Sweet Reunion

by Melanie Shawn

  “It's a scrapbook I made so that Noah would know you,” Rick said carefully, judging Justin's reaction, “I wanted him to know who his brother was.”

  “Oh, he knows me alright,” Justin said, his voice taut, “He knows me as an unattainable ideal, a perfect figure that he can't ever hope to measure up to.”

  “I don't know what you mean,” Rick responded, genuinely confused.

  "My God, you know, you really don't know how to do anything but fuck up your kids, do you?" Justin spat out sardonically. "It's really all you are capable of doing."

  Justin's father shook his head slowly back and forth, sorrow and fatigue weighing down his shoulders as he spoke. "I know you don't believe this. You have no reason to believe me. But I've done the best I knew how to do..."

  "Oh, stop!" Justin cut him off angrily. "The sad and almost laughably ironic thing is that with me, I almost understand it. You did a shitty job because you weren't even trying. You were a drunk, and you did the kind of parenting job that someone does who thinks 10 times more about where their next drink is coming from than they do about their kid. Yes, it felt crappy being that kid that never gets considered, but I understand that. I understand the frame of mind.

  "But then you have Noah. And this is where it gets good. I mean really, really good." Justin's voice dripped with sarcasm. "You actually tried to be a good parent to him! You actually put some effort in, for God's sake! What a new experience that must have been. And what did you accomplish? You just managed to screw it up in a whole new way! You managed to make that kid - that incredibly sweet, loving, trusting, brilliant, and big-hearted kid - feel like he'd never measure up to someone he hadn't even met. That he would never be as good as a ghost."

  Justin paused a moment. Looking at his father's defeated posture, he almost considered stopping. Continuing with this cruel tirade felt almost like kicking a puppy, and Justin had never been a man that reveled in kicking someone when he was down. But the pressure building inside him had taken on a momentum that felt somehow unstoppable. He had to get out the one final sentiment that was burning within.

  "That's the legacy you've left to both of your kids, Dad," Justin's voice was now calm and even, and immeasurably sad. "The certainty that we, your sons, each in our own way, will never be as important to you as some inanimate object. Some abstract concept. That, no matter how hard we try, we'll never be worthy of the love that you freely give away to things that aren't even real. And if that's really the best you knew how to do? Even sadder. Congratulations."

  Justin looked up from his father sitting on the couch when a movement caught his eye. He glanced to the top of the stairs and saw Noah's small, scared face peeking around the corner. Well, great. The thing he had hated the most about his chaotic childhood, more so than the drinking itself, was all the violent outbursts from his father that the alcohol had spurred, and all the violent confrontations he had been a party to. And Noah had been spared that - until Justin came into the picture. He had, in one moment of anger, brought hostility and fear into Noah's world, and that couldn't be undone now. His father hadn't done that. He had.

  Shame swept over him. He knew he should climb the stairs, talk to Noah, make it right. But he had no experience with sticking around and dealing with the aftermath of things. He didn't know how to work something through, to explain his actions, to take responsibility, to mend a relationship, and to move on.

  So he did the one thing he did have some experience with. He turned around and walked right back out the front door.

  --- ~ ---

  Justin walked the miles back to Amanda's place on the far end of town slowly, trying to let the night air clear his head and make him stop feeling like a monster. He shook his head ruefully. Gee, he thought to himself, maybe I have slightly overshot in my expectations of the capabilities of the night air.

  None of the things he usually did to clear his head or bring himself out of a funk when he had a problem to solve were working. He tried walking, it wasn't working. He tried getting out in nature, that also wasn't working. He tried making a mental list of possible solutions. No dice.

  The only solution that seemed halfway appealing was his old standby. Leave. Take off. Don't say a word to anyone, just go. The problem won't follow you to a new place.

  However, he was shocked to find that this solution, his previous crutch, the action which tempted him any time his life got the least bit complicated – was coming in a far distant second to the thing that he actually wanted to do, that he actually needed to do, in fact.

