The Debt

by Tyler King

“You were close?” I asked.

  “Are close.”

  Okay, now I hated him a little. Whether he liked dick or not didn’t seem to matter within the realm of my possessive nature toward Hadley. He was still a man, still not a fan of mine.

  “Help me out here. She never talked about you. Suddenly, you’re back in the picture.”

  “I don’t see how I owe you an explanation,” he said, and crossed his arms.

  “Listen, Andre. You and I will probably never get along. I’m good with that. But you’re going to have to accept that I’m not going anywhere. Hadley is my whole life. Like it or not, this is permanent.”

  Looking away, Andre surveyed the room. A line of patrons waiting to close out their tabs crowded the bar. A dozen more filled the hallway waiting for the bathrooms. Veiled in darkness, this place was a dump. Under the unforgiving glare of fluorescent lighting, it was far less appealing.

  “My dad sent me away.” Andre sat rigid, his attention aimed in the distance. “That’s why I left. I asked the wrong question and that was it. Called me a fag and told me to get the fuck out. He didn’t have a son anymore. Sent me to live with my mom. Hadley was the only one who ever called. So when you tossed her aside, I was there.”

  “Whatever you think you know, Andre—”

  “She protected you. Every day you ignored her and Hadley called me crying, she wouldn’t tell me what happened. Just because she’s forgiven you doesn’t mean I will.”

  “I’m good with that.” I stood, tossing a few twenties on the table for the waitress. “You need a ride home?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “For what it’s worth,” I said, offering my left hand, “thank you for being her friend when I wasn’t.”

  He accepted the gesture with reluctance and squeezed my hand harder than necessary. “If she calls me crying—”

  “Look for me to be tied to her rear bumper.”

  * * *

  “You’re enjoying this too much,” Hadley slurred.

  I held her in my arms as I climbed the stairs to my bedroom. During the ride home, she’d fallen asleep and didn’t wake until I carried her through the front door.

  “Be nice to me,” I warned. “You’re completely at my mercy tonight.”

  “Every night.”

  At the stop of the stairs, I nudged my bedroom door open with my foot and crossed to the bed, where I laid her down on top of the duvet. “You want anything? Water?”

  “Present.” Hadley sat up against the headboard. “Gimme.” Like a child, she held out her arms, fingers wiggling in anticipation. Fucking adorable.

  “It’s not your birthday anymore.” The clock on my nightstand read 3:25. “I missed the deadline. Guess you’ll just have to wait until next year.”

  Her lips turned to a playful pout. “Please?”

  “Ah. There it is, the magic word.” I went to the closet. “Close your eyes. And don’t fall asleep.”

  The restraint she’d shown in not rummaging through my room to find the hidden gifts was commendable. When we were kids, Hadley had exercised a remarkable talent for finding, opening, and then resealing Christmas presents. She was nearly impossible to surprise, the curious thing.

  “Keep them closed.” The first gift, the recording of Hadley’s favorite songs I’d written, went into the CD player. I set the second one upright against the opposite side of the bed. Sitting on the edge beside her, I placed a card in Hadley’s hands. “Open.”

  She looked down, scanning the generic birthday card with a sassy raised eyebrow. “If there’s a gift card in here—”

  “Ingrate. Just read it.” I reached over and flicked on the bedside lamp.

  “‘Something big and something new, something small and something blue,’” she read. “A riddle? Josh, I don’t have the energy for a scavenger hunt. Please tell me it isn’t buried in the backyard.”

  “No. No digging.” With the remote, I turned on the stereo. The album began in chronological order with the first song I’d composed for her. The song I’d played for her birthday so many years ago when things were far less complicated and our lives were only supposed to get better.

  Hadley’s expression dropped. A crease formed between her brows, her bottom lip trembling. No. No, no, no. Not the reaction I’d aimed for.

  “Sweetheart.” I held her cheek, running my thumb over her lip. “What’s wrong?”

  “You made me a CD?”

  “I thought you’d like it. I laid down your favorites. You’ve been asking me to play for you and...” Shit. “It’s everything I’ve ever written for you.” Her face turned pink and tears fell to my fingers. She crawled onto my lap to bury her head against my shoulder, clinging to me. “Don’t cry, Punky. Please don’t cry.” I rubbed her back. What the fuck had I done wrong? And why the hell didn’t someone stop me? “Say something.” I pressed pause on the remote.

