Читать книгу Resisting Her Ex's Touch - Amber Mckenzie - Страница 10

SHE WANTED TO run. Run to escape the confines of the hospital and her professional reputation. Run until she was so exhausted that there was no chance of being able to think about the lawsuit, Tate, or Matt. Run as far and as hard as she could until the only pain she could feel was the burning in her lungs and the tightness in her chest and not the emptiness in her heart. As she entered the hospital hallway the only other thought in her head was how to get out of the building as quickly as possible without having to talk, see, or take care of anyone else. She needed to be alone, needed to gain control of her thoughts before she risked sharing them with anyone.

“Kate!” She looked up to see her best friend, Chloe Darcy, leaning against the hallway wall, waiting for her. Chloe had been her best friend since the first day of medical school when the two women had sat next to each other, and they had been constants in each other’s lives since. Chloe had chosen emergency medicine and was almost as busy as Kate. The fact that the two women still found time for each other was a tribute to the strength of their relationship. When Kate reached Chloe she felt her friend’s assessment. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” she replied, turning her head in dissent, her eyes shut against the scene that had just unfolded.

“Okay. Is there anything I can do to make it better?” Chloe offered, not pushing Kate, as usual. Kate couldn’t help but smile at her best friend. Chloe was the most beautiful person Kate had ever known, both inside and out. When they had met in medical school Kate had been an emotional disaster and most of her classmates had not made the effort to befriend her, but not Chloe. She had sat by her side daily, never prying, never pushing, just being there for the little things, until Kate had realized that she had found a true friend.

With a sense of horror Kate felt her resolve begin to crumble. Kindness at that very moment had been enough to push her over the edge. Chloe read her friend perfectly.

“Kate, let’s get you out of here before you ruin your macho surgical reputation.” She felt her friend’s strong grip on her arm as she led her down the hall. Moments later they were in the women’s change room, away from at least half of the prying eyes that filled the hospital.

“Kate, I know how private you are but sometimes it does help to talk about things.” Chloe spoke quietly, her voice intentionally no louder than necessary.

Kate stared back at Chloe and knew she could tell her anything. She wanted to pour out every thought and feeling inside her in the hope that the purge would rid her of the maelstrom of emotion tormenting her. But how could you explain to someone something you couldn’t bring yourself to face? “I can’t, Chloe, I just can’t.”

It was the truth. She couldn’t explain what had happened, how she was feeling, what she was going to do, what she should do, and she couldn’t talk about Matt and Tate without completely breaking what little of herself she felt she was still holding together.

Chloe stepped back and Kate could tell she wanted say something and was choosing her words carefully. “Kate, you are one of the strongest women I know and there is nothing you cannot do or overcome. You just need to remind yourself of that more often.”

Perfection, thought Kate. Chloe was always perfect in her words and in her support and her friendship. At that moment Chloe felt like the only secure thing in her life and more than she deserved. “Thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.” She smiled weakly at the understatement.

“Keep that in mind, Kate. You can’t keep living your life holding everything on the inside and hidden from those who love and care about you.” It was the closest Chloe had ever come to confronting her and she recognized the truth and sentiment behind her friend’s words.

“I know.” Her acknowledgement surprised even herself. It was another truth to add to the avalanche rolling through her mind and threatening to bury her. “But I can’t, not here and not tonight.”

“I know, Kate. I knew it wasn’t going to be easy for you to see him today and I don’t expect you to change overnight.”

Kate blanched. How did Chloe know about Matt? She had never talked about Matt to anyone.

Chloe noted her friend’s pallor and lowered her voice even further to ensure complete privacy. “Kate, are you sure you are okay with Tate and I still being friends? You need to be honest with me and tell me if you’re not.”

Kate felt relief wash through her and then guilt for focusing on Matt and forgetting the significance of today’s meeting with Tate. Chloe had been talking about Tate. There was no one other than she and Matt who knew about their past together. Matt was her past and even though he was forcing himself back into her present, what had happened between them was something she had never told anyone about, and she only hoped he had done the same.

Chloe was staring, waiting for a response, and she had to think hard to remember the question.

“Chloe, you are an amazing friend to me and to anyone else you decide to be friends with. If feeling worse about what happened with Tate was possible, thinking that I ruined your friendship with him would make it so.”

