The Sinclair Heir

by Scott, Eliot

  Ever again.

  But then…

  “Right,” Alex says, his voice low and gravelly. He moves back just enough that I can see his profile. I lodge my thumbnail between my teeth and watch his body sway, his eyes looking downward, blinking with his thought.

  “I messed up, sir,” he says.

  I move my knuckle in my mouth and bite down hard, leaning in the other direction to catch my father’s expression. His brow is pinched. This isn’t the story I told him of just wanting to prank my friend, and my dad is starting to get a sense of that. It’s possible he knew all along.

  “How so, son?” my father asks.

  I lean my full weight into the wall behind me. It takes Alex several seconds to find his voice, and he has a few false starts before he begins to explain.

  “Uhm…well…there was a girl, and I was just being funny, but then Jojo…or no…wait…not…”

  “The truth, Alex. Trust me—the truth is always the only thing that matters,” my dad tells him.

  Alex breathes in deeply, then rights his gaze on my dad.

  “Sometimes I feel like there are two versions of me. I know it sounds crazy, but…there’s the guy I was supposed to be before I met Jojo, and then there’s the guy I am, the one who…” Alex pauses, inhaling deep and holding his lungs full for a beat before letting the air fall away. “The one who loves your daughter more than the sun.”

  I glance to the right just in time to see a flinch of pain cast over my father’s face. He hides it quickly, but it doesn’t mean it wasn’t there.

  “And you messed up how?” my dad asks finally, urging Alex to continue.

  “That other version of me…sometimes he forgets. It’s easy to follow the blueprint. It’s harder to color outside the lines, at least it is when Robert Sinclair is your dad. But that’s no excuse. I got carried away today; there’s this girl who I’ve known for years, longer than I’ve known Jojo. She’s sort of…well…open with guys, if you know what I mean? And my brother was being Grady, and he told her that I had a crush on her, which I don’t. But then I felt bad he said that, so I was…nice. Maybe too nice?”

  “I understand. And for the record, I’m not really liking how this conversation is going, Alex. I’m not so sure I want you to see Jojo either,” my dad says.

  “No, no. That’s not what I mean,” Alex says, his hands both coming up to rub his face. His eyes squint closed. I move back from view before they open. “She was waiting for me after school with a bunch of her friends. She’s always been flirty, but usually I ignore it, but she had these stupid squirt guns, and when I told her to get off of the hood of my car, she started squirting me with them, and I picked her up and tried to squirt her back, and then she started giggling, and Jojo saw and…”

  “I’m not sure what you want me to do for you, Alex,” my dad says, and I can tell by the way my father’s jaw is working that he’s losing respect for Alex by the word.

  “I guess nothing. I’m just so mad at myself because temptation got the best of me, and now maybe I’ve lost the best damn thing ever to live and breathe. I’m sorry, sir. Just…if you see her…tell her I’m sorry.”

  I watch my father for a sign, and when his eyes flit to mine, I know Alex has turned to walk away. There’s so much in my dad’s expression right now—warnings for his daughter, an itch to punch the boy who made me sad, but empathy for the version of Alex who tried to make it right.

  “This is your call. One word and I’ll slam this door shut for good,” my dad says.

  My eyes settle into his, searching for answers. When I realize there aren’t any, I turn to my own heart. I swallow hard then nod.

  “Hey, Alex!” my dad shouts. I step into the view next to him, and when Alex turns to face us both from his spot in the dirt walkway, he looks ghost white with both hope and fear. “Tell her yourself.”

  * * *

  When I reach his side, I pick up his hand. It’s trembling, as is mine. “Want to go to the lake?”

  He nods, his eyes taking me in, pouring over my face, his expressions as changeable as a spring storm. He’s apologizing and worried, so full of love and so weighted with remorse that I can nearly taste every feeling in the world touching my face.

  We don’t speak during the entire walk to the lake.

  We get to our rock, and I’m not sure if my lips find his first, or if his find mine. He mutters “I’m so sorry and I love you, Jojo” so many times into my mouth I’m full up with it—with him. I can’t be anything but relieved, despite how I’m also still a bit mad at him, though I’m trying not to be. It all has me wanting to be as close to him as possible, so much so that I kiss him harder and push my tongue into his mouth as my hands trail up his shirt.

