Warrior Blue

by Kelsey Kingsley

  Hearing her repeat those words made it feel so much filthier, but I couldn't deny the truth in them. "Yes."

  "I don't want you to try," she admitted bashfully as her cheeks pinked and her gaze dropped. "I just want you to do it."

  I shook my head. "We shouldn't ..." But the statement was weak, because why shouldn't we? She was granting me permission, I liked her, she liked me ... What was so wrong about that, apart from every other little thing? But my dick didn't care about every other little thing. He didn't give a rat's ass if she was the very last person I should ever in my life find attractive, let alone sleep with, and right now, all I gave a shit about was what he thought.

  So, I cut my protest short and hoisted her into my arms. I carried her with deliberation to my bedroom and kicked the door shut before dropping her to my bed. I didn't give her a chance to look around before laying beside her, to resume our kiss and gradually strip us of our clothes. And when we were naked, I found that beneath all the black and pastels, we weren't very different. In nothing but our skin, we were both simply human, a lesson I was long overdue in learning, and even though my skin was significantly more decorated than hers, it felt the same.

  "These are so beautiful," she commented in awe at my tattoos, marveling at my body as I struggled to convince myself I was worthy of hers. How was it right for someone to be so flawless? What the hell had I been thinking, laying my destruction across her chest?

  "Not sure beautiful is the word for them," I muttered, kneeling on the bed before her and opening her legs.

  "What would you call it, then?"

  I shrugged. "They're just parts of my story."

  Something in those words made her look up from my stomach to seek my gaze. "Maybe you'll tell me that story one day."

  I nodded once, to neither confirm nor deny, as I crawled between her thighs and laid my body over hers. "Maybe."

  With that final word, I hushed her with another kiss. I found myself within her easily, thrusting gently as to not destroy her, despite the feeling that I already had. She trembled like a virgin and moaned like a seasoned professional, kissing me ferociously and timing her thrusts with my own.

  We fucked like we had fucked each other thousands of times before. We knew exactly when and where to touch, to kiss, to bite and to scratch, and for the first time in my life, my climax was partnered with another's. It was perfect, and incredible, and I wondered if I would black out just from the thought alone. Our timing was impeccable, and what a fucking joke that was.

  Timing …

  Serendipity. Fate.

  Signs.

  I rolled away from her to stare at the ceiling, to remove myself from those thoughts and what we'd done. But Audrey rolled toward me, wrapping a leg around mine.

  “I had thought about killing myself,” I blurted out, and why? I don’t know, I have no fucking clue. Maybe I was trying to prove how broken I was, how screwed up and bad. Or maybe I just wanted someone to know, and I wanted that someone to be her.

  “What?”

  “That’s why I’m in therapy,” I clarified. “You asked before, so I’m giving you an answer.”

  Her breath had stalled for a moment before she exhaled, long and winded. “Can I ask why?”

  I bit at my lips, staring at the ceiling and deciding if I wanted to go that far. I remembered that night like it was yesterday, the night before I found Dr. Vanessa Travetti and gave her a call. My mind hadn’t been clouded by a hazy depression or influenced by intoxication. The clarity had been startling, terrifying, as I held that bottle of aspirin, and I had dropped it to the floor, knowing I needed to talk to someone and let this shit out. Before I really did do something I couldn’t undo.

  “You don’t have to tell me,” Audrey relented.

  I shook my head. “No, it’s … it’s okay. I just thought everything would be better if I wasn’t around. I’m, uh, kinda the reason my family is so fucked up,” and I realized she didn’t know my family. She didn’t know our tense and messy dynamic.

  “Do you still feel that way?”

  “No,” I replied honestly.

  “Good,” she whispered softly, touching my shoulder with her lips. She laid her arm across my waist, pressing her cheek to my chest, before breathing a sigh against my heart.

  And my heart sighed back.

  Chapter Fifteen

  GOOD SLEEP WAS as foreign to me as pride and self-acceptance. So, when I awoke with the unfamiliar sensation of being well rested, it was as if my entire body awoke with a sigh. How wonderful it was to face the window without dread. How peaceful it was to have her still coiled around my body in a cocooning embrace.