  “No.” Her head popped up. “Don’t stop.” Grabbing the remote, she pressed play. “It’s perfect.”

  “Really?”

  She nodded, smiling and sniffling. “I love it, Josh. It’s the best thing you could have given me.”

  Hadley pressed her lips to mine; they were warm, tender, and tasted of salt. Pure panic subsided into relief and immense pride as we kissed, and I realized I hadn’t strung her along all day just to fuck up in epic fashion.

  “I get the old and small part,” she said. Hadley pulled back and wiped the tears from her cheek. “Something big and blue?”

  I reached to my side of the bed and grabbed the bass guitar by the neck to place in her lap. Her eyes lit up.

  “Are you kidding me? Josh. This is— How did you know?”

  “I was always watching you, Hadley. I never stopped noticing.” My fingers trailed the side of her face and down to her neck, brushing her hair over her shoulder. “Trey said he’d start giving you lessons. I can teach you the basics.”

  Enamored, she plucked at the strings, experimenting with the steel under her fingers like I’d seen so many times at Jupiter. I wanted to share this with her. To have something we could discover together. Those dark, gorgeous eyes looked at me with an expression I wanted to bottle and retrieve at will. I could bench press a Volkswagen on that look.

  “Thank you,” she repeated, and set the bass on the floor against the nightstand. “For everything.” Her hand found mine, entwining our fingers. “Today was perfect. It means so much to me, Josh. I can’t even tell you.”

  “You don’t have to. I love you.” I brought her fingers to my lips, kissing her knuckles. “I’m going to make it up to you—all the birthdays I wasn’t the friend I should have been.”

  “No.” Hadley tugged my hand to her lap. “I don’t want to play that game. We’re skipping over all the bad stuff and picking up where we left off with the good parts, remember?”

  “You’re right. I’m rehabilitated from my midlife crisis and my little arsonist isn’t setting any more fires.”

  Punky smirked right before a yawn stretched her mouth wide. “Sorry,” she laughed.

  “Go ahead and get ready for bed. I’ll set the alarm.”

  Hadley hesitated. She held my hand tighter when I tried to get up.

  “You can do this. I’m trusting you. Get ready for bed. Don’t touch the locks while I’m gone. When I get back, I expect to find you tucked in tight.”

  She took a deep breath and nodded as she released my hand. I pressed a kiss to her forehead and left her to it.

  I’d learned that the expectations of those you love are powerful motivators and strong deterrents. To make my father proud of his son, to be a better man for the girl I cherished, I put forth a greater effort than I might have otherwise. I made different choices than I would have if left to my own devices. So I hoped the same would work on Hadley. But if it didn’t, I’d do my best to be what she needed. Hell, maybe she’d never get over it and push past the needs of her disorder. All I wanted was her happiness. I’d take her any way I could have her, scars and a
ll.

  * * *

  Sunday evening, after we took my dad to the airport, Hadley and I were sequestered at opposite ends of the house. Like me, she had a portfolio due at the end of the semester.

  While she worked in Simon’s study, I returned to the garage to get started on that composition for my jazz showcase. My head hurt. That fucking incessant song wouldn’t leave me alone. My broken hand was sore. My stomach was revolting against the few bites I’d managed to eat all day. Nevertheless, I ignored the multitude of excuses and sat with my notebook open on the music stand and my guitar across my lap. By 1:00 a.m. I had made some headway. Not a revelation by any means, but enough to call the evening productive.

  “You don’t think I can feel it when you walk into a room?” I looked over my shoulder at Hadley standing in the doorway with my sweatshirt hanging over lean, bare legs. Lovely. “My Punky sense tingles if you leave the town limits.”

  Hadley smiled, rolling her eyes. I used to think that move meant I was irritating her. I now realized it was a response to finding me pretty damn charming. Oh, the conversations that might have gone quite differently if I’d had that bit of insight.

  “Time for bed?” I said as she crossed the garage to where I sat.

  “I can’t see straight anymore.” She grabbed my hair, tugging my head back. “I should have majored in philosophy or something.”

