by T. E. Black
As much as I know and love Derrick, I also know we have our issues. He wants a family and I want him to myself for a little while longer. I don't want to rush things between us. I just want to fix ourselves before we bring a child into the world. Is that so wrong?
"Where's your head tonight pretty girl?"
It's time to celebrate the fact that today Derrick is starting his journey to getting sober, and I will be there by his side the entire way.
"I'm just happy, handsome," I smile warmly at him.
"Happy looks good on you, darling. I hope I get to see that smile for a million years to come. When were old, gray, toothless, and lose our minds, I know your smile is the one thing I'll never forget."
Derrick’s lips meet mine in a soft embrace, and his unusual delicate touch almost brings me to my knees. My mouth moves with his rhythmically, never missing a synced beat to my heart.
My finger’s lace into his long hair and I look into his eyes longingly. It’s then I let out a scream which could shatter glass. I jump away from him, cringing at what I see in front of me. Derrick’s suit it covered in blood, and he’s reaching for me. He’s calling out my name while his body shakes uncontrollably.
“Help me Cal! Please! Help me!”
He screams it over and over again, his voice winding through my veins like a vine.
My hand flies to my mouth, and I drop to my knees with a hard thud.
“Derri—”
My eyes snap open, only showing me it’s still the middle of the night. Why can I never get a full night of sleep? I’m so sick of this. Every time I close my eyes, the nightmares come. They aren’t always bad per se, but they always remind me he isn’t here. He’s gone and I’m to blame.
I lie in bed, contemplating what I'm going to do until I can fall asleep again. I figure a beer and the warm night air seems to be the best plan. There's something about sitting outside on a deck in the warmth of the summer time. It’s relaxing. Looking up into the sky and seeing all those stars which are a million miles away calms me. The cool night breeze graces my skin with gentle kisses, adorning me in a feeling of peace. It reminds me we are something so much smaller than we believe. That maybe, somewhere out there, there are other people doing the same thing, looking at us like we’re a tiny star.
I make my way out to our small deck in the back of the apartment and take a seat on the garden swing, curling my legs underneath me. Taking a swig from my bottle, I pull out my phone and open my little yellow notepad. Before I even have to think of what I'm happy to have, I type it. Friends. A huge grin stretches across my face as I hit save. Instead of having no one, I now have three people who I love more than anything. Sierra, Evan, and even Mac in some strange way.
Sierra and Evan welcomed me with open arms into their home, not that I would expect anything less. Sierra has been my rock since we were in ninth grade. She was always the popular one in school, especially with how beautiful she is. She's Italian, so her dark skin had her on the mind of every guy in school. On top of her good looks, she was athletic: track, cross country, soccer, and softball. You name it; she was a part of it at some point. That's where she got her long, lean runner's body from, and I'm still jealous of it after all this time.
We became friends after having a math class together. Sierra wasn’t doing too well on her tests and I was passing with flying colors. So, I ended up offering to be a tutor of some sort which she gladly accepted. After that, we became inseparable. She was the one who invited me to the party where I met Derrick, actually. He was handsome and very popular in school. He was a quarterback for the football team and had a way with words the girls loved. Every girl at school wanted him and I was the one who got him in the end. I wasn’t fucked up then. I was a normal girl: one who went to parties, had more than one friend, and I was smart. Then Derrick’s accident slowed down the train a little. Not to mention all of the other things he did.
As I take a pull from my bottle, my phone chimes. Odd. It's already past two in the morning. I check and when I see it's Mac, I feel those butterflies in the pit of my stomach fluttering uncontrollably. Guess he can't sleep either.
Hey, Red. You awake?
I’m always awake, Mac.
I feel my phone vibrate in my hands as Mac's name flashes across the screen. I swipe the screen, answering his call.
"Hi," I peep quietly.
"Hey," he says deeply, sounding worn.
I can hear him shuffling around in the background and I wonder what he's doing. He doesn't sound drunk. So, I'm assuming he didn't go out after Evan dropped him off. More shuffling in the background, and I have to ask him.
"What the hell are you doing, Mac?" I laugh into the speaker.
I hear him chuckle himself before he answers me. “Ya always so nosy, Red?”
“Yep,” I reply without hesitation.
"Well, open your front door and see what I’m doing. I forgot how many fucking stairs this apartment has. Ya need to move if I'm going to be coming over all hours of the night."
I can already picture the grin that I know is on his face. A warm feeling takes its course through my body. He’s here, on my steps. I’m happy he’s here. I've missed talking to him. I want to get to know him more.
I make my way to the door and open it to see a very awake and sexy looking Mac on the steps. I hang up the phone and step out on the stoop with him. He immediately pulls me into a bear hug and I melt into his arms easily, without thought.
"What are you doing here?" I ask, looking up at him through my lashes. I try to decipher a logical explanation for him showing up at my apartment this late on a Friday night, but nothing comes. It's strange, and also endearing, he showed up, but I'm still drawing a blank.
He releases me from the hug, giving me a playful look.
"I couldn't sleep and I knew you couldn't sleep either. You gonna entertain me or what?"
