by J. Daniels
I kiss her head, watching that smile grow, feeling it hit me in the center of my chest.
My eyes turn back to the road as I give her what she wants.
THE SILVER MOON DINER ONLY has a few cars in the gravel lot surrounding it. None of them a black Monte Carlo, the vehicle Beth’s dad told her he would be driving.
“We’re early,” I reassure her when she looks around the lot, then back at the road. I place my hand on her back as she turns her head, her eyes heavy with awareness.
Sighing, she tugs at the bottom of her shorts. “It’s almost two o’clock. We’re not that early.”
I lead her toward the door, not responding, because fuck, she’s right. We’re meeting at two. It’s less than five minutes ’til. We’re not early. We’re on time.
I take in a deep breath, calming my nerves.
The hostess inside the diner greets us with a smile. “Afternoon. Two today?”
“Three,” Beth eagerly corrects her. “My dad’s coming too.”
I sit across from Beth in the booth, taking the menu from the hostess and flipping it open. Beth sets hers down and stares out the large window, keeping her hands in her lap.
An older woman in a bright teal apron walks up, smiling. “Afternoon. My name is Doris and I’ll be your waitress today. Can I start you two off with something to drink?”
Beth doesn’t respond. Doesn’t turn her head or acknowledge our waitress is any way.
I look up at Doris. “Sweet tea for her. I’ll take a root beer.”
Doris walks away.
I tap my foot against Beth’s under the table, setting my menu aside. She turns her head, the corner of her mouth lifting slightly. She looks sad and hopeful at the same time. How that’s possible, I have no idea.
Our drinks are set in front of us. Doris pulls a notepad out of the front of her apron, ready to take down our order.
“Oh, we’re waiting for someone,” Beth tells her, holding up her hand. Her dark hair brushes against her cheek when she turns her head abruptly. “Can we wait until he gets here? I want us to eat together.”
Doris tucks the notepad back away, winking at Beth. “Sure thing, darling. Let me know if you need anything in the meantime.”
Beth settles back against the seat, setting her phone down in front of her as Doris walks away.
I glance at the clock on the wall above the door. Ten after two. The condensation building on my glass absorbs into my hand as I take a sip of the chilled soda.
“Did you tell your aunt and uncle where you were going today?” I ask Beth, wanting to keep her talking. Needing to keep her mind off the nearly vacant parking lot she’s staring at.
Shit, I need to keep my mind off it. Where the fuck is he?
She nods, focusing on me, a hint of a smile touching her lips. “Danny lectured me for an hour when I told him what I was doing. He seemed slightly less worried about it when I said you were going with me.”
“Slightly,” I repeat, laughing at Danny’s protectiveness.
Bastard knows me well enough, but still gives me shit for dating his niece.
I cross my arms over my chest and lean back. “Like I’d let you do this alone.”
“I don’t think I could’ve done this alone,” she says quietly. Her eyes lower to the table, her finger moving along the edge of the black, floral phone case. “Especially if he doesn’t show up.”
A pressure builds in my chest. “Look at me,” I demand. She raises her head. “Don’t do that. He’ll be here. He’s probably just stuck in traffic.”
Her eyes wander to the window.
I repeat the same words to her over the next hour, reassuring her, trying to keep myself convinced.
By three o’clock, I’m emphasizing how awful traffic must be coming from Tennessee. She dials her dad, frowning when he doesn’t answer. Every time Doris begins to make her way to our table, I keep her back with a shake of my head.
By four o’clock, I’m ready to drive to wherever the fuck this dickhead is coming from and drag his ass here myself.
Beth tries to reach him again. And again, each time greeted with a voicemail. I try to engage her in conversation about anything, monotonous rantings spilling out of my mouth. Every thought that pops into my head I’m throwing at her, but it’s as if I’m alone in the diner. The self-possessed woman across from me becomes a ghost of her former self. She stops smiling, stops flicking her eyes in my direction when I tap her foot. The sound of her name doesn’t warrant the same reaction I’m used to getting from her. Each minute that passes drags her further away from me.
