Beneath the Sheets

by Shandi Boyes

  “Ava, wait.” Hugo leaps off the patio to follow us down the concrete path. “Just give me a minute. That’s all I’m asking.”

  My eyes shoot up to Marvin, stupidly requesting permission. Marvin’s lips thin, and he briskly shakes his head. Yanking open the taxi door, Marvin snatches my coat from my hand, throws it into the taxi, and gestures his head to the cab, demanding for me to enter.

  The disbelief hazing my normally astute mind clears when Hugo says, “Nothing’s changed. You’re still letting a man tell you what to do. First your dad, now Marvin.”

  Something inside me snaps, and for the first time in years, it isn’t my heart. I pivot on my heel, preparing to storm toward Hugo. Marvin snatches my wrist, halting my angry steps. Gritting my teeth, I yank out of Marvin’s tight grasp, my anger too great for him to stop me. A jolting pain spasms my arm, but I’m too irate to register it.

  “Give me one goddamn minute!” I request to Marvin, snarling through clenched teeth.

  Marvin’s furious eyes burn into mine, but they hold no threat. Even if they did, nothing could stop me. My entire body shakes as I charge toward Hugo, stopping only when I'm within an inch of his face. I’m so close, our chests connect with every breath of air we inhale.

  “Don’t you dare judge me!” I scream, ignoring the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. “You don’t know what I’ve been through. The hell I went through.”

  My anger is so strong, I can barely breathe.

  I pound my enclosed fists on his chest. “You can’t come waltzing back into the picture, acting like nothing happened. It’s been five years, Hugo! Five goddamn fucking years!”

  I step back, angrily brushing away a string of curls that have fallen in front of my face. “You can’t come back from that amount of time. You can’t pretend it never happened.”

  “We have before,” he argues, stepping closer to me with his remorseful eyes bouncing between mine.

  My back molars snap together. “We were kids. Stupid pathetic kids too young to know any better.” My voice lowers as the pain in my heart cripples me.

  Hugo shakes his head and steps closer to me. “The past cannot be changed, forgotten, edited, or erased. It can only be accepted.”

  I hold out my hand, keeping him at a safe distance. “You can’t change the past, but you can learn from it. I let you back in my life once. I learned from my mistake. I'm not going to make it again.”

  With that, I pivot on my heels and race back to the taxi. Ignoring the furious wrath of Marvin, I slide into the back seat of the taxi and slam the door shut, forcing Marvin to enter the taxi from the other side.

  When I raise my eyes from my balled fists, I'm met with the tormented face of Hugo, struggling to get out of his brother’s clutch. The silence in the cab amplifies the devastating sound of my heart being torn in two from the melancholy look on Hugo’s face as he furiously fights against Chase.

  Hugo yelling my name and begging for a chance to explain bellows into the cabin when Marvin enters the cab from the opposite side. Marvin’s tone is curt when he recites my address to the driver, but thankfully, he spends the entire trip back to my house giving me the silent treatment. I spend the drive gathering my skewed composure, bottling it away for another day, not to be used until I'm alone and without the fear of repercussions.

  Eight

  Hugo

  Everything’s changed.

  “Ava!” I shout, shrugging out of Chase’s hold.

  My steps to the retreating taxi are sluggish, weighed down by the heaviness of my maimed heart. Seeing Ava’s tears hurts more than I could have ever imagined. Knowing I’m the one who caused them makes the deathly tight grip on my heart even firmer. It killed me seeing the tears streaming down her pale cheeks. I just want the chance to wipe them away. To beg for forgiveness. To explain what happened. Why I did what I did, but I didn’t even get to say hello… or goodbye.

  I crouch down on the ground still misting from the taxi’s engine to run a shaky hand over my head. I don’t know what I was expecting. I knew Ava’s reaction wasn’t going to exactly replicate my mom’s, but I was hoping it would follow a similar path. That she was going to have happy tears flowing down her face, not ones filled with heartbreak and despair.

  In all honestly, on the drive here, I was hoping Ava had moved on, was married and had kids. Because if she did that, I would’ve known I didn’t shatter her heart and break her spirit. I was hoping my absence would have only caused a little ripple in her pond of water, not a tidal wave, but from the devastated look in her eyes when she banged her fists on my chest, screaming about the hell she’s been living in, I realized my prayers were left unanswered, just like Ava’s.