  I allowed myself a smile, like I had forgotten my own life. I nuzzled my cheek against the top of her blonde head and coaxed myself to find that incredible sleep I'd had just minutes ago, my arm tightening around her shoulders. She unraveled with a dreamy sigh, sliding her hand from my chest to my waist, to hug me closer. Together, we neared the edge of deep sleep once more, and as my head grew heavier and my limbs grew limp, I was shaken by my phone.

  As it vibrated on my nightstand, I thought for a moment that it was an alarm I’d forgotten to turn off. I grabbed the damn thing and peered at the screen through bleary eyes, ready to dismiss a reminder to wake up, when I realized it wasn’t an alarm, but a call from Mom.

  “Fuck,” I muttered, unwinding my other arm from around Audrey’s shoulders and sliding it out from under her. She protested with a groan as I sat up, cleared my throat, and answered hastily. "Hey, Mom," I said, feigning awareness and clarity in my tone.

  "Did I wake you up?"

  “Uh …”

  “You sound hungover,” she accused suspiciously.

  Of everything I’d drank the night before, I could safely say my hangover wasn't derived from the alcohol. The sex, maybe. The girl, absolutely. But not the alcohol.

  "No, I'm fine."

  "Hm," she grunted with suspicion. "Okay. Well, I need you to keep an eye on Jake today. I have some stuff I need to do.”

  “Uh, s-sure.” My eyes flitted toward Audrey, now wide-awake beside me, staring at me with question and lust.

  She wanted me again, and I wanted her, but there wasn’t time for that. She needed to get out, and she needed to get out now.

  “We had an early day today, right, Jakey?” Mom went on. “We went to the store and ran a couple errands, and then we had brunch at this adorable little—"

  "What time is it?" I asked both my mother and Audrey.

  Audrey won the race to tell me. "It's twelve forty-five," she whispered.

  Almost one? I rarely slept after seven. "Jesus, it's late," I said to the two of them. "How long until you're here, Mom?"

  "Oh, um ... fifteen minutes, maybe?"

  Fifteen minutes. It was enough time to get Audrey out of here and to make myself look as though I hadn't engaged in a night of sex and mind-numbing sleep. I calculated my plan down to the nanosecond and hastily told my mom I needed to go. I hung up and looked directly at Audrey, both menacingly and regretfully.

  "You really need to go." And for good measure, I added, "Now."

  Audrey nodded, standing from the bed to grab her clothes. "Yeah, I got that."

  She sounded hurt and I didn't want that. I just wanted her to understand the very real possibility of my mother seeing her in my house and immediately assuming there was something more than a one-night stand and an unexplained attraction between us. So, I approached her steadily and laid a hand on her shoulder. My fingertips remembered her skin, her touch, and her voice from last night, curling sensually around my name, and I held back the urgency to take her mouth once again.

  "My mom is on the way with Jake," I explained hurriedly, trying not to focus on the ticking clock and failing miserably. "She hasn't seen me with a woman in ..." When was the last time either of my parents had seen me with someone? It felt impossible that it could be years, but I was about to be thirty-four and my last serious relationship met its end when I was i
n my early twenties. Could it really have been that long? A decade?

  "Well, it's been a long time," I concluded and mustered a smile to mask my embarrassment.

  "Oh, I gotcha," she replied, nodding with instant understanding. "She'll start filling scrapbooks with wedding plans and baby names."

  My skin scattered with goosebumps and my gut tied in a thousand complicated knots. "Yeah.”

  She moved away from my touch to get dressed and I dropped my hand to my side. She slipped her feet into her shoes that lifted her up a few more inches. In her tight-fitting pants and flowing top, she walked from my room to the bathroom, moving gracefully like a ballerina on a runway, and I thought, no woman had ever made a morning after look so glamorous.

  "What is she like?" she called, and next came the telltale sign of liquid hitting porcelain. The woman had left the bathroom door open as she peed, too comfortable to care if I heard, and it felt stupid how much something so silly could leave my chest aching with need and desperation.

