Chapter Sixteen

Tahoe

There’s a brunette in the kitchen when I walk out of the bedroom, a towel wrapped low around my waist. She’s wearing a t-shirt, the curve of her naked ass peeking out of the bottom. Her legs are short and lean as she leans forward to look on a bottom shelf inside the fridge.

Aidan gallops into the room from the other bedroom. Gallops. Like a fucking horse. He blows a noisy breath through his mouth and nose before he neighs.

“Please take the pony play to the bedroom,” I say, wincing. It’s been a while since we’ve been in this kind of situation. Not since before Bronze Bay. To say the guys are going balls to the walls with the freedom in a big city is an understatement.

Aidan cackles and pulls the dark beauty into his arms. She leans back to kiss him and I have to look away. “You can come be a stallion in my stable if you want to,” she says, breaking up their kiss to talk to me. The brunette winks.

“Yeah, man. I’ll share,” Aidan replies when I don’t. It’s more of a growl. It doesn’t tempt me in the least. Not anymore. I’m convinced the only things that do it for me are the ones I’ve sworn off.

Shaking my head, I brush past them to grab a bottle of water from the hotel fridge. “While it’s an offer that’s hard to refuse, I’m going to have to bow out gracefully,” I say, making my way back to my room. “Use a saddle, Aidan,” I call out before closing, and locking, my bedroom door behind me.

Their laughter carries through walls and it reinforces the lonely, awful feelings coursing through my body. I take a long swallow of the water, as sweat beads on my chest and arms. I just went for a run in the bustle of NYC and the shower didn’t cool me down. It didn’t do anything to clear my head either. My comrades are on a Tinder rage and I’m hung up on a woman, trying to come to terms with what that means.

Caroline was supposed to be here with me. This was supposed to be it. The time of my life. When I finally gave in and let myself have what I’ve been lusting after. Instead, I’m masturbating twice a day, in a penthouse suite while thinking about the woman who I’ll never have. Not in the capacity that I thought I would. My brothers decided to come early with me because I wasn’t able to cancel the hotel reservation, so they added several rooms. To fill the rest of the day, I’ll need to distract myself. I need something. Want to forget that I fell so hard for a woman so effortlessly I didn’t realize it until now. Until I couldn’t call her mine.

A few loud raps sound on my door followed by Leif’s baritone voice telling me to let him in. I throw on a pair of jeans that are on the floor next to my bed and slink over to let him in.

“You’re a fuckin’ mess, dude. Aidan is across the hall screwing a celebrity lookalike, my room looks like a brothel, and here you are,” he says, waving his hand to my room, and then me. “Working out and moping like a sorry sack of shit.”

I run my hands through my wet hair a few times to dry it. “I have to see her every day. It’s a small, fucking town.” Deviate from the real problem. My feelings. At any cost.

“Go back to San Diego. Ask for a transfer to another satellite base. They’re popping up everywhere now. They wouldn’t tell you no.” The thought of moving makes my stomach sink.

Shaking my head, I say, “I like it there.”

He comes in, and cracks open the mini bar and fishes for a bottle to down. “You need to get over the chick, then. You can’t possibly be that hung up on her,” he says. It’s a question, though, not a statement. He’s eyeing me in the way we look at bad guys we’re questioning, trying to seek out truths inside blatant falsities. Without taking his gaze from mine, he screws off the top of a mini bottle of Jack and downs it.

“I’m in love with her,” I reply. When it’s this obvious how miserable I am, there’s no sense lying about it.

“I thought you might say that,” Leif says, setting the empty down on a dresser. “I called her.”

Narrowing my eyes, I respond, “You called who?”

He shrugs, like it’s just a mundane everyday occurrence, a wide grin playing across his chiseled, severe face. “The root of all of this unnecessary drama.” Leif finds another bottle of the same, and tosses it to me. “Stella.”

My head swims and the jagged hole inside my chest feels a little wider. The sweat beads faster now, rolling down my chest and the sides of my face. “What the fuck are you talking about?” I ask.

A bang from Aidan’s room ricochets throughout the suite. Then a loud neigh. I block it out in favor of fury. I step toward my friend. “Drink it. She’s in the lobby waiting for you,” Leif says, nodding at my hand. “Actually you should empty the mini bar as fast as you can. Don’t look at me with that rage face and your balled up fists, man. You know as well as I do, that she’s the hang-up. The reason you can’t be happy. The ice bitch. The queen of blue ball happiness blocking. Instead of fighting me. Thank me.”

Looking to the ceiling, I yell. It’s a war cry of frustration. My breaths come quicker. “I’m not going down there.” I drink the Jack.

Leif tsks. “She didn’t want to see you either and she’s still down there. Instead of fucking a redhead with the stage name of Jessica Rabbit, I’ve spent the past twelve hours tracking down Stella. Do us all a favor and at least speak your peace. We have to work tomorrow and we need you there with us.” Leif taps the side of my head, and then wipes off my sweat on the side of his pants.