She reached over and hugged her friend, trying to convey her emotions with the uncharacteristic action.

“I need to get out of here. Thank you, Chloe, for being my friend and knowing me better than I know myself sometimes.”

“Always.” Chloe smiled.

It was raining and she didn’t care. She didn’t even attempt to avoid puddles as she ran along the trail parallel to the Charles River. She let her feet strike the wet pavement as music blared in her ears and she tried to free herself from the memories that had been flooding her mind since the initial shock of seeing Matt again had worn off. The cold spring rain hit her face and blended with the warm tears that streamed from her eyes. Classic Kate, she chastised herself. Hold everything in as though nothing is wrong and then cry alone so no one can see that you are hurting, so no one thinks you are weak. The irony was that it made her feel even weaker.

As the miles passed she forced herself to accept that Matt McKayne was back in her life and she had no idea why or what he wanted. All she knew was that it was going to be hard, maybe impossible to be around Matt again. For their entire relationship she would have sworn that she knew Matt better than anyone else in the world. Then he had completely proved her wrong and now he was a familiar stranger. A stranger whose motivations and actions she couldn’t predict and didn’t understand. That alone terrified her, but not as much as the feelings she experienced, seeing and being near him again.

She could still describe every inch of Matt—except after today she couldn’t tell if her mind had downplayed his features or if he had become even more beautiful in the intervening years. She hated it that she’d noticed, even in that brief time she had seen him. Hated it that when he’d sat next to her she had recognized his scent. But what she really hated was that when Matt had been sitting next to her, her body had remembered him in all the wrong ways. While the sharp pain in her chest had resurfaced, so had the flood of heat and spasms of attraction that had rippled through her body, the latter being responsible for her shortness of breath.

Even now in the cold rain she could still remember what is was like to be with Matt, and the combination of desire and pain associated with the memory kept her running.

She was being punished, that was the only conclusion she could settle on. This was karma because she had done to Tate what Matt had done to her, and now she was being served up the consequences. She could remember every second of their breakup, recognizing Tate’s look of disbelief and hurt as the one she had worn after Matt had walked out on her. It felt hypocritical to feel this much anger towards Matt, knowing that she wasn’t any better than he was, but it didn’t matter. It didn’t stop her from feeling like there was not enough air and that what was left of her heart was going to die. It didn’t stop the desire to rip into his chest to confirm the heart she’d thought had loved her was not actually there.

She pushed forward, harder, resolving to herself that even though she had hurt Tate, at least the reason she had broken up with him was because it had been the right thing to do for Tate. Matt had broken her heart because it had been the right thing for Matt.

It was dark when Kate started to make her way home. Her apartment was a one-bedroom in a brownstone that had been divided up for rental. It was small and cheap, but it was one of her favorite places in the world. It was the place where no one put demands on her and she could let herself be who she needed to be and not what people expected of her.

Kate had spent a lot of time making her apartment the home she craved and needed. She had chosen the soft cream paint that adorned the walls. Over time she had saved and slowly put together the furniture that made her house a home. The antique wood that filled the space was precious both because of the money it had taken to purchase it and because of the time, her limited time, it had taken to find it at markets and small town shops nearby. Her favorite spot was the deep, wide, soft yellow couch that she probably slept on more than her bed. It was where she felt at peace and that thought propelled her forward to home as her body screamed at her to stop running.

The cold had finally started to set in as she rounded the final corner to her apartment. She knew her clothes were soaked through and she felt the squish of her feet in the watery soles of her shoes. All she could think of was a hot shower and curling up on her couch with her favorite charcoal throw, away from all the memories that were tormenting her.

She didn’t see him in the darkness until she started up the brownstone’s stairs. Her first reaction was fear at the sight of the large man tucked under the staircase awning out of the rain; her second thought was still one of fear when she recognized that man as Matt.

Stay away, her mind screamed at her. She refused to acknowledge him as she reached the door and tried to free her key from inside the wristband she wore for running.

“Katie.” He said her name, asking her with his tone to acknowledge him.

“I can’t talk to you right now. You need to leave,” she said, not looking at him and trying to focus on the task at hand.

“I’m not leaving, Kate,” he replied with a firmness that left her little doubt of her inability to dismiss him.