  I want to forget our fight, but I also want him to forget the guilt that is part of him now that he made me so sad. And to be honest, I want him to forget the other girl. Nobody exists but me.

  Trying not to be shy, I’m the first one out of my jeans. I’ve unbuttoned his in seconds and I’m touching the hard, yet oh-so-very-soft-skinned erection I knew would be there. It always is when we’re kissing on this rock. In his car. Stealing moments in the grain storage on the farm. Everywhere.

  I pull off his shirt, and when that’s done, I press him back against the rock. I sit with one leg on each side of him and balance myself over his hardness, pressing myself into him, gently yet more aggressively than I’ve ever done. I’m also pulling off my shirt, trying to get fully naked before he realizes what I’m trying to do and tries to slow us down.

  “Take me, Alex.” I say. “Make love to me right here, and right now. Please. Help me erase our fight—everything. I want to forget all of it right now and today. Your brother, my mom being sick—your messed up family and how our ancestors tried to hurt each other so badly. I want to take away how I can’t understand why you’re so dark sometimes, and why you always try to pull away from me.”

  I lean forward enough for my hair to fall against both cheeks, shading us and giving us a feeling of intimacy out here in the bright open sky.

  “I want to remember only that we love each other. And I want you. I want you inside of me. I want every inch of your skin against mine, and I want you to try to feel my heart.” I smile, biting my lip and a little turned on. The power of being like this with him makes me bolder, and I rub myself against him. I’m wet, and the heat makes me pulse deep inside. “Please.”

  He groans as his whole lower body bucks and presses up into me when I press myself down into him again before I unsnap my bra and toss it on top of where our clothes now lay, forgotten and crumpled together. We lick and we pant, and we kiss for a very long time as the most needy parts of our bodies work against each other, kneading with friction. His hands move to cup my breasts and pull on my nipples until they’re tiny and pebble-hard, and I arch wishing I could feel just like this forever.

  “You’re so hot, Jojo. Fuck. I’m about to come just looking at you.” His voice is so deep and growly, it makes me shiver with even more want.

  “Don’t you dare. Not yet.”

  “I can’t do this…I can’t have sex with you.” His hands are on my waist, and suddenly he’s pushing up more and more against me. His eyes are heated and nearly black, devouring me, so I touch myself while he watches.

  “Why?” I throw my head back again, liking the feel of my long hair against my bare back. Knowing this move will jut my breasts up high, I wait until I feel his hot breath near them.

  “First,” he groans as I move my hands down between us so I can touch him again. “Oh—God. First.” He places his hands over mine, forcing me to quit pumping my hand over his tip. “I don’t have a condom on me. And…” His eyes close as I push his hands off of mine to touch him again.

  “And what?” I ask, loving how his face looks when I’m touching him like this. He’s so open, and his sexy, curving mouth goes half open, reminding me of his kisses.

  “And…this is not the time.” His hands splay wide nex
t to his body.

  I move myself lower on him, and the hesitation begins to leave his eyes as my lips close in on where I know he wants them. He laughs lightly, a sexy one, his sweltering eyes meeting mine for a brief moment while he moves his head to the side, watching my lips going around him. He bites his smile and puts his hands on my head and deep into my hair, pushing down gently on my head as I take him into my mouth. Before I forget myself, and my goals, I pull off him to catch my breath.

  “What were you saying? About why we can’t have sex now?”

  His face looks pained that I’ve stopped, but he answers with this sexy, tortured and gravelly voice. “There should be pillows for your beautiful head, and a mattress so your back won’t get all scratched up and bruised. And music, and candles and flowers for your first time. Maybe a bathroom for you to use after, maybe a shower for us to get into before.” He raises up one wicked brow. “I’m thinking it has to be in a fancy hotel that I pay for, and of course way more build up and way slower than how we got to this moment where we’re both half dressed and desperate to make mistakes.”