  I slid my fingers up and down the backs of her thighs, marveling at how fucking soft she felt. I grabbed the backs of her legs, tugging her to stand between mine. “What, and give up the secure and lucrative future of a degree in art?”

  “And what are you working on? Jazz? Maybe you didn’t get the memo, but jazz is dead.” She leaned forward, kissing along my jaw and down my neck. Hadley dragged her teeth, biting lightly.

  My hands moved under her sweatshirt to grab her ass. No shorts, just a tiny pair of black panties. “Did you come in here to seduce me?”

  “Do I have to try?”

  “Hell no.”

  I stood and attacked her mouth. My hand fisted in her hair. Hadley stretched on her toes to meet me. With one arm under her ass, I hoisted her up until her legs locked around my waist. We bumped into every wall and counter through the garage and past the kitchen. Damn near took a header down the stairs as I carried her to her room.

  Inside, I threw her on the bed. She bounced, laughing. My cock strained at the image of this amazing woman spread out, waiting for me and the savage things I’d do to her.

  “Show me something,” I said, rubbing my erection through my jeans.

  Hadley reached for the bottom of the sweatshirt and pulled it over her head.

  I climbed over her, first tasting her lips before traveling her throat with my tongue. On seven million separate occasions I had fantasized about licking every fucking inch of her. From her shoulders, I lingered with her breasts, massaging them, sucking her tight nipples until she whimpered, then biting for a scream.

  Hadley writhed beneath me, grinding against the ridge of my cock. Manipulating the heavy flesh of one breast, I applied my mouth to the other. I listened to her body, alternating between hard and soft. Her noises grew louder, more desperate as I moved my attention to her other breast. With my tongue piercing, I lashed at her nipple, flicking the cold steel over the little peak. I worked on her until she was quivering beneath me.

  “Scoot up,” I told her.

  She slid up the bed to rest against the pillows, giving me room to settle between her legs. I knelt above her and held her right leg over my shoulder to kiss a trail from ankle to thigh, repeating the path on her left.

  “You having fun?”

  “Very much,” I mumbled against her skin. “You are my dream come true.”

  Hadley looked up with a content smile and sleepy eyes. “I love you.”

  “Sweetheart”—I peeled her panties down her legs—“I’m just getting started.”

  I spread her thighs to reveal the Promised Land, my goddamn birthright as far as I was concerned. No lucky son of a bitch ever had it this good.

  I devoured that girl. My tongue stabbed shallow into her as my thumb rubbed over her clit. Shoving two fingers inside, I sucked the sensitive nub, flicking my tongue piercing. Hadley’s nails scraped across my scalp, and I thought I might come in my fucking pants from just her needy violence.

  “Get there, Punky.” I pumped my fingers into her cunt, harder and faster as she moaned.

  Her walls clamped down. Hadley’s hands fisted the pillow. Her entire body jerked. I pulled my fingers free and wrapped my mouth over her pussy, licking every drop of pure ecstasy.

  As her body shuddered and went limp, she muttered under her breath. “I don’t think I can take any more.”

  “Do you mean that?”

  “No,” she breathed. “I want a lot more.”

  “Good.” I smacked her pussy.

  Hadley slapped her thighs together around my hand, glaring at me.

  “Bend over, sweetheart. I’m going to ride the hell out of you.”

  “Please?” she asked with a sassy inflection.

  “If I have to say please, I’m going to tie you up and spank you.”

  Her mouth dropped open, eyes wide. “Rude.”

  “Hadley,” I warned.

  She took her sweet time sitting up, eyeing me all the while, like she was daring me to make good on my word. Another time. Right now, I needed to be inside her.

  With Hadley on her knees, shoulders flat to the bed, I caressed her ass with one hand and pulled open my jeans with the other, shoving them down enough to free myself.

  “Right here,” I said, running my thumb over her pristine skin. “My teeth would look so nice.”

  “Keep dreaming.”

  “You’ll cave. One of these days.”

  Positioned at her entrance, I held my cock in my good hand, rubbing the head through her slit. Every bit of friction against the piercing sent vibrations down my spine.

  “Josh,” she whimpered.

  “Sorry. Getting myself all distracted.”

