Hearts and Thorns

by Ella Fields

  I took an unsteady step back, feeling as though he’d punched me in the stomach. “What isn’t?”

  “You just showing up here,” he said through his teeth, his eyes hard and unfamiliar.

  “Why am I getting the feeling this isn’t about Mom and Heath?”

  His throat dipped as he swallowed, gaze lowering. “Because it’s not, and we both know it.”

  “No,” I said, but the word had no sound.

  His cheeks billowed, a loud breath preceding poisonous words. “We need to cool this, Willa. Give it some time.”

  Unable to help it, I glared at Ainsley, who was chewing her thumbnail. She glanced away. “Some time to be with other people?” I shook my head when he didn’t respond. “No, no way. And… and but…” I couldn’t see, couldn’t think. “But why?”

  His tone was unforgiving and brooked no room for argument. “You know why. It used to work, but now it’s not, and I just…” He lifted his eyes, and mine regained enough focus to discover they weren’t even sad. There was no remorse, only clear intent. “I need some time to think.”

  “You’re breaking up with me.” I didn’t know where those hideous words came from, but they flew from my lips anyway.

  Ainsley’s gaze became an unwanted audience, a party of one to the eternal damnation of everything I’d believed in when I had nothing else.

  Jackson said nothing but roughly palmed his hair.

  “For her,” I croaked, again, unsure how I’d managed it. It felt like my brain was running the show, asking all the hard questions my heart and soul would never dare to.

  All the questions we should’ve began to ask months ago.

  “No,” Jackson said, then cursed. “Yes, ugh, fuck. I don’t know. Look, let it rest for a while, okay? It’s not working, Willa. We need some time.” Then he was backing away, mumbling, “I’ll call you when I’m ready.”

  No. He couldn’t just dump all those ugly words on me and then leave me with them to rot. “Jackson,” I yelled.

  A few people turned, but he didn’t. He ignored me, and Ainsley tucked her arm in his, offering a guilt heavy smile over her shoulder as they disappeared into the crowd of parents and students.

  No.

  No, no, no. I wanted to scream it at them, chase after them and demand to know why. Why would they do this to me? How could he do this to me?

  But I couldn’t. I didn’t need to know why.

  If I’d relinquished the precarious hold I’d had on hope long enough to open my eyes, I would’ve seen it. I would’ve seen how we’d unraveled like a piece of silk that’d aged over time. We’d collapsed into crumbling threads that were all too easy to pluck and discard as something that was once beautiful but no longer shined.

  From the tips of my toes to my eyes, I burned. Every part of me turned to ash and just a lick of the breeze on my face threatened to send me to the wet ground.

  A few passersby looked on as I stood there, a white-knuckle grip on my umbrella, my eyes unwilling to release their hold on him. Swaying and still, I watched as Jackson and Ainsley headed to his truck. I watched as she turned to him, her head tilted back, laughing as rain hit her face and she tried to keep her hat from flying away. I watched as he gazed down at her, smiling, and I looked away when she rose onto her toes, her lips meeting his.

  Coughing to mask the heaving of my stomach and shoulders, the sob that itched to crawl out of my throat, scraping it raw, I turned to go.

  And that’s when my darkest day turned into a living nightmare.

  “Hi, Wil,” Mom said, her fingers fluttering.

  She and Heath were standing by one of the hedges, mere meters from where Ainsley had been.

  How long they’d been there, how much they’d seen, I didn’t care to know. All I knew was if I didn’t leave, the humiliation setting in would surely have me collapsing into a broken heap.

  It was one thing to have your heart broken, and another to be humiliated at the same time those pieces disintegrated, falling like dust on the wind into a goodbye that would never be wiped clean from your soul.

  Jackson’s truck was gone, and ignoring Mom’s touch on my arm, I pulled away and trudged through the throngs of people.

  Uncaring that I probably looked like a ghost, I knocked into people and felt water seep through my boots as I took the fastest exit, sloshing over puddled grass to my car.

  Willa

  That night, I pushed through a different kind of crowd, needing something to staunch the bleeding.