  I frown at him, wondering if he thinks I was too forward. The word mistake hits my heart like a dart.

  As if he can read my mind, he reaches up to cup his palm against my face and adds, “Hey. Don’t make that face. I’m loving this moment—and I think you are too. It’s the most epic make up, and I don’t deserve one bit of it, but I’m also not going to just take your virginity when I still fill like shit for treating you so badly. Do you understand? It’s not that I don’t want you, because I want you so fucking bad every time you kiss me, Jojo Wallace. I just…can’t. It needs to be special. Not here. Not now.”

  I pout, running my hands over his chest, and then trace each line in his tanned stomach before settling my hands where he’s still so hard. “Fine. Then what can we do? Here.” I squeeze him gently then threaten to let go. “And now? For me?”

  “Let me show you.” He pulls my body over his erection again and starts pushing upwards against my simple, cotton panties that are still on, and I start grinding down on him. His strong hands and forearms take over my entire weight. He’s so strong he lifts me all the way off of him, and with seductive precision he starts rubbing me up and down against him in just my right spot until he has me moaning as much as he is. We both come fast, and we’re both surprised by it, violently shuddering and shivering as we melt into each other at the same time.

  For now, yes…this will do.

  * * *

  “Do we need to talk about it? Molly?” he asks, buttoning the last few buttons on his shirt while I tug my shirt down to cover my midriff.

  I nod, wanting to just pretend it never happened but knowing that I won’t do that, I’ll hold onto it and use it to make myself feel awful. “Yeah. I guess.”

  “God, Jojo. I’m so sorry. You know I’d never do anything like that, or that Molly, she’s just…one of those girls.”

  That’s probably unfair to Molly, but I hate her right now, so I allow it.

  “She touched you—you let her. It hurt. Bad.” I keep it simple.

  “I know,” he says, suddenly not able to meet my eyes. I can’t meet his. A part of me feels a little ashamed that I leapt right to making up before we had this talk. It was desperate, maybe.

  “I didn’t like it. I don’t like her. I don’t like you flirting with her or anyone,” I say, my eyes on the silvery lake beauty stretched out in front of us.

  Alex cups my face in his palms, tugging my head forward just enough to press his lips to the top of my head. “Never again,” he whispers.

  “I don’t want you to even look at Molly Foster again,” I say, half kidding, but only half.

  “Molly who?” he teases, and I lean back to catch his expression. He isn’t laughing as I thought he would; his eyes are serious…and still so very sorry. I stare into them for a long while as I feel the touch of his fingertips on my face.

  “You told my dad you loved me,” I say finally. Alex’s eyes widen a bit.

  “I did,” he says, his lips pushing together tight.

  “More than the sun,” I say.

  Alex nods. “I do. And you love me.”

  “That’s, like…a whole lot of love,” I say, tracing my finger along the flush in his cheeks, embarrassing him until his eyes fall closed.

  “Right?” He says, smiling more.

  Eventually, he cracks one eye open to look at me, and his chest begins to shake with his laughter. “Do you know how funny and special you are?” He pulls me into his embrace, the warmth of the falling sun painting us gold. “More beautiful than this sunset—than this lake.”

  “Do you want to come back with me and have dinner?” I ask, hoping he will.

  “I’d like to, but I think after what I just admitted to your dad—and after what we just did here, on this rock—I won’t be able to look that man in the eyes for days.” Alex’s lips set in a soft curve, the smile beckoning me to lean forward and press my mouth against his again.

  He walks me all the way home, but he stops me just before we step outside the shelter of the woods at the edge of our property. “Wait.”

  He pulls a rusted twist of wires out of his pocket that he’s fashioned into what looks like a ring.

  “It’s ugly…and stupid. I made it when I was really upset about making you sad.” He shrugs, but I love it instantly.

  “I’ll get you a real one someday, but…I don’t know…maybe you can keep it with the lure. Or whatever.” He glances down at me, his cheeks red with embarrassment. He pinches the makeshift ring between two fingers and lifts it between us slowly. “It’s a desperate ring. I’m desperate. I just…I want you to know that you’re it for me, Jojo. Whatever happens.” His face grows tortured, those eyes of his pulling away and growing dark again. “Fuck. Whatever happens, I need to tell you that there will never ever be another love like what I feel for you. Not for me. Not ever.”

