FUSE (8 page)

Even if I never seen his face again, I'll be haunted by his words for the rest of my life. I can't be this happy. I can't enjoy life. It's not fair if I do. That man's face and this place are reminders of that. I don't know what I was thinking. I don't deserve moments like this. This can't be my life.

If I turn back towards the street it won't take me more than a few seconds to hail a taxi. I can be in one and on my way back to my apartment before he even notices that I've left. I'll block his number and ignore his calls and soon he'll realize that I'm not whole in the way he thinks I am. He'll give up because men like him don't waste time being friends with women like me.

"Zoe?" he calls to me from where he's standing on a paved path. "What's wrong?"

Nothing. Everything. All of it is wrong.

I thought I'd have more time to know him before I had to face this. I thought I was stronger. I'm not. The pounding of my heart is telling me I'm a fool for even thinking that.

"Zoe?" He's running now, not at full speed but more of a slow jog. "Are you okay?"

I nod briskly. I can't tell him. I barely know him. We just exchanged phone numbers only a few hours ago.

"I'm fine," I say with a weak smile when he finally reaches me.

"You disappeared." He nods towards the still untouched hot dog in my hand. "Are you not hungry?"

I look down at it. When he bought it for me it felt like one of those New York moments you see in the movies or on one of those detective dramas on television. The vendor had a thick accent and when Beck tipped him well, the man patted him on the back saying he was one of the good ones.

"I'm hungry," I confess. I take a tentative bite of the end of the bun to secure the words in truth.

It doesn't work. Skepticism grips his expression. He doesn't believe me. I don’t blame him.

"Let's go sit in the park." He motions toward the path that he just returned from. "There are a few benches down there. We can see the George Washington Bridge from there."

"The bridge," I repeat back slowly. "I can't see the bridge."

"It's there." He moves his hand towards the path as he smiles down at me. "If we go down close to the water you'll see it better. It's not that far."

"No." I look down at the hotdog still mostly untouched in my hand. "I don't want to see the bridge."

"You're not scared of water are you?" He playfully pushes his hand into my side. "Are you afraid you'll drown if we get too close?"

The hotdog drops from my hand onto the pavement and I gasp as I watch it fall.

"It's okay." He reaches for my shoulder. "I can get you another one."

"I need to go." I turn quickly on my heel towards the street. "I need to get a taxi."

"Zoe." He's in front of me now, his frame blocking my path. "You can't go. What's going on?"

I'm panicked. I feel it. I have to get away from him and from this place. "I need to go home, Beck."

His hands jump to my face and I close my eyes to ward off the vulnerability I'm feeling. I didn't want it to be like this. I have to calm down before I say another word to him.

"Zoe," he whispers my name against my forehead. "Open your eyes."

I pull in such a heavy breath that it hurts. I open my eyes slowly to find his brilliant blue irises staring directly into me.

"Tell me what is going on." He leans back only slightly. I can still smell his skin and almost taste his breath. "You're freaking out. Please tell me why."

I pull my gaze over his shoulder to the taxis that are racing past us on the street. All I want is to get into one and go home. I don't want to think about bridges and drowning and friendship. I can't.

I stare at him silently trying to make him see that I can't do this. I can't show him the darkest parts of me on this busy Manhattan sidewalk with the Hudson River just a pathway behind us.

"You're not going to tell me what's going on, are you?" The resignation that is woven into that question is palpable. It's there in his expression too.

"I can't," I offer back feeling both foolish and relieved at the same time.

His hands drop from my face to the front of my coat. He pulls the belt tighter around my waist. "It's getting colder out. Let me take you home."

B
eck

My life has been easy for the most part. I don’t have a burden that I carry around with me the way some people do. The way Zoe does. I've never seen such a look of anguish and dread on a person's face before.

When I first realized she wasn't on the path beside me, I worried, for only a brief moment that she was concerned that I was taking her into a deserted part of the city. I wouldn't blame her for being wary. We've known each other less than a month. My public persona may offer her some reassurance that I'm not a threat to her, but she's right to be careful around me. I'd expect that she would be around any man she'd just met. It's wise.