I drink another Jack, then another. I pace the room and Leif talks to me. About things I haven’t brought up for half a decade. Horrible things that make me feel. Did I stop to consider the fact that Stella, and our past could be the hang-up preventing me from moving forward and taking what I want without thought for the future? Maybe for a half a second. Some memories are too painful to bring up even if they further the dissection of a current problem. What if Leif is right?

“Put on a fucking shirt,” Leif says. I’m still sweating, but I pull on the first shirt I find on top of my bag. The mirror in front of me shows an image of a stranger. Sweat immediately bleeds through the black cotton fabric.

“I hate you so much,” I tell him, shaking my head. “This is the last thing I need right now.”

“It’s one of the only things you need right now. Give me some credit. How long have I been your friend?” I shake off his fact. It doesn’t matter right now.

Pacing once more to the window overlooking NYC, the place that stole her from me in the most dubious, sneaky way. There wasn’t closure. There was a deployment the next day and a Dear John letter in the form of an email. I looked at the email every day for ten months. I woke up on the first of the eleventh month and instead of reading it, I deleted it. Buried it. Tried not to think about her or what I lost again. It worked on most days, and on others, I obsess over the failure.

At the thought of the failure, anger rises. Just enough to force my feet forward, one ahead of the other to the elevator and down to the lobby of the five-star hotel. I’m a fucking mess and the fact that this is happening right now, is hard to fucking swallow.

I see her from the back. She’s sitting at the round bar in the center of the lounge, her blonde hair hitting just below her shoulder blades. It’s shorter than it was the last time I saw her, but after spending years with her, she’ll always be someone I recognize anywhere. She senses my presence, swiveling in her chair to face me.

She looks older, the skin on her face a little less glowing than I last remembered. I swallow down the last of my hesitation and approach with leaden feet and a pounding heart.
“Stella,” I say, my voice cracking.

She looks down at the gin and tonic in front of her instead of looking at me. “What is it, Tyler? I can’t believe I’m here right now.”

Okay. Patience. I won’t kill Leif. Not today, anyways. He has my best interests at heart even if he’s a fucking moron. Her cell phone beeps on the bar and she looks at it sighing. “My husband,” she says, waving the screen at me. “Worried because I left the house to visit my ex-boyfriend.” She waves an arm at me. “Why he’s intimidated by you, I have no idea, but dear Lord, make this fast.” She sips her favorite cocktail, sighing in annoyance.

I laugh. That’s what you do during awkward pauses when you have no clue how to respond. “You wrote me a fucking email, Stella,” I growl lowly. “Why?” Might as well get what I came for, right? The ten months of holding onto broken promises requires this to survive.

Her lips, ones I’ve kissed so many times in the past, purse. Looking at her doesn’t feel like I thought it would. She’s not some mirage, she’s just a woman who I once loved, and it brings awareness to one fact, Stella doesn’t hold a fucking candle to Caroline. My stomach drops. I brush my brow with the back of my hand.

The bartender catches my eye and I point to drink in front of her and hold up the number one with my finger. He squints his eyes and I remember my own messed up eyes. He nods and begins fixing me the drink I detest the most. “Is that really what you want to know? It was easier that way. We were so entwined that a clean break was needed. A new life presented itself in New York and you were always going to do…what you do,” she explains, looking around to make sure we’re out of earshot. “You can’t possibly need closure. That email explained everything and then some. I’m not a woman to leave without cause. It was time to part ways.”

Her tired eyes meet mine and I notice her exhaustion. It reminds me of the probable reason why. Her baby. “Why am I here?” she asks again. “Leif told me about your new base. I’m glad you’re switching up your work pace. Maybe…it will be good for you.” She has no clue. Leif didn’t tell her anything. My drink arrives and I swallow down half of the nasty tasting liquid, and wince. “Still don’t like a gin and tonic either. Your eyes are awful, by the way. I remember when Smith got a mask squeeze, so I won’t ask how it happened. I’ll just assume the drunken worst.”

Sighing, I look away, trying to compile my thoughts. At least I don’t have to worry about my demon eyes right now. “You’re happy,” I ask.

“Is that a question?” she narrows her eyes at the side of my face. “I’m happy,” she says, when I don’t answer. “My life is full. I love my husband and family. I would do the same thing all over again, Tyler. The same exact thing.”

My jaw ticks, and I clasp my glass tightly in both of my hands. Looking at her, I let myself feel the pain from the past. The terror attacks changed everything. Perhaps that truly is why she wanted to move on from my life style. Not because of me. Maybe I didn’t do anything horribly wrong. “I’m in love with a woman,” I tell her.

She coughs. A nervous tick because I’ve surprised her. “Oh,” she says. “So this isn’t some attempt to get back together?”
That makes me laugh. “Fuck no, Stella. Fuck. No,” I say. “After what you did?” She looks down and away. She should be ashamed of that fucking email. Of the no contact. Of the years wasted on our commitment to one another.

When she remains silent, it’s my turn to tell her a truth bomb. “I love this woman more than I thought I was capable of.”

Her gaze meets mine and I see tears shining—the hard facts surfacing. “Caroline reminds me of you in that one way that I’ve never been able to reconcile. This isn’t me trying to get back together with a married woman, Stell. This is me trying to figure out if you’re the one who blew my chances with the only woman I’ve ever truly loved.”

