by Jamie Pope
She would let him offering up no resistance, but making love to her like that would only offer limited satisfaction. He would never know if she was making love to him or to the memory of her husband. She still wore Terrance’s ring. Every time he looked at it, every time he felt that little piece of metal on his skin, it served as a barrier, a reminder of what the world told him could never be his.
He was smart enough now to know that the world didn’t control him. But Cass did. He could never be with her unless he knew she wanted it.
This arrangement wasn’t going to work. He couldn’t continue sharing a bed with her each night. It was the worst kind of torture.
Chapter 9
Lightning flashed before her just as she pulled into the driveway that led to Wylie’s new apartment, causing her entire car to light up and making her jump nearly out of her skin. It had been torrential downpours the whole two-hour drive from her campus. The nasty weather made her nervous, but what she was about to do next made her hands sweat and her heart pound more than anything she had ever done before.
Nobody knew she was here. She had lied to her parents, telling them that she would still be up at school for another few days, that she had finals to finish. But she was done with all her tests that afternoon, and as of four P.M., done with her third year of college.
In school she had her freedom. No one to watch over her. No parents to tell her what to do. No unspoken rules to live by. Each time she returned home for break, it became harder and harder to live under her parents’ roof, harder to live in Harmony Falls. And as time went on, she was starting to think that she might like to start out her life somewhere else. Another city. Another state. Maybe she would go to grad school on the other side of the country.
She wasn’t sure what she wanted to do with her life, but she knew she wanted to spend time with him. Wylie had been on her mind lately. Much more than he probably wanted to be.
She left the safety of her car, with overnight bag in hand, and dashed up the flight of steps that led to his apartment over the garage. He finally had moved out of the Millers’ house this year. She was proud of him. She knew holding down two jobs and going to school full-time couldn’t have been easy, but he needed to carve out his own space in the world.
She raised her hand to knock, worried that he wouldn’t hear her over all the rain and thunder, but the door flew open just as her hand was about to connect with it. Wylie stood there, just in a pair of blue boxers.
“Cass?” His eyes widened with recognition. “What are you doing here?” He yanked her inside, pulling her dripping-wet jacket off her body.
“You didn’t go to your graduation, Wylie James.”
“What?”
“It was this past weekend. You got your degree. You did it. Why didn’t you go?”
He looked bashful. “It’s just an associate’s degree in business. And it took me a hell of a long time to get it. It’s nothing to compare to the degrees you and Terrance will be getting next year. Ouch!”
She pinched him. She wanted to slap him, but she couldn’t bring herself to hit him. “What the hell is wrong with you? Why can’t you be proud of yourself? It’s not just an associate’s degree. It’s something you worked hard for. It’s something you did while holding down two jobs and paid for all by yourself. I’m proud of you. I’m sure Terrance is proud of you, and if nobody else would have been at your commencement ceremony, we would have been there cheering you on. We would have been there to celebrate you.”
He blinked at her; and then before she knew it, he had her backed against his door, his lips sealed to her mouth, kissing her until she had no air.
“Did you come here just to tell me that?”
“No. I came here because I love you and I wanted to see you.”
He groaned, resting his head against hers. “What did I tell you about saying that to me?”
“That you hate it when I do.”
“No.” He kissed her forehead. “I don’t hate it. How could I hate hearing that?”
“I want you to let me love you.” She cupped his face in her hands and kissed his pretty, full mouth before stepping away. The apartment was small; it was an in-law suite over a garage. It was sparse, but it seemed warm and homey on the cold, rainy spring night. She peeled her sweatshirt off, over her head, and stripped off her jeans. She could feel Wylie’s eyes on her as she did. She was so nervous. So afraid he was going to reject her, but she wouldn’t be able to live with herself if she didn’t try.
There was a blanket on the couch. Her mother had crocheted it for him as a housewarming present. She wrapped it around herself as she sat on the couch and then she held her hand out to him. “Come.”
He hesitated, but did as she asked. She opened the blanket, inviting him into her embrace. For a long time they just lay there together, skin pressed to skin, bodies hugged close together. “I want to be with you,” she finally said.
“You are with me.”
“You know what I mean, Wylie James. There’s been no one else since you took my virginity three years ago.”
“No?” He trailed his fingers down her neck. “I had wondered. Especially after the last time we were together. You definitely didn’t seem like a girl who’d only made love twice before.”
“When you’re only with the man you love once a year, you try to make it count.” She dropped a slow kiss on his lips. “But I can’t do it anymore. I can’t be with you just once a year.”
“This time will be twice this year.”
“Wylie, you know what I want from you.”
“Yes.” He shut his eyes. “I know what you want. You think it’s been easy for me? Every time I see you, I want you. Every time I have you, I don’t want to let you go. But I have to, because you’re not meant for me.”
“If you say this is about Terrance, I’m going to punch you. There is nothing between us. He has a girlfriend. He’s—”
“I’m going to enlist.”
“What?” Her eyes locked on his, not sure if he was serious.
