by James, Marie
“Your husband stopped by yesterday while you were in class.”
I tell myself not to respond, but my brain doesn’t get the message before my head whips in her direction. A small smile plays at the corners of her mouth, but she remains silent, forcing me to either ask about the impromptu visit or ignore her.
I haven’t breathed a word about Blaze to Brittney, figuring I could forget him and having his story taint our friendship would be a step in the wrong direction.
“He’s super good looking.” I turn my head back toward the TV, deciding to ignore her comments. She has other plans. “Not exactly who I’d picture you with.”
“He shouldn’t have come here. He was told to stay away.”
She shifts uncomfortably in the chair. “Like he’s a stalker and I should’ve called the cops? You have to tell me things, Fallyn. I’ll know next time—”
I laugh at her ridiculous implication. “He’s not a stalker.”
In fact, I haven’t heard from or seen him since I told him those horrible lies. I didn’t know they were lies at first, but after he left and I replayed the conversation over and over in my head, I knew I wasn’t honest with him or myself.
“How long have you been married?”
“Just a little over three weeks.”
“How?” she begins. “I’ve been here almost three weeks.”
Here comes the conversation I never wanted to have with her—another lie. I’ve wanted to do nothing but talk about Blaze since she moved her things in, but stubborn pride and heartache kept me from opening my mouth.
“It didn’t last long,” I confess.
“That’s Vegas for you,” she mutters, turning her head back to the TV.
“It wasn’t like that,” I say, defending a man I so easily renounced. The revelation hits me hard in the chest. “We were in a car accident. He was arrested on our wedding night. It was fucked up and more than I could handle. We’d only been dating for a month. Getting married was a hasty decision. We didn’t think it through.”
“You regret it.” It’s not a question.
I do have regrets, just not in the way she’s thinking. “I regret that we were over before we had a chance at a life together.”
I regret not having faith in him. I regret falling in love with him in the first place, because living without him in my life sucks.
“Did he say why he stopped by?” I can’t help but ask. Knowing he showed up after not making contact in three weeks has me curious.
“Not really. He asked if you were here. When I said no, he gave me a note to give you.” I watch, pulse pounding in my throat as she grabs a folded piece of paper from the narrow table near the door.
Trembling hands reach for it when she returns and offers it to me. I already anticipate what the note will say, or more, what it will request. A divorce is the only thing we have left to settle between us, so I gasp when the note unfolds and three beautiful words look back up at me.
The tears begin to fall before I can fold the precious piece of paper back up, smearing the blue ink on the page.
“Maybe it’s not over,” my roommate offers before leaving the room.
Ten minutes, that feel like a million years, is all I can stand before I’m running to my room and getting dressed. Twenty minutes after that, I’m knocking on the door of the house where I first met Blaze. A guy I recognize from the last party I attended, the one in celebration of a marriage I never gave a second chance, answers the door.
“Is he here?” I ask, nervous and fearful he’ll reject me even though the note burns in the back pocket of my jeans.
“I never thought I’d see you again.” He opens the door all the way so I can step past him into the house. “He’s been a miserable fuck. I hope you’re here to fix that.”
I don’t answer him, too focused on climbing the stairs and making my way to my husband.
Nerves make my hand tremble as I lift my arm to knock on his door.
“It’s open,” he grunts from the other side.
Closing my eyes, I take a deep breath, waiting long enough in the hall that he pulls the door open before I can turn the knob.
“Jesus,” he rasps. “Am I dreaming?”
I give him a weak smile even though my mind, body, and soul are overcome with emotion. “Are you sure this isn’t more like a nightmare?”
He runs his hand over the beard that’s grown on his strong jaw. My fingers tingle at the unfamiliar addition to his face, the urge to touch him myself almost too strong to resist. “Depends. Are you here to serve me with divorce papers?”
My eyes soften. “You left me a note.”
“I did. Your new roommate seems nice. A little shocked when I told her I was your husband.”
We’re still standing in the hallway, and I try not to read too much into what that may mean.
“I love you too,” I whisper.
“You left me,” he counters.
“Biggest mistake I’ve ever made,” I say with more truth than I knew until the thought is out of my mouth.
He schools the small smile on his lips a second after it hits his gorgeous face.
“I thought loving me was your biggest mistake.” He’s not giving me an inch, but this is going better than I anticipated. At least he hasn’t demanded I leave.
“Never,” I breathe.
He stands aside so I can enter the room. The door closes with a snick behind us as I take the first couple steps inside. I feel the warmth of his body on my back as my eyes wander around a room I’ve never been in before. Typical, generic furniture including a bed, side table, and dresser all stacked with piles of clothes. I expected trophies and newspaper articles with his success on the walls, but they’re bare.
“No trophies?” I ask, turning around and becoming flush with his wide, bare chest.
He pushes a strand of hair from my face, and I don’t even bother to resist leaning into his touch. “That part of my life is over.”
I hate those words. I hate how I doubted him. I hate his inability to say no to the girl making drinks that night. Whether she was aware of what she was serving or not, I blame her for ruining his life, and possibly our marriage before it had a chance to thrive.
