by Faith S Lynn
She walks inside without any explanation, and I shake my head as if to clear all the thoughts. It doesn’t do any good. I walk to the driver side of the car and get in.
“She knows, Lynk.”
“But how?”
“I don’t know.” After a minute, I pull out of my mom’s driveway, and Sage leans forward and turns on the radio. “What the hell is this?” I ask her.
“Let Her Go by Passenger.”
I listen to it for a minute but with every line he sings, it hits home for me: Talking about seeing her when you close your eyes, wanting her but knowing you will never be able to have her, knowing that letting them go is the act of truly loving them.
I lean forward and change it to my playlist. I just couldn’t handle it anymore.
“What the hell? That’s a good song!” she says.
“It was getting on my nerves.”
“Like this is much better. I mean, can you even understand anything they are saying with all the screaming?”
I smile until I realize what song is playing. It’s ‘King for a Day’ by Peirce the Veil. Going from one song telling me to let her go to another screaming because they are tired of not having enough money. It’s like I literally have an angel whispering in one ear and a devil in the other. I slam my hand over the power button to the radio to shut it off and causing Sage to jerk in her seat.
The rest of the ride is really quiet. By the time I put the car in park in from of the room, I am pissed and I’m not sure why. I get out of the car and slam the door. I dig the room key from my pocket and put it in the lock, only to find it won’t turn. I jiggle it a few more times, even try pulling it out then putting it back it. Still won’t give. I kick the door, cuss at it, and try again.
I am about ready to rip the damn door handle off when something soft touches my back. I turn to find Sage standing there with this understanding look in her eyes. Her other hand goes to mine on the key and gently removes it. I take a step back as she wiggles the key a little, then turns the handle. She pushes the door open and gestures for me to enter ahead of her. I storm in without a second thought. Then, I hear my mom in the back of my head, ‘You don’t treat ladies like that.’ Well, fuck. No, you know what? No. Just no.
I hear the door click closed, and I make every step towards her count. I grab her by the face and forcefully take her lips, plunging my tongue in just so I can taste her. I need to taste her, every part of her. She is just as eager as me. She pulls my shirt over my head, then hers. Each time, I pull her back up against me and devour her mouth. I pull the hair band from her hair and watch as her auburn locks fall against her tan shoulders. My fingers trace her collar bone, then push her hair to her back so I can place a kiss there. I keep kissing up until I am at the soft spot just below her ear that makes her quiver.
Before I know it, we are completely naked, and I am leading her to the bed. I lay her back and kiss her deeply, trying to show her all the emotions that I am feeling with this one kiss. Only problem is, it evokes more emotions and those emotions are stronger than all the others.
I am pretty sure I have fallen captive to my captive. This whole thing is going to end badly, no reason in making it worse by complicating everything more. Right now though, right now I am going to enjoy the feel of her in my arms, because when the sun comes up, she won’t be ever again.
I wish she could be mine and I could support her the way she deserves to be. Tonight, I will touch her body and make her feel things no other man has or ever will. Maybe I can embed a small piece of me in her heart and soul the way she has me, whether she knows it or not.
Sage
He tells me to get in the middle of the bed, and when I go to lay down he says, “I want you on your knees.”
He climbs on the bed behind me, running his hands up my back and winds one in my hair at the nape of my neck. With his hand wrapped around my hair, he pulls me into him forcefully. When I open my eyes, I see that the blinds are still open.
“Lynkin, the blinds are still open.”
“And?” he asks and licks the rim of my ear.
“People could see us,” I explain.
“Let them see. Let them watch how well I fuck you, how your body melds perfectly to mine, and how you quiver and scream my name as you come all over my dick,” he finishes just as he slams completely into me.
I lay my head back on his shoulder as his finger starts circling around my clit. He pinches on of my nipples and slams into me again, and I nearly come right then. He does it one more time before he continues at a slow, gentler pace. He pulls his hand from between my lips and puts each finger in his mouth, licking them clean.
“You taste so damn good,” he says against my neck before he drags his tongue up to my ear, pulling my earlobe into his mouth and biting down just enough so that the pain mixes with the pleasure. I reach behind me and thread my fingers in his hair. With every wave of ecstasy he sends my body into, I tighten my grip in his hair, holding him against me, in me, around me.
Not long after, I combust, and Lynkin follows right behind me. He holds me tight as we lay down on our sides still breathing heavily. We are both sticky and sweaty, but I could care less. I would lay like this forever with Lynkin. For some reason, what we just did, even with its fire and passion, felt like a finality. It was almost like we both knew this was the end of the line for us.
For a brief moment, Richard’s face pops up in my mind. I brush off the guilt of having feelings for Lynkin and cheating on Richard with him because now that I have, I know that there is no way we would have made it. I love him, and I will always love him, but I’m not and never have been in love with him. When this all falls apart, the sheets are pulled from my eyes, and I go home, I am breaking off our engagement.
