Badd Mojo

by Jasinda Wilder

  Tasting as well the anger at both us of us for what we just did.

  I slid off him, tears starting down my face. "Goddammit, Canaan." I backed away from him. "Again. We did it again."

  "Aerie, I can't help it. I can't help what you do to me."

  "You have to be able to help it! So do I!" I caught up against the door, sobbing, everything too much, too much. "Dammit, Canaan. Just...dammit."

  11

  Canaan

  * * *

  Her ragged sobs cut through me like a knife.

  "Aerie, honey--" I moved off the bed toward her. "I just--"

  She held out her hands. "Don't come near me. Just...don't."

  "Aerie, please."

  She glared at me through tear-wet eyes. "Please what? Please what, Canaan? Please let you touch me again so you can keep using my own helpless, stupid body against me? Keep letting you distract me--distract us from getting down to what really matters?" She was loud, tormented, angry.

  "No, that's not it--I just--"

  "You just what? Yeah, I know, you're just as messed up and scared as I am! I know, Canaan, I know!" She quieted to a whisper. "But one of us has to be strong, and right now...it's not me."

  She picked her dress up off the floor and tugged it on. Snagged a thong out of her backpack and stepped it into, wiggling her hips to get it into place--a display which definitely didn't help me in that situation. Stuffed her feet into her TOMS, and opened the door.

  "Canaan, I can't keep doing this with you. What we have is...it's so much it scares me, but you won't talk about it, and I can't either, and you're scared and I'm scared--and we keep dancing around the issue, and then we have sex and we forget about it and put it off, and it all hurts even more." She backed out of the door. "This thing with us is a crazy rollercoaster, and I--I want off."

  "Aerie, what are you saying?" I hurriedly stepped into my shorts and tugged a T-shirt on. "Don't leave yet. Wait for me."

  She put her palms on my chest, arms out. "I know I said I wanted crazy, but this isn't what I meant." She pointed in the direction of the side door. "That? That was all the crazy I wanted, and still want." She pointed at me and then at herself. "This? This kind of crazy? This is not what I want."

  "Me either!" I pushed closer to her.

  She shoved me away. "Then fucking do something, Canaan!" she shouted, stabbing a finger at me.

  Aerie whirled on her heel and strode angrily away, shoulders shaking.

  Her words tolled in my head. Fucking do something, Canaan!

  She was at the end of the hall, and I realized that somehow, she'd grabbed all her things, her phone, charger cord and block trailing, purse, backpack--she was leaving.

  Not just walking away to get space.

  Leaving.

  Like I'd left her.

  I heard her footsteps on the metal stairs, hand squealing on the rail.

  Life is too short to waste it being afraid of getting hurt.

  Fucking do something.

  Let her walk away?

  Lose what we had?

  This wasn't about sex.

  Or, it was, in a way. It was exactly about sex, because the fucking, the spanking, the exhibitionism...it was all a game, a guise, an attempt to hide beneath the eroticism of the wild, exploding, nova-hot river of love running beneath it all.

  What we'd just done, just before she blew up and walked away...

  That had been love, raw and unfiltered--we just hadn't said it.

  It had been obvious, though. In every move, every word, it had been obvious. The way she'd touched me at the end, the way she took me to the finish, with such love, such affection in every touch...the way she'd looked down at me?

  Fuck.

  Mike's words seared into my head--if you get a chance with this girl, Cane, you take it. Take it, man. Life is too short to waste it being afraid of getting hurt. Because, trust me, regret hurts a fuckuva lot worse than heartbreak.

  I ran after her, panic blasting through me.

  I caught up with her at the landing where the stairs turned a corner. I took the stairs two at a time, stopping behind her. She heard me and turned around, staring at me, waiting.

  I took a step toward her, and then another. "Aerie, I--" The fucking words wouldn't come out.

  I cupped her face in my hands, pressed my body against hers, and touched my lips to hers. This time, it wasn't just a kiss. This time, I wanted for her to feel everything I was having so much difficulty saying. Feel it, taste it, hear it. Know it. I kissed her slowly, softly, tenderly, and she stood there letting me kiss her. Not kissing back, not reaching for me. Nothing.

  Was it too late?

  God, no.

