by Scott, Eliot
Tonight, though, it’s making her look worse. She’s more pale than ever, and it takes all my might to keep a straight face as I tell her how great her mac-and-cheese tastes. I swallow down the lump of fear that’s rising up inside of me.
Since her diagnosis sophomore year, my mom’s spirit has suffered. She was given horrible statistics of under a year to live, but it’s been way more than that; she’s heading into year two. And unlike the hair that won’t grow back, her spirit has seemed to rally so hard that I guess I hadn’t noticed the obvious—that she is getting weaker. I have this horrible feeling for the very first time since the cancer came back that maybe one day I’ll come home from school to find her suddenly gone. It’s inevitable, and I need to figure out how I will be able to handle it. How Dad and I will be able to handle it, because he’s going to need me.
“Dear Lord,” my father begins, and we all bow our heads and join our hands. “Thank you for this feast we are about to eat. Thank you for Jojo’s happy smile at this table. And thank you for Alex, who’s vowed to protect her.”
I slide my foot forward under the table to nudge his. My dad nudges back, going on, “Thank you for our hope and strength. You’ve blessed my sweet wife with much of it. My daughter too. I ask you to give her a reprieve from pain and worry, and I beg you to choose me when one of us must suffer. Save her, and our daughter. My dear girls. Keep them safe, first…always. In your name, amen.”
“Amen,” we all repeat, and before my hand slides out of my dad’s, he holds it fast, staring long and hard at the way the wire ring has done damage to my finger. When I pull it away, my eyes meet his, and they’re deep and carrying so much sadness. I swear to God they’re just as afraid as my mom’s were.
But I’d swear they’re not afraid for Mom.
I think they’re afraid for me.
3.
Jojo, Present Day.
Patience is something I’ve forgotten how to practice. When I was young, I could spend hours staring into the shallow part of the lake, watching the fish and waiting for the perfect moment to strike. It’s how I got so good at catching them.
I was always more patient than Alex.
Until now.
Our standoff slipped into a quiet, frozen state eventually, and the scotch pulled us into a slumber. It didn’t last for more than a few hours for me, and I woke up in total darkness the first time, buzzes of texts from my aunt, wondering where I was. I told her I was with Alex, and that I was safe—I knew she’d know what it meant. My location app only connects to her, so if she really needs me, she can find me.
At that moment, she probably knew more about where I was than I did, actually. I tested Alex’s sleep, moving first from his tender hold on the bed until I was in a sitting position, then to standing on my own. Every muscle in my body ached, and I bypassed the mirror in the bathroom, not wanting to see how any of it looked. I’m sure there are bruises, but if I see just how hideous I am, I won’t feel like I can tempt Alex.
The faint ticking from a clock lured me out into the hallway, and my feet curled at the cool touch of the tile when the wood gave way to the slick surface. I looked behind me to make sure Alex was still asleep before flipping on the hallway light to take a better look at my surroundings.
The details hit me all at once. The floor was like ice, or more like water. Alex had brought the lake indoors, cresting the floor right up to the glass windows that were still too dark to see behind. Deep inside, I knew what was behind them. I just had to see it—had to smell it. I tiptoed to the door and slid it open after unlatching a very strong bolt. I held my breath, waiting for an alarm, but thankfully there wasn’t one or Alex just never set it last night. I cracked the door enough to slip outside, and my feet found the familiar texture of wood once again.
The moon was high in the sky. The sun was still a few hours from rising, but the light was just enough to see. The deck was just as I would have built it, stretching far across the land and water, reaching to the very spot where Alex and I lived our lives. The sight of our rock—that Alex made it such a key part of this house—hit me in the center of my chest, and I rested my weight against the frame of the sliding door to take it in for several minutes.
Everything about that view is me. I don’t have to ask him. I knew instantly why that view existed. It’s so he never forgets what we were, and what we had. That view is proof that I’m here for the right reasons at the right time. It means Alex is not lost.
