Ryan Michele - Wanting You

“This is beautiful girls. I love the brown leather sofa and the kitchen is to die for. Where are the bedrooms?” This I was most excited about.

I had an addition built, making three large suites, one for each of us. Each suite had its own bedroom, bathroom, and loft. Mine was going to be my office.

“This way.” Saw motioned for me to follow her.

Walking into the first door, I was shocked. “Wow,” I gasped. It was just as I had pictured and all my furniture fit perfectly. The blue-gray of the walls with the walnut furniture was beautiful.

“It’s so pretty,” Kinsley admired from the doorway.

“It is. I gotta see upstairs.” I took the stairs two at a time to the loft.

“You know those movers had some choice words for you having to move that huge ass roller desk and furniture up here. They were not too happy,” Saw called.

“Tough. That’s why I paid them.” Walking into my office, it was just as I had envisioned. My roll-top desk—that was my Grams—sat in the corner facing the wall next to the floor-to-ceiling windows. My bookshelves lined the walls just waiting for all my precious beauties to line them. With the large recliner facing the windows, it gave me the ideal space to think and work.

“Is it what you wanted?” Sawyer’s voice was hesitant, and I couldn’t blame her. All I had talked about for the past three months was this room. I wanted it perfect, and it was.

“I love it!” Turning to face both of them, I ran up and hugged each of them. “I’m so happy to be home. Thanks for dealing with all this for me.”

“We’re happy you’re here, too; it hasn’t been the same without you.” Sawyer’s voice was sad.

“I can’t say enough how much I regret leaving like I did, but I had no choice.” I pulled back, looking at my feet. This was the hard part of our relationship. I knew they still had hurt feelings about me leaving, and I couldn’t fix that. I just hoped one day it wouldn’t be hanging over our heads. “I’m sorry.”

“Would you stop? We are so over that now.” Kinsley’s voice pulled my eyes to hers, locking them. The hurt from my disappearance was still very evident as it poured out of them. All I could do now was prove that I was here to stay.

“So Vann, how’s Gabriella Daniels?” Sawyer’s mischievous smirk playing on her lips made me smile. Sawyer and Kinsley were two of the very few people who knew anything about my pen name, and I needed to keep it that way.

“She’s doing great.”

“Oh. Come on. Tell us what adventure she is writing about now,” Sawyer prodded.

Sitting down on the chair, I realized I needed to get a couch for up here for all of us to sit. Kinsley grabbed the chair at my desk, while Sawyer sat sprawled out on the floor. I so missed these talks we had and I didn’t mind filling them in on my writing, as long as they knew the information wasn’t to leave this room. My mom didn’t even know I wrote as Gabriella, and the fewer people that knew, the better—for safety’s sake.

“Hey, did the security guys come in and put in the alarm?”

“Yeah, they were here last week. Said everything is wired up and ready to go,” Kinsley said.

“Thank God. After I lay down for a bit, can you teach me how to use it?”

“Sure. Is he still sending letters?” Sawyer asked. I really hadn’t told them the whole story, but enough that they knew what was going on. I didn’t want to bring crazy to our doorstep.

“Yes, to my P.O. Box back in Cali. I need to change it to here, but I may do it in Brookend so no one really knows I live in Cottonwood. They only know me as Gabriella. I’ve never used Savannah. I just want the letters and gifts to stop.”

I hated this part of what I did. I loved writing. Beginning back in college, I needed an escape. When I found my niche in erotic romance, I never stopped. Now, three years later, I was still going strong, but also receiving letters—very explicit letters from someone who thought I did everything in my books. That was what internet research was for.

“Why don’t you go to the cops?”

“Kinsley, I have.” Letting out a huge sigh, I continued, “They can’t do anything because he’s not actually threatening to hurt me. Technically, anything he is writing is what he is hoping to do with me. It’s not written in a way that says he would force me. The cops have nothing to base an arrest on. They keep the letters, and I have to make reports, but that’s all that happens.”

“Sorry Vann.”

“Girls, really, it’s okay. I deal with it. I love what I do and this is just such a small part of it.” I smiled. I’d come to terms with most of it. When I got the letters, I did what I had to do and moved on. And thankfully, it was only the letters—no phone calls or sudden appearances. Regardless, I was thankful for the pen name. It was a way to write and keep my anonymity, at least to a certain extent.