By ten after five, my body is rigid against the seat, my vision vibrating with anger. A single tear rolls down Beth’s cheek, and I can’t take this anymore. I’m ready to kill this man. I want to take his life away from him, and I want to do it slowly.
Drag it out over hours. Make him feel a fraction of the pain Beth is feeling. Then make him feel it again.
I lean over the table and grab Beth’s elbow, pulling her hand into mine.
“He’s not coming,” she whispers through a shattered voice. She doesn’t fight my hold. She allows me this, this one part of her to comfort. Her eyes fall to the phone on the table. “I don’t understand. Do you think he could still be stuck in traffic?”
No.
“Maybe.”
“Or he forgot? Do you think he forgot about me?”
I stare into her eyes when she lifts them, the unshed tears threatening to wet her cheeks. “When was the last time you spoke to him?” I ask, thinking maybe he did forget. Praying for that explanation, and not the one I fear kept him from showing up.
He doesn’t want to know her.
My jaw clenches so tight, my teeth ache.
He doesn’t deserve to live.
She swallows noisily. “Last night. He sounded really excited again, like he did when I first spoke to him. He was talking so fast. I reminded him where we were meeting and what time. He said he would be here. He promised. I tried calling him this morning before you picked me up but no one answered. I figured he left already.”
“Beth.” I squeeze her hand when her lip trembles. My forearm shakes against the table. My whole body charged, ready to detonate at any second.
“He sounded so excited,” she repeats, blinking heavily. Tears stream down her face. She pulls her hand out of mine and slips out of the booth, nearly stumbling, but righting herself quickly. She pushes against my shoulder when I lean to help her. “Don’t. I’m fine. I just need to use the bathroom.”
My back slams against the seat. I wipe both hands down my face, trying to keep myself from flipping over this table.
How could he does this to her? How could that fucker get her hopes up and then bail on her like this? He has her fucking number. He could’ve called if something came up. I’d still think he was a worthless piece of shit, but I’d be thinking it somewhere else with Beth. Not here. I wouldn’t be watching her break down in the middle of a fucking diner.
I swipe her phone off the table and hit redial. A generic voicemail picks up. I disconnect the call and hit redial again. And again, the stress of the phone against my ear building to an unbearable pressure. If he’s sleeping, if his ass is still home and he did forget, if he tries to give me one fucking excuse, I’m tearing into him. I press redial. Six attempts, seven, on eight I’m ready to give up, until . . .
“Hello? Yeah?” Two coughs, then the sound of bottles clinking together comes through the phone. “Shit,” he mumbles, groaning. “My fucking head. Christ, what time . . . who is this?”
My breathing grows thick, scratching against the back of my throat.
His fucking head. Bottles. This asshole is hung over.
I turn toward the window, keeping my voice low, but unable to confine the rage to my tongue. It coats my words like fresh tar sticking to pavement.
“You fucking piece of shit. You’re home? Do you have any idea how crushed your daughter is right now? She’s fucking waiting for you, as
shole, and you’re just now waking up? Are you fucking kidding me with this shit?”
He moans. More bottles clank together. “Fuck, I . . .” Sighing, a mattress creaks through the phone before his bullshit excuse. “Look, I wanted to come. I was going to. I’m just . . . I can’t be nobody’s fuckin’ dad, you know? It ain’t me.”
I angle more toward the window when two patrons walk into the diner. My mouth presses against the phone. “No, I don’t fucking know. I don’t know how you could act excited to meet your own daughter, get her fucking hopes up, and then tear them down like this. If you didn’t want to be ‘nobody’s fuckin’ dad,’ you shouldn’t have arranged to meet her, motherfucker. She said you were excited and shit. What was that, huh? Was that all a lie?”
“Man,” he mumbles. “Every time I talked to her, I was gettin’ high. I don’t remember half the shit I said. It was mainly her talkin’ anyway.”
I see red.