“Yes, you can, and you did,” she said flatly, staring ahead at the door and refusing to give him any more notice. She didn’t trust herself to look at him so instead looked away. Her attention was drawn to her hands, which were shaking. Her whole body was shaking and the key, which she had managed to get out, dropped onto the concrete step.

“I’m cold,” she declared, hoping he would believe that was the reason for the tremors that were starting to overtake her body.

He didn’t reply. Before she had a chance, he bent down and picked up the key and used it to unlock the building’s front door. He walked through and held the door open, waiting for her to follow. She didn’t. She stood under the awning, staring at him with a sense of panic that was building at the thought of him in her home.

“Kate, you are wet and probably freezing. Please, just come inside. I promise you can despise me just as much from in there.” His new position in front of her forced her to look at him for the first time and she was immediately drawn to his face and eyes. She recognized his expression of concern and it brought her back to all the other times she had thought Matt cared for her. Familiarity propelled her forward.

Once she was inside the building, the warm air and bright lighting brought Kate back to the present. Matt was tall and overpowering in the small entryway. His hair was damp and had started to curl slightly at the ends. The angle of his jaw and the rigid way he held his shoulders gave Kate some indication that he shared her tension. He had changed out of his business suit but was no less stunning in an open leather jacket and dark blue striped shirt that he had left untucked from the jeans, which hugged low on his hips. His sexual power was breathtaking, and she struggled to get her breath back and gain control of the situation.

Never before had she felt self-conscious about her running clothes. But at this moment she desperately wished to be wearing anything other than the black tights and fitted heather-blue base layer top that provided her protection from the cold, but no modesty, outlining every curve of her body. She crossed her arms across her chest and held out one palm.

“Keys?” she asked, trying to adopt the same tone she used in the operating room when calling for an instrument.

He didn’t yield and her sense of discomfort was replaced by anger. “Not until I’m sure you are okay.”

When had it started to matter whether she was okay or not? It hadn’t mattered to Matt nine years ago, and even though she felt far from okay, she resented his concern.

“I’m not your responsibility, Matt. You don’t get to worry about me,” she ground out. She tilted her head upwards, trying to make up the six-inch difference in their height, and held his gaze.

“Easier said than done,” he sighed, and started climbing the stairs towards the second floor. His long legs took the stairs two at a time and before she could react he was at the top.

Not in her home, she thought. Matt could not go into her apartment, her home. It was her refuge, her place where no memories of Matt existed.

She reacted quickly to this thought, running up the stairs and without thinking, wedged herself between him and the apartment door. He wasn’t ready for her movement and his body followed through on its planned course, causing him to fall against her.

She was pressed between Matt and the door, and she didn’t know which one felt harder against her. She started to shake and felt warmth spread through her, his warmth. She could feel every contour of his chest through his open jacket, his shirt slowly dampening from her wet body. He instinctively widened his stance and braced himself with a hand on the door behind her to keep himself from falling any further forward into her. She ended up nestled between his legs, pelvis to pelvis, his upper body bracing over her.

Instinctively, she pressed into him and felt the hard ridge that was increasing in prominence. Beyond the slow roar that was filling her head she heard a small gasp but couldn’t tell if it came from him or her. She wasn’t sure how long they stood pressed against each other, until she felt him pull away at the same time he brought his forehead down to rest against hers, his eyes closed.

“Why?” he demanded quietly.

“Why what?” she whispered, confused and trying to block out the sense of loss his body’s retreat had caused.

“Why don’t you want me in your apartment? Is it about him? Is Tate Reed in there, waiting for you?” His voice was accusing, each new question seeming more condemning than the next. But he kept asking, not pausing, as though not wanting to hear her actual response.

Tate. Every warm enticing feeling she was having left her and she felt cold again as guilt washed over her. She tried to move even further back but felt the wood of the door against her. Tate loved her, Matt had never loved her, and she felt empty inside, thinking about both men.

“I’m not discussing my relationship with Tate with you and you have no right to ask me,” she whispered, not being able to bring her voice above the intimacy his question had possessed but still containing the outrage she felt. “You need to leave.”

He didn’t reply. He simply lifted his forehead, replacing it with his lips. She felt both heat and memories surge through her before he backed away and pressed her key into her hand. She remained against the door as she watched him leave, not trusting herself to move until he was gone.

