Complicated: A Tainted Love Novella by Ghiselle St. James Page A

something to him and he smiles a small smile before hugging her tight.
    I was always jealous of what they had, to be honest. I have always wanted that. Looking back on it now, I had it with Rachel. We had always been tender with each other outside of the bedroom, loving. I would look at her for long minutes and see forever, see our lives together. It was something I needed back then, still do. When we broke up, I thought I could find this love elsewhere, but it just was never right. We either never had the passion in the bedroom that Rachel and I had, or the loving tenderness was missing, giving way to someone cold.
    Rachel had it all, still does. She still makes my heart beat faster, my cock harder, my body warmer, and my mouth water. She is it for me, but how do I get her to come to terms with that and accept that I am it for her as well? When we deny our heart’s natural inclination to love, we deny our right to be loved in return. I love her with all my heart, body and soul and I know she loves me back, no matter how hard she tries to fight it. It’s written all over her face every time I walk into a room, every time I touch her, every time I hold her, every time our bodies collide. I just have to work overtime in making her realize this and stop with the bullshit.
    As I approach my parents, my thoughts clear, and utter nervousness settles in my bones. What I wouldn’t give to have Rachel here with me now. She has always been the peace to my storm. She has been my center, my calm throughout all of this and having her here to deal with my parents would make things so much easier. I can stand in front of a jury, in front of a judge and represent high profile clients, win impossible cases, but I can’t do this. I’m a fucking joke.
    My father spots me first and his face slips into an inscrutable mask, his therapist face. I hate that fucking look. I want him to be angry with me, to yell at me, but he is always so fucking rational. He squeezes my mother and she turns around to see me walking slowly toward them. Unlike my father, mom wears her emotions on her sleeve when it comes to her family. Her face contorts in a sob and she rips away from Dad and rushes over to hug me.
    “My boy,” she cries. “Oh, my boy.”
    “Mom,” I choke. I feel like a kid again in her arms like this.
    She is so soft and warm, and her tears pierce me deep. Dad walks over to us and it is the first time ever that I see tears in his eyes. He doesn’t look unreadable anymore, he is in pain, he is worried. Like all of us, Delilah being hurt affects him, and why wouldn’t it? She’s his little girl.
    I think Delilah opened up something soft inside of him when she finally came to live with us. He wasn’t hard on me or anything, but he was insistent that I focus in school and not play around with my opportunities. When Delilah got adopted, he became warmer. He’d begun to do Dad-like things like play catch with me, take me to Yankee games, dance – though the dancing was more for mom and Delilah.
    Delilah made us all better in one way or another, and knowing that I had a hand in what happened to her that landed her in the hospital…I’m just waiting for the storm to blow in. Dad gives me a stern nod, despite the tears shining in his eyes, and I know it’s coming.
    Wasting no more time, we hurry in through the siding doors, mom panicked. I follow behind like an errant child.
    “Where is she? Take me to her, Marshall,” mom demands.
    As we step toward the bank of elevators, I stop short seeing Ben holding the doors open. I want to tuck tail and run because, truly, this will not end well. He motions for us to get in and I hesitate, while mom and dad waste no time and dash for it. I follow cautiously after them.
    Inside the elevator feels like an incinerator. I pull on my collar and let the heat of guilt wash over me. Yeah, this will not end well for me.
    “Mr. and Mrs. Beal,” Ben says, extending my hand to my parents and I want to expire.