Hormotional

by K. S. Adkins

  “If you’d just let me—”

  Tilting her head back, I ordered her, “Say my name, Lizzy.”

  “Luke.”

  “I won’t hurt you,” I promised her.

  “Don’t say—”

  “Rather cut my own heart out, baby.”

  “You don’t know me,” she said on a sigh.

  “I know you.”

  “You don’t,” she persisted, and it was obvious she was irritated.

  Not giving her room to move, I told her as much truth as I can. “The fuck I don’t. I know you sacrificed to raise your boy. A boy who became a good man because of his mom. I know you bust ass at the shop, love what you do, and put Ram through school, all on your fucking own. I know you hate menopause because it makes you feel out of control, and I know for a fucking fact I’m the only man to ever sleep in your bed. Don’t bullshit me, Lizzy, no point in it. We’re both too old for that. We have a shot at something we both waited a long fucking time for and never thought we’d get. You had twenty-two years to find someone, but you didn’t because it wasn’t time for you to meet me yet, and now it is. It’s our fucking time, baby.”

  “You seem very sure for a guy who’s known me a handful of hours. Most of which were spent not talking.”

  “I watched you at the bar; I wanted you then. Followed you outside and saw you lethal, saw you vulnerable, and saw you pissed when you thought I insulted you. I know what I felt when my cock was stretching you, and I know what you felt, too. All the other shit will come in time. I’ll find out if you’re ticklish, what food you hate, and what your favorite music was as a kid. I don’t need to know all that shit tonight, just know I look forward to finding out.”

  Searching my face for any sign of deceit, I sat patiently while she made her decision. And it killed me to do it.

  Then suddenly, all the tension left her body, her eyes softened. Lizzy smiled.

  “Don’t touch the bottom of my feet or you’ll get kicked in the face,” she said quickly.

  “What?”

  “I have yet to find a food I hate because with enough ranch dressing everything tastes good.”

  Seeing where she was going, I smiled and said, “Okay.”

  “My favorite album of all time is Dr. Dre’s The Chronic.”

  “No shit?”

  “I wouldn’t shit about Dre, Luke.”

  This was Lizzy giving me an in. This was Lizzy giving me more than she’s ever given anyone else. Careful not to spook her, I ran my hand between her legs. “Thank you for sharing this with me, baby.”

  “We’re not in group therapy,” she joked, and I pressed my thumb to the crease of her jeans, causing her to moan. “Oh God, that feels good.”

  “I want back in your bed, Lizzy,” I teased while applying more pressure.

  “Deal.”

  “I want to sleep there,” I said, giving her more.

  “Deal.”

  “I want my mouth eating this pussy when you wake up,” I told her while rubbing harder.

  “Deal, deal, deal,” she whimpered. “Just don’t stop.”

  “That’s my girl,” I smiled and stopped what I was doing to tell her, “Looks like we have a plan for later.”

  “You fucking–” she tried, but I cut her off by laughing so hard I nearly hit the floor. Lizzy likes control, she’s used to being the alpha female. Fuck, the woman was used to being the only female.

  Elizabeth Hudson was in my world now. Dialing her lust down, I watched her battle another flash and my heart broke a bit. She was too young for this shit, so I asked her, “Aren’t you a bit young for menopause?”

  Rolling her eyes, she threw her hands up. “At thirty-nine, I knew I’d make forty my bitch. Then I turned forty and became a bitch. I fell a-fucking-part. Surgery–”

  “Surgery?”

  “Hysterectomy.”

  “Why?”

  “Cancer.”

  “What?”

  “Cervical.”

  “Did it hurt?”

  “Define hurt,” she shrugged. “Anyway, I woke up to this. Good news is I’m okay, bad news is I feel like I don’t even know myself anymore. The thoughts that run through my head are not mine, they aren’t even close to mine. It’s like I’ve got a pissed off demon inside me trying to steal my soul. I’ve read that one day I’ll embrace it, but let me tell ya, Luke. Today is not that day.”