I gauge if he's telling the truth because I don't believe he doesn't have something better to do than sit here with me, but by the looks of his black sweatpants which hang low on his hips and his black hoodie, I assume he's telling the truth. He's dressed comfortably and ready for cuddling. Shit, wait. No, no cuddling. Dammit.
"Do you wanna come in for a beer?" I ask him softly.
"Sure." He follows me in the front door and we both walk inside. The place is eerily quiet with Sierra and Evan upstairs. I walk into the kitchen and he follows along while I go to the fridge. Hopefully tonight goes better than our first beer drinking night. I reach for the six pack I bought earlier when Evan and I went for a beer run. I spin around and catch him in the act of staring at my ass.
"Where do you wanna sit, inside or out?" I ask him.
"Outside. It’s nice as hell out."
I nod my head in agreement. He grabs the six pack off the counter before I can and we head to the back door. We both make ourselves comfortable on the small deck, taking a seat on either side of the garden swing. There's space between us, but I can still feel a spark between us crackling through the still night air. It's downright electric. It magnetizes me, forcing my body to shimmy a little closer to him. I felt it when we first met, but it’s different now. It’s more intense and harder to ignore. Ever since he comforted me on the drive here, I feel myself enjoying his company a little more than I should. He’s a good guy despite his hard looking exterior, but the more casual we keep our conversations, the better off we both are. He and I both know it.
“What did you do tonight?” I ask.
He lets out a deep breath in between taking pulls from his bottle.
“Went to the bar.”
His short and vague answers surprise me because he was so casual and playful when he got here. My best guess is he went to the bar to find women. So, I figure maybe that could be a topic we can both talk about. Not that I want to talk about the women he's screwing.
“Did you find the special lady there who will win your heart one day?” I ask playfully, hoping to lighten the mood.
He le
ts out a deep chuckle which surrounds me. He’s so damn rugged and manly it’s hard to not get hot as hell when he speaks. His face is a perfect blend of soft and hard; everything is defined, yet there is a softness about it which draws you before you can control it.
“Not exactly. That one was gone a long time ago, but I found something else tonight. She left though. They rarely stay long.”
His answer surprises me because he never mentioned anything about being with a woman before. At least, not more than casually hooking up. It intrigues me and I figure I can try to fish some information out of him if I tread lightly around the subject.
“Who was she?” I ask, taking a pull from my bottle.
He seems to be confused at first, but he slowly shakes his head, speaking.
"The girl I found tonight?” He tries to dodge my question.
“No. The one who was gone a long time ago,” I clarify.
“Another night, Red. I just wanna relax tonight. I don’t wanna talk about that shit.”
Disappointment consumes me. I just want to know something about him other than the basic things people know. I want to know him. All of him. There’s a story which lies somewhere inside him and I need to find out.
I let out a sigh, moving closer to him out of instinct. Once I’m sitting close enough to feel his warmth on my skin, I nuzzle into the crook of his arm like in the truck. I don’t know why I do it, honestly, but I like it here. I like being wrapped up in his arms. It's a beautiful feeling, one he will never understand the meaning of. He seems to get the hint I want him to because he shifts his arm around me, pulling me closer into him. As I lie snuggled up in his arms, I feel myself growing fonder of him. I feel myself imaging him and me as an us somewhere down the line. There’s nothing like it. His arms are strong when they are wrapped around me. I feel safe and I haven’t felt that way in a long time.
“I like this,” I squeak. I close my eyes and listen to the steady beat of his heart.
“Me too,” he breathes out.
I feel him reach down to kiss the crown of my head lightly. The gesture makes butterflies gush in my stomach like a little girl. I don’t want him to stop. His kisses are like a drug. I’m addicted with just a little taste.
“Will you tell me something else about yourself?” I ask him.
I feel his free hand run through his hair roughly He tightens his grip on me a little more.
“Anything you want to tell me.” I pause. ”How about your parents?”
He blows out a breath, pushing his face into my hair again, except this time he doesn’t kiss it. Instead, he stays there while I wait for him to answer me.
“I don’t know my real parents. They put me in foster care before I was born.”
His words come out harsh and jaded, but there's still a tone of vulnerability somewhere within. I gasp slightly at his words. I don’t understand how someone could do that. How can someone give up their child before birth, despite the situation? I feel bad for him. Hell, my heart hurts for him. I feel it suffocating my lungs, which make my eyes water in pain. While my parents don’t deserve an award for their love and affection, they’re still my parents. They may have deserted me emotionally, but they have always been around physically.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right, Red. I got adopted, and my parents who I have now are great people. They’re retired and they live by the beach in Florida. They're amazing people.”
I’m happy he has a family because everyone deserves a family to love them. Everyone needs someone to care for them unconditionally. And more importantly, everyone deserves a happy ending.
“Are you close with them?”
He nods into my hair.
“Yeah. They're my heroes. They saved me. My dad taught me how to work on cars. They were, and still are, my saving grace. I love them with what's left of my heart.”
I snuggle into him a little more, putting my arm around his waist.
“I’m happy for you. They sound great. Is that what you like to do, work on cars?”