Lynkin leans up on his elbow, and I turn on my back so I can see him. He puts his other hand on the side of my face and traces my features with his thumb and index finger until he stops at my lips, bringing his thumb across them one time. “Can I keep you?”
“Always.” He claims my lips, and I swear if my heart beats any harder it will come out of my chest. It is like everything but my heart is in slow motion. The way he pushes my hair back to lift my head up and deepen the kiss, my arms going around his neck just so I can feel his skin under my palms, his tongue sliding across mine as if they have always been doing that same song and dance for centuries.
When we finally break for air, which seems less important to me right now, he hovers over me for a minute, then says, “No matter what, you will always be my Beauty.”
He lands one more, hard kiss to my lips, then lays down and pulls me into his chest.
“Why do I have this sinking feeling in my gut?” I ask.
“That’s not a sinking feeling. It’s called gas.”
“It is not!” I slap him on the arm. “Really, I don’t like it.”
“Me either. Just get some sleep, Beauty. Maybe it will be gone when you wake up.” I start to protest, but with the arm I am laying on, he lightly drags his fingers across my back, lulling me into a sleepy state I can’t fight.
The morning sun rays cover the room in an unwelcome brightness. I roll over to tell Lynkin good morning to find I am the only one in bed still. I look over and see the bathroom door pulled shut. Ah ha! I got ya. I climb out of bed and wrap myself up in the sheet. I take my time walking to the bathroom so that I don’t make a noise. I put my hand on the door and push it open really fast. “Boo!” Only, there is no Lynkin in the bathroom to scare.
Maybe he just went and got us some breakfast.
Yea that’s it, because he has done that before.
I walk over to sit in the chair by the window and pull my knees up to my chest. I follow the thin strips of light to where each of them fall on the floor. One stops beside the dresser where Lynkin leaves his bag, another to the top of the dresser where his bottle of whiskey and glass sit, and one on an open drawer from the dresser. All those things, though? They’re not there. Everything of Lyn
kin’s is gone, and so is he.
I stare at the empty spaces that held his things, then at the bed where he held me so tenderly last night. When my sight becomes blurry from the tears that have formed in my eyes, I drop my head to my knees and cry. I let every emotion that I have felt over the last six weeks out in this cry. Anger, hate, confusion, lust, love, I don’t hold one of them back. I stand up, causing the sheet to fall from my body, and toss the table over, causing all the contents that were on top to go scattering across the floor. It gave me some relief from the pain I was feeling, but it wasn’t enough. I pick up one of the shoes I was wearing the night Lynkin took me and hum it through the air. It connects to the mirror on the dresser, which shatters and sends broken sparkling pieces in all directions.
I grab the pillows and blanket on the bed, pull them as hard I can, and throw them to the floor. It’s still not enough. I ball my hands into fist and beat the mattress with every last bit of anger that I have left. When it’s gone, all that is left is sadness and confusion. I collapse on the bed and cry more.
Sometime in my fit-pitching and crying I fell asleep. I woke up with my head throbbing from all the sobbing. When I raise my eyes and see the room, my eyes start to water again remembering that he left, but I suck it up. I did the sadness and anger thing, now it’s time to move on.
I shower, put on the best outfit that I can find in my drawer, do my hair and makeup, and walk to the door. I stand in the open door to take one last look at the place where everything changed. Where I changed.
Roth! Holy shit, she was right!
Psychics aren’t real, you twit.
Obviously, they are. How else would she know my life was about to do a complete one eighty?
It may have been a while back, and a lot has happened since then, but I have no problem recalling what she said.
“Keep an open mind over the next few months of your life. Remember that you have had a very good life, but what you think makes you happy, the things you think you can’t live without, are not what you really need.”
“He will open your eyes.”
As I turn my back on the room and pull the door closed, it feels like I am forgetting something, something pretty important. I dismiss it as I walk to the lobby of the motel and ding the bell letting the attendant know someone is at the front.
The female employee walks in from the side door, toting an overloaded box. A few papers fall out, and I go help her by picking them up and getting the box set down.
“Thank you. Did you need a room?” she asks.
“Oh no. Actually…” I stop myself. What am I going to tell her? I really should have thought of what I was going to say to people. I don’t want them to know the truth and go after Lynkin, but am I just going to say I left without as much as a word? Lynkin did send that ransom letter, so I could say I was being held but never saw who it was that took me.
“Ma’am?” the woman says to get my attention.
“I’m sorry. Actually, I was just wondering if I could borrow a phone. My car broke down a ways back and I need to call someone for help,” I tell her. “Mine is dead and I don’t have a car charger.” I add quickly.
“Ok then. Here you go.” She hands me her cell from her back pocket and walks back through the door she came from a minute ago. I look at the screen for a minute while I try to remember someone’s number to call. I curse under my breath when the only two that I can think of are my dad’s and Manda’s. I really don’t want to talk to Dad just yet, so I dial Amanda instead. It rings several times before her high pitched voice comes over the line.
“This is Amanda—well, my voicemail anyways— which means I’m either otherwise preoccupied, or I just don’t want to talk to you. Leave me a message to see which one.”