She raises her brows. “Ouch,” she says, smiling. “I’m glad you finally see. I’m sad this is what it took for you to realize you didn’t love me in that forever kind of way, though.” I down the rest of my drink while Stella sips hers, a thoughtful look on her face. Her eyes are narrowed, actually curious. She’s relieved now that she knows what this is about. I grab a cocktail napkin and wipe my face and forearms, breathing deeply. “You look like shit, by the way,” she adds. She’s grinning when I meet her eyes. “You made a Tahoe sized mistake, huh?”

“Go big or go home, baby,” I joke, using a phrase from our past. Her smile is wistful, but vanishes quickly.

“I need to know if you wanted to be with other men,” I say, lowering my voice. “You know, other than me.”

Her eyes widen, realization dawning. “I didn’t break up with you because I wanted to sample the platter, Tyler. How could you think that?” she replies, looking left and right, and then meeting my eyes. “You literally stated, verbatim, why I ended our relationship. I loved you like water. Something required to survive. You couldn’t be bottled. You slipped right thought my fingers.” She pauses, her eyes glossing over. “Do you understand?” She reaches out, her familiar hand seeking mine. I put my big one of top of hers. “You never needed me. Not like Harry needs me. Not like the baby needs me. I told you that in the email. It never had anything to do with wanting to try out other men before settling down forever with you. How I wish it could have been you!” She takes a few seconds to compose herself and it satisfies me in a cruel way to know I can cause her this obvious pain.

“She’s a virgin, like I was?” she asks, pulling her hand back, to wrap around her glass.

I put my face in both of my hands and keep my mouth shut. “And you’re afraid that she’s going to run like I did,” Stella says. “To make sure you’re the one. In your selfishness to know you’re the best, you think she can’t decide for herself that you’re the one without having been with other men?”

Groaning, I pick up my head and rub my tired eyes. There’s no need to reply. This is where Stella is successful. I raise one finger to signal for another drink.

“How bad did you blow this, Tahoe?” she asks.

Turning, I look at her. What would it hurt to tell her? “I can’t look at her without wanting her. I can’t breathe without smelling her. Every single thing in my body wants her in every single way and I know I’ll never be able to shake her,” I admit. “She’s perfect. I’m bound to the town. I bought property. I did all of these things because I convinced myself I loved Bronze Bay. When in actuality, I like Bronze Bay. I love Caroline.”

“And,” Stella prompts. She wants the gory details. The warm fuzzy facts don’t help anyone. I want her advice so I have to crack open the dark spots.

“I didn’t know she was a virgin and I almost fucked her in my truck cab, piss drunk, mind you. That’s when she dropped the V bomb and I ghosted. I can’t take that from her. I leave destruction in my wake,” I say, letting my gaze flick from the top of Stella’s head down to her waist, and back up.

Stella swallows hard. “I never thought I’d be giving you relationship advice,” she says, calmly. “Does she love you? Like you love her?”

I run my hand through my hair. “I think so,” I reply. She did. Maybe. Before I panicked—self-sabotaged, gave her every reason not to. “Probably not like I do. She makes me feel crazy. It was going to be perfect,” I say. “I had it all planned out. This weekend in the city. I knew she was innocent. I did, but I had no clue. Blinded by everything else, I guess.”

Stella shakes her head and reminds me of the story of how she told me she was a virgin. I wanted that back then—thought it was the greatest thing in the world to have a body untouched by any other cock.

“You have a type even if you don’t want to admit it,” She says. “She’d probably forgive you if you explain that a horrible virgin in your past burned you in the worst possible way.”

I grin, and then down another drink. “Slow down on the drinks, buddy. Sounds like that’s what got you into some of this mess.”
Nodding, I agree. “You were forever for me. The feelings weren’t reciprocated,” Stella says sadly.

“I can’t apologize for something I didn’t know,” I say. “Had I never met Caroline I’d have thought you were it for me too.”

Laughing, she shakes her head. “That is so offensive, but I get it. If it’s real, she’ll understand. I’m sorry, Tyler. For the email. For a lot of things. If you can salvage this with her, I feel like none of it will matter. Everything will work out the way it was supposed to. I’m glad Leif called me.”

So am I. This was needed for so many reasons. The next drink we share is slow. Stella shows me photos of her baby on her phone and I tell her about Caroline. About Bronze Bay. About my home. When her husband calls, we end our meeting both feeling lighter. I walk her to the revolving door and follow her out onto the sidewalk.

She turns abruptly, and sets her gaze to meet mine. For a fleeting second, I miss our past, and everything comfortable we had together. Love isn’t comfortable, though. It’s a painful collapse of walls—a drifting into a place that feels like adventure and home at the same time. “Keep it,” she says, smiling a familiar smile. “It’s the only thing worth fighting for. Perfection is a mess, Tyler Holiday. Remember that.” She spins on her heel and walks away, her blonde hair getting lost in a sea of meaningless people.

My feet don’t move fast enough as I run through the lobby and back up to my room to make a phone call. Or seven.