Debt, page 22
And now that I do, I feel like her history is somehow mine as well, as if I experienced all the pain and the heartbreak with her in those years.
Kyla knows about me and Jenny. And that was rough on her. It was probably rough because I didn’t sugarcoat it. I told her the truth. I told her Jenny and I spent a night together and that it was romantic. Kyla asked me, “Do I have anything to worry about?”
And I assured her truthfully that she doesn’t. Kyla’s eyes told me she trusts me, and I will do good by that trust.
It helps that the doc and Vera hang out so much together. When the cast is off we’ll have a barbecue and I’ll bring Tyler over so he can spend some time with the girl who’s gotten me thinking about settling down. He saw her briefly when he flew over here two weeks ago to go over business, but he didn’t get to know her.
The only thing about Kyla’s past that concerned me is something closer to the present. It’s this guy, Vince. Kyla was cool in telling me about all the other stuff. She got a little teary at the recent scene with her father, but she was open, not holding back.
I felt something different when she told me about the bodybuilder. She held back, she was afraid, she didn’t want to get into details.
Which tells me Vince is a problem.
And I’m not all that comfortable with her going off to West Rock alone knowing this psycho is out there wanting to get a piece of her.
I asked her to stay, but it was a foolish request. She, unlike me, can study. And I’d be messing with her future by keeping her away from school. My recovery will take at least another month, maybe two. For her to miss that much school...
I’m thinking about Vince now, about what she told me, about how he slammed into the girls’ apartment and demanded Kyla take his calls. I’m thinking about how he grabbed her behind the college walls, pushed her up against one and pressed his hand down toward her crotch. He would have gotten where he needed to if she hadn’t taken those Krav Maga lessons suggested by Vera and then had him down on the ground long enough that she could make a run for it.
She went to the cops. Again.
There was little they could do. Vince always has an alibi.
I know guys like Vince.
Guys like Vince never learn.
-2-
“Promise me you’ll stick to well-lit areas,” I say to her.
“Logan, it’ll be fine. Vince has probably found someone else by now. He’s had all summer to get over me.”
“Promise me.”
“I promise.”
“Look, I have friends, but none in Florida. I can get a few guys to be there but not all the time.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
“I do.”
“I shouldn’t have told you, now you’re worried.”
“You should have told me. And, yes, I’m worried.”
“I’ll be fine.”
I cock an eyebrow at her. “Well-lit areas, stick to crowds, try not to party alone.”
“I’m always with Vera.”
“By alone I mean you and her. You’re females. Single, attractive females. What about this Rory guy?”
“He’s harmless.”
“A rich kid is never harmless.”
“He’s harmless, Logan, just a little clingy. Would you stop worrying?”
I look down at my leg. I’m sitting on the bed. Sitting. The cast came off yesterday, and my leg looks like something from a scarecrow. A person can lose a lot of weight in seven weeks. But I’m determined to be up and walking on it without pain faster than the doc believes I can. They wanted to take it off in eight weeks ‘to be safe.’ But I insisted getting it off earlier. It’s incredible how fast the body heals when you set your mind to it. And I wanted Kyla’s last memory of me to be one of a whole man, not a broken one, before she and Vera head off back to college. And back to this guy called Vince. “I worry,” I say. “I worry because...”
I look over at her, sitting on a couch in my bedroom, her knees together, her eyes shining.
Technically speaking, we’ve been together two months now, counting from when we first spent the night together. Two months, and in that time I got knocked out in the ring for the first time in two years, I was concussed, passed out, then I totaled my car, broke a leg, some fingers, another concussion. I knew she’d be trouble when I first laid eyes on her.
But the last month. Christ, the last month... I knew I loved her the moment she walked in the door here. Well, I sensed it. But I only realized it in retrospect. The human mind requires evidence and proof and all that crap when what it should really be doing is just going on gut feel. Why demand evidence when you know something is true?
I should have told her I loved her a month ago already. And, now, in retrospect, I realize I probably should have told her I loved her the very first time I saw her sitting at my side in that hospital in Nashville. And if that was too soon, then the moment my mind probably knew, actually knew what was really happening between me and her was when I asked her at that same hospital, Don’t go.
And she stayed.
She freaking stayed.
How could a man not love such a woman?
I know the answer. And, in my now-humbled state, I can confess to it: I was trying to be just that, a ‘man.’ I was trying to be the hero who is not held down, adored by the millions. Typical macho crap which I see now is just that—crap.
My mind knew it loved her then.
Well, if the mind requires evidence and proof for shit, it has it now.
She’s been here for me. She’s been here despite the trip she and her friend had planned for themselves. The evidence is there. The proof is there. But even if it wasn’t, it’s not why I say this to her now. I say it, because I know it, and I’ve always known it. A premonition, an intuition. But I’ve known it from the start. “Kyla,” I say. “I...love...you.”
A terrible anguish and fear and terror clutches at my heart as I say this. I’ve never said it to a woman before. Never.