I hit the end button on the phone and dial the number to the last person I want to talk to. My father. My hand shakes a little more with each number I press, with the more I think about all the things I want to say to him. He answers his phone on the second ring.
“Donavan speaking.”
“It’s Sage.”
“Sage! Is it really you? Baby where have you been? Where are you right now? Are you ok?” he rambles out.
“I’m fine, just come and get me. I don’t know exactly where I am. Hang on,” I tell him and stick my head back into the lobby and ask the clerk what the address is, then recite it back in the phone.
I don’t wait for him to say anything back. I hang up, take the phone back inside, and set it on the counter.
“Thanks!” I holler, but don’t receive a reply back. I walk back outside, sit down on the hot pavement, and lean back against the wall. It seems like I wait forever with the sun beating down on my back when in reality it probably wasn’t more than an hour before a slick black car pulls into the parking lot and stops in front of me. When I stand up, the driver gets out and opens the door for me. He must be new, because I don’t recognize him.
“Miss Donovan,” he says and gestures for me to climb in. I nod my head and take a seat on the cold leather. I won’t deny that even though I am pissed, it stings that neither of my parents are here. It takes right about an hour to get home. When we pull into the driveway, I realize why neither mom nor dad was in the car to be at my rescue. They were busy calling all the new stations, anything to have Dad’s names in the tabloids, anything to make his business grow even more. I never saw it before, never would have thought my father was such a greedy man.
“Ma’am, please stay in the car until I open it for you. There is no reason to be fed to the wolves so soon after your arrival back home,” the new driver says.
I look up at him turned in his seat, and can see pity. “Thank you.”
He pushes his way to my door and holds it open for me. As soon as I am clear, he shuts it and puts his arm around me, and does his best to keep them off of me. Questions are being shouted, microphones shoved in my face, and I am sure I will be blinded with all the flashes from the cameras. At the top of the stairs, the first person I see is not one of my parents eating up the media attention, it’s Richard. He rushes to me, and throws his arms around me, and lands several kisses all over my face. As he pulls me back into him for a hug, I see my parents from over his shoulder. They are standing in the doorway, watching over the entire scene. Dad has this sad look on his face, almost as if he didn’t want me to come back home.
“Richard, we assume you are relieved that your fiancé is back safely in your arms,” one reporter’s voice reaches out above the rest.
He turns towards them, all hovered at the bottom of the stairs. “I couldn’t be any happier to have her returned to me. I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but I won’t question her return.” He looks at me when he pauses, and I swear I see victory in his eyes. I try to pull away from him, but his grip around me tightens. “We will answer a few of your questions before we retire inside so that Sage can be with me and her family.”
“Richard, I really just want to go in and rest.”
“Just a few babe, and then you can.”
“I don’t want to.” I jerk out of his grip and walk up the stairs, past my parents into the house. I push open the double doors that lead to the den and walk straight to the wet bar. I toss a few ice cubes into a glass, grab the nearest bottle, and pour. I hear someone walk into the room and look up to see Dad walking up to the bar.
“Switching up your lemon drops for something with a little more punch?” he asks.
I knock the glass back and pour myself another. I need the burn of it down my throat before I say anything. “Let’s just say that I did some changing while I was locked away in the tower.”
“How… how are you?” my mother stutters.
“Oh, ya know, I’m doing just fine. Funny you should ask, because I thought neither of you cared, seeing as you had the opportunity to save me and bring me home, but you didn’t.”
My father’s hand goes to his chest, and a look of true hurt crosses his face. “My dear, I can promise you that
we cared about your safe return home, but I can’t explain to you my reasons for not accepting that ruffian’s demands.”
“What reason could there to keep you from rescuing your only daughter?” I question.
“When we received the ransom letter, your father and I both discussed that it was best we not give in to the kidnapper,” Richard says as he enters the room. He walks up beside me, takes my glass out of my hand, and takes a swig. “Thank you.”
Snatching my whiskey back out of his hands causing it to slosh out onto the floor. I screech, “I didn’t make this for you. And could you please explain the reason why you both thought it best not to give into him?”
“Him? So, it was a him? Was there just one? Do you know who they were?” Dad jumps back into the conversation.
“I am not even going to give you the gratification of knowing anything that happened. I would hate for you to find out about all the horrors and for you to have a guilty conscious or anything.”
“Baby girl, don’t be like that,” the man I used to see as my hero says.
Meanwhile, the one I have planned to marry for over three years says, “It’s ok, Carl. She is probably overwhelmed and in shock from the stress. I will walk her to her room and we can all talk about how to pitch this story to the press in the morning.”
I storm off ahead of him and up the stairs. I hear his fast footsteps behind me, trying to catch up, but I refuse to slow down for him. I am so damn mad about this whole fucking situation, about being home, about my own parents not even trying to console me, about Richard rushing a story out of me for the press, that I am actually seeing red. I should be relieved I am home, back to my normal life, but I’m not.