“You know what? It’s fucking better this way. I’m glad you’re not here. You don’t deserve to know her. You never will. Don’t ever call her, don’t reach out to her, even if you’re fucking sober, you hear me? I’ll never let you anywhere near her. And if I ever fucking see you face-to-face, I’m going to cause you more pain then you’ve ever felt. You understand?”
He chuckles sardonically. “Threatening a druggie isn’t going to do you much good. I’m slowly killing myself anyway.”
“Not soon enough, asshole.”
“Tell her I’m sorry.”
“Go to Hell.”
Click.
I stuff the phone into my pocket and push from the booth, heading toward the bathrooms. My fist connects firmly with the women’s room door, rattling it.
“Beth?”
I step inside. I don’t give a shit if there’s other women in here. That’s my last concern.
Beth turns her head as she stands in front of the sink, her fingers wiping underneath her reddened eyes. “Reed?” Her small voice echoes in the tightly spaced room. She takes a cautious step forward, taking the hand I’m holding out to her.
“Let’s go home.”
I leave a fifty on the table for Doris. She never got to bring us anything besides drinks, and I wasn’t going to screw her out of a tip.
The clouds shift quickly overhead, darkening the sky as we walk across the lot, hand in hand. Thunder claps in the distance, the wind whips around us, blowing Beth’s shirt up to reveal her flat stomach. The first few drops of rain pelt against my forearm as I open the passenger door.
“Storm’s coming. A bad one, by the looks of the sky. Hurry, get in.”
“My phone?” she asks, suddenly realizing she doesn’t have it.
“It’s here.” I touch the pocket of my jeans.
She settles against the seat, allowing me to buckle her in. Her eyes are distant, losing focus on the dashboard as her body sags lifelessly, melting into the leather. If I could see her soul right now, it would look battered. Broken. On the exterior, she’s still Beth, minus the spark. No smile, no surfaced excitement. Internally, she’s a stranger to me. This isn’t my Beth.
I need to get her home.
By the time I reach the driver’s side door, the rain is steady, wetting my shirt, my hair, beading on my lashes. I wipe my hand over my face and start the truck. The gravel kicks up away from my tires. I get us onto a main road, avoiding the back ones because I know they’ll flood first if the rain doesn’t stop.
It doesn’t.
It comes down harder, thicker, like sheets of fog blanketing my windshield. My visibility deteriorates with each passing minute. Lightening slices across the darkened sky, illuminating the road ahead. A car nearly clips my front end when the driver hydroplanes.
Beth gasps next to me. Her knuckles white as she grips the harness.
I take the nearest exit, pulling into the parking lot of a Holiday Inn. I turn to Beth after parking under the awning attached to the main entrance.
“Are you okay with us getting a room for the night? I don’t think we should drive in this.”
She nods, keeping her eyes on the dashboard.
I pay quickly for a room. Beth doesn’t react when I climb back into the truck. Her head is still tilted back against the seat, her eyes still distant. Detached. After parking along the side of the building in front of our room, she allows me to help her down, burrowing against my side to shield herself from the rain.
We get inside the room.
I bolt the lock behind me, securing the door, wiping the rain off my arms as Beth moves toward the bed.
“I’m going to use the bathroom,” I tell her, kicking my shoes off by the small table along the wall. My keys slide across the surface of the wood when I toss them.
Beth sits on the edge of the bed, her fingers tangling together in her lap, her head lowered.
I take her phone out of my pocket and place it on the quilted comforter. The bathroom door creaks as I pull it shut.
Cool water fills my hands from the tap. I splash it on my face, reaching back to squeeze the base of my neck. I stare at my reflection in the large, oval mirror above the sink. Dark smudges rim my eyes. My complexion washed out, paler than usual.
I need sleep.
After relieving myself and washing my hands, I open the door and find Beth standing next to the bed. Her hand clutching her phone. Her eyes narrowed, focused on the screen.
Fuck. Did that asshole call her?
I take a tentative step closer and she pins me with her stare. My feet stick to the carpet.