  Todd found me as soon as I stepped out onto the back porch of Rebecca Derrell’s two-story house by the creek.

  “He dumped me,” I said when his eyes simmered with concern at the sight of me. I stole the bottle of bourbon from his hand. “I went down swinging, though.” I took a swig, wincing at the burn. “No regrets, right?” I laughed, then sniffed. “Ugh.”

  “Jesus.” He glanced around at the few people who were watching, then collected me around the shoulders, directing me back inside and upstairs.

  The whole time he searched for a quiet, unoccupied space, I continued to ramble about everything that’d happened, unsure if he’d even hear me over the music and loud chatter and laughter.

  “Okay, okay,” he said, closing the door and pacing the expanse of Rebecca’s parents’ bedroom with his hands in the air. “Let’s retrace our steps here. He said he needed time?”

  I kept sipping small drops of bourbon, enough to accompany the burning inside me. “Yep. What does that even mean?” I threw my arms out, bourbon splashing out of the neck of the bottle. “And I tried to call him, tried to ask what the hell I’m supposed to do with that…” I trailed off when I saw Todd had stopped moving, saw that his onyx eyes were glimmering with sympathy, or pity, and his brows were hovering low. “What?” I whispered.

  “Come here,” he said, gesturing for me.

  I folded into his strong arms like a broken and battered building that was sick of housing a heart so weary and weak.

  His hand cupped the back of my head as I rolled my puffy face side to side into his black T-shirt, my arms limp around his narrow waist. “It’s over,” I said. “All those years, all those promises, the plans, all the consequences, and it’s just… over.”

  He held me as I cried, rubbing my back and whispering into the top of my hair, and when I could no longer stand, he set the bourbon on the nightstand and helped me into the white linen-covered bed, and he held me there too.

  “Tell me something,” I said some time later, tears dried on my face and my nose half blocked, the noise of the party still seeping through the walls. “Tell me something good.”

  “I’m going to college with you,” he said, a smile in his voice. “So I’ll be on call for burritos and ice cream whenever you need them.”

  I pushed off his chest, gazing down at him. “Are you serious?”

  He nodded. “Yeah.” Smiling, he shifted some hair away from my sticky face, tucking it behind my ear. “Dead serious.”

  “What about your mom? Your sister?” I knew he’d wanted to stay closer to home in case she’d needed help.

  “I didn’t get accepted into any of the nearby schools,” he said. “Besides, Mom would be furious if I didn’t take the full ride.”

  A smile, real and shocking, took hold. “Why the hell haven’t you told me all this?”

  He tipped a shoulder. “It was a toss-up between two.” He blew his knuckles, rubbing his shirt playfully. “I couldn’t decide.”

  I knew, I just knew, that he’d probably picked Gray Springs because of me, but I couldn’t muster the strength to berate him or be annoyed. Not when I felt something I didn’t think I’d feel again for a long time. Something that felt a little like hope.

  I wouldn’t be left to contend with a broken heart, and the reason for it, all alone.

  My head flopped back to his chest, and I squeezed him tight. “Congrats, sneak.”

  “It’s his loss,” Todd said after a few minutes had faded into the past. “A
nd I know he’ll regret it.”

  With the thud of his heart in my ear, the lines of his hard body began to take shape beneath me. My hand flexed, moving to slide over his lower stomach. It was flat, but there were grooves around his abdomen, outlines and ridges that had my throat constricting and my bleeding heart needing.

  “I hope he does,” I whispered and meant it. “I’m sorry.”

  Todd stilled. “Why?”

  “For laying my crap at your feet. I mean, I don’t know if you actually like me, or if you just wanted to—”

  “I more than like you, Dimples. And there’s no need to be sorry. I decide what I can and can’t handle.”

  I held him tighter, his shirt rising, silken smooth, warm skin meeting my hand. The image of Ainsley and Jackson kissing next to his car had my eyes closing, my heart darkening, and my hand moving.

  When I reopened my eyes, the darkest brown I’d ever encountered stared down at me, questioning as they roamed over my face.

  I knew I was using how he felt for me for all the wrong reasons, and that it wasn’t right.