  But then...I heard a thump--her backpack hitting the floor. Another thump--her purse. Then her phone, dangling by the cord, which fell from her hands last of all.

  And then her hands came up, palms to my cheek, then diving into my hair. She lifted up on her toes, deepening the kiss, moaning softly in her throat. Abruptly, she tore away, backing up against the wall, shaking her head, touching her fingers to her lips.

  "Canaan, you can't just kiss me and expect that--"

  "I love you, Aerie." I cut in over her. "I fucking--I love you. I love you. Okay?"

  She just blinked up at me, shock on her face. And then tears sprang in her eyes, trickling down her cheeks. "Don't say that."

  I was rocked backward by that. "What? I don't--"

  "You can't just say that. It's not--it's not that easy."

  I stood in front of her, framed her body with mine. "There's nothing easy about this, Aerie. Nothing at all."

  She was frozen, tears flowing. "You don't mean it. You're just saying it because you're afraid of losing me. You like the way we fuck. That's all you love. What you said is not real. It's never been real. You're just saying it."

  Aerie shook her head, sniffling, and then bent to gather her things, stuffing her phone and charger in her purse. She squeezed past me, continuing down the stairs.

  "Where are you going, Aerie?" I asked, my voice trembling--which should have embarrassed me, but didn't.

  "I need some space."

  "Aerie, do you...do you understand that I have never spoken those words to anyone in my life? Not since Mom died. Mom was the only one who ever actually said she loved us. Dad showed us love, and we knew he loved us. The same way we all know we love each other as brothers, but we don't say it. I just fucking said it, Aerie. I said it to you." I moved to stand in front of her, blocking her path to the final flight of stairs. "Please, Aerie. Don't walk away from me."

  "Why not, Cane? You walked away from me. Fuck that, you ran. Like a scared little puppy." She shrugged into her backpack and hiked her purse onto her shoulder. "I come here, I chase you, to talk to you about us, and you turn it into sex."

  "More than just sex, Aerie, and you know it."

  "That's not enough."

  "I SAID I FUCKING LOVE YOU!" I shouted, stepping toward her.

  She got right in my face and shouted back at me. "AND MAYBE THAT'S NOT ENOUGH!" She quieted, shaking her head. "Maybe it should be--I don't know. Maybe I don't believe you. I don't know. I don't--I don't fucking know, Canaan!"

  "Then what else am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to say?" I backed away, hands in my hair. "What do you want from me? Yes, I ran. It was a mistake, and I'm sorry. I was weak and scared and pathetic. I don't even have anything like what you have dealt with. But I'm still scared, and I made a mistake. Now I'm trying to make it right. And you're telling it's not enough?"

  "Canaan, I--"

  I shook my head, angry now. "I overheard what you said to Eva and that's why I left. You don't know if you're willing to risk being with me. You don't know if I'm worth it. If I'm enough for you." I took another step backward, away from her. "Mom died, and then Dad just...he gave up. We weren't--I wasn't--enough reason for him to keep caring about life, about us. He gave up, on all of us. Then Jenna flat out told me I wasn't enough for her, that she didn't w
ant me, she just wanted me for sex. Not for me, not for who I was. And now Corin is with Tate, and they're gonna have a baby, and--and she's--she's taking him away from me. He's all I have, all I've ever had. And she's more important to him than I am. And yeah, I fucking--I get that that's the way it is supposed to be. They're having a baby, starting a family. Great, wonderful, I get it. Still leaves me alone, out in the cold. With what? With who? Nobody. That's who."

  I stabbed a finger in her direction. "And I'm not enough for you either. You're walking away, too. Abandoning me, just like everyone else."

  "Canaan, that's not true."

  I turned away and started back up the stairs. "Yeah, it is. It's fine. Fuck you."

  "Canaan!"

  "Just--go." I went upstairs and didn't look back. Was it a chicken-shit move? Maybe. But right now I was too strung out to think about it.

  The catwalk overlooking the living room led across the width of the warehouse, to a door leading through the wall to the other side, where the studio was. I kept walking, not daring to stop, not daring to look back, agony and rage blasting through me. I went into the studio and down to where my guitars were set up. I plugged my Stratocaster into the amp, cranked the volume, and let everything I was feeling pour into the strings.

