by HJ Bellus
“Excuse me?” I pop my head up to study her. Shit, thought we’d broke past all barriers over the last few months.
“Never.” She places her pointer finger over my lips. “And now before you freak out, I don’t have a cellphone. Well, I do, but it’s one that only has two numbers on it. Gene’s and 911. So never.”
I relax back into the softest mattress I’ve ever graced.
“Oh,” is my simple reply.
Not for much longer. Mack’s breathing evens out, coaxing me to chase her into slumber.
Chapter 14
Mack
Waking up in Trick’s arms ranks at number one on my list. It will be something I never take for granted. We may have some problem solving to do since poor Trick has to uncurl and pop out his joints every morning. It hasn’t stopped him from spending every single night since.
It’s not lost on me that my step is lighter and my shoulders are squared with confidence when I step foot on campus. I’m not fixed. Hell, I may never be. I’m healing, and that’s all that matters right now. It’s scary as hell and exhilarating as well.
We haven’t gone all the way yet. I suspect we are mirroring a couple of horny teenagers exploring every part of us. Trick taught me how to use my toys properly while bringing me to the edge over and over. I lick my lips, remembering taking him into my mouth. Trick protested. It didn’t stop me from lurching forward and wrapping my lips around him. I didn’t stop until he was spilling his pleasure in my mouth. Talk about empowerment. I felt like a queen that night.
“Hey.” A sweet voice interrupts my deliciously dirty thoughts. “You look great, Mack! You’re glowing.”
Layla bounces up to me. Sunni is about three steps behind her, waddling her precious and huge baby bump our way.
“Hi,” I say with confidence and a few ounces of giddiness.
I’ve hung out at the gym a few nights while Trick finishes up his training. Gene has been over the moon that I’ve notched back my nights at the center in favor of spending time with Trick. I still plan on spending two nights a week there and spending time during the day to prep meals between classes.
“Don’t ever let Trick tell you it’s a good idea to stick his dick in you.” Sunni steps up to us, throwing her arms in the air. “I don’t care how magical it is or how good you might think it feels. Just don’t. Buy a damn dildo.”
“Sunni.” Layla smacks her arm. “You’ve been hanging out with Jag way too long.”
Sunni points her finger right at Layla. “You have no idea how it feels to have two bowling balls in my belly and might I add those balls dropping each day putting pressure on my pelvis and spine. Not to mention Jag thinking I’m the sexiest thing around and wanting to put said dick in my vagina.”
My eyes bulge, and I’m forced to bite down on my bottom lip. It’s really not a funny situation, and I’m sure poor Sunni is miserable. The delivery method is what has me about to burst out in laughter.
“Oh look!” Layla points. “A coffee and doughnut shop.”
This does the trick. Sunni waddles off in the direction without question. Layla and I follow behind.
“You’ll learn how to handle this family, and trust me, it will keep you on your toes,” Layla leans over and whispers in my ear.
“Family.” The word rolls off my tongue without thought.
“Yeah, family. The moment Trick claimed you, you’ve fortunately, or unfortunately, depending on how you look at it, became part of our family.” She winks at me.
I remain in the back of the line as the two women order their vice of choice. The smell of fried dough and the sweet scent of frosting lingers in the air. My stomach growls. A frosted pink doughnut with colorful rainbow sprinkles taunts me in the display case. The place bustles with patrons. Loud music blares throughout the speakers. An array of colors beam and bounce off every surface. It’s an overload on the sensory drive.
Panic creeps up my spine. I feel like a fool. I’m a grown adult and can’t even order food at public places. I have one grocery store I shop at. A routine I’ve followed for years. It’s clear these old habits die hard.
Trick has struggled to push me out of my comfort zone. They’re gentle nudges. He never pushes too hard. I’m thankful for that. He’s planting seeds of confidence within me as the days tick by.
“Mack, want anything?” Sunni asks, holding her receipt at her side.
I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.