  But right and wrong had no business messing with a shattered heart.

  His lips were softer than they appeared, tasted different than what I’d expected, and moved over mine with a precision that spoke of ceaseless want. The kind of want that’d painted pictures of this moment in his mind’s eye and colored his wildest dreams.

  His want, his desire for me, was so heady, my reasons for doing this became muddled, lost within the unprecedented lust he’d coaxed to life.

  “Say no,” I panted to his lips. I needed him to because I’d discovered there was no stopping the horror, no staunching the bleeding wound Jackson had left me with.

  There was only revenge, distraction, and the need to feel good enough.

  His hands gripped my face, his gaze darker than a starless sky but glittering all the same. “Like hell.”

  We crashed together, teeth and tongues dueling, hands pulling at clothes and legs kicking them aside.

  A condom came from somewhere, and I touched his thick length as he tore it open with his teeth, then whimpered as he pulled away, leaving me cold as he rolled it on.

  The whimper turned into a long mewl as he pulled my panties off and spread my thighs, his tongue and fingers driving me to perilous heights.

  With every swipe of his tongue, every twist of his finger inside me, then every slow thrust as he loomed over me, pushing deep inside, he blocked it out.

  His touch was magic; one hand behind my head, tangled in my hair, and the other caressing my breast, my side, fingertips grazing my thigh that was hooked around his waist.

  His mouth was warm rapture, carrying me from comparison and throwing me into wild abandon.

  As if knowing it might ruin it, he didn’t talk. Not with his voice. His body did enough talking on its own, and I found myself savoring the soft feel of his short hair, the purring throaty sound that climbed from his throat into my mouth when my nails ran over his scalp.

  In and out, he worked me slowly and played me expertly, drawing me to the edge with delirious strokes and touches.

  He swelled against the most hostile places inside me, his pubic bone rubbing over mine with every deep glide, every slide of his tongue over mine.

  I came slow and steady, the pleasure drawn out and leaving me on a hoarse cry. I clutched his head to mine as he panted into my mouth, his eyes never leaving my face, and when his hips jerked in fast, deep plunges, I kissed him as he grunted and groaned, long and loud, against my lips.

  I didn’t wake with a start or with regret knocking me sideways.

  No, I woke with a smile on my face as I heard humming and felt a finger trailing the dip of my spine.

  His finger stopped. “You’re awake.”

  I couldn’t ignore the trace of fear in his voice, so I rolled over, taking that finger and kissing it. “I am. What were you singing?”

  “Duran Duran.”

  Grinning, I gazed into his sleep-lined face, noticing the sharp square edge to his jaw that his stubble tried to mask. “You’ll have to play it for me.”

  His lips parted, and he blinked. “Sure.” He blinked again. “Wait, you’ve never listened to Duran Duran?”

  “No, but I like old music.”

  “How do you know they’re old?” he asked, his finger dipping to swipe over my exposed nipple.

  I pushed his hand away, laughing as I snatched the bedsheet over my chest. “I just do.”

  “Fine. What’s your favorite old band?”

  Memories formed cracks, and light struggled to shine through those dark fissures as I rasped, “Crowded House.”

  He eyed me for a long moment, then gently feathered his fingers over my cheek. “They’re my mom’s favorite.”

  “Yeah?” I didn’t recoil from his touch. I didn’t see the point.

  I liked it, and I needed it.

  He nodded, then leaned in to kiss my forehead. “You’re beautiful, and I want to be inside you so badly right now, but Rebecca’s parents are coming home after lunch, and I don’t think she even knows we’re in here.”

  We both dressed as quickly as possible, and I freshened up as best as I could in the en suite before we checked to see if the coast was clear.

  A few of the girls from school were cleaning up, tired voices traveling from the kitchen, and Todd looked both ways down the hall before grabbing my hand.

  We raced downstairs, smothering our laughter until the front door slammed behind us, and we were halfway down the street.

  “You didn’t drive, did you?”

  “Nah, I was planning on getting shitfaced.”

