have managed to get, like, no pictures of us together.”
“Of course.”
She took Donovan’s phone and snapped a picture of him. Then they switched places. Seeing the smiling couple through the camera lens, giddily cuddled against each other in front of the view that Donovan had looked at on his wall every day with dread, jarred him for a second. So much happiness. Hope. This view would have a new memory now.
He thanked the couple and wished them a good honeymoon. And as they walked away hand in hand, instead of Donovan feeling cynical about what lay before them, he felt something altogether different. Envy. The best kind. The kind that stoked that burgeoning fire in his gut.
He checked the shot the girl had taken of him, pressed a few buttons, and sent the photo.
The response that came was immediate.
Marin: Things that are not fair—You looking at a beautiful view and being ridiculously handsome while I’m stuck here about to counsel Karina about forgetting to wear a bra to group AGAIN. Double D’s need support, West.
Donovan chuckled, the sound getting lost in the wind. Marin knew exactly what that picture signified, knew this was different than all the ones they’d exchanged since he’d left, but he loved that she didn’t go there. She went with making him laugh. And despite the view, he wished with everything he had that he was there with Marin, dealing with the antics in group. He missed his life at The Grove. His clients. His job. Marin.
Miss wasn’t a strong enough verb for that last one. Pine was more accurate. He pressed his hand over the place where her picture was in his shirt pocket, a heavy ache there. But he’d needed to do this. He’d needed to step off the hamster wheel and sit still. Be with all that ugly stuff he’d been sprinting from. Get real help this time instead of just throwing himself into a relentless work schedule to block out the bad. Grieve his parents, the losses in his life. Breathe through it all. Feel it. Take the advice he would’ve given a client who was in this position.
But all this time away felt like an eternity now. He’d checked himself in for a thirty-day intensive therapy program, finally facing the demons head-on. And then he’d traveled, taking his first break from work in his life and putting his head back together. So he could be that guy. He wanted to be that guy. Not just for Marin but for himself. His parents wouldn’t have wanted him to be some miserable workaholic asshole. It wasn’t who they’d raised him to be.
Donovan’s fingers moved over the screen of his phone.
Donovan: Maybe she was trying to help everyone overcome distraction. Unsupported double D’s could be a powerful teaching moment.
Marin: *rolls eyes* They have the power to derail a group therapy session, for sure. Two guys took really long bathroom breaks. But srsly, u good?
He’d talked to her last night, told her where he’d be today. He’d talked to her every night since he’d left. About nothing. About everything. They had long phone dates every night doing all the things he should’ve done with her instead of just jumping straight into sex. Though their talk had slipped into the erotic zone on more than one occasion. She got him sexually. Understood and connected in a way he’d never experienced before. But it was so much more than that. She got him. He fell in love with her a little more each time they talked. And he loved that it wasn’t always serious. They had fun. A concept that had eluded him for most of his adult life. Last night they’d caught a rerun of Dawson’s Creek. They’d sent each other selfies of their best Dawson ugly cry face. He’d totally won that contest—and had gloated. Obnoxiously. She was still making him ridiculous.
He loved being ridiculous.
And once upon a time that question—you good?—would’ve stirred up all kinds of complicated answers. But this one was an easy one.
Donovan: I’m good, Rush. But I miss you.
Marin: I know.
He laughed.
Donovan: You going Han Solo on me now?
Her response was a long time coming this go-round, the little dots indicating her reply seeming endless. Then her response popped up.
Marin: Joking is easier than telling you the truth. That your photo kind of wrecked me. That I miss you every goddamned minute.
The simple words reached inside him and gripped, making everything yearn. He’d already known it was time, but now he wished he had a teleporter, that he could just snap his fingers and have her there in front of him. Wrap his arms around her.
Donovan: I’m ready to come home. Ready to have me?
More dots. More waiting. More held breath.
Marin: Is this a sext?
Donovan smiled. He could picture her there in her office, grinning through the tears and being the strong woman he knew her to be. One who would always keep him on his toes.
Donovan: Yes. Obviously.
Marin: Then yes. Obviously.
Donovan ran his finger over her name on the screen. When he added it all up, he’d only known Marin for a short time. But in some ways, he’d felt like he’d known her his whole life. They’d missed that first opportunity, and the universe was giving him his second chance.
Another text dinged.
Marin: Come home, West. We all miss you.
We. Not just Marin. But the people who’d kept in touch with him on this trip. Lane. Ysa. A few of his clients who had emailed him wishing him a relaxing vacation. Even Dr. Suri had sent him well wishes, though no one but Marin and Lane knew about where he’d gone and why. He had people. It’d been a long damn time since he’d had people. Too long.
Donovan: OK
He didn’t say anything more after that. There was nothing left to say. He’d finally figured out where home was. And the answer to both those questions the water always asked when he was here was an easy one now: Yes.
He walked back down the path and to the car.
Yes, he cared.
And yes, someone cared for him.
That was all he needed.
35
Marin didn’t know when he was coming. Or if he’d changed his mind. Or if it’d be weird and awkward when he came back. Things had been so easy and comfortable on the phone these past few weeks that now it had her nerves gathering. They’d talked until all hours of the morning, opening up every door they had inside them, stripping things bare. Being honest. Being real. Being dorks.
And even though he’d been the one going through therapy, they’d tackled a lot of her fears, too. The fear of her genetics. Her fear that she wouldn’t be enough for Nate as he got older. Her worries about doing a good job at The Grove. They’d laid it all out there.
But she didn’t know if that would translate to real life, how that would feel when they saw each other again.
If they saw each other again. She hadn’t had another text in the two days since his photo on the bridge and he hadn’t called. It was driving her to goddamned distraction. So when she finished up dinner with Nate and saw him off to work, she went back to the X-wing to work late, anything to keep her mind off what might or might not be.
