Page 59 of Playing for Keeps (Checkmate 4)

“It’s just a fucking leg! Wear pants, lean on me, and we can make it look almost legit. But ya know whatdoesbreaks her heart?”

“Don’t, Dee. Don’t say it.”

“You! Not coming to see her. She’s waiting. Every single day, she’s out of bed, dressing up. She puts on her pearls, and slides on a little lipstick.”

“She’s out of bed?”

“Yes! She’s running laps into the carpet while she waits for you to arrive. And I made the mistake of not taking my fake ring off, so now she’s waiting on your wedding announcement. I’m not even sorry, because it makes her happy.”

“Deedee…” I have no words for her. No argument. Because she’s still as crazy and impulsive as ever, but this time, her words are the words my heart wants to hear.

But I can’t.

I can’t give her a lifetime of poverty and zero intimacy.

I can’t expect her to give up her world to become my caregiver, and I sure as fuck am not going to share her. Empty my piss bottle in the morning, then again at night when she gets home from whoever actually has a dick that works.

“I can’t do this, Dee. I…” She told me to let her go when I was of sound mind, when I wasn’t mid-tantrum, high on pain meds, and wasn’t fresh out of the hospital.

It’s time to let her go.

Drawing in a long breath, I let it out again and break my own heart. “I don’twantyou. I don’twantyou here, I don’twantto be with you. I just want you to catch the next flight outta here, and I don’t want you to come back to this town ever again. You were…”I’m an asshole. I’m a despicable human being..“You were the girl I fucked in a car during a wedding. You were tight, and warm, and so fucking tasty it sent me wild with need. But I don’t want a relationship with you. You’re immature and flakey, and I like women who are more… normal.”

Her eyes turn to slits. Her chest lifts and falls, and I get the feeling her flexing hands on my legs are tempted to knock me the fuck out.

“Rip the Band-Aid off, Dee. Say whatever mean thing you’re gonna say, then leave.”

“Whatever mean thing? You want me to call you an asshole? A coward?”

“If that’s what you need to do to finally accept this. I’ve been telling you for a week, and I didn’t take your calls for the three weeks before that. It’s time you took a hint and got on with your life.”

“You want my mean words, Riley Cruz? You want what’s on my mind?”

Here it comes. I’m tempted to cringe away to soften the blow. “Yes.”

“I’m not gonna call you a coward. I’m not gonna call you an asshole, either.” Pushing off me, she stands tall and slams her hands onto her trim hips. “But I’m gonna call you a liar. A big, fat, lying liar that doesn’t know his ass from his nose these days. You’ve been lying since we met, lying since you were hurt, and lying since you got home. And it’s all so convoluted now, you don’t even know which way is up. All you know is that you need to spook me away.”

Turning on her heels, she exits the shower and shows me a perfect ass framed in perfect lace. She snaps the towel from the rail, then sets the spare on the toilet seat, since she’s much too considerate not to make my final exit easier. Tucking the thick cotton around her chest and tucking it in at her breasts, she turns back with a furious glare. “You’re still an asshole, though.”

She spins away and exits the bathroom with a flair. Door slamming, feet stomping, another door slamming at the guest bedroom.

I sit in the shower for a full ten minutes to give her time to escape my home with her dignity – and her pig. I stay put until the tears on my cheeks are washed away, because I might’ve just made the biggest mistake of my life. I don’t climb off the shower chair until the hot water turns cool. And when I switch it off, I sit for another ten minutes and study the ugly scar at the end of my leg and wish it wasn’t so.

Maybe I could tolerate the leg if my dick worked.

Maybe I could go to the stupid appointments and make her happy, I could learn to walk again, I’d work really hard at physio, and earn a job I like, then I could still support her.

If only I wasn’t broken.

The front door slams and echoes through the house, splintering my heart, and tempting me to run out and catch her.If only I could run.If only I could pick her up and bring her back.

I got exactly what I asked for; to be alone, for her to save herself.

I don’t know if the moisture on my cheeks is shower water or tears – well, I do know – but I pretend they’re from the shower and scrub them away with the palm of my hand. Preparing for another lift, I grab hold of the shower handle and bring myself up. My head swims dangerously, the perils of sitting in a steaming hot bathroom for so long, and threatens to send me sprawling.

I refuse to be a victim. I will not fall in my own fucking shower three seconds after finally convincing Dee to leave, so I lean against the wall and breathe through the dizziness. I pull the air in so deep I can feel my lungs straining against whatever is healing inside my gut. I let it out again on an explosive exhale and tap my fingers against the shower wall in a patterned thrumming to give myself something to think about for just a moment.

When I’m certain the black dots wont win and send me to the floor, I slowly turn on my right foot and study the fluffy towel sitting on the toilet.

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