“In the Marines. I have to do something with my life, and if I stay around here, I’ll be stuck. I’ll always be that poor boy the Millers took in. I need to do something with my life that I can be proud of.”
She nodded, understanding how difficult it must have been growing up with no parents, in a house where he was almost treated like a second-class citizen. She was scared for him. Terrified. Marines died. So many men and women never came back. “If you want to enlist, I’ll support you, but I don’t see what that has to do with me being your girlfriend.”
“Cass.” He grinned at her, one of the big, beautiful, open grins that she had seen so rarely from him. “What am I going to do with you?”
“Love me.” She kissed his throat as her hands explored his chest and torso. Each time they were together, she could feel the changes in his body. Less of a boy, more of a man—it excited her. Sex was still so new to her and she wasn’t sure how to interpret all the sensations that crashed down on her when he was near. She was growing damp; that throb between her legs growing more and more persistent. Her nipples scraped against the fabric of her bra and all she could think of was how much she wanted to be free of the little bit of clothing she had on. She wanted to feel his hard body on top of hers, inside hers with no barriers between them. “Please don’t go yet though.”
“You got me, Cass, but if we are going to do this, we have to be quiet about it.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m the last man anybody wants for you.”
She wanted to protest that, but she couldn’t. She knew what her parents expected from her. She knew the kind of man her doctor father wanted her to bring home. “You’re what I want for me.”
She slid her fingers into his boxers, taking his manhood in her hand. It hardened instantly, and she couldn’t help but glide her palm up and down it. She loved the little pained noise he made, the way his breath quickened. The way he said her name.
* * *
“Cass!”
Her eyes flew open and she realized that she wasn’t twenty years old and lying on Wylie’s couch about to make love to him. She was thirty-one and in his bed.
“Please,” Wylie begged her, his face pained. “Let go before I do something I regret.”
His swollen manhood was in her hand. She wanted to say it was sleep that had addled her mind, made her slow to respond, but it hadn’t. She liked the way he felt in her hand, the thickness of him. Immediately she wondered what it would feel like against her lips as she kissed it, how the long, slow slide would feel when he pushed inside her.
“Cass!” he barked. She let go that time, missing the weight of it in her hand.
“I’m sorry. I was sleeping. Did I hurt you?”
“Did you hurt me?” His expression grew bewildered and then he was on top of her, his hardness pressing against her underwear. “You want to know if you hurt me. How the hell do you think it’s going to feel to have this thing swinging between my legs all day? There aren’t enough cold showers in the world.”
“Oh.” She stopped herself from moving against him. Her body wanted to, and it was screaming to relieve the pressure that was building between her legs. But her head made her pause. “You’ve got a hand. You could use it.”
He flung himself off her and onto his back; a loud bark of laughter escaped his chest. “If you ever wanted to know why I’m so crazy about you, it’s that, right there. You always take me by surprise.”
He left her then, getting out of bed and into the shower. She hoped he took her advice, and she hoped that while he did so, he thought about her.
* * *
Wylie drove to his work site after dropping Cassandra off at Mansi’s house that morning. He hadn’t said much to her. He could barely look her in the eye, not because he was embarrassed, but because he wanted her so bad. The fact he woke up to her stroking him was fate, or karma, or God plotting against him. He had told himself that he couldn’t go on sleeping in the same bed with her, but until she slipped her hand down his boxers, he really didn’t think he could send her to sleep in another room. But he was going to have to now.
She was looking better. Every single day he saw it. Her face wasn’t gaunt. Her body was filling out nicely. She was starting to care about what she looked like. She wore makeup today. Just a little. Mascara. Maybe a little lip gloss. She had pinned her hair up and out of her face. She was always beautiful to him, but today she looked pretty.
She was healing. Still sad, but healing. It was all he could ask for.
He got out of his truck and found Tanner showing John, one of their older workers, how to wire breakers to a circuit. “You’ve seen me do this enough times. I want you to do the rest by yourself, okay?”
John looked at him. “You sure?”
“What kind of question is that? You think I’d risk the safety of this family if I thought you couldn’t do it?”
“I don’t know. You might if you were a dumbass.”
Tanner laughed his loud, happy laugh and slapped John on the back. “Get to work, old man.”
John picked up a wire, ready to perform his task, but paused. “I’m not so old, you know. I was on drugs for a long time. I drank too much. I screwed up too much. Not a lot of people trust me. I thought I ran out of chances a long time ago. But you trust me, and I appreciate that.”
“You think you’re the only one who drank too much? I screwed up too. A hell of a lot more than anybody knows. How do you think I ended up in the army?”
“That wasn’t a choice?” Wylie asked, letting himself be known.
“Nah. It was the army or prison kind of thing,” Tanner said, turning to him. “Why did you join up?”
“To impress a girl.” He shrugged. “Same reason every man joins the Marines. I need you to come with me today, Tanner. John will be all right by himself. He was the handyman round here for years. Plus the rumor is this man was the king of hot-wiring cars.”