Ysa and the social worker who’d been helping out while Donovan was gone had long left for the night. All the hallways were dark and quiet except for the humming Exit signs and occasional safety light. She’d gotten used to this dead version of the X-wing. The first few nights she’d found it a little spooky, but now she found it peaceful. She could get a lot done, and it felt better than sitting in her empty house. This made her feel like she was doing something productive.
She studied case files, read the books they recommended to clients, researched the toys and devices they had on hand—though, some of that research she, of course, had to save for home. But tonight, she planned on going through some of the videos they prescribed to clients. She’d made it through a list of instructional ones for couples. Now she was on to the ones they recommended for straight-up arousal issues. It probably wasn’t the best plan of action, considering how pent up she was lately. Even light flirting on the phone with Donovan could key her up like nothing else. But she’d had a client today who’d needed one of the videos, and Marin hadn’t known which would be the best fit. She hated not knowing.
So after making herself a cup of coffee and getting a pack of powdered donuts from the vending machine, she’d settled onto the couch in her office and cued up a video on the tablet. This one Donovan had marked as a top five in effectiveness for female clients based on feedback. She hit play and took a long sip of her coffee as the movie started.
In an instant, she could see why this one had made the favorites list. The actor in it was very easy to look at, which she’d found was a rarity in most of the porn out there. He wasn’t overly tan or too muscle-bound. He looked like a hot guy next door. In fact, that was the role he was playing. The quiet guy next door who caught his pretty neighbor sneaking into his pool for naked late night-swims. The plot was ridiculous, of course, but the way he reacted to this transgression was pretty captivating.
Marin found her skin warming as the guy bent the woman over his knee for a good, hard spanking by the side of the pool. Her memories infiltrated the image. She could almost feel the sting of Donovan’s hand the night he’d done that to her, could remember how her body reacted.
Damn, this had been a stupid, stupid idea. Her body was already pulsing with deprivation, and there was no way she’d scratch that itch at work, even if no one was here. She’d learned that lesson in the sleep lab all those years ago.
But right as she was about to hit stop on the movie, she heard something out in the hallway. A little tap, tap. Footsteps? Something falling off a desk? She couldn’t tell but it’d made her heart jump into her throat. She tried to hit stop again on the video, but the screen wasn’t responding and the movie kept playing.
“Shit.”
She tossed the tablet to the other side of the couch and got to her feet. If someone was out there, she needed to know. Last time this had happened, she’d found a mop in the middle of the hallway, victim of a strong gust of the air-conditioning and a cleaning-supply closet door left ajar. She expected as much this time.
But when she stuck her head out of her office, she saw nothing amiss. “Hello?”
Her voice echoed down the hallway, and she had the brief thought that she was acting like a too-stupid-to-live horror movie heroine, calling out for the bad guy so he knew exactly where she was. Here I am! Come and get me, crazed serial killer!
But of course, that was ridiculous. The Grove was like Fort Knox with all the high-profile clients they had here. There was a guard at the entrance and pass codes to get into the buildings. High walls. No press was getting in and no guy with a hockey mask and a knife either. Still, she had to rub chill bumps from her arms. Nate’s penchant for scary movies had given her imagination way too much fodder. She gave one last listen, trying to pick out anything that sounded off.
The film was still playing low behind her from the tablet and the cry of an orgasm filled in the quiet. No sound came from the hallway.
Okay. Nothing to worry about. She could finish the movie or maybe give up on that and work on some case files.
She turned and headed back in the office. But before she could take more than a few steps, an arm was wrapping around her waist and another clamped over her mouth. She screamed into the hand.
“Shh, Rush. Don’t want to let anyone know what you’re up to in here.”
The sound of the familiar voice crashed through her, the scent of him registering a second later and slicing through her instinctual fear. Donovan. She wanted to cry. She wanted to cheer. She wanted to see his face and kiss it all over.
“I can’t believe I leave you on
your own for just a few weeks and this is what I find you doing, watching dirty movies at work.” His voice was low against her ear, playfully accusatory. “Were you going to touch yourself? Were you checking the hallway to make sure you were alone?”
She shook her head in his grip, her heartbeat ticking up.
He pressed his nose to the curve of her neck and inhaled. “God, I’ve missed you, Rush. Missed you like fucking air.”
The longing in his voice nearly undid her. She closed her eyes and let all that feeling move through her. All that ache.
He brushed his lips against her shoulder. “I love hearing your voice on the phone. But it doesn’t give me this. The scent of you. How your skin flushes when I touch you. How it feels when I taste you.”
Marin swallowed hard, heat pooling in her. She’d worried it would be awkward. She’d worried that time would change things. She’d pictured stilted conversations over coffee when he came back. Uncomfortable questions about how therapy was, how he was feeling, where things stood. Slow, plodding steps. She’d been dreading that part so hard her stomach had hurt every time she thought about it. But she should’ve known better. Even from thousands of miles away, Donovan could read her.
He wasn’t going to give her a chance to be awkward, to overthink things, to undo what they’d forged over the phone. He was going to do exactly what she needed to shut her mind off and turn her body on. He would make her shameless.
His hand slipped away from her mouth, his quickening breath tickling her neck. “Tell me now, Rush. I want you more than I can put into words, but you know I’ll listen. I’ll always listen. What color is the sky?”
She sucked in a breath. So much time had passed. So much had happened. But suddenly it felt like nothing, like a blink, a flash. He was gone. But now he was here. Here. Everything that had been askew shifted and locked into this new place, this perfect place. Like everything inside her had been waiting for this one moment all her life. She’d fallen for Donovan a long damn time ago. But it’d never been the right time. Or the right place. Sometimes she’d wondered if it’d been the right life. Now it was. And she was done talking.