After breathing in the scent one last time, I returned inside, locking the door behind me. I touched everything on my way through the living room, and noted how oddly familiar every textile felt. It’s as if Alex scooped up my future dreams and built them right here to live within.
It was all so much, and I was already overwhelmed when my eyes found a window to the past in the kitchen. Framed as if it were a work of art, the boards of my parents’ farm house were displayed prominently. The char marks were removed, and the damaged wood was restored to the way it was supposed to look. The sight of it was almost too much for my tired heart to soak in, but I forced myself to sit there in the kitchen, in a chair I dragged to face it, for at least an hour. I sat there until I remembered everything, and then I let myself put it to bed.
I waited for the sun to rise back in the bedroom, and when it did, I felt refreshed, maybe even a little stronger than I was before I came back Tacoma.
Alex has been awake for a while now. I’ve caught him staring at the ceiling, trying to keep a distance between us. I let him be like this, with me, for a while before I break the silence.
“Do you remember our first kiss? How I had to almost beg you to go for it? I feel like that’s happening all over again.”
Alex rolls his eyes then rubs his face as he stands and takes a few paces away from the bed.
“It’s not,” he protests, finally leveling me with his eyes, heavy with our past. “Why don’t you remember our last kiss? Why don’t you bring up the boathouse memories? You should hate me.”
“I forgave you that night, and the memories I’ve kept from the boathouse were the sweet ones. Though, yes…you did throw terrible lies at me.” I’ve practiced this. Self-therapy has gotten me here.
“Like the fucking wire ring, Jojo. You deserved more. You still deserve more.” He lets out a sad chuckle and threads his fingers together, stretched across his forehead.
Everything in me aches for everything in him. My fingers itch to touch more, my lips quiver wanting to taste him, my body reacts as it always did, but it’s my heart—it’s always been my heart—that holds me back and needs this. I need my Alex. I can’t love part of him. I need him whole, and he’s so close.
So very close.
“Then…make it up to me. Give me more.”
I stand and move toward him, taking careful steps closer until our lips are nearly touching. I don’t lean in because this has to come from him.
Alex’s breath is hot, and his eyes haze when I press my body against his, and his breathing becomes more ragged.
“Make love to me. In your bed. Kiss me, taste me, have me completely. After we’ve had breakfast, we will talk about the rest of our truths. After you know everything, you can ask me to go. And I mean look me in the eye and honestly say you don’t want me or what I’m offering you. If you can do that, I’ll go for good.”
“Let me get this straight. You want me to make love to you and you think it will be so good that I won’t be able to walk away afterwards? Because why? Have you gotten so good from other…men?”
“No.” I feel my face heating fire hot. “There have been no other men besides you.”
His eyes flicker, and I recognize his jealousy fleeing. He’s pleased. But it’s also more than that. I couldn’t give up on him, and he feels that too.
Unashamed, I capture his eyes and say, “I’m not going to lie to you, no matter how hard it seems, and you can bet your ass this is hard to say out loud, but since that day in the boathouse, it’s been only me, myse
lf…and every memory of you.”
“Why? Don’t answer that. I can’t bear it if you say you had PTSD or that I fucked you up so badly that you never wanted to be with another man.” His face grows pale, and I can tell by the tilt of his eyes that he’s serious about feeling guilty. I’m sure on many levels, that’s true—even if I wanted to, I probably wouldn’t be able to handle a relationship with someone else without intense therapy. But I never wanted to try a different life. I’ve only ever wanted this one. And there has always been Emily.
I shrug. “No. None of that,” I evade, feeling guilty. I said I wouldn’t lie, but I never said I wouldn’t hold back information.
When he only gapes at me, I press on. “I think you’re afraid of me. Afraid of what one kiss will do to you. This act you have going, it doesn’t add up. If you wanted me gone, you wouldn’t have shown up and saved me from your brother’s hands, you wouldn’t have cared what he did to me.”