  “Me neither, Alex. And…this is so sweet.” I take the ring into my palm, moving it around with my opposite hand. “And it’s kind of…hideous.” I snort a laugh, which makes him laugh too. “But love it. Love you. So much.”

  I hand it back and hold out my hand, letting him put the scratchy ring on my left hand for me. Just where a wedding band belongs on a woman’s hand—where it will be one day for me and for him, I hope. I know we’re young, and so much can happen before we’re ready, but I can hope.

  I wear Alex’s funny ring and hold it next to my heart as he stays in the woods while I walk, floating and satisfied but also blushing some as I remember how crazy things got out on our rock by the lake. I smile all the way back to my house all the same.

  Once inside, I follow the scent to the kitchen where my mom is just pulling out a pot roast. My dad folds a towel on the table for her to set the searing-hot pan on, and when they peel back the tin foil, a puff of steam rises.

  My dad glances between me and Mom, waiting as we all watch the smoke disappear along the rafters, then settles his gaze back on me.

  “I’m guessing you two worked it out,” he says, returning my huge smile.

  “Yes.” I flourish my ring out in front of them both. “Look. He gave me a ring. Sort of.” I laugh, catching Mom’s eyes going over my face. When she gets that I’m serious about the ring, her eyes flick to it and then back to my face.

  She sways then, and seems to get momentarily panicked. Her eyes widen and she looks as if she’s in pain, or really afraid. Her features pass through fright so quickly and then I blink and it’s all gone. I wonder if I’ve imagined it.

  I worry that she’s getting sicker but trying to hide it from me. The doctors told me her type of cancer, at the end, really hurts. Dad has told me she’s had some bad episodes while I’ve been at school this month too. It would so be like my mom not to want me to know, so I don’t comment on what I think I just saw.

  “You’re very forgiving,” my dad says, also ignoring Mom’s odd lapse. He does step past me to help her
to the table, something he’s never done before. He returns to move the food to the table next. Even normal weight dinner plates suddenly seem too heavy for her. I quickly step up and help him carry the rest.

  “He’s very sweet,” I chatter over the unusual tension hanging between us, and I’m suddenly glad that Alex didn’t come back here with me tonight. He’s right. This is awkward. “And…he was truly sorry.”

  “I’m sure he was,” Mom says. “Don’t let that ring cut your finger; it looks rather dangerous. After that lure-necklace you wear with the hook endlessly threatening to cut into your heart, I may have to ask him to switch to giving you flowers.”

  “Honey.” Father admonishes her. “They’re cute gestures. He’s only a boy. We’re pretty dumb sometimes. He’ll learn.”

  “I hope so.” Mom forces a smile, her expression though, when her eyes meet mine, makes me think that she’s now suffering some terrible pain. “I was joking, Jojo. I simply hope Alex is not planning a career as a jewelry maker—his aesthetic is rather rustic.” She laughs a little, as do I, but it’s forced for both of us.

  “The jewelry choices must be my fault. I told him to never, ever get me stupid diamonds. He took that idea literally and ran with it, I guess.”

  I’ve been nervously twisting the wire ring to rest looser against my finger, but instead it’s gotten tighter. It’s also turned my ring-finger black and it’s chafed me a good amount too. I hide that hand under my napkin so they won’t see, and I study my mom, taking in her nervous eyes, how she’s picking at her food, and how she looks all slumped as though she’s somehow deflated tonight.

  My mom’s hair has become thin, just like last time she was in chemo. She’s started to shave what little is left. Sadly, the chemo’s been over now for months, but her hair is showing no signs of growing back. She’s still beautiful.

  My dad makes a game of bringing home an endless parade of handmade caps and scarfs, and she’s worn a different one every day this week. Today, her head is covered in mango-pink—the same color the sunset was tonight for me and Alex. The gifts give her some life, somehow. That small gesture from my dad seems to mean everything to her.