“Are we over?” I ask, needing to know but hating the possibility of his answer.
“It’s like our marriage never happened,” he whispers, breaking my heart, but at least now I know.
Silence fills the room as tears fill my eyes. I nod in understanding, knowing I couldn’t stay with him if he betrayed me the way I did him.
I reach up on the tips of my toes and place a soft kiss on his cheek. “I’m sorry I hurt you.”
I go to step around him, knowing I have about thirty seconds before I break down and beg him to forgive me. Pride and the way I turned on him when he did exactly that three weeks ago won’t allow it.
His hand catches my arm before I can make it out of the room, and I turn to look at him, anticipating seething insults and rejection.
“You’re mistaking me,” he says, his voice as soft as the love shining in his eyes. “It’s like our marriage never happened because I’ve hardly touched you since we said our vows. No consummation, no morning after, no chance to make plans for our future.”
His eyes dart to my lips, and I feel the glance in every cell in my body.
“I’ll always love you, Fallyn.” My heart re-inflates. “I’m yours. As long as you’ll have me, you own me.”
My eyes dart between his, trying to find a hint of the sarcasm I expect. “It can’t be that easy.”
“Loving you has never been hard for me.”
“You forgive me for how I acted? The terrible things I said?”
“Do you believe me?”
Frantic nods move my head up and down. “I know you’d never do anything to hurt me. I’m sorry—”
His finger brushes my lips, ceasing the apology I’ll utter every day for the rest of my life if need be.
“You believe me. That�
�s all I need.”
His lips meet mine before I can thank him for being a better person. Tentative, slow sweeps of his tongue turn aggressive and desperate when my hands touch his chest. Strong fingers dig in to my ass as he tugs me against him. The erection boring into my stomach sends a wash of critical need through my body.
His mouth breaks from mine and I use the opportunity to reach for the zipper on his jeans.
“Stop.” His words don’t match his hands as one cups my breast and the other grazes the nape of my neck.
I whimper.
“Not here,” he rasps, gasping breaths flowing over my neck and ear. “You said not in here.”
I shake my head and tilt my mouth up to kiss him. “Will you be thinking of them while you’re with me?”
“Fuck no.” His immediate response forces a chuckle from my lips.
“Good,” I answer, reaching out to grasp his zipper once again. “If you don’t make love to your wife right now, I’m going to tie you down and take it for myself.”
His eyebrows pop up in surprise and he waggles them. “I mean…”
“Blaze Porter, you need to fuck your wife. If not in here, then in the hall or bathroom.”
He shakes his head, disgust marking his blue eyes. “The guys will see you in the hall, and I’m not sharing even the sight of you, Mrs. Porter. The bathroom is disgusting, so that’s not an option either.”
I cut my eyes to the bed. “Well?”
I squeal when he lifts me and tosses me on the bed.
It seems like seconds are all it takes for us to rid ourselves of every scrap of clothing. A blink of an eye after that, he’s sheathed in a condom and lined up at my entrance. Then, and only then, do we take a breath and slow down.
“I love you so much.” With delicate ease, he slides inside me.
My eyes flutter closed at the feeling of him filling me. We’d only had one night together prior to this, and the memories I’d been holding onto didn’t give this an ounce of justice.
“I’ll love you always,” I whisper as he pulls out, only to thrust back in.
“Never push me away again,” he insists without losing the tantalizing tempo of his hips.
“I won’t. I promise. Never walk away, even if I tell you to.”
“Never again,” he assures me before his stomach muscles tense and he begins to move in earnest.
Chapter 20
Blaze
“Still sore?” Fallyn kisses my bare back as I sit on the edge of the bed trying to rub the achiness from my shoulder. The action is futile since the pain is so deep, even a professional massage won’t touch it. I’ve tried. It was money spent we don’t have.
“It’s just tight first thing in the morning,” I placate.
I hate the looks she’s been giving me lately. I know she loves me, but I also know this isn’t the life we thought we’d have when we said our vows four months ago.
“You should see another doctor.” Her tone is loving, full of concern, but it rubs me the wrong way, just like everything she’s said since I moved in with her after she came back to me. It’s not her fault. I know the rage I feel is all on me. My mistakes got us here, not anything she’s done.
“I don’t have insurance at the factory for another couple months,” I answer, annoyance clear in my tone. “Plus, I’ve already talked to human resources. It’s a preexisting condition, so even when I do have it, they won’t cover it.”
“I know,” she whispers. Another thing I hate. My attitude has been so bad for so long, she now cowers at it, afraid I’ll lash out when she speaks her mind. I’m destroying her, but even that’s not enough to make me leave. She’s one of the bright spots in my days.
Her lips meet my back again just as I’m about to stand to get ready for work.
“It’s early,” she says seductively. “Stay in bed a little longer.”
I turn to her, a genuine smile on my face. My wife is the sexiest woman I’ve ever seen. I trail a finger over the puckered nipple straining against the fabric of her thin tank top and groan, needing her more than ever, but unable to do anything about it.