  I lost track of time, of everything. I just played, letting the hate and the rage and the agony and the confusion scream through the strings in twisting, shrieking riffs, the volume cranked so loud I felt it in my bones and blood.

  I played and played, for how long I don't know. I just knew that the music was taking me away.

  At some point--I wasn't even sure what time it was, someone cut the power to the amp. My fingers were curled around the guitar, and I realized I'd played so long my fingertips were bleeding. I couldn't let go of the guitar.

  Mike was squatting in front of me, reaching for the guitar. "Can I have this, buddy?"

  I forced my hands to open, gasping in pain. The fretboard was smeared with blood.

  Mike took the guitar from me, unplugged it, and snagged a rag from a counter, wiped the fretboard clean, then placed the guitar in the rack. He sat on the amp in front of me. "The fuck, Canaan?"

  I couldn't look at him. "I--I told her I loved her, man." He started to speak, and I cut over him. "She told me it wasn't enough."

  He stared at me in silence for a long, long time. "And you believe that?"

  "How can I not? It's the second time she's said that--or something like it, at least."

  "And again, you believe she's serious? That she really actually means it?"

  "As opposed to what, Mike?"

  He gaped at me like I was stupid. "Ummmm, as opposed to--oh, I don't know--that she's even more scared than you are, and she's pushing you away and trying to hurt you before you hurt her?"

  "Bullshit." I stood up and paced away, a million thoughts and feelings banging and blazing inside me.

  He stood up with me, moved to face me, to stand in front of me. He reached into his hip pocket and pulled out a folded, wadded, crumpled hundred-dollar bill. "This hundred here says you panicked and fucked it up again." He quirked an eyebrow. "She pushed, and you pushed back, because you're a dumbass and a pussy."

  I turned away, something bitter eating away at me. "Fuck you. What do you know?"

  Mike's voice was deadly quiet. "I'm your friend, Canaan. But don't make the mistake of thinking that just because you're my boy that I won't knock your punk-ass-bitch out. Because I will. I'm doing you a solid here, givin' you the truth. Not everyone would. A lot of other people might feed you shots and take you to get under someone else to get over her." He grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me around, and the power in his grip told me I really didn't want to be on the receiving end of his fist; his eyes were blazing and angry. "I ain't everyone else, Cane. So I'm givin' you the damn truth, and I don't give a fuck if you like it. You're a fuckup. She pushed, and you pushed back, instead'a manning the fuck up and seeing she was talking out of fear and giving her space and time to work through it."

  Shame was a wriggling, gnawing creature, and it had control of my mouth--and my better sense. "Like I said, what do you know?"

  "What do I know? What do I know?" Mike laughed bitterly. "A lot. About this? A fucking lot--everything. I made all the mistakes you're making right now. I made 'em, and there wasn't anyone to kick my ass about it. Wasn't anyone to give a shit that I was fucking up the best thing that ever happened to me. Wasn't anyone around who gave enough of a shit about me to knock some fuckin' sense into my thick-ass skull."

  Then he took hold of my hair and rapped his knuckles against my skull. "Hello, McFly! Wake the fuck up, Cane! That girl loves your ass hard. But she's scared, and you're giving her every single damn reason there is to keep being scared. You're not taking care of her, you're covering your own ass. Guarding your own heart, instead'a hers. Call me old-fashioned, but I believe it's a man's job to take care of a woman. That don't mean keeping her in the kitchen like this is Leave It to Beaver or some shit--it means protecting her, body and heart and mind. I didn't do that for Leah, and I lost her. So yeah, I know about this shit, Canaan. I know, because I lived it, and I fuckin' lost her. She's got another man, a better man than me. He takes care of her. Keeps her heart safe. Wouldn't let me anywhere near her. She would'a sat down and talked to me, you know, like for closure or whatever the fuck, but he was like, nah, babe, you don't need to do that. No reason to revisit the past. Ain't gonna get you anywhere. And the shit of it is, he was right to do that. Burns my ass, but he was."