“Yeah. I guess I started working on them as a hobby, but then before I knew it, people would ask me to look at their stuff. I was good at it. Hell, I still am. Give me an engine and a wrench, and I'll have that girl purring before she knows it. That’s why I opened a garage. I figured if I was working on people’s stuff anyway, I might as well make some money doing it.”
“You know, if you ever need some help, let me know. I’m sure I can hold a flashlight or something,” I tease.
He lets out a loud laugh while he answers me.
“Hold a flashlight? I don’t have much need for that, but if you can do paperwork, then it might be a different story.”
I move my head up to look at him, my arms still wrapped around his waist.
“I’m sure I can figure it out. Really, I'd be happy to help.”
He seems satisfied by my answer because he nods and pulls my head back down to lie on him. We exist together for moments without either of us speaking. In the silence, I swear we learn more about each other than words can ever tell. I listen to the steady thump of his heart and I hear his breathing as it evens itself out. It's beautiful.
“You’re pretty comfortable, Mac,” I declare, trying to remember if he told me his last name. I realize I never asked him for it. Also, I’m sure Mac isn’t his birth name.
“What’s your real name?” I ask.
“Malcolm Davis.”
“Malcolm Davis,” I repeat quietly to myself. “That’s a pretty serious name, Malcolm Davis.” I giggle.
He chuckles in my hair, his breath warming my scalp.
“Yeah, it is. My first foster parents were serious people. They got the gift of naming me. They had big plans for me, but I blew that to shit with a blink of the eye.”
“Mine is Callie Rose Matthews. My mom insisted my name be Callie Rose. She used to have a thing for flowers before my dad opened his business. Then, once they made a lot of money, my mom forgot about the flowers. She would rather just order them and let them die instead of growing them in the garden.”
“Did you take care of them after she stopped doing it?” he asks, kissing the crown of my head again. God, I love when he does that.
“Yeah. I couldn't just let them die.” I remember how terrible the garden looked after mom gave up on it. There’s something about growing a plant from a small seed which gives me a sense of pride. My favorite place in the world is where flowers grow, and even after all of this time, I'll never forget that's where I belong.
“That’s a beautiful name, Callie,” he speaks softly.
Hearing him speak my name spreads chills down my arms. I tighten my hold on his waist, breathing in his rugged scent. He smells like smoke and cologne and it’s a beautiful combination.
“Thank you,” I tell him whole-heartedly.
A noise comes from the back door. There, Evan stands in the flesh with an unlit cigarette hanging from his mouth as he smirks at us sitting together. You can see from his facial expression he's up to no good.
“Uh, sorry. I just came out to have a smoke.” He breaks the silence, taking the lighter to it.
Mac maneuvers himself, pulling away from me enough to cock his head toward him. His grip never loosens on me though. He apparently doesn't mind Evan seeing us wrapped up in each other although we barely know one another.
“Hey man.”
Evan watches us, trying to figure out what exactly he’s looking at. His head tips to the side slightly, taking a drag from his cigarette with ease.
"I didn't mean to interrupt." Amusement flickers on his face.
I answer before Mac can. I'm sure Evan’s mind is going a million miles a minute while he thinks of Mac and I cuddling on a swing at almost three in the morning. Especially after "the bet" which has been going on between Sierra and him. I'm not sure if Sierra told him I know, but I totally know, and because of it, I immediately pull away from Mac putting space between our bodies.
"Mac stoppe
d by to see you, but I told him you weren't up and I offered him a beer," I blurt out before I can stop myself. Damn you, word vomit. Before I can even have a redo, Evan’s eyes flick between Mac and I. Reaching up to rub the back of his neck, he nods his head looking unconvinced and more curious
"Yeah. Sorry about that. Sierra kept me pretty busy all night," he announces to Mac.
I feel Mac watching me while I still face Evan. His eyes burn holes through the side of my face. I know he's wondering why I lied, but I didn't tell Mac about the bet. I'm sure he would understand my sudden defense when Evan insinuated there was something more going on between us than what is.
I feel Mac moving from the swing as he stands up. I flick my gaze to meet his, and instead of looking at me with the kindness he was before, his expression is replaced with anger and confusion.
"I was just leaving anyway," he snaps, looking at Evan, but speaking directly toward me. I know we were just cuddling, which I assume he does with plenty of women, but something in the way he looks at me now almost makes me think he’s hurt by the way the lie just rolled off of my tongue. I want to say something to him, anything at all. I want to tell him I'm sorry and to stay, but I don't even get the chance. He walks at a lightning pace past Evan, not giving either of us a second glance. I watch him from the back as he goes into the house, slamming the back door behind him.
There is a knowing silence between Evan and me. We both hear Mac's truck start up and speed off into the night. The peeling of his tires against the road makes my heart drop to my stomach. Evan breaks the silence first by letting out a small chuckle.
"Did I miss something?" he asks, still amused.
I'm glad he finds this freaking funny because I sure as hell don't. I sigh, getting up from the swing, and walk past Evan into the house myself. If he didn't come outside, none of this would have happened. I would never have lied and Mac and I would probably still be cuddling on the swing. Evan is an asshole.