  I’ll admit it, it felt like a grizzly bear was clawing my chest when I noticed the sparkling diamond ring flickering on her ring finger, but that was nothing compared to the pain I felt when Marvin clutched Ava’s waist. That grizzly didn’t just maim my heart, he ripped it out of my chest and shredded it to pieces.

  Chase squeezes my shoulder before squatting down in front of me. “Give her some time, Hugo. It’s been a really long, and now emotionally draining day.”

  It’s been the longest fucking day of my life.

  Chase stands before me offering me his hand. Snubbing the guilt creeping into my veins, I accept his hand. A sharp jolt of pain rockets through my shoulder when Chase clasps my hand in his and yanks me from the ground. Pain is good. A reminder of how far I’ve come.

  “Getting a bit soft in your old age,” Chase jests, noticing the wince I failed to stifle.

  “Something like that.”

  He curls his thick arm around my shoulder and guides me back into the house. My mom’s eyes are plagued with red rims and tears. My dad is still shocked, his hand rattling as he sips on the glass of water Helen gave him. I can’t believe after all this time I thought nothing would have changed. Everything has changed. Even me.

  “You’re fucking kidding me!” I say, my words barely audible from the breathy chuckle escaping my lips. “It’s exactly the same!”

  Chase nods and laughs. “Mom didn’t want to change anything.” He places my overnight bag onto my childhood bed with its camo bedspread. “Even Jorgie’s room is the same.”

  It doesn’t hurt hearing Jorgie’s name as much as it normally does, since it is coming out of Chase’s mouth. I have to remember I’m not the only one who loved and lost Jorgie. Everyone in this house did too. Ava as well.

  “How long has Ava been engaged for?” I ask. I try to get my tone neutral, but it slightly smears with agitation. Out of all the men in the world, I can’t believe Ava paired up with Marvin.

  Chase’s face scrunches. Apparently he isn’t a fan of Marvin either. “From what Helen told me, it only happened last week. Ava hasn’t officially announced it yet.”

  My lips quirk. Sensing my piqued interest, Chase glides his blue eyes to me. Although his eyes are creased with wrinkles I’ve never seen and his jaw covered with a thick beard, he's still the same Chase who stood by my side when Hawke married Jorgie five years ago. The same Chase who dared me to eat a bee to see if it tasted like honey. He's my brother. My blood.

  “Fuck. I still can’t believe you’re here.”

  A whizz of air escapes my nose. “You’re not the only one.”

  “You missed so much, Hugo. So much… Jesus, what Ava went through. Fuck. You have no clue.”

  I do understand what Ava went through. Leaving her broke my heart too. Losing Jorgie gutted me. Losing Ava devastated me.

  “Don’t expect her to just forgive you, Hugo. It isn’t that simple. You didn’t just walk away leaving her with a broken heart. You shattered her soul.”

  The constrictive hold strangling my heart strengthens. “I know, Chase. I live with the guilt of what I did to her every day.”

  He runs his hand over his tired eyes. “It’s been a long ass day. I’m tired. You look dog-ass tired.”

  I throw my head back and laugh. Chase has a
lways been direct.

  “I’m heading out. If you’re not busy tomorrow, come and meet your nieces,” he suggests.

  My eyes missile to his. “You have kids?”

  Chase smirks while nodding. “Yeah. Two little girls.”

  I take a step backward when my eyes shoot down to his hand and I notice a thick platinum band wrapped around his ring finger.

  “Holy shit, you’re married? Chase No-Girl-Is-Ever-Going-To-Catch-Me Marshall is married? Fuck, I’ve missed so much.”

  Chase chuckles at my use of his old nickname in high school. “You have no clue how much you missed these past five years.” He slings his arm around my injured shoulder and pats me on the back. “No fucking clue.”

  He inches back to glance into my eyes. His gaze is packed with unease. “See you tomorrow?”

  I smirk, trying to ease his uncertainty. “I’ll be here.”