I’ve had women say it to me, yes, but none who ever meant it. I’ve had women say it to me at the top of their climaxes, women I had not known for more than an hour. But I always imagined that a girl would say it first. No matter. This is how I feel. And I won’t deny it. And if you don’t love me back, Kyla, I don’t care. Because you’re making me soft, and I’m starting to think about cliché quotes like ‘better to have loved and lost,’ and I’m actually starting to believe those quotes. Maybe it’s all those chick flicks you made me watch.
Kyla does not answer with words.
And the time which passes before I understand what her answer really is, is the loneliest, most confusing time I have ever experienced in my entire life.
She answers with a tremble of her lips. A shine in her eyes. And then an outpour of emotional tears that only makes me love her even more.
She jumps up off her seat, collides into my body, inadvertently squeezing my bad leg against the bed.
Her arms wrap around me in a rush, and her lips meet mine, moist with tears. “I love you, too, Logan. I love you too and I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to scare you...”
My hands slide around her waist, under her shirt and onto the hot skin underneath.
I pull her shirt off quickly. She pushes me back, drops her pants in one movement and straddles me.
We haven’t slept together again since she’s been back. We did a lot of other things, but not sex. And that I can be with a woman and have an equally good time with her whether we’re in the sack or not is another bit of proof my mind doesn’t really need anyway. But it has it now.
It’s fast. Not romantic. She grabs my cock and presses it against her clit.
We’ve had ‘the talk,’ and she knows I’m clean and I know she’s on the pill. So I don’t question it when she puts my naked shaft into her hot body.
The slickness of it has me reeling.
Kyla’s movements are violent, furious, rolling and pulling and hungry. She bites her lip and forgets that my leg is still bummed, but not bummed enough.
I’d love to get on top of her, but that would still hurt too much.
She bends down to kiss me, forcing her climax to occur as fast as it can, not taking it slow, just grinding down against me with a fiery love that is so hot it sends the groan into my chest and out my throat before I have time to catch it.
She clenches and squeezes and pulls and kisses me.
The burst comes with no warning, no preparation, no alarm bells or slow build-up and before I know it, my cock is firing its seed into her and Kyla’s screaming and we’re both screaming, growling, clutching and holding and grabbing each other.
She whimpers against my ear as my arms crush her body to mine.
It almost feels like I burst seven or eight times in this single climax.
We’re exhausted by the end of it. My leg is howling but I hide it. Kyla got lost in the moment (so did I), and I wanted to keep her lost.
“I’m gonna miss you,” she says. “I’m gonna miss you.”
“I’ll be there sooner than you know it.”
“I’ll do what you said, OK? I’ll do it. I’ll stick to well-lit areas and we won’t go out alone. And...if you have some...friends...I’ll take them. For you.” She pecks my lips. “For you. To set your mind at ease.”
My mind will never be at ease until my leg is strong and I’m by her side and I have a gym making money in West Rock. It’ll take weeks, weeks just to stand stably, never mind everything else.
I have few friends in the world, but the friends I have are loyal. The barbecue is later tonight. Tyler owes me. He knows he does.
And I’m going to collect.
~Twenty-Five~
Kyla
-1-
I’ve only met Tyler once. He flew over about two weeks ago from Denver to go over business plans with Logan at the cottage. Tyler has little trust for people, and he insisted on talking to Logan alone when he was here. I didn’t take it personally.
Logan is loyal, and he wouldn’t tell me anything Tyler wanted to keep under wraps. “But there’s nothing to tell, anyway,” Logan said. “It’s all just discussions about the name and the brand and what Tyler envisions for it. He’s scared. He has no one in this world, and the gym is his lover. He wants to make sure she won’t become someone’s mistress.”
Vera was of course taken by the guy the moment she saw him. Who wouldn’t be? I’m not into the whole nose-ring and lip-ring thing, but Tyler exudes manliness. He’s not as large or strong as Logan, but he’s got a fighter’s body. And if Logan’s statements are anything to go by, Tyler is one hell of a fighter. A deadly fighter. But Tyler also has his head screwed on straight. It wasn’t always like that. His fighting days are over (although he doesn’t wish they were) and the Hard Knocks gym is a going concern up in Denver.
Bad and successful. Vera was instantly hooked.
Jenny was another matter entirely, she thinks Tyler’s hot, but has no interests in getting involved with him at all. She and I and Vera have spent plenty of time together in the last month. I like her, she’s been good to Logan. I admit, I started liking her more when it became clear to me that she has no intentions of taking him from me. It took a while for me to finally believe her (irrational fears) but the more I got to know her, the more I began to understand that Jenny never loved Logan. She was aroused by him but they never had any hopes of a future together. She never told him that, because it would hurt him, and this only made me like her more. Because she cares enough about him not to break his heart.
Jenny might get hot for the Bad Boy, but she’s realized she’s been running from a rough divorce for six years and what she needs is someone stable, someone who will take her to theaters and operas and fancy dinners. Tyler isn’t that guy. Neither is Logan.
It’s no surprise, then, that Vera and Tyler are standing awfully close to each other at our farewell barbecue today. He flew over again, ostensibly to talk more business with Logan, but it seems the only business Tyler’s talking about is with Vera.