I slide down after kissing her lips, nipping at her breast on my way to the heaven I haven’t felt wrapped around me in so long, I can’t remember.
“No,” she says, grasping my hair.
I smile up at her, ignoring the ache in my shoulder at holding myself in this position.
“I need my mouth on you.” I lower my head, but her hand holds steady.
“Make love to me,” she pleads, and I shake my head, licking the soft skin around her navel. “Blaze, I’m on my period.”
I sigh against her and climb off the bed.
“It’s been weeks,” she complains. “We never have sex anymore.”
I turn from her, grabbing clothes out of the dresser before acknowledging the truth I hoped she hadn’t noticed. I smirk at her, a rough attempt at the cocky bastard I used to be, not the sad excuse I’ve become. “I’ve had my mouth on that sweet pussy of yours almost every day, Fallyn. Do I not make you feel good?”
“It’s not the same. Let me return the favor.” She shifts her weight so she’s on her knees at the foot of the bed. Her hands reach for me and the morning erection that should be waiting for her.
Leaning forward, I press a soft kiss against her lips. “This evening, you won’t be able to keep my hands off you, but I just remembered I have to see my PO before work.”
I step out of the room, nodding at Brittney as I pass her in the hall. She’s a sweet girl, but I don’t miss the looks she gives me. Disappointment is clear on her face every time we see each other. She knows I’m doing nothing but dragging Fallyn down. She knows the best thing for everyone involved would be for me to leave and never look back. But I’m not strong enough to walk away, and I’m sure as fuck too selfish.
My shitty life is all that’s on my mind as I finish my efficient shower and get dressed in the modest bathroom. I leave the apartment without going back into the bedroom, unable to take the sad look on Fallyn’s face or another argument because of my lack of being a true husband.
Making barely minimum wage at a shitty factory just off the strip is falling so below the expectations I’ve had for myself, but it’s necessary. I pop the last six pills I stashed in the inside pocket of my coveralls as I hit the sidewalk. These days, the warmth that slowly creeps into my veins is the only thing I look forward to. The bus system in Vegas sucks, but it’s my only choice. The liability insurance I had on my beater of a Jeep didn’t cover repairs since the cat didn’t have insurance and my blood test was positive for heroin. Not that it would matter. Part of my sentence was a ninety-day license suspension.
Probation is a breeze. I’m two months into the six the judge gave me, and my officer never drug tests me—a huge blessing since I’m pretty sure the Percocet and Hydrocodone I’ve been living off since being released from jail is the only thing keeping me going. The long shifts at the glass factory I was lucky enough to get hired at only acerbate the injury, and I have to work, so I have to medicate to get it done.
The downside is the inability to fuck my wife—and she’s noticing, but I have no idea how to explain the need to keep my job is more important than keeping her sexually satisfied. I’d like to think I would understand if the shoe were on the other foot. It’s not like I don’t want to sleep with her. Most days, it’s all I think about, but my body doesn’t work the way it used to. Twenty-one and suffering from erectile dysfunction. Fuck my life.
As I step off the city bus in front of the probation department, I’m hit with the best idea ever. There’s more bounce in my step as I consider my genius plan. I have a little extra stashed away from my last check, so I’ll just see if Bones has any little blue pills when I pick up my weekly order from him tomorrow. My biggest concern right now is how to figure out a way to avoid the promise I made to Fallyn about this evening and how I’m going to make it through a ten-hour shift without any more pills.
“Mr.
Pitzer,” I tell the lady as I walk up to the front counter. I sign my name on the sign-in sheet and take a seat, praying he doesn’t take an hour to see me like he did last month. I’m still on my six-month probationary period at work and I’ve seen guys fired for less than being a little late.
An hour later, I gaze at my watch, my leg bouncing as the irritation over not being called yet takes over. I look around the waiting room, unable to concentrate of any level of the patience I lost forty-five minutes ago. I scrub a hand down my face, willing this to hurry up. My name rings out through the room and I jump up, finding an unfamiliar woman standing in the doorway.
“I’m Blaze Porter,” I tell her, clasping her proffered hand. It’s suddenly slick with sweat as unease skates up my back.
“I’m Rachel Morgan,” she offers as she pulls her hand from mine and tries to discreetly wipe it down the side of her pants. “I’m your new probation officer.”
My heart races and I’m seconds away from running from what I know is coming as I follow her down the hall. We pass all the offices, heading toward a back area I’ve never seen. When she steps inside a clinically clean office, a man in a lab coat waiting near a service window, I know I’m fucked. Ms. Morgan hands the man what appears to be a lab ticket and he looks down at it before glancing back up at me.
“What’s going on?” I ask, unable to hide the waiver in my voice. My brain locks up as I try to think of a way to reason my way out of this. I curse inwardly at my brain freeze—another side effect of the fucking pills.
“Drug screen,” Ms. Morgan says without inflection. “You should’ve been getting them each time you reported.”
I nod in understanding as my palms slicken with nervous sweat. My heart thunders in my ears, almost making her next words inaudible.
“You seem nervous. Anything you need to tell me?” Her eyes look through me, like no matter what I say, she already knows the truth.