  "Who?"

  "Your mom."

  She flushed the toilet and the faucet ran. I took that moment to stand in the open doorway, arms crossed and scowling in thought.

  "My mom's okay," I replied simply.

  "But?" My eyes met Audrey's and she smirked knowingly.

  Chuckling softly, I shrugged. "We don’t get along very well.”

  "Oh, I never would've guessed," she laughed, washing her hands before raking her wet fingertips through her hair. "Do you have an extra toothbrush?"

  Soundlessly, I opened the medicine cabinet and grabbed one of the brushes my dentist kept me stocked with. She accepted it with a grateful smile, as I went on, “Things have been tense between us for a long time, but after … after the accident, it always pissed me off the way my parents were handling it. I told them they should be doing something more for Jake than what they were doing at home.”

  "Which was?"

  "Nothing," I stated bluntly, unsure of why I was shedding these truths to her like dry, brittle skin. "They weren't doing a damn thing for him. It was like, they became so fucking complacent when they realized he wasn’t gonna go to Yale or some shit. They weren’t giving him a chance to get better, in whatever way he could. So, when I was finally out of the house, I made a deal with them, that I’d get him into a program that would help him. You know, give him something to do, people to see. I thought it was the least I could do. And if I failed, then they could take over again, but under the agreement that they would find him help, instead of just going back to the way shit was before."

  "I see," she replied softly, nodding. "That’s common. I think sometimes parents can be complacent about these kinds of things. And it’s usually not for lack of caring, but lack of knowledge. Not to mention, it’s so overwhelming.”

  “Exactly,” I muttered, pinching my lips and bobbing my head with agreement.

  “So, I'm guessing that's kinda where you're at now, then."

  "What was your first clue?" The question came out gruff and gritted, squashed between my teeth.

  "All I asked was what your mom's like." She laughed, immediately lightening the mood, and I shook my head as I fought an unbeatable smile.

  "Sorry. Touchy subject."

  "I understand," she said, and somehow, I knew she meant that.

  "Anyway, um ... my mom's a nice person. She means well." Most of the time.

  Audrey smiled as she smoothed her hair out. "Well, for what it's worth, I think we would make beautiful kids."

  I snorted, taken aback by the blunt statement. "Oh, you think so, huh?"

  "Oh, yeah," she insisted, pulling her hair back into a bouncy ponytail. "I mean, your coloring and my eyes? They'd have to be gorgeous."

  I looked to her eyes at the mention and even though I wouldn't say it—I could never say it—I knew she was right.

  ***

  "Blake, this place is a wreck," Mom assessed with her hands planted firmly to her hips. She surveyed the living room as I hurried around, picking up a glass here and a coaster there, trying to erase the night before in haste. “I should’ve brought over some Clorox and Swiffers.”

  "It's not that bad." And it really wasn't. It might not have been the pristine standard she preferred but it could've easily been worse.

  "What were you doing last night?" she pried, walking into the kitchen.

  "Went to the club, came home, had a drink, went to bed." None of it was a lie, I told myself, and there was no need to divulge that I hadn’t been alone.

  "Hm." It was a short sound, one tainted in skepticism, and I rolled my eyes as I bent over and swiped a pillow from the floor. As I tossed it back on the couch, I noticed something, a shimmer of light on the coffee table, and I eyed it closely.

  Audrey's necklace. Her cross.

  My heart escalated to a gallop as I wondered, when had she taken it off? I couldn't remember, and I thought I surely would've noticed, I'd stared at her so much the night before. But upon closer inspection, I noticed the chain, delicate and silver, hadn't been unclasped but was broken. It must've fallen from her neck and neither of us had noticed. My chest thrummed at a frightening speed at what this could've meant, if it could mean anything at all. I imagined her god, otherworldly and mighty, sitting upon his throne and punishing her for spending her night with a devil like me. Just a wave of his almighty hand, and there went the necklace, sent to the coffee table and left there to serve as a bad omen, a warning—a sign.