The guy on Jenny’s arm is the dark-skinned Italian who pulled the necessary strings to get Logan his payout sooner. The lawyer hasn’t been around much, and Jenny has been clear that she’s only seeing where things are going with him, but they look serious enough, at least for today.
My mind is awhirl with the fact that I’m leaving tomorrow, the fact that it’ll be at least another month before Logan is strong enough to drive. I’d prefer if he didn’t drive. I’d prefer if he waited until his leg was stronger. But Logan is strong-willed, and when he sets his mind on something, he doesn’t let it go.
I’ve tried to convince him that I’ll be fine when I get back home, that Vince won’t be a problem. But I could tell my words were going nowhere. Logan has taken on the role of my protector, whether I like it or not. I’m grateful for it.
I just don’t want him to worry.
~Twenty-Six~
Logan
-1-
It doesn’t take Jenny long to realize I plan on getting back into the cage. And I see the fear in her eyes as she helps me through the initial steps of physio. All I need is to get good enough to drive, and I’ll continue the rest in Florida. Jenny suggested a good doctor for me down there.
I try and keep busy. I get Tyler to check out some places for the gym in West Rock and I have him put an eye on Kyla as well, and this dude called Vince. Yes, I ask Tyler for photographs of the guy. Call me paranoid. I don’t care. I want to know what I’m dealing with.
When the photos come back, the rage hits me like never before. It’s not that Vince means anything special to me. He doesn’t. But that a man that size could attempt to overwhelm a woman the size of Kyla only makes me want to give him a good beating just for the hell of it.
The fucker even looks a little like Kaiser. And thinking of Kaiser only reminds me of Vito, and how he fucked things up for me because of some deal, some debt, I never took on myself. Life would have been a lot easier for me if he hadn’t done that.
All these things only motivate me to get well. No pain no gain. And I do the exercises Jenny gives me and do them some more, pumping up on my calcium and magnesium supplements, hoping this freaking bone will knit good and hard because I’ve been through worse than this shit and I just want to get on with my life.
But the flesh has a way of getting in the way of the spirit. And No Pain No Gain only works so long as I can physically stand. Which, after pushing myself too hard, I usually can’t. And it’s game over, and I’m on my bed, thinking, looking up at the ceiling, dreaming of Kyla, of life, of Ailee—but mostly just of Kyla. Of how she told me she loves me, how I told her I love her.
And how this Vince fucker threatens to take all of that away from me if he tries something on her.
The thought motivates me again, despite the fact that I’ve collapsed already once today.
I don’t care. I’ll try one more time.
I get up off the bed, put some weight on my leg.
And I collapse again.
~Twenty-Six~
Kyla
-1-
The only predictable thing about life is its unpredictability. And life has a tendency to throw things at you when you’re not looking. I was so focused on Vince, so focused on Vince, so focused on only Vince, that we completely missed Rory. Rory Cansoom. Mr. Polo Neck. Mr. Don’t Take No For An Answer Or My Daddy Will Sue You.
Mr. Rich Boy.
It was two weeks after school started. Vince had kept his distance. Once or twice he actually greeted me, and the greeting was calm and almost polite.
I ignored him, but the look in his eyes showed me that maybe he felt bad about what he had done to me. Maybe the summer had chilled him out. Maybe he had gotten laid. God forbid, maybe the behemoth had even fallen in love.
I was happy enough to know he was staying away from me. I didn’t see him with anyone on campus, so maybe he found someone on vacation? A long distance thing like me and Logan.
Maybe love had blinded my eyes. It didn’t matter. Vince seemed thankfully sedated.
And then Vera and I were home one night, chilling out in front of Netflix with popcorn and a beer. I had my feet up on the table. There were new guests downstairs. It’s a three-apartment house and Vera and I share the top one. Less roaches.
The new guests were pumping music and no doubt still celebrating a summer that, in Florida, will probably last another two months.
She and I decided to watch a horror, most likely because I missed Logan and the last thing I wanted to do was watch a RomCom and be reminded of the movie marathon I made him suffer through. The flick Vera and I were watching was a big-hitter at the box office. Realistic. Bloody. And damn scary.
When the knock came at the door, she and I both screamed. Then, when we realized it wasn’t the movie, we screamed again, and then laughed at the same time. And then it was the movie, and that loud music came out and there was a bang—our third scream.
When the knock came for a second time at the door, Vera jumped, I paused the movie, and she got up to go answer it. “Damn horror flicks,” she mumbled. Which is when she opened the door, forgetting to even see who was outside it.
It was Rory.
Smiling.
In loafers and a polo neck.
With three friends behind him, carrying beers. “Hey, sugarplum,” he said with a wide smile. “We thought we’d come over and—”
“Rory, get the fuck out.”
“—spend some time with you ladies.”
He pushed his way past her, almost knocking her over, and his three friends followed her in.
“Rory, what the fuck are you doing? Get out.” The door stayed open.
“Oh, Vera,” he said, planting himself next to me on the couch. I shifted over. “We just wanna have some fun, y’know, like old times.”