He winces at my words like I’ve struck him. I can only hope it’s a strike hard enough to make him finally let loose. The fire has grown in his eyes, and the longer I wait for him to react, the more his jaw flexes and the faster he breathes.
“Go on, Alex. I’m being honest, the least you can do is be honest, too. Say what’s in your heart. Say I’m nothing to you, say those same cruel words from years ago, or that you want me dead.”
His stare is ice cold.
“Do you?” I shove into him, knocking him off balance enough that he looks down at his feet, then back to my eyes.
He’s breaking—Alex is breaking.
“How about you say that I’m just some stupid whore Wallace girl, that I’m nothing to you. Or better yet, tell me you hate me.”
“No!” His hands push up my jaw and into my hair, and before I can blink, his lips press against mine. When I gasp for breath, his tongue dives into my mouth, his lips caressing, devouring. I step back against his force until I’m flush against the closed bedroom door. Alex’s mouth is hard, yet so soft against mine, his body’s heat making me melt. I push him away just enough for our eyes to meet, and I challenge him.
My bruised body no longer hurts. The only ache I feel is the one deep inside that wants Alex to complete me—to complete us.
Alex leans into me again, towering over me and caging me between his arms, his head against mine and his eyes closing as his hands slide inward until his right one finds my face again, his thumb caressing my jaw.
“Jojo.” He says my name in this way that melts the back of my knees into rubber. His mouth dips down to my neck, and he holds his lips against my skin, dragging his nose along the curve while he pushes my hair to the side. His fingers find the scratches on my cheek, and he kisses against them lightly.
“I also won’t lie to you again,” he says, bringing his eyes back to look into mine. His hands move my hair behind my ears, and he follows the line his fingers take down my arms, slipping the shirt he dressed me in last night from my shoulders then moving to trace the edges of the lace that goes all the way around my bra.
“Lying to you killed me, and even though I should continue, I can’t do it anymore. I can’t because…” he pauses, breathing in slowly, his eyes raking over my how my nipples have gone hard underneath the lace from anticipation. I bring his gaze back to mine as I hold my palm against his face, the stubble from what I’m beginning to believe was a long night is rough against my skin.
“Because why?” I whisper.
“Because I’m weak. You…you level me. Completely, Jojo. You always have. Because you’re the one I’m supposed to save, and I’m so goddamned afraid I won’t be able to. Because I think I need you more than you need me. And because I’m giving in. I’m keeping you here because I’m greedy and selfish, because I want to taste you and have you, right here, in this bed. Because I want all of those dreams I’ve imagined having with you since we were fourteen, and fuck…I’m not supposed to have them, Jojo. I’m not. I should tell you to leave. I should make you, but I won’t.”
“Because I love you and because you love me.”
“Goddamn, I do. Yes.” He leans his forehead against mine again.
I slide my hands up his chest, my eyes taking in the man beneath my touch. “More than the sun.” I smile wide.
“More than the fucking sun.” He lightly kisses the bruise on my temple.
In a breath, Alex lifts me, and my legs wrap around his body while he walks us back to the bed. My back hits the mattress hard, and Alex crawls over me, his mouth finding mine, kissing me while he works me up the length of the bed, his hands tugging away the straps of my bra easily. He doesn’t bother to admire anymore, instead letting hunger take over, his mouth covering my breast, his teeth biting down on my hardened nipple until I cry out from the raw pleasure it brings me.
My sound triggers something inside him, and his chest rumbles with a groan while he lifts himself to his knees, stripping away his shirt and unbuckling his belt, tugging it free, and unzipping his pants but leaving them on—a tease. I want more. He watches me as if I’m his prey, pinning me in place, my breasts rising with every breath, cold and wanting his warmth again, until another part of me takes over craving him.
Alex’s hands work the button on my jeans quickly, and he grips the waistband hard, tugging my pants down my legs as he stands, leaving me in nothing more than my white, cotton panties. They aren’t very sexy, and suddenly I’m ashamed.