  “You’re going to lose your topping privileges.”

  Inch by fantastic fucking inch, I slid into her. I spread her ass to watch my dick disappear inside her. Embedded to the hilt, I flexed my hips, holding deep. Hadley squeezed around my shaft.

  “So good,” I groaned. “Shit. You feel so—”

  “Josh.” Hair flipped over Punky’s shoulder as she tilted her face to look at me. “Stop thinking about nailing me and do it already.”

  “Damn, I love you.”

  “I know.”

  I pulled out to the tip, gently sliding back in. At an easy pace, holding her hips, back and forth, I stroked myself with her warm, soft cunt. So fucking tight. Bending over her, my lips traveled Hadley’s shoulders and down her back. I could have kept this up all night—slow, patient, just on the razor’s edge.

  “Faster,” she whimpered. “I want more.”

  But Punky wasn’t the patient type.

  No matter that I had her nearly immobile but for my will, Hadley used every bit of leverage she could find to push against me, forcing her pussy to take me deeper. Faster. Harder. The urge to come was right there, but I wanted this to last. Leaving a kiss on her lower back, I encouraged her to roll over. She reached up to touch the side of my face as I settled on top of her.

  “If you don’t want to,” Hadley whispered, “I understand. We can stop.”

  “No.” I kissed her palm. “I can handle it. I don’t want to miss a second of anything with you.”

  Covering her body with mine, with Hadley’s legs wrapped around my hips and her arms clinging to my shoulders, I made love to her. And when the memories rushed my consciousness, I let her hold me tighter until the shaking stopped.

  Chapter 28

  Session 9

  “What is it about that moment?” Reid discarded her iPad. She sat forward in the rolling leather chair, attention trained on my every frustrated, fumbling word.

  Horizon
tal on the sofa, I didn’t look at her. My legs were too long, one elevated on the opposite armrest and my other foot touching the floor. I fought to discuss the topic while evading the memories, the psychosomatic effects. There was a water spot on the ceiling that had grown four inches in diameter during the last week.

  “If I knew, I wouldn’t be here.”

  “Help me out, Josh. Explain it to me.”

  Eyes closed, I absently traced one finger over my eyebrow. “Fear. Panic. Revulsion. Coming feels great, yeah. Of course. But it’s...it’s like fudge covered in dog shit. I get the good stuff, the pleasure, but always coated in shaking, nausea, a putrid taste in the back of my throat. My entire body breaks out in cold sweats.”

  “And you see him?”

  Through clenched teeth I answered, “Yes.”

  “Specific instances or a general scene?”

  “Fuck.” I tugged at my hair, trying to get a handle on my racing pulse. “Does it matter? What’s the difference?”

  “Try.”

  I’d fought her on this. I had agreed to her help, but asking me to go back into those memories, to talk about him, was something I had hoped to avoid.

  “Do you believe you’re safe here?” Reid asked.

  “Here” was irrelevant. This room or a street corner, it didn’t matter. The danger lived in my head. Why wasn’t there a surgery for that? Well, a surgery more precise and reliable than a lobotomy. Reach in and scoop out only where the raven made his nest.

  “I see him—you know—finishing.” I hated saying the words aloud. My stomach turned. “I make a distinction between rape and molestation. He didn’t rape me. The sick fuck used me. I was a prop. Might as well have been a porno mag with hands.”

  “And when you’ve been with someone,” she said, “when you’re with Hadley now...”

  “What?” I demanded. “Ask the damn question.”

  “Do you see yourself as your abuser?”

  “Fuck you.” I jerked upright, fists clenched.

  “You’re angry at the insinuation?”

  “Yes,” I hissed. “And you’re baiting me. Why?”

  “I have a theory and it goes like this: You envision yourself as the victimizer. As a child, impressionable, you learned to associate sexual acts involving another person as perverse, abusive. Alone, masturbating, you’re not hurting anyone. But in your mind, taking pleasure from these women, from Hadley, is something selfish and depraved. You think you’re scarring them just as you were traumatized. What you’re experiencing is post-traumatic stress, yes. More to the point, you feel guilt. Strong remorse for taking pleasure from what you perceive as Hadley’s pain or subjugation.”