“I was texting my aunt to tell her I wouldn’t be home tonight, and I saw the last call I made, but I didn’t make it.” She looks at the phone again, then back at me. “Did you speak to my dad?”
Shit. Shit shit shit. Didn’t want her to know about that.
“Yeah.” My eyes stray from her face. I wipe my clammy palms on my jeans, suddenly nervous as hell. “I did. I called him while you were in the restroom. A lot. I woke him up.”
“He was asleep?”
“He was hung over, possibly high.” My gaze meets hers. I move, tangling my hand in her damp hair. “Beth.”
“What did you say to him?” A tear rolls down her cheek. She lowers the phone to her side, staring up at me.
I flatten my fingers against the back of her neck. “That he didn’t deserve to know you. That I would beat the shit out of him if he ever came here. I don’t know. I was pissed. I said a lot. I told him he would never hurt you again. I told him to stay away from you. To never call you. I said . . .”
Her mouth crashes against mine with an urgency I can taste. I moan as she clings to my body. Her lips are wet, damp from her tears. I suck them as we undress each other. Clothes fall to the floor, some hang off the side of the bed. We collapse into a tangled mess of limbs and fevered touches.
I lift her easily, sliding her further up the mattress.
She touches my cheek as I trap my cock between us.
“Beth.” I press her name against her jaw. My breath hitches as I enter her slowly. Stretching her. Filling her.
Mine.
“God, Beth.” I wet my lips, rocking into her. “Beth . . .”
If I could only say one word for the rest of my life . . .
She wiggles, presses her heavy tits against my chest, fists my hair and tugs it gently.
“Reed,” she moans into my mouth. Her legs catch our bodies together. Greedy hands roam down my back.
I take her slowly. There’s no rush to this. Digging my fingers into her hips, I lift her pelvis off the bed and drive into her. Deep, deeper, thrusting so goddamn slow she shakes as she stretches for me. Her hands flatten against the wooden headboard. Her eyes roll closed. My tongue swells in my mouth, preventing the filth I’m usually whispering against her skin from escaping. I drop my hands to the bed beside her head, flex my arms, and fill her. Again. Slower. We lock eyes. Our foreheads touch, damp with sweat.
“Oh my God,” she says between ragged breaths. Her legs tre
mble against my hips.
This is different, and she knows it. I’ve never taken her this gently before. I’ve never been this quiet. My heart’s never beaten like this.
Never. So many firsts. What is happening?
Is it because of today? It is because I’ve been a wreck all week, worrying I’d lose her? I’m exhausted, my body drained of it’s normal vigor during sex, but that’s not it. That’s not why I can’t be rough right now.
This isn’t fucking. Not this. I can’t stop looking at her. I can’t tell her how wet my dick is. I can’t ask her to suck me while I finger her ass.
I don’t want to stop.
I don’t want to come.
I don’t want anything but her.
I’ve never been this terrified.
She gasps, grabbing my face, biting my lip as she comes. “Reed,” she whispers, moaning against my mouth. “I love you . . . I love you.”
My body surges. I fill her, my control breaking as I bury my face into her neck. I groan against her skin, but I feel like I’m screaming. Words ring out in my ears, three simple words.
Her small body takes my weight as darkness pulls me under.
“It’s okay,” a soft voice murmurs. A hand strokes my hair.
I was wrong.
Now, right now, I’ve never been this terrified.
Beth
HALF AWAKE, HALF FLOATING IN and out of a dream, my body slowly untangles itself from the sheet as I stir on the mattress. Warm skin against my shoulder peels my eyelids open. I turn my head, brushing the hair off my face.
Reed lies on his back, eyes closed, mouth slightly parted. Half his body covered in the gray sheet. He doesn’t rouse from my hand ghosting over his chest. Normally, even the slightest touch has him pulling me closer.
“It’s okay.”
I stare up at the ceiling, trying to find comfort in the words I gave Reed last night. The words I whispered over and over into the dark. The words maybe I needed to hear more than him.
My heart thunders against my hand as I lay it flat between my breasts.
“It’s okay.”
“I love you . . . I love you.”