“I wasn’t prepared for this…otherwise I would have worn something different, like lace or…” I say, now afraid I’ve brought too much attention to my underwear. I try to cover them but he quickly moves my hands away, letting his fingertips go under my waistband.
“I thought we weren’t lying to each other.” He stares down at me with eyes on fire.
“I would like to formally amend that during sex, sometimes we can lie.” I gulp.
“Never.” He laughs again, brushing a quick kiss over my lips. “You’ve always been able to make simple clothes like t-shirts and these,” he pauses to reverently brush the back of his hand against my panties, “become the sexiest fucking things I’ve ever seen.”
His hands slide up the inside of my calves, moving steadily up until he parts my knees. Feeling shivers down my spine, I gasp and fold my arm over my eyes, wanting to wait for the surprise of his touch as his fingers slowly tickle their way up the insides of my thighs.
I feel the bed shift beneath me as his body slides between my knees, his hands still moving until they reach the wet center strip. I feel his hand grip my arm, moving it above my head, forcing me to look at him.
“Do not hide that face. Ever. I’ve wanted to watch your lips quiver because of me for too long. Don’t take that away now,” he says, his eyes trailing down my naked body, his mouth falling forward and kissing my breasts.
“Okay,” I pant, my hands moving to his hair, grabbing hold of the thick strands, remembering the feel of them.
Alex trails his tongue down my stomach, kissing my belly button softly, his thumb hooking in the top of my panties briefly before his hand goes deeper to cup me completely. I arch my back, wanting more pressure as his thumb presses into my center, sliding up and down the soaking wet cotton.
“Fucking damn, Jojo. You’re so wet,” he growls.
I tremble when his other hand moves up my rib cage, stopping over the hard peak of my right nipple, his thumb rubbing in a slow circle, drawing my body up toward him.
He’s like a magician, and I am his apprentice.
“Alex…please.” I arch, as his tongue takes a slow swipe at the raw, pink tip.
“Please what, Jojo?” His mouth slides into a grin as his teeth graze along the hardened peaks. I’ve missed that grin, the way it could coax me into almost anything. It’s the reason I gave myself to him in the first place.
“I want to feel all of you, deep inside. I need it, Alex. So badly…I’ve waited so long…”
Alex’s expression shifts from playful to dominating, and his fingers curl und
er the band of my simple-but-apparently-sexy cotton panties, stripping them from my legs in a smooth drag that forces whatever breath I was holding onto to fall away. It leaves my lips parted and desperate to be touched. His hands trail up again in the same, torturous glide, until I feel his fingers gently pass across my center once…twice…then fall deep inside me. The burn is sweet, a faint reminder of how long it’s been since he’s been there—the only man to have ever been there.
“You’re mine.” The words slip out quietly, as if he’s trying to convince himself that this is real.
“I am.” I breathe out the words and dip my head enough to look him in the eyes—to level him, as he would say. It has always been Alex, and I have always been his. Why else would I believe in him so much? “Only you. Always…”
My words fall away as he pushes his fingers deeper inside, my back arching as his mouth covers my breast. Alex’s hand moves at a steady rhythm, my hips soon following until I’m on the verge of coming. My fingers cling to the wrinkled quilt underneath us, but before I fall over the edge, Alex’s hand moves and his body shifts until I feel his tongue press against my clit.
“Oh my god,” I gasp, balling my hands into fists now, my head falling back as my eyes close. I’m unable to stop the eruption of waves that take over me completely, and my body jerks in response.
Alex’s hand falls to my stomach, and he presses me flat, holding me still, forcing me to take it all, to ride every shock and tremble with each pulse as I orgasm.
When my muscles ease, Alex stands, sliding his pants down his legs and stepping out of them. His cock strains forward, and it’s more than I remember, too.
I sit up enough to reach forward and grab it, bringing it to my mouth to take his length in until I feel it hit the back of my throat. His hands find the back of my head, and he slowly pumps in and out, my tongue working up and down his shaft with each pass.