When I walked back up to where she was standing near the hot dog vendor I saw something else. She wasn't a woman who wanted to protect herself from potential physical harm by a stranger. It was a woman who wanted to protect herself emotionally. She was on the brink of tears. I was terrified that she might bolt into traffic just to escape the suggestion of going down by the river.

Her insistence that she take a taxi home alone had stung. I wanted to offer her comfort on the way there. I wanted to reassure her that whatever it was, I could help her. I know that I can. I know that because I want to help her. I want to erase that pain so she can live the life she should be living, free of the baggage that she's obviously carrying around with her.

I stare at the screen of my smartphone. The unyielding temptation I feel to call her and ask how she is hasn't lessened since I arrived at my studio more than two hours ago.

I'd thrown my phone on the couch and had started on a new canvas. I needed to express the pain I felt when I looked into her eyes. I had to get it out so it wouldn't fester and control me. I can't repeat what happened with Liz. When she was hurt in the accident, I took that pain on myself. I felt every ache she did. I ignored her tortured cries about losing Mark and had instead bottled up the jealousy within me. It took a toll on me and I know now, it's the main reason I fell into Alexa's arms. I needed comfort and she was there to offer it.

She was filling a void that only I could fill. I tried to replace the love that I wasn't getting in return from Liz by sleeping with Alexa. I used her. I hadn't realized it at the time. I see it very clearly now.

I scrub my hand over my forehead before I pick my phone back up. I race my thumb over the screen and stare at the text that Zoe sent to herself from my phone.

The Yankee loves cocoa.

Four words. They'd mean nothing to anyone but the two of us. I need that. I want that. I crave to have that kind of intimacy that surpasses what happens in bed.

I hit reply before typing out a simple reply.

I want you to be okay. Please tell me you are.

***

"H
ave you met someone?"

My head pops up from where it's been buried in the newspaper. I've been sitting in the corner of this coffee shop since dawn broke. I'd fallen asleep on the couch in my studio and when I'd finally woken just after six, I immediately checked my phone. There was dozens of new text messages but not one from Zoe. Nothing. I'd dragged myself down to the lobby to get a coffee and now I don't have the energy to go back up to my studio.

"Clive." I motion towards one of the two empty chairs at the table. "What are you doing here?"

"Jax told me that you're using your studio again." He unbuttons his suit jacket before sitting across from me. "I was hoping to catch you there on my way to work."

Clive Parker is my first cousin on my mother's side. Our relationship has never been close but since I've been back in New York, we've hung out a few times. He's a tech genius and his company is breaking ground with new developments all the time. The man has a brilliant mind.

"I'm trying to get back into it," I offer. I don't like talking about my creative process with Clive mainly because it's a foreign concept to him, just as tech stuff is foreign to me.

"That's because you met someone." It's not a question. It's a statement.

"Why would you say that?"

"You've been avoiding work for years, Brighton." He leans back to cross his legs. "Someone has lit a fuse under you."

I can't talk to Jax about this. If I do, he'll tell Ivy and I'll be bombarded with questions about how I feel about Zoe. I can't even answer those questions myself yet.

"What's her name?" He presses as he opens the plastic tab on the lid of the paper cup he brought to the table with him.

"You're not going to tell Jax about this conversation." My tone is clear and decisive. "My brother can't know about this."

"Sure." He dips his chin towards me. "What's going on?"

"I met someone," I begin before I stop to take a sip of coffee. "Her name is Zoe."

"Zoe," he repeats it back. "It's different. I like it."

"She just moved to Manhattan. She's going to go to law school, does some volunteer work. She's gorgeous."

"This is what you didn't want me telling your brother?" He chuckles softly. "That you finally met the perfect woman?"

"Something happened yesterday." I stare down at my smartphone. "She froze up over something when we were out for lunch?"

"What was it?"