She wasn’t sure how long she stood against the door even after he left. She felt like part of the wood, except for the small spot where her forehead burned with the memory of his soft lips pressed against her. It took hearing the beat of her shivering against the door to force her into action. She walked through the apartment in the dark, removing her clothes and leaving them in a wet trail behind her.

She stepped into the shower consumed by the cold inside and out. She had loved Matt then she had hated him, and now she had no idea how to feel. Part of her wanted to act out for the first time in her life and force him to tell her why. Why had he done it? But her instinct for self preservation was stronger. No matter what she had told herself about why Matt had left, it would hurt more to hear him say it aloud. Seeing him today had not only brought out her anger but also unleashed every painful question and feeling of self-doubt she had tried to bury away and forget.

It took the water transitioning to cold before she thought of leaving the shower. She changed into scrub bottoms and a cotton tank top and ate the only thing she had the energy to prepare for supper—toast. It wasn’t long before she was lying on the soft yellow couch cocooned within the gray blanket, trying to focus on her medical textbook and not the memories that kept replaying in her mind.

As a child she had been outgoing and bright, ready to tackle and succeed at every challenge presented to her. She had been fearless with the knowledge that her parents had always been behind her, supporting her and loving her. Then things had changed when she was eleven. Her mother had been diagnosed with breast cancer and for two years everything had focused on her mother and the disease. Kate had watched helplessly as nothing had worked, nothing had made things better, for her mother or her family.

She’d died when Kate was thirteen and from then on her family had no longer existed. She remembered one of their last moments together at the hospice. Her father had been sobbing and with what little energy she’d had her mother had stroked her hair and told her not to cry. And she hadn’t.

Without her, Kate had felt lost, but not as lost as her father had. Kate’s parents had been the loves of each other’s lives, and without her mother Kate’s dad had withdrawn from life and from his daughter. She had lost both parents, one to cancer and the other to depression, which as a thirteen-year-old she’d had no capacity to understand.

Kate’s memories of middle and high school were not normal ones, something she had realized but didn’t have time to care about. She spent those years trying to be the perfect daughter, student, homemaker, and friend to her dad, anything to make him happy, to make him come back to her. She hid every feeling of unhappiness and loneliness away, afraid that her pain would make her father worse and ruin what little they had together. She never discussed her mother and carried her grief alone. Every new womanly feeling or change she experienced she ignored, because it hurt too much to miss the mother she wanted to share those moments with.

Kate was terrified to graduate from high school, knowing that it meant she would have to leave home and her dad. It wasn’t until she arrived at Brown University and had some time on her own that she realized how different she was from the other students, especially the other girls. They all seemed so beautiful and confident and, next to them, she felt completely inadequate and unprepared for life as a woman. She went home every weekend, not just to see her dad but also to escape the weekend social gatherings where she felt so out of place.

This eventually became a comfortable routine that lasted three years, until one weekend she came home and her dad introduced her to Julia. Her father had found love again and for the first time since her mother’s death he was happy. Kate shared his happiness and at the same time felt her feelings of loneliness hit rock bottom.

Watching her father and Julia made her feel even more alone than she had before because they were together, a team, and she had no one. It was no longer necessary for her dad to be her focus in life, and she was now being forced to focus on herself and she didn’t even know who she was or who she wanted to be. All her anxieties and feelings of inadequacy battered her every solitary moment while she continued to play the role of the perfect daughter, stepdaughter and student. Her dedication towards a career in medicine was her only life raft in the storm in which she found herself.

She met Matt three months later and her world changed. She had been studying at her favorite coffeehouse when she glanced up and saw the most attractive man she had ever seen in her life. The glance had easily turned into an irresistible stare. He was tall and broad shouldered with thick dark hair and piercing blue eyes. He was standing beside her table and it took her an embarrassing amount of time to acknowledge to herself that he was talking to her and to figure out what he had said. He asked to share her table, because it had an electrical outlet in the wall beside it for his laptop computer.