“Mack, are you okay?” Sunni grabs my shaking hands. I hadn’t realized I was trembling until then.
I nod. “Sunni, I, uh…have some phobias, I guess you could say.”
“Okay.” She nods in a caring nature. There’s not one ounce of judgment in her voice. Something about the care in her gaze relaxes me. I’m able to control my breathing.
“Do you want a doughnut?” she asks.
The question isn’t meant to demean me. It does. I feel like a timid five year old at this moment.
“This is ridiculous.” I drop my head and toe the tile floor with my yellow shoes.
Sunni doesn’t say another word. I blink back hot, ridiculous, stupid tears. My hand jerks, and the next thing I know I’m being dragged to the front of the line.
“Order what you want.” Sunni slaps her hand on the counter.
She doesn’t say another word. The awkward teenager behind the counter adjusts his bowtie while staring at me. I nudge my glasses up the bridge of my nose. Sunni gives me a shoulder bump, prompting me into action.
“I’ll take that one.” I point to the display case right at the perfect pink doughnut.
I didn’t die. The young man reaches in the case and snags the doughnut with a wrapper hugging his hand. That was easy. Yes, I’m truly dumb. A yellow doughnut grabs my attention.
“And that one.” I point.
He snags that one for me as well, placing it in a white paper bag.
“Do you like coffee?” Sunni leans in and asks.
I nod. Because I do. I’ve drunk black coffee with Gene for years. He used to tease me it would put hairs on my chest.
“She’ll take a white chocolate iced mocha as well. Half sweet and large,” Sunni pipes up.
There are few groans behind us from other patrons. Sunni whirls around and gives them the death glare of a pregnant woman. Their sounds cease.
I pull the worn twenty-dollar bill from my pocket and slide it across the counter. That same piece of paper has been in my pocket for years for emergencies or the day I happened to venture out of my routine. Never thought it would come. Stupid tears well up in my eyes. It’s happiness and pride. That familiar emotion that’s been coursing through me, the one I’ve learned to fall in love with.
“Thank you,” I whisper to Sunni as I tuck my change into my pocket and grab the bag and coffee off the counter.
We spot Layla in the corner of the eccentric coffee shop, her phone glued to her ear. The look on her face portrays it’s a stressful conversation.
“You don’t have to tell me a thing, Mack.” Sunni sits down in a booth, tugging her goodies out of a large bag. “Just know everyone has their own stories.”
I nod and do the same thing as her. My doughnuts lie on a napkin as Sunni tells me about her journey. She was a broken woman on the run from an abusive relationship. Jag saved her. Brought her back to life. The love swimming in her large eyes as she retells the tale melts my heart and relaxes me all at the same time.
“So you see, I have scars too. We all do. It took me forever to open up to Jag. Looking back, I was an idiot. I knew from the day he helicoptered his dick in a parking lot in front of me that the man would’ve done anything for me.”
This makes me laugh, and a broad smile covers Sunni’s face. She takes a bite of her doughnut and moans.
“Since you already know one of my quirks, I’m going to dork out here. Trick bought me a phone and keeps begging for a selfie.”
Without any more information, Sunni reaches over, grabs the iPhone, and
begins punching her finger on the screen. She passes it back to me and tells me which button to hit.
“It’s all about the angles. So hold it a bit higher.” Sunni goes back to her doughnuts, ignoring me.
Damn, I’m sure I just fell in love with this woman. No judgment on her part, only a caring friend.
My cheeks burn as I hold up the phone in front of my face. My hand trembles because it feels like everyone in the bustling doughnut shop is staring at me. I push it to the side, knowing they’re all immersed in their own worries.
I pluck the canary yellow frosted doughnut and hold it to my face. I smile, click the button, and then take a huge bite of the doughnut. I moan. It’s delicious. Brushing my fingers off on the napkin, I send the picture to Trick and type out a message.
Me: I bought a doughnut!
Me: Well, Sunni helped me.
Me: It’s delicious.
Me: There’s your selfie.