  "I'm sorry you went through that, Mike, but--"

  "Shut the fuck up, Canaan." He jabbed a finger into my chest, knocking me backward a few steps. "You fucked up twice now. Way I see it, you got one more chance to redeem this for yourself. It means you nut the fuck up, go back home and talk to her. Ask her for a chance. Be real with her. And then give her a damn minute to think it through. Chicks have to stew on shit, man. They need time to figure shit out in their hearts. Right now, her mind is tellin' her to give you the slip, to keep pushing you away. And you're just giving her more reasons to keep doing that. Yeah, she might back up a minute when you first put it out there for her, but if you give her a damn minute, she might just surprise you."

  Mike stood right up against me, staring down at me, his face hard, unforgiving. "I'm not gonna let you fuck this up, Canaan. I will drag your ass to Ketchikan by that Legolas fuckin' hair of yours if I have to. That girl loves you and you love her--so figure it out. Or I promise you, man, you'll live to regret it for the rest of your fuckin' life."

  He turned on his heel and left the studio, rolling his massive shoulders like a boxer prepping for a fight. When he was gone, I sank back down onto the stool I'd been sitting on. I stared at the shredded mess that was my fingertips, thinking over Mike's words.

  He was right.

  The bastard was right.

  I'd fucked up again. Aerie had heard me say what she'd been waiting for me to say, and when she finally heard it, she freaked out. Pushed at me, to see if I meant it. And instead of seeing that, I let myself get all butt-hurt and I lashed out.

  Dammit.

  I rubbed my face, groaning. I'd messed up, so, so bad.

  The question was whether or not it was too late.

  And there was only one way to find out.

  I started packing my guitars.

  12

  Aerie

  * * *

  I low-key sobbed the whole way back to Ketchikan. Several people asked if I was alright, and I just nodded and kept crying.

  How could Canaan talk to me like that? How could he do that? I mean, I know I'd panicked a little, but he'd...

  He had turned on me.

  Abandoning him? I--I wasn't--I hadn't--

  I couldn't even form coherent or complete thoughts. It hurt too much. Everything hurt.

  The way he'd kissed me? The way we'd--the way we'd loved each other, so slowly, so beautifully? All my life, I'd cringed at the phrase making love.
I mocked those who used it. Even if what two people shared was real, true, deep love, that phrase was just so trite and cliche and stupid and cheesy.

  But he'd just...in that moment, he had been everything. My whole existence had been wrapped up in him, in the feel of him, the feel of us. These thoughts only made me sob all the harder, as I sat on the ferry from the airport to the Ketchikan docks. It was, suitably, a dull, dreary, chill, rainy day. I tugged the hood of my Helly Hanson raincoat up over my head as the ferry docked, the tail end swinging sideways to bump up against the dock, the deckhands scurrying to tie off ropes. I only had my purse and my backpack, so I was able to slip through the crowd of tourists sorting through the pile of suitcases being hauled from ferry to dock. I walked home to Grandma and Grandpa's in the rain. Head down, eyes on the sidewalk, the rain spattering against my face, mingling raindrops with teardrops.

  When I entered the foyer, I spotted Mom immediately, sitting in the formal room, murmuring in low tones on her cell phone.

  "I have to let you go, Bob--Aerie just came back. Yeah, love you too, sweetheart. Okay, bye." She tapped the screen to end the call and tossed the phone onto the small table beside the high-backed red velvet chair she was sitting in. She smiled at me. "Hi, honey. How was your trip?"

  I stared at her warily, hoping the rain would mask the fact that I'd been crying. "Um, okay, I guess?"

  Her gaze was sharp, and knowing. "Did you figure things out with Canaan?"

  "Why do you care? I thought he was just a hoodlum to you." I set my backpack and purse down, shrugged out of my coat and hung it up, and then gathered my bags as I headed for the stairs.

  "Aerie, wait." Mom's voice was...quiet, something almost like desperate, if I didn't know any better. "Please."

  I sighed, halting. "Mom, I've had...bad doesn't even begin to describe how terrible this day has been. I'm just not in the mood for your drama right now."

  She blinked hard, sighing shakily. "Five minutes, please? Just hear me out for five minutes."

  I groaned, tipping my head back. "Fine. Five minutes. But if you start shit with me, I'm walking away." I set my bags down and sat in the matching chair, angled toward hers, on the other side of the table.

  "I had a long talk with Grandpa," she said, after a few moments of silence. "And I--I realize now that I've been...I haven't been very fair or loving to you and Tate."