Page 24 of Denim & Diamonds

February

Now I’m the one avoiding phone calls.

I stared down at the cell in my hand and realized it was the first time it had rung all day.

It had been five days now since I’d seen Brock.

On the first day, he’d called four times.

On the second, three. On the third, two.

Now today—it was just the one call. That’s likely how fast I would fade from his thoughts once I was back in New York.

February who?

Tears welled in my eyes.

It had been absolute torture to cut off all contact with him. But why dig myself deeper when nothing would ever come of it? It would only make it more painful in the end. Yet I somehow couldn’t imagine walking out that door tomorrow and going back to the City without seeing him.

“Yoo-hoo…” A voice interrupted my thoughts. I looked up to find Morgan standing at my bedroom door. She tilted her head. “Boy, you were really somewhere else. I said your name three times.”

“Did you?”

She nodded with her hands behind her back, then walked in and held out a small gift bag. “A little something to remember our time here.”

I smiled sadly. “I don’t have a parting gift for you.”

She plopped down on the bed next to me and set the bag on my lap. “This isn’t really a gift. It’s more closure.”

Inside was the black teddy I’d worn the night of my video sexcapades with Brock. I’d hand washed it and returned it to her the next day. “Umm... How is this closure? Seeing this is more the opposite of closure.”

Morgan covered my hand with hers. “Not if you put it on and go say goodbye one last time...”

I started to speak, but Morgan put a hand up.

“Hear me out before you respond. You’re better at giving advice than I am.

I don’t know what I would’ve done without you these last few weeks.

But every once in a blue moon, something smart comes out of my mouth.

I think what I have to say is important. ”

I squeezed her hand. “Everything you say is important, Morgan. You don’t give yourself enough credit.”

She rested her head on my shoulder. “You need to see him one more time, February. Talk to him. Look at what happened with your dad when you tried to shut him out. Relationships that are important to us are like open wounds. If you walk away without closure, they fester and never heal. But if you allow it to close, you can move on. You’ll have a scar, but we can live with those. ”

I sighed. “Maybe you’re right.”

Morgan smiled. “Hang on.” She dug into her pocket and took out her cell phone. Holding it up to me, she pressed record. “Say that again. But leave off the maybe part.”

I chuckled and bumped my shoulder with hers. “I’m going to miss you, my zany friend.”

She winked. “No, you’re not. You’re going to see me every day. On Instagram.”

***

I raised my hand to knock, then lowered it.

What if he has company?

What if Nina is in there?

What if…

No. No. No. I’m being ridiculous. Brock would never do that to us.

Though there is no us anymore, is there?

You haven’t even spoken to the man in five days.

And he moved on pretty quickly after things ended with his ex, didn’t he?

My palms started to sweat. This was ridiculous. I was being ridiculous. Yet when I raised my hand to knock again, I still couldn’t do it. Fear crippled me.

Though when I heard a deep voice behind me, I certainly jumped high enough.

“Just gonna stand there all day?”

Brock.

I covered my racing heart and turned around. “You scared the crap out of me. ”

“Sorry.”

“I went to the bar to look for you, but they said you took tonight off.”

He shoved his hands into his pockets. “I was working on a cabin.”

“At midnight?”

“I have a personal project I work on whenever I have time. A log home I’m building for myself.”

“Oh. I didn’t know that.”

Brock nodded. We fell quiet as we stared at each other, but the ever-present sexual tension was still there. It crackled in the air all around us.

“You want to see it?” he asked.

I nodded. “I’d love that.”

Back downstairs, Brock opened the passenger door of his truck. Once I climbed in, he took off his flannel and wrapped it around me before going to the driver’s side. “You should really wear a jacket.”

Unfortunately, that was pretty much the extent of our conversation for the fifteen-minute drive. I had no idea what to say, and it seemed Brock didn’t either. The silence was awkward. The roads were dark, and Brock stared straight ahead.

When we turned off the highway and headed down a dirt road toward a wooded area, I attempted to break the ice. “You’re not taking me out into the woods to kill me, are you? I don’t want to die wearing a blue flannel over a red dress.”

Brock shook his head and parked. “Wait here. I have to turn on the generator.”

A minute later, the entire area was illuminated by floodlights.

The view took my breath away. Wow. Just wow.

Nestled deep in the woods, a wide, welcoming porch stretched across the front of a big log cabin.