  There was one course of action which, once he thought of taking it, the rest of the problem seemed to melt away in significance, and he began to breathe easier. His entire tense body relaxed in relief when he thought of it, and his pace picked up speed.

  Yes. He knew what he needed to do. It wouldn't solve anything on its own, but he knew with every fiber of his being that it was the clear path to figuring out the right path to take.

  What he needed to do was talk things over with Amanda.

  --- ~ ---

  Justin climbed the steps of Amanda's back porch with a heady mixture of trepidation and anticipation. He knew he wanted and needed to come to her with his problem, and to him, it felt so right – the process of talking over their day, what was going on in their lives, strategizing, sympathizing – it was all so perfect, like falling into lockstep, picking up right where they had left off ten years ago.

  But on her end, Justin knew, there were still a lot of well-deserved unresolved feelings. Even in moments when they seemed perfectly in sync, Justin would catch her looking at him with trepidation, as if she weren't sure if he was going to get up and head back to Alaska right in the middle of their conversation.

  He knew he was going to have to fight to overcome that uncertainty in her. He was going to have to work hard to rebuild her trust in him. He was willing to do it, though. As long as he felt like she still wanted and needed him here, he was willing to put in that work.

  He climbed Amanda's back porch steps and walked up to her kitchen door. This was the way he had always come into the house when he was a teenager, and old habits die hard – this was still the route that felt most natural to him.

  At the back door, the scene he glimpsed through the window stopped him cold. Amanda was sitting at the kitchen table drinking wine and talking with Lauren, Karina, and Sam – but she looked so different.

  She was wearing a body-hugging, simple, elegant black sheath with shining black heels, which was a stark contrast to the jeans and cotton T-shirts he most often saw her in. Justin liked those just fine, as well. In fact, he didn't think he'd ever seen an ass in a pair of jeans that he preferred to Amanda's, it was like a work of art. But this was something new. Something elegant and sophisticated. Something grown up, powerful, in control. It was hot as hell.

  Her hair, which normally either fell around her face naturally in unruly golden curls or was trapped carelessly up in a hastily dashed off ponytail, now lay sleekly around her head and framed her face in a sheet of pure blonde silk.

  The contours of her face, which on a normal day would have still been the loveliest that Justin had ever seen in its default freshly-scrubbed state, now were enhanced with expertly applied makeup. Her smoky eyeliner and shadow caused the aqua flecks in her sapphire eyes to spark, and her already lush lips gained even more fullness from the soft pink liner and gloss that had been applied to them.

  He was so entranced by her beauty that he didn't catch any of her words until the sound of his own name brought him crashing back down to reality. He could only hear snippets, but what he did manage to make out broke his heart.

  “...don't know, sometimes Justin...just tell myself...just wish Justin had never come back....”

  The air whooshed from his lungs in a rush as he felt those words hit his gut as a physical blow.

  He turned around and quietly descended the porch steps. He felt numb, but he knew what he had to do. Amanda didn't want him here. He'd alr
eady made a mess of his brother's world in the short time he'd known him. He shouldn't stay here, he didn't belong.

  It was time for him to go.

  There was nothing left for him to do but throw his things into his duffel bag and hit the road.

  --- ~ ---

  Amanda stepped over to the counter to pour herself more wine. Talking with her girlfriends about Justin, about how much she loved him, and about how stupid it was to love him – yeah, that was a conversation that required fortification of the fermented grape variety, for sure.

  As she poured the wine, she gazed out of the window and saw a sight that made her freeze. “Oh my God, no way!” she yelled angrily as both the glass and the wine bottle slipped from her fingers and crashed to the floor.

  “Hey, those are expensive shoes,” Lauren pointed out mildly.

  “This has got to be about Justin,” Karina reasoned, “If glasses and liquid are headed toward the ground around Amanda, then it must be about Justin.”

  Amanda was so focused on what she had seen out the back window that she stepped over the wine bottle and stormed out the back door without even hearing either Lauren or Karina's comments.