Three dots dance at the bottom of the screen. I wait anxiously for Trick’s reply. To anyone else, this would be ridiculous. He’s the one person who will understand the small victory that came my way today.
Trick: Goddamn, you’re sexy. Proud of you, babe. Save one for me and enjoy the girls today.
Trick: PS—If they tell you a story about me and sheep ignore it.
Me: Thank you, Trick. Thank you! I love you.
Trick: Love you too, babe
I didn’t save one for Trick. I ended up making myself sick on the overload of sugar. But it felt so damn good. Mentally, I make a note to stop back by this shop tomorrow to pick up a doughnut for Trick, and, well, two or three for me.
The carb loading seems to have put Sunni in a better mood. I don’t miss the fact she still moans and groans while clutching her back. She’s a trooper, though, pushing through the walk to the bookstore and waiting in a long line. Layla and I forced her to go sit down until we got closer to the front.
The smell of the paperbacks makes me drunk. I’ve been blessed with books from my friends at the center. They all know to recycle them through me. The need to buy one today grows larger with each second that ticks by. The crisp cover, smooth pages, and desire to get lost in a story is the only thing on my mind.
I pull out my change from the coffee shop and count eleven dollars. The closer we get to the front of the line, the more uncertain I grow. Layla and Sunni brought a stack of books for the author to sign. I stand here empty-handed.
“Did you preorder any books?” a store clerk asks.
Sunni has now joined the line since there are three people in front of us. I shake my head no.
“Yes.” Layla pulls a piece of paper out of her purse. “There should be an order for Mackenzie Graham placed by Trenton Jameson.”
Layla hands over the paper before the clerk can ask any more questions. Within seconds, the woman hands over a stack of books to my arms.
“He said you loved to read,” Layla offers.
And that’s that.
I remain in the back of our pack watching as Layla and Sunni get their books signed. Navy York is gorgeous. Absolutely stunning from the inside out. She takes her time listening and talking to Layla and Sunni. She has long, dark hair cascading in curls over her shoulders. The top she’s wearing exposes one of her shoulders, showcasing a splattering of freckles. A man in a cowboy hat with a white dress shirt rolled up at the sleeves stands behind her with his hand on her shoulder. The pride on his face cannot be misinterpreted.
“Hey, Cowboy!” Sunni waves as she collects her books off the table.
He nods back with a smirk on his face. I’m so lost yet completely enthralled with all of this.
“Your turn,” Navy says, pointing a black Sharpie at me.
“Oh,” I squeak out, stepping up and placing my books on the table.
“Who should I make these out to?” she asks, staring up at me with those kind eyes.
“Mack. M-A-C-K.”
Navy flips open each cover and takes her time to write a special message inside each one. The last one catches my attention.
Mack,
Our past doesn’t define us. Our history only guides us. Find your piece of happiness and cherish it. You’ll never regret it.
Love Always,
Navy York
PS—Stand taller. You’re a beautiful woman.
My gut lurches. This stranger has seen right through me and spoke to my heart. It’s the perfect nudge I need. I’m not sure where the pull comes from. It slips out of my mouth.
“Can I get a picture with you?”
“Of course.” She stands up, smoothing out her long flowing black skirt, and waves me behind the table.
I hand my phone to Sunni.
“Pictures! Good call,” she chirps as she snaps several.
Layla and Sunni get snaps of their own, and then we finish up with a group photo.
“Thank you.” I dip my head.
Arms circle around my shoulders. Navy hugs me for long moments before speaking. “Keep fighting your fight. It will be so worth it.”
How she knows what I’m going through is lost on me. I embrace it. I digest each of her words and vow to keep them close to my heart when I’m struggling.
“I will,” I whisper.
***
Biology is my least favorite course this semester. I’m having a hell of a time focusing today after my first ever girl’s day. I had a blast and am itching to get my hands on Navy’s books. We ended up at a boutique after the signing. The two women went wild shopping. I had hoped to make it home to nuke a Hot Pocket, but it never happened.