  “What can I do?” Because I needed to do something to make up for the fact that I wasn’t there for her when she had been suffering. It didn’t matter I hadn’t known her yet. I still feel like I failed her.

  “Keep me drunk,” she chirped. “That’s what I would do.”

  “Again, what can I do?”

  Facing me with the sweetest look I have ever seen, she reached up and stroked my cheek. “Just be patient with me,” she whispered.

  Without losing the connection I had with her, I yelled out, “Check please.”

  It was official, I was a bitch.

  And truth, I hated that I was.

  Because last night rocked my foundation, and I reacted poorly. Since I couldn’t handle the feelings Luke brought out in me, I kicked him out.

  As in, screamed my fucking head off for no real reason so he’d leave.

  Props to him for arguing back, but in the end, he reached his limit and left just as I intended.

  I got what I wanted, and yet I knew it wasn’t what I needed.

  I’m regretting my behavior—the mean, untrue things I said—and yet, I would do nothing to change it.

  Because it was better this way.

  I wasn’t worth the effort he’d have to put in just to get me to go out again, let alone unload the baggage I carried, the wall I built, and the utter surety that I was damaged. Hormotionally-fucking-wasted, that was me.

  Playing it safe was my go-to. Only this time, I didn’t just hurt Luke, I hurt myself, too.

  Unsure how to spend my time, I sat at my kitchen table pretending to enjoy the coffee that went cold an hour ago.

  Because dammit...I missed him.

  I didn’t want to miss him and that upset me, too.

  Dialing mom, just her hello was enough to ease me until she said, “You sent him packing, didn’t you?”

  “Let me guess, Ram called you.”

  “Of course, he did,” she huffed. “It’s not like you were going to tell your own mother you’d met someone.”

  “A sleepover and a date hardly constitute as a relationship,” I said, and it sounded stupid even to me.

  “Not when you don’t let him stay long enough for the sheets to cool off,” she fired back. “Elizabeth, Rambler is not a baby anymore. You’re not the young single mother trying to protect him either. All you’re doing is hurting yourself and this man who clearly has interest in you.”

  “Fuck, mom,” I groaned at hearing my own thoughts tossed back in my face. “Maybe he just isn’t the guy for me.”

  “If this were true, he wouldn’t have been in your bed in the first place.”

  “You should charge by the hour,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “You can’t afford me,” she shot back. “And before I go, I’m going to say one more thing.”

  “And that is?”

  “We loved Jon.”

  “Mom...”

  “But Jon is gone,” she continued. “Even though there are times it doesn’t feel that way to you, he is. You had your love with him. It was untried and unique for your ages, but what you could have now, at this point in your life, could be extraordinary, Elizabeth. If you let Jon go.”

  “I’m not holding on to Jon,” I argued.

  “Yes, you are,” she argued back. “You use his death as an excuse not to live your life. I’ve watched cars roll into other shops and deemed totaled, unfixable, but you saw the potential, knew the work it would take, and you fixed those cars.”

  “This isn’t the same thing,” I mumbled. “Mom,
I know nothing about a relationship, and I’m not sure I want to know. It’s complicated, and I don’t do complicated.”

  When she sighed, I knew she was about to do the mom-whammy and braced myself. “I let this go on too long. Hoping, praying you knew the difference, but it’s clear you don’t, and I won’t be silent anymore. Yes, you loved Jon. Yes, Jon loved you, and you both adored Rambler. But Elizabeth, you were not, by any means, adults. You hadn’t been tested, hadn’t had to fight. You turned a blind eye to Jon’s bullshit, you were naïve. You lived in your bubble, the bubble we provided. What you were then, was playing house. What you are now, is being a coward.”

  And then she hung up.

  I was still sitting at the table staring at the phone when Ram walked in, saw me, and ground his jaw.

  “Don’t be pissed at Luke, Ram.”

  “Oh, I’m not pissed at Luke,” he said firmly. “I’m pissed at you.”

  “Me? You’re never pissed at me.”

