CHAPTER SEVEN
Presley
“Hi.”
I hate myself when a tear slides down my cheek and quickly brush it away.
It’s like I’m in a time warp, the old me and the new me swapping realities.
I won’t shed more tears over this man. No, it’s more than won’t. I simply can’t. That well has run dry.
But I can’t stop the other physical reactions that are exploding throughout my body. Damn it… he looks good. His hair is shorter than the shoulder length style he favored years ago. It’s still shaggy around his face but edgier, more fitting to his filled-out cheeks, his even squarer jawline.
One of the first things I noticed when he walked out to the podium earlier was that he’d gained weight. In the best possible way. When the drug use was at its worse, his six-two frame had almost looked emaciated, his shoulder blades and ribs jutting through his skin.
But when he picked me up to carry me into this nasty bathroom, I felt the muscle, the strength. Had he really gotten clean after all?
“You look good, Kace,” I say, needing to fill the empty silence with some type of sound. “Healthy. I’m happy for you.”
I exhale. That hadn’t been so very hard. I’d always wanted his happiness. I’d just wanted that happiness to include me.
He reaches out a hand, and I take a step backwards. I can’t let him touch me again.
It drops to his side. “You’re even more beautiful than I remember,” he says, his gaze sliding down my body and quickly back up to my face.
The silence stretches again, the energy practically vibrating between us. I clear my throat. “Well, I guess I better go.” I run my palms down my pants and stick my right hand out for a shake.
He just stares at it. “So soon?”
Feeling silly, I run the palm down my pants once more. “Yes, it’s better this way.”
He frowns. “Why—?”
I jump when someone knocks hard on the door. Kace does too but mostly seems annoyed. We both just look at each other, both looking lost now that we have found one another again.
“Kace… you need to be on the field in five minutes,” someone says through the door.
“Damn,” Kace mutters, and a flurry of emotions settle over and around me. Relief that obligations cause whatever this is between us to be over. Sadness of what could have been. “Tell them to fuck themselves,” he calls out after a few moments, staring at me. “I’m busy.”
That, more than anything brings forth the anger I need to survive this encounter, and rage boils out of me like a volcano that has been latent for years.
I bark out a laugh so filled with bitterness that it echoes through the cinder blocked room. “So, you are the same,” I spit out, “Blowing off obligations because something better comes along. Why am I not surprised?”
He blinks at me, looking lost for a moment, slowly shaking his head. “That’s not it. I—”
I cross my arms over my chest. “You’re what, Kace? Willing to let down a hundred thousand fans who are excited to hear the great Kace Rymer belt out a few lines? So ready to blow more people off because you think you have something better to do. Are you still such a bastard that—”
“No!” The word is so loud I feel as if I’ve been shot by it. “I… I… I… fuck!”
His hands move to his hair again, anguish that couldn’t be anything but real lives on his face. But I can’t let him off this hook of commitment he’s on. I can’t make excuses for him. Can’t make decisions for him. Can’t enable his behavior one more time.
So, I stand silent, watching him suffer. It’s one of the hardest things I’ve ever done.
It’s so much easier to enable. To put the Band-Aid on. To say soothing words. To do whatever it takes to make it better. Until the next time.
He lets out a low, slow breath, drops his hands down by his sides, and turns to face me.
“You’re right. I do have this obligation. I won’t walk away from it. Will you come with me and then spend time with me afterwards so we can talk?”
I feel so cold.
“Kace, I—”
“Just an hour. We’ll set a timer and everything.”
My willpower is peeling off me in layers.
“I don’t—”
“Please.”
Tears burn my eyes, but I won’t let them fall. I’ll need them for later, I know.
“Kace—”
“I won’t touch you, I promise.”
Goosebumps raise on my arms at the idea of it.
I shake my head. “Kace—”
“Presley, I lost you ten years ago today. The timing of us both being here today of all days must mean something.”
I just stare at him, unwilling or unable to tell him no.
“Please, Pres. This is what I should have done ten years ago. I should have begged you to stay. I should have never let you go. But I was so messed up. I didn’t remember what happened that night, so I didn’t know how to explain. I just knew at the time that I wanted another hit so I could forget and keep forgetting.”
I raise my chin. “Did you forget?”
“No. I—”
I jump at the pounding on the door again. “Kace. You can’t do this. You—”
“I’m coming,” Kace shouts, looking directly at me. “Come with me, Pres. One hour, and I’ll leave you alone forever if that’s still what you want.”
“Are you sober right now?”
There is no hesitation. “Yes.”
“When did you last use drugs of any kind?”
Again, no hesitation. “One thousand, six hundred and forty-three days ago.”
He looks clean. He looks sober. One last question. “When did you last drink?”
His eyes glaze over, and he looks down. Then he meets my gaze again. “Two nights ago. I busted one thousand, six hundred and forty-one days of sobriety the night before last.”
At least he’s honest. In the past, he would have lied or avoided the question. He might not be proud of his slip, but he’s owning it, at least.
But how many other times had he promised to quit?
How many other times had he counted the clean days? I think back. Never.
The knock comes again, and Kace exhales a long breath. “I need to go, Presley. I hope you’ll meet me upstairs. I hope that more than anything I’ve ever hoped for. But I won’t beg anymore. Not because I don’t want to. But because this needs to be your choice.”
The hinges of the door squeak as he opens it. Cameras flash behind him, but I don’t care.
“Goodbye, Kace.”
The light of hope that had been alive in his eyes fades away, and his face contracts in pain.
“Goodbye, Presley.”
Then he’s gone.
Gone to do the right thing. The wrong thing.
I don’t even know anymore.