  After throwing a punch into my chest, Chase ambles out of the room. I stare at the door, utterly dumbfounded. Chase was adamant no girl was ever going to tie him down. He always joked that is why our parents called him Chase. Because women would be chasing him across the country. Now he's married with two kids. Fucking crazy.

  I rub a painful knot in my shoulder while pacing around my room. It looks exactly like it did the last time I was here. When I snatched Ava’s virginity. Same bedspread, faded border, even the pictures hanging on the wall are the same. There are so many memories here. Good ones, and ones that still haunt me.

  Being surrounded by silence makes my memories even stronger.

  As memories I try to keep hidden flood into me, the walls of my childhood room close in. I shake my head, begging for the images that plague my dreams with nightmares to vanish. When they become too great, I leap from my bed, snag my duffle bag from the floor and bolt down the stairs. I can’t stay here. It reminds me too much of her, and the time I stole Ava’s virginity.

  The house is eerily quiet, not a peep can be heard. I’m halfway out the back door when recollections of me running five years ago smack into me. I can’t do that to them again. I can’t run.

  Snatching my mom’s shopping list off the fridge, I scribble down a quick note saying I’ll be back first thing in the morning. For extra reassurance, I add my untraceable cell phone number at the bottom of the note.

  Forty-five minutes have ticked by before I pull my car into the driveway of Jorgie’s house. I’ve tried every motel in town, but due to the late hour and being Christmas, every motel within a twenty-mile radius is either booked up or closed. Although the memories of Jorgie are strong in her house, for the majority, they're good memories.

  I turn off the ignition and crank open the door of my baby before walking up the cracked concrete path. After barely a wink of sleep last night and the events of today, I’m exhausted and barely standing straight. After rubbing my tired eyes, I run my hand along the top lip of the door, knowing it is the spot every Marshall family member hides their spare key.

  “Third pot on the left,” whispers a voice to my side a short time later, scaring the living daylights out of me.

  After gathering my heart off the floor, I focus my attention to the voice.

  “Mrs. Mable?” I ask, my surprise evident.

  Nothing against Mrs. Mable, but she would have be getting close to ninety, and that’s on a good day.

  “If you’re looking for the spare key, it’s under the third pot on the left,” she instructs.

  I nod before moving to the scattering of pots lining the edge of the patio. A puff of air whizzes from my nostrils when I find a shiny gold key hidden under a small pot of Japanese Yew.

  “Thanks,” I praise, holding the key into the air.

  Pushing the key into the lock, I swing my eyes to Mrs. Mable. “Why aren’t they hiding the key on the door lip anymore?” I query.

  “Jeez, do I look like a giraffe?” she gibes, waving her hand in the air like she's swatting a fly.

  A chuckle escapes my lips. Mrs. Mable reminds me of Estelle Getty, the actress who played Sophia Petrillo in The Golden Girls. She's small and compact, but more explosive than dynamite.

  “I keep my eyes on the place, make sure no one is up to any mischief,” Mrs. Mable explains, her tone bitchy. “You’re not up to any mischief, are you, Hugo?”

  She eyes me with suspicion. A brick lodges in my throat before I shake my head. Not today I’m not.

  “Alright, then don’t let me hold you; it’s nearly three AM.”

  She turns around and enters her house, only to stop and spin around two seconds later. “And take your boots off. Their noisy stomping woke me up,” she snarls.

  “Sorry,” I apologize, my lips twitching to crack a smile from the derisive stare she's awarding me with.

  I kick my boots off and throw them to the side of the patio before unlocking Jorgie’s front door and ambling inside. I don’t bother switching on any of the lights. I’ve walked the floors of this house so many times that I can recall every inch in photographic detail.

  My plan is to catch up on a few hours of sleep before wrangling a way to force Ava to talk to me. Until I’ve hashed out all my guilt for what happened, I’m going to relentlessly nag her. Even if she never wants to talk to me again, I still want the opportunity to explain why I vanished. Maybe once she realizes I did it to protect her, she can release some of the pent-up anger she's harboring toward me.

  I massage a kink out of my neck before pulling my long-sleeve shirt over my head. My eyelids are heavy, exhausted from being awake nearly thirty-six hours. I take a left at the end of the hall before entering the second door on the right.

