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The thought of her never forgiving me terrifies me, makes my stomach burn and knot with regret.
She laughs, warmth spreading over her cheek bones. “The Tiller I know wouldn’t give up so easily.”
She knows me well.
For a moment, I see it for what it is. She might not forgive me and that’s on me. I can’t make her. Honestly, I don’t remember what I said to her in my room, but I know it was bad. Bad enough that she has every right not to forgive me. It didn’t even matter that the drugs River found weren’t mine. She was in my house and it shouldn’t have happened. I’m to blame for it. I take responsibility for it.
I’m not angry. Not really. Not anymore. I’m guilty. And this isn’t about forgiveness. It’s about our future and if there’s one together. Forgiveness, if given, can come later.
Amberly breathes in deeply, her hands on my chest. Her focus moves to the fabric of my shirt and running her fingertips over the material. “Do you remember when we were kids and I ran away to your house and you hid me your closet so Ricky wouldn’t send me home?”
I nod. I vaguely remember it, but then when I think about it, I do. I remember she had dyed her hair bright yellow.
“You said I was enough. Is that still true?” she asks, looking at me. “Am I enough for you?”
“Yes. It’s still true.” The words are said with such conviction she has no reason to doubt me. I can feel my heart in my throat, waiting on her next words. “Let me show you.” Leaning forward, I slowly curve my fingers around the back of her neck, gripping tighter as I lean in. Searching her eyes, I bring her body closer, and repeat. “Let me.”
Do you notice how silent she is? If only my mind was as quiet.
Fuck, I want so badly to kiss her now, but still, I withhold because what’s that going to prove? Never in my life have I had so much self-control. Other than the time I went sky diving with Shade and Roan. We’d been filming a commercial where we jumped out of a plane with our bikes and performed stunts. Anyway, not that any of this fucking matters, but Roan had been sitting near the drop zone and he wasn’t wearing his parachute yet. I nearly pushed him out. I could have. I can’t say for sure I would have gone through with it, but in my state of mind—psychotic—it certainly was a distinct possibility I would have.
I had self-control, and well, I suppose a slight resemblance of a conscience back then.
Amberly sighs and untangles herself. She holds up her keys. “I’m going to take River home.” My eyes drop to my feet. I hang my head. Denial fucking hurts. “I’m not saying no,” she adds, pressing her palm to my scruffy cheek. Leaning into her hand, I sigh, my eyes never meeting hers. “Just give me some time to think.”
Nodding, my voice is rougher than before, with so much emotion I can’t help. “Just give me one night. That’s all I’m asking for.”
I grab her hand and kiss her knuckles and then I let go. I walk away. Not because I want to, but because she needs me to.
To hold, you must first open your hand. Let go.
Being patient isn’t for me. You probably already know that.
Waiting to see if Amberly will call?
Un-fucking-bearable. It’s torture. It’s like being on an airplane for me and leaving my life in the hands of someone else. And then I think, hadn’t I been doing that with drugs and alcohol too?
Eventually, yesterday, Amberly agreed to go on a date with me. One night two days before we leave for Vegas for the final round of After Dark. Are you surprised?
Shit, yeah you are. Me too. I have no idea what to make of it.
Here I sit in the house, with Camden and Scarlet, waiting for Amberly to come over. The house is different. There’s no more parties. No more random people passed out cold and no more drugs. It’s a normal mansion these days. If mansions can be normal.
I look at Scarlet. She’s talking to me about Vegas and a meet and greet. She looks hopeful I’ll agree to it since Shade agreed. I may be rehabilitated as they say, but it still hasn’t changed my thoughts on the politics of the sport or the stupid antics they come up with to bring fans closer to us. I’ll gladly meet a fan of the sport, but make me sit in a room and do it where you tell me when I can leave and what I’ll say, not a goddamn chance.
I lift my hand to my hair, running it through the mess of waves. It’s not in a Mohawk today, but it’s still slightly green on the ends. “You’re fucking crazy if you think I’m doing a meet and greet.”
“Can I come with you to Vegas?” Camden asks, staring at me for approval when Scarlet leaves the room.
I roll my head and look over at him, twirling my cell phone around in my hand. “Not this time, Cam-Man.” I toss a throw pillow at him. “Vegas isn’t for kids.”
He tosses it right back. “I’m hardly a kid. I turn twelve next week.”
Removing his S3 hat, I ruffle his hair and grab his neck in a headlock. He wrestles away from me laughing, and it’s then I see his innocence, whether he believes it or not. “I’m sorry for what I said to you.”
He stops, stares at me and replaces his hat on his head. “I know.” He looks hopeful. “Does that mean I can go to Vegas?”
I smile. “No.”