  What she had seen was Justin, duffel bag slung over his shoulder, getting ready to disappear again, and she was going to be damned if she let that happen again without one hell of a fight.

  --- ~ ---

  Amanda's eyes were fiery as she pushed Justin back into the bunkhouse. “No! You are not going to just pack up your duffel bag and take off without a word again! That is not going to happen, God damn it!”

  Justin shook his head in exasperation. “What do you want from me, Amanda? You ran out in the middle of the hottest kiss of my life, and I'd be willing to bet yours too, because of your boyfriend, who you then say you're going to break up with. But now I hear you saying that you wish I'd never even come back here. What am I supposed to think that you want from me, if not for me to just go?”

  “You only heard a tiny part of that conversation. When I said that I wished you'd never come back here, I was telling the girls what I felt like I should be feeling, not what I actually feel. If you'd stuck around to eavesdrop on the rest of the conversation – or, you know, asked me about it like an adult rather than just skulking off like a kid with hurt feelings – you'd know that I proceeded to explain that, even though I know that wishing you hadn't come back and disrupted my peaceful, calm little life is how I should feel, what I actually feel is the polar opposite of that!”

  Justin smiled at this, “Really?”

  Amanda stomped in frustration, “Yes, damn it, but don't you dare smile! It's not cute, it's not funny!”

  Justin smiled wider, “No, it's not funny or cute. But you, on the other hand, are adorable when you are mad.”

  Amanda let out an exasperated growl, “Listen to me! This is serious. I cannot love someone who I can't trust to stick around through the tough times, let alone through a misunderstanding!”

  Tears pricked her eyes, “I don't think you understand what it did to me when you left last time. I cried nonstop for weeks. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't eat. I thought I would die. I cannot go through that again. I can't do it.”

  Justin dropped his bag on the floor. He walked over and took her face in his hands, the change in his expression and demeanor letting her know that he did, in fact, realize the seriousness of her words. “Amanda,” he said solemnly, “I am so sorry I hurt you that way. You can't imagine how sorry. And you're right, one hundred percent. I am going to stay, I promise you that.

  “When I was growing up, the only way I knew to survive was to depend on myself and myself alone, to never get too attached to anything, and to constantly comfort myself with the mantra that, if things got too bad, I could just take off at a moment's notice. It is going to take me some serious effort to get over that mindset. It's very deeply ingrained. But if you want me here...if you want me...I promise you that I will leave that idea behind, and I will stay. With you. Forever.”

  Amanda, breathless, nodded. “Oh, yes. Justin, I want that. More than anything I've ever wanted. I want you.”

  With that, Amanda pressed her lips to Justin's and began to passionately kiss him. In this very room, ten years before, she had done much the same thing, and it had been the beginning of their downfall – but this time Justin's eager response told her that the kiss was more than welcome. She moaned as Justin's hands slid from her face to trace the lines of her body, causing her to shudder with desire.

  Justin drew back and looked at her. “Are you sure?” he asked, “Are you sure this is what you want?”

  Amanda stepped back, and she saw disappointment flash in his eyes. But then, rather than answer, she slipped the elegant black sheath over her head, stepped out of her heels, and stood before him in only her bra and panties. She took a moment to mentally thank her lucky stars that Karina and Lauren had insisted that she invest in the sexy black lingerie. As she saw Justin's eyes hungrily take in the sight of her scantily clad body before him, she felt proud of what he was seeing, and the desire she saw in his eyes only increased her own arousal.

  Her silky golden hair, cascading down past her shoulders to the where the mounds of her breasts crested out of the lace of her bra cups, the pert buds of her nipples poking against the gossamer fabric, the creamy expanse of her taut belly, which melted into the scalloped waistband of her lacy panties. Her panties narrowed to tantalizing vee between her shapely thighs, and her perfectly formed legs stretched all the way down to the ground.