  Although never officially given the title, this room was my room anytime I stayed at Jorgie’s house. I unbutton the fly on my jeans and slide down the zipper. By the time I hit the end of the double bed, my jeans are discarded on the floor and I’m wearing nothing but a pair of socks. The bed gives out a creak when I sit down to yank off my socks. After tugging back the thick duvet cover, I slip into the bed.

  The brisk coolness of the night becomes a forgotten memory when I sink into the heavenliness of a warm bed. There's a beautiful smell infusing the air. A homely smell. It smells fresh. Sweet even. Sweet with a dash of aftershave. It’s kind of like a smell of a man and woman mingled together. It’s intoxicating.

  My eyes balk when a body curls around my torso. My heart leaves my chest when a loud, high-pitched squeal booms through my ears, sustaining me permanent hearing loss.

  When the warmth heating my body darts out of the bed, I scamper, freaked that I’ve just entered a stranger’s bed. I send a quick prayer to God, hoping their husband or father doesn’t own a gun.

  My eyes wince when a bedroom light flicks on, illuminating the room with unnatural light. Adjusting my eyes to the sudden brightness, I notice a blurry figure frantically pacing around the room.

  “Where the hell is it?”

  Just as my vision clears, a wildly swung steel baseball bat misses hitting the side of my face by a mickey whisker. If I were an inch closer, my head would have been knocked into the next century.

  “Jesus,” I say, taking a step backward when it flings past my head again, grazing the tip of my nose.

  Through the distorted vision of a wildly swinging bat, I catch the quickest glimpse of a profile I’d never forget. A vision that’s burned into my retina.

  Ava steps closer to me, swinging the bat like Babe Ruth is standing out on the pitch. “If you come near me, I’ll shove this bat.... where… where…. the sun don’t shine,” she warns.

  My head flings back and the loudest laugh I’ve ever cackled in my life tears from my throat. My lungs burn when they lose the ability to fill with air. Tears stream down my face, and my whole body shudders as I laugh like a man who has lost his marbles. I can’t help it. Ava’s never been good at issuing a threat. Clearly, nothing has changed.

  Recognizing my laughter, Ava stops swinging the bat. She rests it at the side of her barely covered legs and stares at
me with a gaped mouth. Her chest is thrusting up and down, and her eyes are wide. My laughter halts when I realize she's standing before me in nothing but a tiny pair of satin sleeping shorts and matching cami that doesn’t have a chance in hell of hiding her perfect, cock-twitching body.

  With a body crafted by the Almighty Himself to bring men to their knees, Ava is like a bottle of fine wine. She keeps getting better and better with age. Her lush, pert tits are straining against her meager satin cami top, and inches upon inches of her glorious, toned legs are peaking out the bottom of a pair of satin sleeping shorts. She has a rocking body that makes my cock as hard as stone. She's perfect!

  She stands across from me as quiet as a monk on a vow of silence as her massively dilated eyes run over my body. The more she absorbs the tattoos covering every inch of my torso and arms, the more her brows pull together. Other than the squadron tattoo on my forearm, every tattoo in my collection was added after I vanished. Every one of them reminds me of her in some form.

  Ava’s eyes widen and she inhales a quick, sharp breath when her gaze becomes arrested on something lower than my stomach. Following her shocked gaze, I mumble a curse word under my breath and run my hand along my jaw. Once again, I’m standing before her as naked as the day as I was born. And hard enough to drill through the Arctic circle.

  “Shit, sorry,” I mumble, raking my eyes around the room, seeking anything that could cover my primed and ready-to-plunge-into-Ava’s-tight-pussy cock.

  I cringe while grabbing a ball-shrinking pink lace scatter cushion off the floor to place in front of my stiff cock. I’m not joking when I say this is the most hideous pillow I’ve ever seen. If Ava wasn’t standing across from me, practically naked, it would have made quick work of the hard-on turning my brain to mush from the mass loss of blood being directed to my cock, but even looking like I’m about to go dance on a float at Mardi Gras, my dick isn’t softening any. If anything, it’s getting harder. That probably has something to do with the smile tugging on Ava’s mouth. She’s even more beautiful when she smiles.