Rachel Dyken - Toxic

I turned and looked at him, focused on his full lips, gorgeous mouth, strong jaw.

“No.” I squeezed his hand. “Not stupid. If positions were switched, I can imagine, hearing your voice would be the most soothing thing in the world. Like the quiet after a storm, the peace you crave in a lifetime full of noise. You’re her peace.”

Gabe nodded. “I guess that’s something, right? I both destroy and bring peace?”

“You didn’t cause the destruction, Gabe. You were just an unfortunate victim — and sometimes that’s worse than being the cause.”

He nodded, but didn’t say anything as he drove the car around a curvy road and then pulled up to an immaculate house.

“Where are we?”

Gabe turned off the car and stared straight ahead. “Seattle was far enough away that it made sense to disappear here, but…” His nostrils flared. “She’d seen this thing on HGTV about homes in Bellevue and fell in love.”

I looked back at the house. My heart pounded. “Gabe…”

“I bought it.” He clenched the keys in his hand. “For her. I bought it for her.”

I didn’t want to know, yet I had to. “Was she able to see it, before?”

“No.” Gabe’s voice was filled with pain. “She never saw it. I was going to fly her up here as a surprise.”

We sat in silence. He stared at the house. I stared at him.

“So.” Gabe nodded. “This is it. You know how people always come with baggage? I don’t have baggage. I have a freaking house. I don’t have a closet full of skeletons. I have seven bedrooms full of them. And I can literally walk up those stairs and open the door and let you see all of them, but I’ll have nothing left. This is the last possible thing I have protecting myself. I have no more masks, no more façades, no jokes, no personalities, nothing. Absolutely nothing. This house? This is it.”

I released his hand and reached for the door. “Well, what are you waiting for?”

His head snapped to the side, his eyes narrowing in disbelief. “Pardon?”

“We didn’t drive all the way out here to stare at a house.” I stepped out onto the gravel. “We’re going in.”

“Are you sure you want to do that?” Gabe asked, doubt lacing his every word. “This is heavy stuff, Saylor. I wouldn’t blame you for running, for getting back into that car and deciding it wasn’t worth it.”

“I’m falling.” I shrugged. “Not fallen, as in I’ve already landed, but falling, in the process. I’m falling with you, not jumping after you. Don’t you think it’s about time you let someone share the load?” I offered a small smile. “Besides, who actually likes jumping out of a plane by themselves? Tandem, all the way.”

“One day…” Gabe whispered. “When my heart is mine again. When I’m not sharing it with a dying girl… I’ll give you everything.”

“Gabe,” I said, sighing. “Right now? I’m perfectly happy with the pieces. No matter how broken they may be.”

“Damn, you really mean that, don’t you?”

“Yeah. I do.” I reached for him.

He took my hand without hesitation. We walked up the stairs together, slowly approaching a house that was getting bigger and bigger by the second.

From the outside, it was a two story masterpiece. He put the key in the lock and the door creaked open.

He turned the lights on.

And I gasped.

It wasn’t just beautiful, it was out of this world. Like something I’d only ever seen on TV or in the movies.

Exposed wood beams lined the ceiling, creating a trail from the living room into an open floor plan kitchen. The colors were a combination of white and wood. A stone and copper fireplace dominated the center of the room with a plush white couch wrapped halfway around the front. Splashes of red — throw pillows and blankets — decorated the living room area. I stepped further into the hall and saw another open room, this one with vaulted ceilings.

And a baby grand piano waited in the middle.

“Afraid?” Gabe’s voice whispered in my ear as he wrapped his arms around me from behind.

“Ha.” I exhaled and stared, a bit jealous that he had his own practice room — a happy room I could imagine myself sitting in for hours on end while the roaring fireplace crackled in the background.

It wasn’t until I took my eyes off the piano that I noticed what was on the walls. It was like watching a movie without sound. Black and white pictures went from left to right, all the way across the room.

Slowly, I walked up to the first one. Gabe and Kimmy were wrapped around each other kissing.

I touched her face — the same face he wiped the drool from every single day — and completely lost it.

The tears wouldn’t stop coming. I cried, and I cried, and then I cried some more. I cried until my body shook. I cried until I had nothing left.

And Gabe held me.

The thing about people revealing their pain to you?

More often than not. It becomes your own.

And I was wrecked.

Music without passion is merely noise. A life without passion? You may as well be dead. —Gabe H.

Gabe

“Shh.” I pulled her into my arms and dragged her to the couch, then I turned on the fireplace in front of us. I was thanking my lucky stars that I’d had a cleaning crew go through the house and air everything out so we weren’t sitting on dust. “You know, you’re going to give me a complex. I’m supposed to be making it so you don’t cry.”

Saylor sniffled against my chest, not raising her head. “I’m so sorry. I just—”

“What?”

“You found the one. At the right time. The girl you loved. The girl you wanted everything with. You were so brave, so… raw. You gave her everything and…” Saylor’s breath hitched. “Looking at pictures of you guys together… it destroys me, Gabe. It’s not fair.”

I closed my eyes and held her tighter. “I know.”

“It’s not fair,” she repeated. “It’s not fair that I’m here and she isn’t. It’s not fair that you have to show me your house and that she can’t be the one to make cookies for you every Christmas. She’s never going to come through those doors and walk into your embrace. That is never going to happen.”

I fought the tears clogging in my throat. “I know.”