  She laughed and jumped into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist. She moved her lips until they rested up against his ear. “Hell yes, this is what I want,” she whispered huskily, as she tangled her fingers in his lush hair, “Make love to me. Right here. Right now. Please.”

  Justin groaned and began kissing her throat as he carried her to the bed and gently set her down on the edge of it. They began to kiss again as Amanda frantically fumbled with the buttons of his plaid shirt and pulled it off. She traced her fingers over his strong chest and moved her mouth to his neck and began to suckle the soft skin there. She marveled at the contrast between this lovely smooth skin of his that she was kissing and licking, and the rough masculine contours that she was exploring with her fingertips. How could one man be so many different things at once, and how could she love every aspect of him with equal fiery devotion?

  Justin leaned her back onto the bed, kissing her, and then his mouth began to work its way down her neck and her chest. When his lips reached the tops of her breasts, where the full mounds overflowed the lacy cups of her bra, he placed a trail of tiny, sweet kisses along the edge where skin met fabric.

  He brought his hand up as he did this, cupping her lace-clad breast in his warm palm, and began to tweak her nipple with his thumb and forefinger through the lace, causing her to groan. She arched her back and buried her fingers in his hair, begging him with her body to take her hard, pointed nipple into his hot mouth.

  He reached behind her and effortlessly unfastened her bra, sliding it over her arms and tossing it aside. He turned his eyes to her bared breasts and looked at them fully for the first time – her pale, translucent skin, her pale pink areolae, and the darker rosy buttons of her nipples rising up, hard, from the centers of those beautiful circles.

  Amanda's breathing deepened under the heat of his gaze, and he saw the skin of her chest and shoulders begin to flush with even deeper arousal. He raised his head to look into her eyes, and without breaking his gaze, she reached out and took his hands, guiding them to her breasts. He felt their heaving peaks pressing against his palms with urgent need, and leaned in to kiss her while he massaged them, delighting in feeling her groan and wriggle with pleasure.

  He marveled at the satisfaction he felt, the pride, at being able to make Amanda feel these intense sensations. He hadn't yet given even a thought to his own needs, hadn't yet been the recipient of even one erotic caress at her hands, and yet this was by far already the most de
eply satisfying sexual encounter he had ever experienced.

  It felt almost surreal. All the times in the past ten years that he had fantasized about her, imagined touching her, kissing her, licking her – it didn't hold a candle to the real thing.

  “I can't believe this is actually happening,” he gasped, “I've dreamt about this so many times, about what your skin would feel like, about what you would taste like...”

  She looked at him from under shyly hooded lids, “Do I measure up to the fantasy?”

  He groaned and kissed her, swirling his tongue around inside her mouth, dueling with hers, then pulled back and said breathlessly, “The fantasy could never hold a candle to you. You're spectacular.”

  He lowered his head to her breasts and began to nibble at her hard pink nipples, reveling in the way she moaned and writhed as his lips and tongue did their work. He cupped her breasts from the bottom, each in one palm. As he paid attention to each in turn, he would squeeze it to make her nipple stand up to pert attention, making it even more sensitive as he flicked it with the hard tip of his tongue, swirled his soft tongue all around it, and then finally took it into his mouth to suckle. When he sensed that the nipple he was working on was losing sensitivity, he would move to the other, rotating back and forth until she was moaning, squealing, and begging for him to move forward.

  He wondered if this was the difference between making love and merely having sex. At that moment, he honestly felt that if all he were able to do by the time it was said and done was please Amanda, that would be enough for him to be happy. Hell, he thought, if that was the only thing he was good for the rest of his life, he figured he could be contented with that.

  Those thoughts, however, became a distant, fleeting memory as he felt Amanda's light, bird-like touch at his waist, working at the first button of his fly. As her fingers released his manhood button by button, he knew that he absolutely needed to feel himself taken in by her hands and her mouth, to sink himself deep inside of her. He knew he would not be satisfied until he knew what it was to be completely and fully connected to her, engulfed in her wetness, lost inside of her.