  His hand was still in mine, and he used his other to tug his phone from his jeans. “Sorry to foil your plans.”

  “I’ve never been so happy to have someone mess with my plans in my life.”

  We stopped on the street corner as he called a cab company.

  The sun was shining, bright, warm, and golden, and I probably looked like hell.

  I didn’t care because looking at Todd, feeling every sharp shard that’d broken inside me, I was grateful. I was grateful, and I was fascinated. Not just from our time together, but by him.

  He’d caught me by surprise, but he’d also caught me.

  He refused to let me fall on my own even though it had to have been hard to hear me upset over someone else.

  Someone else. Was that what Jackson was now? Someone I never thought he’d be. An ex. A someone else.

  A goodbye that never should’ve been a hello.

  A person I didn’t want to think about. Todd made that easier to do, and already I worried I’d take advantage of that. Already I could feel myself swaying closer to him on impulse, seeking the soothing balm his attention provided.

  Thirty minutes later, he kissed me goodbye in the back seat of the cab after handing the driver a twenty.

  “I understand if you don’t want to call me or make this a, um… thing.” He cleared his throat, his voice sounding vulnerable and cautious. “But I’m here if you decide you might want to, and I’ll wait, okay?” Another kiss, a long hard press of his lips, and then he was walking up a steep driveway to a brown wooden home that had a faded yellow swing chair on its porch.

  The problem with slapping a Band-Aid over gaping wounds was that they’d eventually peel off, and the blood would flow freely. As fresh as the moment it’d happened.

  The taxi driver snuck glances at me in the rearview as we wound through the backstreets, heading to my place.

  I ignored him and concentrated on breathing. The farther we drove, the more the tears pushed and my hands shook, but I let my lids flutter over my eyes and clasped my sweating palms together. I just needed to make it home. I just needed to make it inside my house, escape Dad’s anger, and crawl beneath the sheets of my bed. There I could let it all replay, let everything I’d done since, create whatever chaos it would.

  Only, it wasn’t Dad who greeted me.

  The sun bo
unced off the hood of a familiar truck, and I almost told the driver to keep driving as he pulled up and the tall imposing figure that’d been standing against it looked up from his phone.

  Handing the driver another ten to cover the charge and a tip, I opened the door, willing myself to get this over with.

  I had no idea what he was doing here, but I slammed the door, the cab driving off, and decided I wouldn’t take anymore apologies or drivel about anything being for the best.

  I couldn’t handle it.

  “Willa,” Jackson said when I walked to the house. “Bug, what the fuck?” My arm was grabbed, and he gently swung me around, his eyes narrowing as they assessed mine, then my face, my crinkled dress and my mussed hair.

  “Don’t.” His touch singed. “Go home,” I rasped, pulling my arm free. “It’s done, remember?”

  He stumbled back, and I turned for the door when his next words stopped me. “Tell me you didn’t do what I think you did.”

  I laughed, caustic and choked, then spun to glare at him. “And what would that be, Jackson? Huh? Spell it out clearer this time.”

  His skin leeched of color, his mouth falling open as his eyes misted. “You did.”

  “Did what?” I pushed, almost growling. “Kissed someone else in front of the person I just destroyed?” I shook my head, laughing. “No, I’m not that fucking cruel. But I did more than kiss someone, Jackson. You-you”—I flung my hand at him, disgusted—“you asshole. The difference is, I have the decency not to do it in front of you.”

  “What did you do?” he said, so quiet, lethal, the words bit at my skin.

  “You broke up with me.”

  “What did you do, Willa?” he repeated.

  “You wrecked me, annihilated me, then left me for dead in front of our parents, and then disappeared with her.” I dragged my hand beneath my dripping nose.

  His chest was heaving now, his words roaring into my ears and probably the neighbors’ windows. “What did you fucking do, Willa?”

  Shocked, I frowned, confused as to how he could be so mad. “I gave someone what you no longer want. That’s what I did.”

  He stared at me for the longest time, a million emotions flickering through his eyes. Then, he turned for his truck, but he didn’t make it. He bent over and vomited into the small gardenia bush by the mailbox.