Handling Cynthia: A Second Chances Novella Read online

  "She and Rick are older and wiser now. Maybe they could work out their differences."

  "I loved him." Cyn chose her words carefully. "Still do. But we weren't compatible."

  "You were together for three years. Of course you were compatible. The only reason you broke up was because of college."

  "That's not the only reason." Kat stirred her coffee, the spoon jingling against the porcelain.

  Erica ignored her. "Now that you decided to indie publish, you don't need to stay in New York. You could move to a nice house in the suburbs. Allentown isn't that far from the city."

  "Geography wasn't the only problem," Kat said. "Leave it alone, Mom."

  "You seem to know all about it," Erica said in a sharp voice.

  "Cyn was like the big sister I never had. We talked."

  Erica scowled. "Is this about sex?"

  She couldn't hide a smile.

  "You don't think Rick has learned a few things in five years?" Erica asked.

  She put a hand to her mouth to stifle a laugh. "The spark…it isn't there. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to get your hopes up."

  Cyn's shoulders relaxed when Rick's dad, Steve, entered the kitchen with Jordan, putting an end to the interrogation. Steve cut himself half a slice of pumpkin pie.

  "How's the football game?" Erica asked. "Penn State winning?"

  "Don't know," Steve said. "Jordan's making us watch the Princeton game."

  "They're having a good year." Jordan poured a mug of coffee.

  “Jordy, honey,” Erica said, “could you get me a refill?”

  "Sure." He brought the carafe and filled her mug, leaving enough room at the top for the cream.

  Rick and Trent emerged from den, joking and shoving each other like the best buds they were. Cyn's heart filled to see the genuine friendship between them.

  Trent wasn't truly jealous of Rick, was he? Because that wouldn't work. Rick would always be a part of her. She still called him sometimes when she had a problem to talk through. He had a head for business she didn't. She wasn't going to give up their friendship.

  She glanced over at Trent, and he met her eyes in a heated gaze. A shudder rippled over her. With a tickle in her stomach, she turned away. She didn't want anyone to see that look between them. Not while this relationship, or whatever it was, was so new.

  The men settled into the family room, and Kat joined them. Rick came and sat in the breakfast nook with a slice of cherry cheese pie and a cup of milk. Eyes on Cyn, he said to his mom, "Doesn't Cyn look pretty?"

  She froze, holding her breath, unsure what to make of that remark.

  "She's always been a pretty girl. Smart, too. Have you read her novels? She's very talented."

  Her gut tensed. "You've read my novels?"

  "Of course," Erica said. "I don't mind the spicy stuff."

  Cyn shook her head. "I should have used a pen name."

  "Don't be embarrassed." Erica turned to Rick. "Why aren't you watching the game? Isn't halftime over?"

  "Tired of sitting around."

  "Maybe you could go to a movie. I hear Gravity is good."

  "Yeah, maybe," Rick said absently. "I'll see what Jordy and Trent want to do."

  "I'm sure they could find something else to occupy themselves."

  Rick rolled his eyes. "Mom, Cyn doesn't want to go on a date with me. She got enough of me in high school. She only stayed with me so long because she was too young to know better." He winked at Cyn.

  A part of her opened up, the part that had loved him at sixteen. He was the most popular boy in school, and she was an outsider, but with him she was a queen. Unfailingly kind and polite, he listened when she was upset, and they worked it out. He sure as hell didn't tell her she needed a spanking, and give her one even after she said no.

  That's not fair, her conscience told her. She'd consented. The spanking hurt, but she wanted it to hurt. The sex had left her almost weeping with pleasure.

  The problem was that she and Trent weren't communicating properly. He was pushing 24/7 on her, and she wasn't ready for that. Maybe she never would be. It was a complicated mess, and she had no idea how to resolve it.

  ***

  In the family room, Trent tried to focus on the football game on the big screen TV in the corner. Kat was sitting with him on the leather couch, back against the arm, knees bent over his lap. His arm dangled between her calves. He smiled, remembering her losing a tooth at his eighth birthday party. She was like the kid sister he never had.