I know that Clive doesn’t know her and yet I feel a sense of betrayal telling him about this. I doubt that Zoe shares many details of her life with anyone. I can't keep this inside of me though. I need someone else's perspective and my cousin is, by far, the most logical person I know.

"I took her for a hotdog. I wanted her to have an authentic New York experience."

He nods with a slight grin on his face. "Romantic, Brighton. You're a true romantic."

I can't help but crack a smile. "I wasn't going for that. We agreed to be friends for now and..."

"Friends?" He leans forward a touch. "She told you she just wants to your friend?"

I'm so far into this now that I don't see any reason not to be completely honest. "I did it. I told her we should be friends."

"Why?"

"That's the thing, Clive." I race my index finger over the edge of my smartphone's case. "I could tell when we met that there was something holding her back. She's guarded and wary."

"You wanted to ease her into a relationship with you." His tone is thoughtful. "That's smart."

"I did it as much for myself as for her." I'm not about to dive into the sordid details of my past relationships with Liz and Alexa. That's not going to add anything to what's going on with me and Zoe.

"What happened yesterday?" He tilts his chin towards me.

"I wanted to take her down to the Hudson so she could see the river. I thought it would give her a different perspective on the city."

"Did she accuse you of being a cheap date?" The chuckle that accompanies the question is unmistakable.

"She wouldn't even leave the sidewalk to walk towards it. She couldn’t move. I swear she looked like I'd asked her to commit a felony."

I'm surprised by the lack of any readable reaction on his face. "You must have asked her about it, right?"

I nod slowly. "I tried but she wanted out of there. She was in a cab and on her way home before I could get a word in."

"Where do things stand now?" He motions towards my smartphone. "How is she when you talk to her on the phone?"

I'm humiliated that I have to share this but I'm so far into this now that all of my shame has taken leave and left my body and the building. "She won't answer my texts or calls."

"I met someone too."

The quick change of subject is disorienting. It's so disorienting that all I can do is stare at him.

"Her name is Lilly." He can't contain a smile. "That girl has been to hell and back. Shit. She's seen the worst anyone can see in the world."

"I didn't know that," I confess. All I've heard about Lilly is that she's a tech guru too.

"Your friend Zoe sounds a lot like Lilly." He pushes his hands against the edge of the table, forcing the wooden chair he's in to scrape along the floor. "Don't push her too hard or she'll shut you out. I almost lost Lilly when I did that."

"How did you get her to open up?" I ask as he pulls himself to his feet.

"I didn't. I pushed her into a corner and she pushed me back so hard it knocked the wind out of me. Give her time, Brighton. If she means anything to you, give her all the time and space she needs."

Z
oe

I'm humiliated. I don't know what I was thinking when Beck suggested that we go sit by the river to eat our hotdogs. It was a sweet gesture. The more I think about it, the more I realize that he was just trying to give me an experience I'll never forget. He wasn't pressuring me into divulging my deepest and darkest secrets. He wasn't pushing me to confess any sin to him. He wanted to take me to a beautiful spot so I could soak in the view of the Hudson River.

I can't imagine why he still wants to talk to me. The man can spend time with any woman he chooses, yet he's still messaging me asking if I'm okay. I haven't responded because I can't honestly say that I am okay. I'm stuck back in that moment on the sidewalk when I dashed into the taxi so quickly I almost tripped.

I hadn't turned to look back to where I abandoned him on the sidewalk because I didn't want the memory of that lingering in my mind forever. I'd cried in the taxi on the way home and then for hours in my bed after I'd pulled my clothes from my body. My past will never leave me. It's going to haunt me until the day I die, just as Tim said it would.

I glance at the clock hanging over the bar and I quickly realize that I've only been at the pub for an hour. It's exhausting trying to keep a fake smile on my face while I engage in idle chitchat with the patrons. I can't keep trying to put on a brave face. It doesn’t hide the past. It only provides a temporary mask that the world sees. I know that now.

"Zoe?" Elliott is behind me, his hand resting gently on my shoulder. "Are you feeling okay?"