“I feel unworthy,” Saylor whispered. “To see this. To be with you. It should be her.”

“You’re not unworthy.” I stroked her arm. “I’m sharing this with you. You, Saylor.” I pried her away from my chest so I could look into her clear blue eyes. “The thing about life? It never goes as planned. But, right now, in this moment, with you in my arms. I wouldn’t want it any other way. Please believe me when I say that. This moment — it’s a gift. Just by being here, you’re making that pain a little less sharp.”

A tear slid down her cheek.

“Number four,” Saylor whispered.

“What?” I watched her lips as she spoke.

“Tear number four. You just made up for it.”

“By making you cry more?” I touched my forehead to hers.

“No.” Saylor cupped the back of my head. “By understanding the tears in the first place.”

With a shaky voice I answered, “They weren’t because of me.”

“No.”

“They’re for me.”

“Yeah. A tear for a tear,” she said softly. “Isn’t that what you said?”

I didn’t trust myself to speak. I could only nod as I watched the flames lick wildly in the fireplace.

After a few minutes of silence, I looked down at Saylor. Her hot little dress and high heels were still on.

We were alone in an amazing house that I hadn’t visited in four years.

And we were sitting on a couch.

Depressed.

“Am I the worst date ever?” I blurted.

Saylor’s head jerked up, a watery smile appeared, “Well…”

“No more tears.” I got up and marched toward the kitchen. “You’ve seen the house. You know the story. Now we’re going to be awesome.”

“Oh?” Her eyebrows shot up as her gaze followed me into the kitchen.

I didn’t really know my way around anywhere, but I did know that the staff had stocked food in the pantry and that a few menus for takeout were lying around just in case we got hungry.

“Next person who cries has to run around outside naked,” I declared, lifting the menus into the air.

Saylor tilted her head. “You do realize that just makes me want you to cry right?”

I smirked. “There are easier ways to get me naked, honey.”

She blushed and looked down at her hands.

“Aw, the pink pony’s making a comeback,” I teased.

Saylor crossed her arms, and lifted her head, eyes sparkling with indignation. “It was purple.”

“A pony’s a pony — you still ride it.”

Saylor’s face flamed red.

“Gotcha.” I winked.

“You’re too confident for your own good.” She scowled.

“Does the fact that I slept with my rat next to my bed until he died make me any less confident sounding?”

“No.”

“I hate spiders?” I offered. “And I’m slightly terrified of them?”

Saylor took a few steps toward my spot in the kitchen. “How afraid? Like if a small spider skittered across the floor, what would happen?”

“I’d scream and squash its hairy ass.”

“Hmm.” She tapped her chin and took a few more steps, “And if I put a spider in your bed?”

“I’d weep,” I answered honestly. “Honest to God tears. And then I’d scream and squash its hairy ass.”

She flashed a grin and leaned against the counter, which meant her entire body was outlined by the back glow of the fireplace. I swallowed the dryness in my throat. “And if I was dressed as a spider?”

My eyes didn’t leave hers when I answered, “I’d pin you against the floor, strip the costume off and then attempt not to squash your very pretty, gorgeous, infuriating ass.”

I wasn’t sure who reached for whom first.

But all of a sudden our bodies collided, our mouths met in a frenzy. I lifted her onto the countertop as she wrapped her legs around my waist. With a moan, her body trembled beneath my touch. I cupped her face with one hand while I steadied her body with the other. I wanted to kiss her until my lips were sore, until my mouth was swollen, until my body was spent, so basically I wanted to kiss her until forever.

This kiss was different.

A lifetime of kisses — and nothing compared to her mouth, her touch, her taste.

It was shattering to realize how incredible of a pull another human being could have on someone — just by touching them.

But Saylor wasn’t just touching me, she was enveloping me with her body, she wasn’t just kissing me, she was sharing her soul with me. Saylor was showing me what words couldn’t express.

Her tongue drove me wild as it swirled around mine — I dug my hand into her hair grabbing a fistful of it as I tried to pull her tighter against my body.

Saylor’s arms tightened around my neck as the sensation of our bodies colliding, rubbing against each other, nearly had me passing out.

Every touch was like getting permanently branded.

She pulled back, her eyes glazed.

I stared at her.

She stared at me.

Weird how people can communicate without saying one damn word. Saylor, slowly, pried herself from my body and hopped off the counter, then grabbed my hand and dragged me to the couch.

I followed. There wasn’t any other option.

When we reached the couch. I didn’t hesitate to pull her into my arms and fall backward onto it so that she was on top of me.

We started kissing again.

This time slower. I took my time tasting her, exploring every inch of her mouth until I thought I was going to go insane. She responded to my every touch, with little sighs.

It was killing me.

“Say…” I nipped her upper lip.

“Don’t stop,” she whispered. “New memories, Gabe. In this house, just you and me.”

I pushed the ghosts of Kimmy away from my mind and focused on the present. Focused on Saylor, and only Saylor, as we kept kissing. I pushed my hand against her stomach, brushing my knuckles against her ribs. Saylor gasped. I tore my mouth away from hers, making eye contact with her briefly before she tangled her hands in my hair and pulled me hard against her mouth again. Another kiss, this one stronger, hungrier, deeper. Her mouth moved from my mouth to my ear, her hot breath giving me chills all the way down my spine. I was consumed by her, each touch and kiss made it harder for me to keep clothing between us — when all I wanted was to make her mine.