I could easily envision rocking chairs and some hanging ferns, and maybe a rustic lantern over the tall front door.

Brock opened the passenger door and held out a hand. Somewhere nearby, a brook babbled.

“This is incredible. You built this yourself?”

He nodded. “Every last bit of it. Cut down every log and handmade every cabinet in the half-done kitchen. I’ll probably be ninety by the time it’s finished, but I wanted to do it all myself.”

“I can totally picture Oak pulling a fish out of that brook I hear running.”

“He better. Or I’m not putting in a bathtub for his lazy ass.”

I smiled, though being here was a painful reminder of how different Brock and I were. The man built log cabins in the woods out of trees he cut down with his bare hands, and I’d never even been camping. “It’s really beautiful, Brock.”

“Thank you.”

“Can I see inside?”

He nodded.

I’d thought the outside was impressive until I walked into the house. I walked over to the biggest stone fireplace I’d ever seen. “You built this all by yourself, too?”

“Collected all the stones from around the property. It’s been put to good use already since the place doesn’t have heat yet.”

“Can we…make a fire?”

Brock caught my eyes. He stared for a few seconds before nodding and looking away. “I have cedar logs piled on the side of the house. I’ll be right back. ”

While Brock worked to collect the wood and start the fire, I wandered around in awe.

On the front side of the house, large windows framed views of the forest. In the back, they showcased a giant lake.

It made the inside feel like it was part of the outside, giving the cabin a sanctuary-type feel.

It was so peaceful, I almost forgot I’d come to say goodbye. Almost.

Brock set a few sweatshirts in front of the roaring fire. “Best I can do.”

“I can’t think of anything that would be better.”

We sat side by side on the floor for a long time, staring into the fire in silence. My insides were in turmoil. I’d come to say goodbye, yet my heart never wanted to leave.

“Why did you come to see me tonight, Red?”

I turned to face him, but he kept staring into the fire. “I’m leaving tomorrow. I couldn’t go back home without saying goodbye.”

“No? Why is that?”

I took a deep breath. “Because I’ve fallen for you, Brock.”

“Funny way of showing it.” He scoffed and shook his head. “I’m pissed at you, Red. You didn’t even try to fight for us. I thought I meant more to you than that.”

I tasted salt in my throat. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“Everything.”

“I’d rather you fight than apologize.”

“How am I supposed to fight for us when we don’t live in the same world?

You love it here, Brock. Look at where we are this very minute.

You’re building your own home log by log, and I have a company to run in New York City and a board of directors to convince I’m not a crackpot.

” Tears streamed down my cheeks, and my voice broke.

“I can’t ask you to give this up for me any more than you can ask me to give up my life for you. ”

Brock had been keeping his distance, but he turned to face me and wiped my tears. After, he took me into his arms and held me tight. I felt him all around me—his scent, his touch, his love. And it made me want him in me. I looked up and kissed him. “I want you so much.”

Brock wrenched his mouth away. “I can’t. I can’t make love to you and have you run out on me and never come back. I’m too angry.”

“Then don’t make love to me. Fuck me. Fuck me with all the pent-up anger you have because I’m leaving you in the morning.”

His eyes darkened. I thought he was going to break, but instead he stood. “I can’t do that to you. I won’t hurt you.”

I shot up and grabbed his hand. “It’ll hurt me not to ever have you. I want you so much, it physically hurts.”

Brock’s jaw clenched.

My heart pounded. I felt desperate, desperate enough to shrug the flannel from my shoulders and pull my dress over my head.

Brock’s eyes dropped to my red lace bra and panty set and darkened to almost gray, though I couldn’t be sure if it was from anger or desire. But it didn’t matter. I wanted him. I needed him.

“ Please …”

For a few heartbeats, I thought he was going to tell me to get the hell out of his house. His jaw was rigid, and I could practically see steam billowing from his nose. But then he spoke .

“Turn around.”

Oh God . Two words. That’s all it took, and I was on fire. I ached for this man.

“Walk to the kitchen counter,” he gritted. “Don’t turn back around.”

My body pulsed with electricity. I would’ve done anything he said. I stepped to the kitchen counter and held on to the edges.

Brock walked up behind me. The sound of his belt buckle coming undone and zipper going down was the most erotic thing I’d ever heard. “I don’t have any fucking condoms.”

“I don’t care. I have an IUD, and I trust you.”