  “First time for everything,” he challenged my mood.

  “What the fuck?”

  “Luke wants you,” he said, grabbing a beer. “And you want him. Only you’re going to use all your rules and bullshit to drive him away.”

  “I’m not–”

  “You already are!”

  “Do not raise your voice at me,” I warned him. “Who I date–”

  “Is my fucking business when you ruin a good thing. And Luke is a good thing. Hell, Ma, he’s the best thing to ever happen to you.”

  “Wrong,” I argued. “You are the best thing to ever happen to me, and dammit, Rambler, it’s enough for me.”

  “Quit being a chickenshit.”

  “I lost my appetite. Maybe dinner was a bad idea.”

  “Dinner is happening,” he said watching the door. “Don’t even try to bow out now.”

  “Are you expecting someone?”

  “No,” he grinned devilishly. “You are.”

  And the next thing I knew, Luke walked in.

  With fucking groceries.

  If my son wasn’t twice my size and pushing twenty-five, I would have spanked his ass.

  I was on the steps outside her door and could hear them arguing. Or rather Ram defending me, and Lizzy trying to talk him down. When he invited me to dinner, he specifically said it was her idea.

  Clearly, that was not the case; I should have known better.

  But I couldn’t take them arguing over her love life, and I certainly couldn’t force her to want me like I wanted her.

  So I walked in, holding bags, and greet her, “Hi, Lizzy.”

  “Luke,” she said icily, staring at the groceries in my arms.

  “This was a bad idea,” I said before I turned for the door. But Ram demanded, “Stay, Luke.”

  “Not a fan of being misled, Ram. Your mom wanted dinner with you.”

  “And I invited you.”

  “You told me she wanted me here.”

  “Because she does.”

  Closing her eyes on a groan, Lizzy said, “Luke, please join us for dinner.”

  The hardest thing I ever did was decline. “Gonna pass on that, Elizabeth. But thanks.”

  And then I walked out the way I came in.

  I had just dumped the bags in the back and was climbing into my truck when she tore out of the shop yelling,

  “Luke, wait.”

  Staying calm, I reminded her, “When you said you didn’t want me, I should have believed you. Won’t happen again.”

  “It’s not you, Luke, it’s me.”

  “Seriously?”

  “What?”

  “You just dropped the oldest line in the book on me with a straight face.”

  “It is?”

  “Lizzy,” I growled in frustration. “Fuck. What do you want from me?”

  Defeated, she shrugged. “I honestly don’t know.”

  “The hell you don’t, just say it.”

  “All this,” she waved between us. “It’s too much, it’s too risky. I can’t do it. I’m sorry, I just can’t.”

  “First night I saw you stand outside the bar, I knew you were made for me. First time I was inside you, I knew I had finally come home. Wouldn’t be the first time I was wrong, and it won’t be the last.”

  “Fuck,” she said, clenching her fists. “You don’t get it! I don’t trust myself!”

  Having my heart stomped on enough for one night, I started my truck before I tell her, “You didn’t need to trust yourself. You just needed to trust me.”

  “Luke.”

  “Night, Elizabeth.”

  Second hardest thing I’ve ever done was leave her there staring after me.

  I wasn’t back in my office five minutes when I turned the audio on.

  “—talk to me, ma,” Ram was saying.

  “What do you want to hear?”

  “Is it about Jon?”

  “No,” she sighed. “Ram, familial love I can do. Cars, they make sense to me. Romantic love...I don’t understand it. There are so many rules and considerations. He has experience, I don’t. He knows what he wants. I wasn’t with your dad long enough to figure it out for myself. And I just...”

  “What, ma?”

  “I can’t lose again.”

  The anguish in her voice gutted me, and the love in Ram’s struck deep. “Grandma told me about him, you know.”

  “Jesus,” she grunted. “Ram...”

  “I don’t doubt he loved us, but he was a loser, ma.”

  “He was a kid.”

  “I wonder if he were still here, whether you’d be using the same line.”