  He could hear fragments of conversation from the kitchen but couldn't follow it. Not that he was eavesdropping, but it bothered him that Rick was in the kitchen with Cyn. He had no cause to feel that way. She wouldn't respect him if he acted jealous for no reason. Yet Rick knew Cyn in ways Trent didn't, and yeah, that bugged him.

  The Penn State quarterback completed a long pass, and the receiver ran for the end zone. Steve cheered, and Trent punched the air.

  "I thought you guys were watching Princeton," Kat said. "I wanted to see Yale kick their butts."

  "Princeton was way ahead at half-time," Jordan said. A running back in high school, Jordan had a good head for the game. He sat in a lounge chair adjacent to Steve, discussing strategy with him. Jordan had lost his dad, a fighter pilot, in Desert Storm, and Steve was like his surrogate father.

  Penn State scored. "My roommate is probably sad now," Kat said. "Her brother plays for Purdue."

  "What about you?" Trent asked. "Who are you rooting for?"

  "I don't give a fuck. I just like to watch their tight ends."

  "Katharine," her dad warned.

  She chuckled. "I'm twenty-two years old. It's too late for you to make me change my evil ways."

  Steve turned to Trent. "Don't ever have daughters."

  "You'll have to fight my mom over that. After two boys, she's already talking about granddaughters."

  Steve sighed. "Why do women always talk about grandchildren, even when their sons are barely grown?"

  "Don't look at me," Kat said. "I wouldn't consider having children with a man unless he made at least six figures."

  Jordan smirked. "If a construction worker swept you off your feet, you'd marry him in a second."

  "Ooh, that's right, you're an architect. I bet you know some hot construction workers."

  Steve shook his head. He reclined his chair and looked into the fireplace. "Fire's low. Time to get some wood."

  "Trent and I can do that." Kat rose and motioned him toward the basement stairs.

  He raised his brows, but stood and followed.

  She led him through the finished basement and just outside the door to the woodpile, dry under the deck. As they filled two canvas carriers with logs, she asked, "How's school?"

  "Classes are fine. Lab work is killing me. Experiments running continuously, some on six-hour schedules, some on eight. Waking up in the middle of the night to switch them from one machine to the next. It destroys any chance for a social life."

  "You've got some kind of social life going on, the way you and Cyn were making googly eyes at each other across the dining room table."

  His jaw dropped. He tried not to smile. "Is it that obvious?"

  "Only to me. Mom's still trying to fix her up with Rick."

  A hot poker struck his heart. "He can't have her."

  "I don't think she wants him." She raised her brows. "Wait. Are you jealous of Rick?"

  A cold breeze bit his cheeks, and he clenched his jaw. "Cyn can be intense. I don't know what to make of her sometimes. Rick knew how to handle her moods."

  "Rick had a sister to give him insight into the female mind." Kat grinned. "Have you read Cyn's books? They're fantastic. She gets inside the characters so you can feel everything they experience, every nuance of pain and elation. Imagine what it must be like to go through life like that, naturally empathizing with the people around you, internalizing their feelings. I think sometimes it gets to be too much for her. People pull her in different directions, and she can'
t resolve it."

  He nodded. "She gets upset when other people fight."

  "You know why she and my mom get along so well? Mom tells Cyn exactly what she wants, and Cyn does it. It's a simple exchange, and they both know what the rules are. Although, if Mom were to ask Cyn to compromise her principles, that would be a different story."

  "Cyn can be stubborn. It's like navigating a minefield."

  "She gets upset easily, but those are surface emotions. If she expresses her feelings, she recovers quickly. If she doesn't, they build up and overwhelm her. Don't worry if she has a bit of a meltdown once in a while. Give her space to work through it. Don't belittle the fact that she's so sensitive—it's her greatest strength. Listen to her, and show that you value her needs. Sometimes, she's so busy trying to please everyone else, she loses sight of herself."