“Haven’t done that in years. These new cars are a bitch to get going now.”
“Get to it, man,” Tanner said to John as he walked with Wylie out the door. “What’s up? Do we need to go pick up supplies?”
“Yes and no. I need to fix up the house for Cassandra. She needs her own bedroom.”
“Tired of sleeping on that old lumpy couch of yours? I’m surprised you lasted this long.”
Wylie shook his head and got back in his truck. “Wasn’t on the couch,” he said once Tanner climbed in on the passenger side.
“You made that sad widow lady sleep on the couch. I thought they said Southern men had manners. You seem like a dick.”
“Of course I didn’t make her sleep on the couch!”
Tanner looked at him, disgust, confusion, then understanding, crossing his face. “Um, you sleeping in the same bed as your dead best friend’s wife?”
“Yes, and I can’t take it anymore.” He pulled off, going over the mental checklist of things he had to do to make the room livable.
“No. I guess you can’t. I don’t want to pry, but you want to tell me what the hell is going on with you and her?”
“Nothing,” he said, which wasn’t strictly true. “Cassandra was married to my best friend. But she was my girlfriend first. We were together for over two years.”
“And this best friend of yours stole her?”
“No. I left.” He shook his head. “It’s complicated. My father and Terrance’s father were good friends as kids, and before my pop died, he sent me to live with him. Cassandra was their next-door neighbor. I was thirteen years old when I first met her, and she got me right then and there. She smiled at me and I was done. But so was Terrance. He always loved her. He had known her since they were little kids. She was his best friend. She was meant for him, and the whole damn town knew it. I grew up my whole damn life knowing that they were going to end up together. The doctor’s daughter was supposed to marry the lawyer’s son. There was no place for me in that equation. I knew that and I tried to stay away from her. Only Cass wouldn’t let me. She didn’t give a damn what anybody thought.”
“So why is she your best friend’s widow and not your wife?”
“We kept it quiet for so long, but somehow Mr. Miller, Terrance’s father, found out. He’s a good man. He took me in without a thought. He raised me. He was good to me, but he showed up at my apartment one day with Cassandra’s daddy and they sat me down. They told me I had nothing to offer her. No money. No future. I was a nice kid, but Cassandra deserved better. She deserved Terrance. She was too smart to make a life with a kid who literally had come from pig shit. And even if we were happy for a while, she would end up resenting me for making her miss out on the things she could have had.”
“I hope you told them to fuck off.”
“I did in so many words. But part of me knew they were right. Terrance had everything. Big, fancy degree. Money. A job right out of school that I could never get. And people respected him. I knew I wasn’t good enough. I knew the moment I met her.”
“So you left then.”
“No. I left after Terrance found out. I left the night I almost killed him.”
* * *
Cass watched Teo from her spot on the couch. He was sitting at the dining-room table, a worksheet before him and the contents of his pencil box spread across the table. His little shoulders were hunched and she could see by the amount of times he erased his writing that he was struggling with his homework. She looked at Mansi to see if she had noticed, but she was dozing, oblivious to her great-grandson’s problem. Cass didn’t want to get up. She didn’t want to go over there to see what he was working on, but she did. So many people discounted what kindergarten teachers did, but she knew if a child had a bad experience in kindergarten, it could affect his whole school career.
“What’s the matter, kid?”
He looked up at her, his face full of frustration. “My letters don’t look right and I’m supposed to practice reading my sight word
s, but I don’t know what they say. I never know what they say.” He shoved the crinkled homework calendar at her.
“It says you’re supposed to practice with an adult. Does your mom practice with you?”
“Not really.”
“What about Mansi?”
“She needs new glasses. She can’t see words real good.”
“I can help you.”
A little bit of hope sparked in his eyes, but then it faded. “Uncle Wylie says I’m not supposed to bother you.”
“Hush up about your uncle. He’s not the boss of me.”
“That’s what my mom says.” He grinned at her. She felt that little painful twinge in her chest as she looked at his adorable but dirty face. She got up, needing to get away from him for a moment. But she only got as far as the kitchen before she returned with some wet paper towels and a felt-tip marker.
“You’re a mess.” She cleaned his face. He squirmed a bit, but she was determined to get the ketchup off the corner of his mouth and dirt smear off his cheek. “And you smell like a funky little boy.”
“What do ‘funky little boys’ smell like?”
“Dirt and cooties.”
She took his hands in hers, studying his fingernails that needed to be cut. “Tell me,” she said, wiping his little fingers. “What do you do to get all scraped up?”
He shrugged. “I play.”
“Well, it’s easier to write with clean hands. Can you show me how you write?” He gripped the pencil hard, forcing it across the paper, but his problem wasn’t uncommon. Some kids found it hard to write with pencils. There was too much traction on the paper. “Try with this marker. Just don’t hold it so tightly. If it explodes, Mansi will kick your butt for sure.”
He did as she asked and, sure enough, the marker glided across the paper and his messy letters became more clear. “Beautiful work. I think that is just about a perfect letter H.”