“Anyway … let’s move to the next subject.” Kinsley broke in. “What are you going to do about Deke?” She made rapidly changing subjects an art form. From creepy stalker … to Deke.

I felt the blush come across my face at the sound of his name. I missed him terribly, and was honestly a little hurt by his lack of response to my attempts at communicating, but I still thought of him almost daily over the years. “I’m not going to do anything … yet.” Turning my flushed face into a smirk, I winked at the two sitting in front of me.

It was no secret that I’d had my eyes on him from almost the time I was born, but with the way I left, and the timing of it, I squashed all my hopes of being with him. Until now.

“You know he’s not the same guy you left all those years ago.” Sawyer’s voice was barely audible. She had been giving me random information about him for years, including his little sexcapades, which have made excellent storylines. I figured if I couldn’t be with him, at least I could write about him, pouring everything into my scenes. It provided ammo for some awesome books.

I knew he’d owned a bar as a side gig, but I’d heard of his dismissal from the police force for ‘conduct unbecoming of an officer,’ which I believed was what concerned the girls. If I could have ran to him, I would have, even though I feared he wouldn’t have accepted me after what happened and all this time.

“I know. Don’t worry. I’m a big girl now. I’m not the timid little girl I was back then. These last five years have opened my eyes to a whole new world. I also have a pretty strong backbone. Reading how others think your books are shit will have that effect on you.”

“So what’s the plan?” Kinsley was always so straight to the point, which I’d always loved about her.

“There is no plan. There are only three people who know I’m back as of right now—you two and Grams, who I have to go visit shortly. Tonight you’re taking me out to celebrate, and we shall see what happens from there.”

“You just wanna strut your shit at Sully’s, don’t ya?”

“Kinsley, I’m not the same. Look at me. Do I look anything like that girl from five years ago?”

“No, and you’re going to cause one hell of a stir.” Sawyer was never one for any drama, and I knew it was going to be hard on her not to fade into the background, but it was time for her to live a little, too. Sawyer’s shyness had held her back for too long. We both needed a fresh start, and tonight was the night.

“Everything will be fine. We’ll take a cab, go out, have a few drinks and dance our asses off. If someone is there to see, then so be it.”

“You know he’ll be there, seeing as he owns the damn place.” Kinsley snickered.

I said nothing and smiled. Of course I knew.

Pulling up to Grams’s house, it looked exactly the same as when I left. At seventy-seven years old, Grams still did all her own gardening, making her home immaculate. Her pride in it reminded me of Papa. He was the gardener before he passed, and Grams didn’t want to let him down, so she kept it exactly how he liked it.

The rose bushes were my absolute favorite. Along the entire side of the small bungalow home were several bushes of yellow, pink, red, and white roses. Those were Papa’s favorite, which he planted many years ago. Grams took extra care of them, and you could tell.

Walking up to the door, I knocked twice and slowly opened the door. “Grams, it’s me,” I yelled. Her hearing had gotten worse over the years, and if she didn’t have her aids in, she couldn’t hear for shit.

The smells of the house engulfed me, making me want to cough a bit. I loved my Grams to death, but she wore this special perfume, and it smelled good when she wore the appropriate amount, but Grams tended to nearly bathe in it. I hadn’t the heart to tell her it’s too much.

Everything looked exactly the same, from the green shag carpeting in the living room to the ancient lights hanging from the ceiling. This was home.

“Savannah, my girl, you’re here!” Grams came around the corner wiping her hands on a kitchen towel before flinging it over her shoulder. Her soft, short, and gray curly hair bobbed as she headed my way. Her burst of energy surprised me as she practically ran to wrap her arms around me.

I immediately followed suit breathing in her perfume and trying to hold back the cough. “Hi Grams. Miss me?”

“Oh, honey.” I pulled out of Grams’s arms to see the tears running down her cheeks.

“Oh, Grams don’t cry.” I pulled her close again, letting her get out what she needed.

“It’s about time your skinny little ass showed up. I made food, and by the looks of you, you need it. Don’t they feed you in California?” Grabbing my hand, she pulled me to the kitchen.