  Trent felt like a backdraft had hit him. A flash of memory from high school fired in his mind: standing in a movie theater parking lot after a violent action-adventure, Rick and Cyn having it out, her yelling at him for never caring what she wanted to see. Rick stayed silent, listening, meeting her eyes. When the anger turned to tears, he wrapped her in his arms, and she quieted. In the backseat on the way home, they sat cooing at each other, giggling and kissing. She was back to the sweet Cyn he was used to.

  Fuck.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck.

  The thing he'd feared most—forcing himself on her—was exactly what he'd done that morning. Except he hadn't lost control. He'd convinced himself, convinced both of them, that she wanted him to dominate her. That was worse. It had been a conscious act. Even though the spanking had aroused her, that didn't make it okay. A groan rumbled from his throat, the memory a physical pain gripping his solar plexus.

  A hand on his arm startled him back to reality. Kat's face slowly came into focus, her brown eyes soft with concern. "You okay?"

  He combed his fingers through his hair. "I screwed up. This morning, Cyn was upset. Instead of listening, I minimized her feelings. Accused her of being unreasonable." The only thing I could have done to make it worse was to spank her for it. Oh yeah, I did that, too.

  Kat pinched her lips together. "Don't stress over it. Apologize. She'll let it go if you're sincere. Be completely honest, though, because she'll know if you're faking it."

  An icy dread gripped him like a chain coiled around his stomach. How could he have been so stupid? He had to fix this.

  They carried the wood into the basement and trudged up the stairs, boards creaking, his body warming once again. He would do whatever it took to make Cyn happy. Next time, he'd listen to her instead of a stupid website.

  If she gave him the chance.

  Chapter 9

  Cyn dropped her purse onto the couch in Trent's hotel room. He walked up behind her and brushed his hands over her shoulders. "What do you want to do until dinner? I could give you a massage."

  She turned and faced him. "We need to talk."

  A pit formed in his stomach. No wonder she'd been quiet in the car. He fought the panic tightening his chest. Now wasn't the time to act. He needed to listen, and then address her fears. Not try to talk her out of them.

  She sat and rubbed the heel of her hand with her thumb. "Last night was everything I hoped for. I want more with you. But sex isn't enough to base a relationship on. I worry that our lives are too different—we don't want the same things."

  He sat and took her hands, hoping she wouldn't notice that his were shaking. "Every couple has problems. We'll work through them."

  She stroked his fingers. "I'm afraid of losing myself. You want more control in a relationship than I do. And we live three hours apart. I don't want to leave Manhattan and move so far from my family. Not when we have no idea whether we can make this work. If we lived closer, we could date, but that's not realistic for us."

  "You wouldn't have to give up your apartment. You could stay with me for a couple of weeks at a time, see how it goes." He cupped her cheek. "Cyn, talk to me. Tell me what you're afraid of. I don't think it's the logistics."

  She massaged the bridge of her nose. "When you spanked me this morning, it was incredibly hot. As much as I desired it, it's not what I wanted—not really. I'm not ruled by sex. And when you try to think for me, it doesn't make me feel under control. It makes me feel out of control."

  He kissed a trail across her forehead to her temple. "I'm sorry. I misread the situation. This is new to me. I'll learn."

  "I was so hung up on that fantasy, I didn't consider what reality would be like. I'm not ready for a relationship like this."

  He exhaled, forcing himself to stay calm. His instinct was to counter the fear in her voice with logic, but that wasn't the right response—he understood that now. The best way to support her was to listen patiently while her emotions played out.

  "We'll take it slow," he said, "find a way to compromise. If we're not in the same city, we can talk on the phone, on Skype, whatever, until you're ready for a commitment."

  She ran her hand down his arm. "Everything's happened so fast. It might be nice to have some space to get to know each other again."

  He grinned. "I could get you a remote control vibrator that I operate with a smartphone app, so I can fuck you even if I'm not there."

  Her eyes turned to obsidian, dark and hard. "Because that's what it's really about for you, isn't it. The fucking?"

  A tightness in his chest squeezed his heart. He probably had that coming. He'd been thinking too much about sex when he knew Cyn needed romance.