  I swallowed as my blood chilled and rushed through my brittle heart. I didn't want to touch the damn thing, worried my flesh would burn and my bones would break. But, then there was my mother, and if she saw the fucking thing, the questions she would ask would break me more than some stupid piece of metal ever could.

  I swiped it from the table and stuffed it into my pocket. My skin went unscathed and I was embarrassed by my own sigh of relief.

  Jake walked into the room from the hallway, carrying his iPod in one hand and his enormous headphones in the other. He moved toward me with purpose and demanded, "Put on the One Foot Song."

  "Oh, Jakey. Enough with that already. Please," Mom mumbled exhaustedly.

  I took the iPod and glanced in her direction. "What?"

  "That's all I've heard since yesterday. He wants me to put on the One Foot Song, and I have absolutely no idea what that even means. I never know what he’s talking about."

  "It's Walk the Moon, Mom," I muttered, scrolling through his collection of songs and pressing play. I took the headphones and fitted them over his ears. "There you go, buddy."

  With a satisfied grin and a shouted thanks, he headed back to his room, bopping his head all the way. Mom wasn't as pleased as she came back into the living room to stand beside me.

  "I really don't understand how you do it."

  "Do what?"

  "Handle him like that. I can't get through to him the way you can and it frustrates the living hell out of me."

  For one fraction of a second, I wondered if this was her reasoning behind putting him in a group home. To punish me by taking him away, by stripping me of the only purpose I had ever truly found in my life. But I shooed it away. She wouldn't do that to me. My mother didn't understand me much, but she wasn't cruel because of it.

  I shrugged apologetically. "It's just the way it is."

  “It’s the twin thing or whatever, I get it, but that doesn’t make it any less unfair. I’m his mother and I never know what the hell to do with him.”

  "You could've called me," I reminded her, and she dismissed the thought with a flippant wave of her fingers.

  “I already told you, I don’t want to depend on you. You need your own life.”

  It was a funny thing. Not long ago, we'd had that conversation, about me living my life more for myself and less for Jake. At the time, I'd gotten defensive and pushed the very concept away. But now, I wondered about it, and whether it was at all possible to have a life outside of Jake. Hell, for all I knew, it could maybe include him, too
. It only took a second to realize what had changed between then and now, as I felt the silver cross warming a spot on my leg from inside of my pocket.

  It was Audrey. That's what had happened. And I wasn't entirely sure how to feel about that.

  Chapter Sixteen

  "YOU LOOK DIFFERENT today," Dr. Travetti commented, sitting down and adjusting her pant legs over the tops of her feet.

  "Yeah, so do you," I commented, gesturing toward her. "Your hair’s down."

  She laughed lightly and touched the ends of her shoulder-length brown hair. "Too cold today to wear it up."

  "Hm," I grunted and nodded thoughtfully. "It's beautiful today."

  Her gaze softened. "Beautiful, huh?"

  "Hell yeah. It really feels like autumn today. Cool, crisp ..." I glanced toward the window with a nod of my chin. "Fucking beautiful."

  Dr. Travetti situated her clipboard on her lap and began to scribble. I sat up straighter, craned my neck, and tried to catch a glimpse of what she was writing. When she caught me spying, she smiled fondly, shaking her head.

  "Don't be so paranoid," she gently scolded.

  "I'm not. Just curious."

  "Mm-hmm," she chided. She jotted for a few more seconds before lowering the pen. "So, tell me how your weekend went. What’d you do?”

  My jaw clenched as my options were laid out before me. I could keep myself clammed up and keep all the secrets from my weekend in a little box of selfishness. But somehow, I felt I owed it to the good doctor to tell her. After all, she was the one who had encouraged me. She was the one who had listened to my relentless mumbling and grumbling for the past couple of years.

  "I went out with Audrey," I confessed, and the admission brought my gaze to my lap, to watch my fingers as they clenched and pulsed.

  Dr. Travetti was plainly excited, expressed with a clap of her hands and a joyful squeal. "Blake! That's great!"

  "Wow, don't get too excited," I laughed uncomfortably. "I didn't ask her to fucking marry me or some shit."