My stomach growls as the professor’s monotone voice drones on. I try to keep up with taking notes but find myself glancing at my phone, distracting myself. I’m the first to pack up and sling my backpack over my shoulder once the professor releases us. I wave to an older woman who has taken to sitting next to me.
I smile to myself because I can hear Trick calling me his little rebel. Dusk is fast approaching. My heart stutters for a second when I don’t see Trick at the bike rack. He told me he’d try to make it to ride home with me tonight. The man is insanely busy but always makes me a priority.
I set my backpack down on the cement sidewalk then crouch down. My fingers strum out the combination in a matter of seconds.
“Who do we have here?” A dark, menacing voice comes from behind me.
I don’t have to turn my head to know who it is—Tyson, one of the assholes Trick put in his place the first day of school. Deep chuckles accompany his voice, letting me know he’s not alone. He’s one of several who have made it their mission to make my life a living hell ever since they discovered they could hurt me with their words. My spine stiffens, but I don’t glance up. My fingers tremble as I wrap the lock around a bar on my bike. I refuse to give them any power over me. Their words hurt and slice at raw wounds, but they will not get a reaction out of me.
“Don’t have big, bad fighter guy here to protect you.” He kicks my backpack, sending it across the sidewalk. “I’m thinking you need a bit of a reminder where you came from.”
“I have no fucking idea what he sees in her,” a shrill feminine voice joins in.
This time I do peer over my shoulder to see Zoe from the sandwich shop. Her blood-red manicured fingernails drum on her chin. “God, you’re pathetic. He must’ve lost a bet or something to be hanging with trash like you.”
I stand up tall and square my shoulders. I don’t peer down but rather drill my stare right at the assholes. “If that’s all, I need to get going.”
I take three steps and gather my backpack, heaving it on my back. I cringe thinking about the pens and markers that could be shattered by the brutal kick.
Blinding pain rips through my scalp as my head is jerked back. “He told me I was the best lay he ever had. Then the next time I see Trick, he can’t even give me two seconds of his time because of you, you little bitch. Leave him. He deserves better.”
Instinct has me jerking away from Z
oe. She’s left with a fistful of my hair. I rub the throbbing spot on the back of my head. “You’re crazy.”
“You haven’t even seen crazy yet.” She’s pulled back by Tyson.
“Leave me alone,” I shout as Tyson and two other men step up to me while Zoe sinks into the background. This isn’t about self-confidence anymore. It’s a game of survival. A threatening chill races up and down my spine. I fumble for my phone in my pocket. It begins ringing as soon as I pull it out. My thumb barely grazes the answer button when it’s slapped out of my hands.
It was Trick. I caught a glimpse of the picture I saved with his ringtone. He’s sleeping, chest bare, with his muscular forearm resting right above his head. I focus on the memory of that morning. Me waking up finding him next to me. I snuggled down into his side, lightly kissing up and down his chest. Trick sleeps like the dead, and it’s expected, the way he grills his body at the gym and the late hours of studying.
I wince when once again I’m throttled forward by a fist clenching my hair. “Do you know how embarrassing it was to have Trick, the douche, call us out?”
I don’t answer. I freeze. The ability to think has long left me. Tyson lets go of my hair, grips my shoulders, and shoves me back. I stumble over my feet and lose the war of momentum. My ass slams hard down on the cement. A nauseating wave of burning agony creeps over my skin. I don’t have time to gain my bearings before I’m pulled back up into a standing position.
Tyson whirls me around, grinding his crotch into my ass. Hot, stale breath glides over the nape of my neck. “How about we go to my place? I’ll claim this pussy and ass, making it mine. Trick will never want to touch you again.”
His palm glides down the front of my abdomen, his fingers dangerously close to the top of my jeans. Beats of horrid, unrelenting pain drum through my body. Tyson’s words become a blur, blending into each other. A moment of clarity strikes when he cups one of my breasts. He’s not going to stop. Tyson is dead set on revenge.