Previously, she would have just offered him the table, making some excuse as to why she needed to leave, but she was so drawn in by everything about him that she just managed to say yes and slide her own computer toward her to make space. He thanked her and while he started studying, her mind completely shifted, thinking only of him. He was perfection. His strong jaw was covered with a shadow of stubble that screamed masculinity to her. A gray T-shirt spanned his broad chest so that she could see the outline of every muscle group she had just been studying attentively in her textbook before he’d joined her. His shoulders led to muscular tanned arms and hands that were twice the size of hers. She could imagine the strength in his hands and what it would feel like to be held by him, to feel his jaw brush against hers, to press against his strong frame.

She started and blushed when his voice broke through her thoughts with an offer to buy her coffee. She barely managed to tell him her order without stammering, feeling completely stunned by the most outrageous thoughts she had ever had and insecure with her inexperience.

When he returned to the table with their drinks he didn’t reopen his computer. He introduced himself and she was drawn in by the kindness and genuine interest she saw in his eyes. There was something about Matt that had made her feel instantly safe, and with that feeling grew the confidence she had been lacking. They spent the rest of the afternoon talking and Kate felt more important in those few hours than she had in years.

In the course of their conversation she learned about his long-distance girlfriend and on hearing that felt crushed and disappointed, but still intrigued by the man who already had someone special in his life and was still interested in her, even if she wasn’t girlfriend material. The more they talked the more she liked him and the more she wanted him in her life, no matter what he had to offer.

And that was exactly what followed. At first they would see each other casually, both studying. Matt was pre-law and she was pre-med, which meant they studied a lot. She got used to him joining her on Saturday and Sunday afternoons at the coffee shop, and even had the confidence to join his table when he arrived there first. The only time she didn’t see him was when he went back to New York for a weekend with his family and girlfriend, though he never talked about the visits and she didn’t ask. They eventually started meeting outside of the coffee shop and beyond studying, until they were together several times a week and spoke on the phone daily.

It was hard for her to understand her feelings. Matt was her first university friend, her first male friend, and eventually her best friend. She didn’t know how to sort out what she felt for him as her friend from what she assumed were normal feelings of attraction any woman would have in Matt’s presence. Part of her was actually relieved to be having the same thoughts and feelings about a man that she had heard other women talking about; it made her feel normal.

One Saturday she didn’t show up at the coffee shop, like she normally did. Even though they didn’t have formal plans to meet, Matt came to her apartment early that afternoon to check on her and see why she had been absent from the routine they had perfected over months. She hadn’t expected that. If she had she wouldn’t have answered the door. Instead she answered the door in jogging pants and an oversized sweater, her face red and swollen from hours of crying. He didn’t let her turn him away and on the eighth anniversary of her mother’s death Kate allowed her emotions to show and cried in front of someone else for the first time since her mother had died.

She couldn’t have asked for more in Matt’s response. He held her until her tears subsided and then listened as she talked about her parents and what she had lost. For the first time her feelings didn’t make her feel weak and helpless. Matt made her feel he understood in his responses and desire to listen. They talked for hours and he discussed his own father’s death, which helped her feel normal and less like the poor orphan she had perceived herself to be. When she was finally spent of emotions and words, she fell asleep on her couch, Matt still sitting at the end. She could remember the strength of his arms around her as he picked her up and carried her to her bed, the tenderness and caring as he laid her down and covered her, and the weight of his lips against her forehead as he kissed her good-night. And her last thought as she drifted to sleep was that she was in love with her best friend.

Kate woke to the darkness of the living room lit only by the soft glow of the end table lamp. She struggled to adjust her eyes to the lighting and the reality of her surroundings. She wasn’t in her old college apartment and the dreams she’d had of her past had been just that, dreams, followed by a harsh reality. She glanced over at the clock on the microwave—four o’clock in the morning. No hope of getting back to sleep, she thought.

She stretched; her neck had a kink in it from falling asleep on the arm of the couch and her legs ached from pushing too hard on her run, but she was also acutely aware of the deep ache and warmth in her pelvis. She could still feel the memory of Matt’s lips against her forehead, his body pressed against hers, and the feel of him wanting her, both past and present. It made no sense. She cringed, thinking about the last time she had felt that need from him and the disaster and complete and utter devastation she had felt afterwards.

Anger overtook her as her feet hit the cold wooden floor and she walked towards her bedroom. She didn’t want to remember every detail of their relationship and that night. She didn’t want to still feel what it was like to be touched by him. She didn’t want to still feel the pain of rejection and betrayal. She didn’t want to feel anything for Matt McKayne.