  “Well, he’s not,” she snapped. “And people change.”

  “Everyone but you, right?” he said, and then I heard the door slam followed by Lizzy swearing up a storm.

  For the record, she worked her shit out by heading down to the garage to beat the hell out of storage drums.

  With a mallet.

  The next day, I was going over her file when the conversation in the garage switched from idle shop talk to real talk.

  Lincoln wanted Lizzy back in the saddle while Benz and Diesel argued a hookup was the last thing she needed.

  I agreed with them and really wanted to kick Lincoln’s ass.

  Lizzy though, I wasn’t sure which way she’d go until later that night when I heard her light snores.

  Only then could I chase my own sleep.

  And for the next week, I didn’t turn the audio on inside of her apartment or the shop.

  Giving her time to decide was killing me, and I wasn’t sure how much more I could take.

  But I knew Elizabeth Hudson was worth the wait.

  A week ago, Luke left me standing outside in the dark, and it was nothing less than I deserved.

  The darkness was good at keeping me hidden.

  Since meeting Luke, it felt like I spent the last twenty-two years surrounded by it. Which got me thinking that perhaps my son was right. It was time for me to move on, to commit.

  And it was crazy to feel this way, to even consider this with a man I hardly knew.

  Yet, my heart was full steam ahead. It yearned for Luke.

  Which left me feeling out of sorts.

  Like all disagreements Ram and I had, we moved past it.

  As much as he wanted Luke for me, he recognized no amount of interference on his part was going to speed up my decision. And I needed to make one, soon.

  Because the thought of Luke finding someone else was a searing pain in my chest.

  So tonight, while Ram was on the road, I came upstairs and started the yearly ritual of drinking myself stupid. After all this time, I still struggled with Jon’s loss. While I wasn't mourning his death, I was still angry at him and myself for giving a dead man power over me. It was crazy how I felt him, this awareness, that goddamn prickling sensation on my skin. Like Jon was sitting next to me or watching over me. It wasn't healthy, and it need
ed to stop.

  Ignoring phone calls by shutting it down, I left the lights off and sunk into the couch.

  Losing track of time was easy when you had no reason to look out the window, had nothing to look forward to, and were painfully alone. Alone because you made it that way. Alone because you convinced yourself it was best.

  Because love hurt.

  With nothing but darkness and quiet, I thought about Jon. Each day it was a little bit harder to remember what he looked like, felt like. I saw hints of him in Ram, but it wasn’t the same. I couldn’t remember the tone of his voice anymore.

  The harder I tried to recall Jon’s intricacies, the more I saw Luke’s face. The crinkles next to his eyes, his dark grey hair and sexy smile.

  I heard Luke’s voice, felt Luke’s touch.

  Fact was, I would never grow old with Jon and it gutted me that even if I was granted the chance, I knew I wouldn’t take it.

  Jon and I had our time.

  And it was cut incredibly short.

  At some point, I had fallen over and shut my eyes, hoping I’d wake up to a new day. But when I heard my door open, I was about to call out for Ram when the kitchen light came on and Luke came into view.

  So undone by seeing him here, I started to cry.

  Full body racking sobs took over, and I let it. Without a word, Luke scooped me up, but said nothing while I purged the sadness from my system.

  Safe in his arms, I let it all go.

  When he had every reason not to come, he had. And though he didn’t know it, that’s who my tears were for.

  Maybe Luke would stick around, maybe he wouldn’t. But I couldn’t go on living life with eyes half open.

  Jon died, I didn’t. Jon made bad choices which put his family in danger. I didn’t do that. I picked up the pieces his death caused just the same. He wasn’t watching me from above, it wasn’t his eyes I felt on my back.

  All these years, I had convinced myself that somehow he’d always been with me, that I still had a piece of him.

  But that was not possible, it wasn’t reality.

  Because reality was right in front of me, gazing at my face with concerned eyes, holding my body with strong arms.

  Resting my head on Luke’s chest, I whispered, “I am so sorry.”

  And then I cried a little longer.