  She rose and moved to the center of the room. "I don't know what made me think we could pick up where we left off five years ago. We're strangers. I should never have slept with a stranger." She stood facing him with her ankles crossed and head lowered, clicking her fingernails together.

  He approached but didn't touch her. "We're not strangers. I care about you. We can find a compromise if you'll meet me halfway."

  She looked up at him, eyes flashing. "This doesn't feel like compromise. You're taking, and I'm giving. If we start out the relationship that way, I'll lose my identity."

  "You could keep a journal, so I know what's going on with you. So we can make sure your needs are met."

  She shook her head. "Trent, seriously, I write all day. I don't want to keep a journal, too. I want you to listen when I talk, and you didn't listen to me this morning."

  "I've apologized for that. It won't happen again."

  "An apology doesn't erase what happened. You want to control me, and I don’t want that. I don't want to be talked into something that makes me feel bad about myself. I don't like being told I'm a naughty girl for losing my temper for five seconds. Emotional outbursts are part of who I am, and that's not going to change. I won't consent to being punished for being me."

  His shoulders fell. His heart was leaden, the rest of him numb. How could he have been so stupid—screwed this up so badly? He had to convince her that he wouldn't make the same mistake, that she could trust him to keep her safe.

  His fingers combed through her dark waves of hair. "I misread the situation. You're a mystery to me—that's always been part of the attraction. But it was wrong for me to treat you like a puzzle to solve. I shouldn't have guessed at what you needed rather than asking. I was overconfident, and I'm sorry." His lips brushed the tender skin of her earlobe. "I'll be more careful. I'll learn what you like, what you crave. Please give me that chance."

  She shook her head. "It's too much. Putting my well-being in the hands of another person—I was crazy to think I could feel safe doing that."

  "You felt safe with me last night."

  "Yes, but that was last night."

  "You can't shut me out over one mistake. Last night proved we're compatible. We're still getting to know each other sexually. We can't expect to get everything right the first time."

  "We want different things. I want to play scenes, and you want to dominate me in every aspect of the relationship."

  "Cyn, I want you, on your term
s. I don't have preconceived ideas about the relationship. You're the one putting obstacles in our way." A chill ran through him, and he fought the tightness gathering in his throat. "Maybe I'm reading this wrong—you're not scared at all. You don't want to be with me, and you're letting me down easy."

  "I do want to be with you." She picked up her purse. "I just don't think I can. I'm sorry." She headed to the door without looking back.

  ***

  Cyn ran the hot water in the bathroom sink of her hotel room, washing the smudged makeup from her face. No sooner had she dried it than her tears started again. She gulped a breath to steady herself.

  She wandered to the bed and flopped down. Eight hours ago, she'd woken up there in Trent's arms. Now the whole thing was ruined.

  She pulled out her little black purse from the nightstand and found Max's business card. Could she seriously consider going to that club he'd told her about? It frightened and reassured her at the same time. Someplace exclusive…someplace safe.

  A fist squeezed her stomach at the thought of giving up on Trent, of letting another man touch her. Her body shuddered as if caterpillars were crawling on her skin. But she'd rushed into this encounter with Trent. She needed space to think it through.

  Pulling out her phone, she texted Max for the contact information of the club owner. It wouldn't hurt to ask, right? After she got home, she could decide whether to make the phone call. Maybe look around the place, see if any of it appealed to her.

  Her heart clenched. What alternative did she have? Trent was asking for 24/7 power exchange with behavior modification. She didn't want that.

  A shaky sigh pushed from her chest. She looked over at the clock. Still an hour until their dinner reservation. Maybe she should cancel. She couldn't eat with Trent there, couldn't go through the motions in front of Rick and Jordan.

  A knock came at her door. A thrill darted through her, and she sat a moment to steady her breath. There was only one person she wanted to see, and she wasn't sure she could deal with him right now, or ever.

  She rose and looked through the peephole. Her stomach tumbled, more with longing than anxiety. A physical ache for him gripped her. She wished she could lie in his arms and pretend everything were perfect. The way it had felt that morning.