Read Online Love to Love Her YAC by Renae Kelleigh - Free Book Online Page B

outside Rhiannon’s door for a full
five minutes, my hand on the knob, wanting nothing more than to go
back in there and apologize some more. Eventually I summon the
strength to walk away, wanting to respect her wishes. An
indescribable despondency borne of the fear I may never see her
again bubbles to the surface of the already incomparable pain.
Fuck, it hurts – I almost buckle under the weight of it. I
shouldn’t have touched her tonight, but I was selfish and had
somehow deluded myself into thinking it was all innocent.
    I don’t remember driving home, and I have no
recollection of going into my apartment. All I can think is thank God Adam is gone. The only thing I need worse than being
with Rhiannon at this moment is to be alone.
    I don’t bother turning on any lights. Instead
I make a beeline for the cabinet above the fridge and remove a
bottle of Jack Daniels. I pour a couple of fingers into a water
glass sitting in the sink and knock it back, exulting in the
searing heat that follows it down my throat. My eyes water as I
wipe at my mouth with my sleeve. I drink one more shot of the stuff
before replacing the bottle in the cabinet.
    I stumble into my room and sit on the edge of
my queen size bed. There I sit until my breathing has evened out
and I can see without the room swimming before my eyes. I should
call Jordan – I almost always call her before I go to sleep at
night. It’s a habit that developed over the years, and some habits
are difficult to shake. I won’t tonight though. I can’t.
    I strip down to my boxer briefs and flop onto
my unmade bed. I stare up at the ceiling, one arm raised above my
head and the other clutching my chest. A thought drifts through my
mind, and before I can think better of it I reach for my phone. I
type a text message to Rhiannon.
     
    Please let me see you again. I can’t not be near
you.
     
    I hate sounding so weak, but desperate times
call for desperate measures. I roll onto my side and draw the
covers up, resolved to give her the time she needs to respond. I
tell myself I won’t be upset if I don’t hear back from her tonight,
or even tomorrow, but I keep my phone grasped in my hand just in
case.
    Sometime later, just as I’m about to fall
asleep, the phone beeps.
     
    I don’t know, Blake. Maybe.
     
    Maybe … It isn’t “yes,” but it’s enough
to give me hope. I drift off with the hint of a smile on my
face.
     
     
     

Chapter 7 –
Just Friends
September
     
    Rhiannon – Tuesday, September 18, 7:00
PM
    “S o would it be ‘She
likes to lie in the hammock,’ or ‘She likes to lay in
the hammock’?” I ask. I hold the phone in the crook between my
shoulder and my ear as I dump pasta into the colander in the
kitchen sink. I salt the pasta and drizzle it with olive oil while
I wait for my sister’s response. Our Tuesday night phone chats have
become a weekly ritual, and part of my responsibility as a big
sister is helping Tawny with her English Comp homework.
    “It sounds like it should be ‘lay,’” she says
after some deliberation, “but I’m not sure.”
    “Well let’s think about it,” I say as I put
the finishing touches on my dinner. I plate the pasta and take it
and a glass of ice water to the coffee table. “’Lay’ should always
have a direct object, remember? So go back and read that sentence
again. Is there a direct object there?”
    “I’m not sure you’re speaking English right
now,” Tawny replies, the frustration evident in her voice. I
struggle not to laugh.
    “Okay, maybe we need to go about this in
another way,” I tell her as I begin winding pasta around my fork. I
rack my brain, trying to come up with some way for her to remember
the difference. “I know! Have you ever heard Dad say that old
phrase ‘Lay it on me’?”
    “You mean like when you say, ‘I have a
question,’ and then he says, ‘Lay it on me’?”
    “Exactly. In that statement, ‘it’ is the
direct object. That’s what you’re doing the