by Alla Kar
She stills in my arms, her heart beating frantically against her chest pressed against me.
“Okay, children. It’s time to eat.”
We spend most of our dinner talking about school and our futures. Bella actually seemed content while talking with them. She smiles, and laughs. Not like when she’s with me.
“This was great,” Bella says, wiping the corner of her mouth with her napkin. “Always great, Mrs. Finch.”
She waves her off and ruffles her hair. “Thank you. Thank you. Why don’t we go into the living room? David and I have something we need to give you.”
Oh, God. And here it comes. The white elephant we’ve been hiding since we walked through the door is out. We’re going to have to talk about Jordan.
Bella looks at me for the first time tonight. A nervous frown is pulling at the end of her trembling mouth. Please, stay calm, I want to say but I don’t. I stand up and follow both of them into the living room. The white walls are full of pictures of Jordan, us, their family.
Who am I kidding? This is my family.
I settle on one side of the small loveseat and stretch my legs out underneath the living room table. Bella takes a seat on an arm chair in the corner.
Mrs. Finch settles her hand on Mr. Finch’s knee and squeezes. “It’s so good to see you two.” She wipes a stray tear. “You were the two most important people in Jordan’s life. He loved you both.”
The quiet stillness settles over the room. I’m holding my breath waiting for someone to relieve this pressure in my head. “David and I got together some of his things for you both.” She stands up and pulls out two cardboard boxes from behind the couch.
My hands are clinching the sides of the loveseat. She sets a box in front of my legs and I stare down into the depth of it. I can make out movies, games we used to play, and what looks to be a box of pictures. “You don’t have to go through them now, but we wanted you to have them. He’d want you two to have them.”
Steadying my breath, I stand up and wrap Mrs. Finch into a hug. “Thank you. I miss him so much.”
And then the waterworks start to fly. Tears are spilling down my face and I can’t differentiate hers from mine. A loud sob breaks her throat, and she pulls back covering her mouth. “Hey,” I whisper before Mr. Finch gets to her side. “You’re going to be fine. Jordan would want you to go on with your life. He loved you so much.”
Mr. Finch pats my shoulder and reaches over where Bella is hovering beside me and pulls her into a hug where she begins to sob.
The sound breaks my heart. I want to kiss away every single one of her tears.
“Do you think I can have a minute in Jordan’s room? I won’t take anything.” I ask.
“Of course.”
I can feel Bella’s eyes on the back of my head as I walk up the stairs and toward Jordan’s room. It feels like I’m walking into my past but as a dead man. I feel like the shittiest friend in the world, looking at my best-friend’s belongings after his death and wishing—hoping—that his girl will come talk to me.
I flick the light on and listen to the silence of his room. No rowdy brothers to disturb you like at my childhood home. Only the silence you create. That was one reason I loved Jordan’s house so much.
I settle on his made bed, running my fingers over the covers and taking in everything in his room. My second room. It all looks the same as it did before, minus all of his important stuff that made the trip to his dorm room that’s already been cleaned out.
I sit and listen to the silence for a few minutes. Or maybe it’s an hour before I stand and drop to my knees. I cradle myself and cry on the floor like a baby. “I’m so sorry man,” I whisper, begging for a response. A hint that I’m forgiven. But all I hear is the silence that I grew up loving.
“I’m a dead man,” I whisper. This isn’t happening to me. This isn’t supposed to happen. Why can’t I love someone else? And as badly as it hurts to stand without any resolve of my problem and leave the room, I do.
Mr. Finch hands me a plate a food when I walk through the kitchen. “Kristi went ahead to bed. She’s—,” he stops because we both know how much she’s hurting.
“It was good to see you,” I say, lifting the plate slightly in my hand. “And thanks for the food. It’s always good.”
He smiles. “I hope you don’t mind I went ahead and put Jordan’s things in the backseat of your Jeep.”
“Thank you.”
I head for the door. “Beau—wait.”
I turn and watch as Mr. Finch furrows his brow and crosses his arms over his sweater vest clad chest. “Did Bella seem off to you tonight? I mean—don’t get me wrong I know she’s hurting, we all are but there is something different. She seemed on edge. Did you notice it?”
Who the fuck couldn’t? She looked like she was going to spring from the room the first chance she got. She obviously didn’t realize I was coming and that’s the reason. But I don’t think I’m ready to tell Mr. Finch that I’m in love with her.
I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready for that.
I shrug my shoulders. “She’s been quiet for a while now. I’ll—I’ll talk to her at work tomorrow and see if I can help.”
“Thanks, Beau. I love you, son.”
My chest tightens. “I love you too.”
***
My radio is blaring from the speakers of my TV and rattling the picture frames that are cluttered on the top. The three empty bottles of Budweiser are littering the floor beside my couch. I kick them further underneath my table when I hear my cell phone ringing.
I dig around in the couch cushions until I pull out my cellphone. The number is a local one but I’ve never seen it. I probably should answer it.
“Hello. Yes, this is he. What do you mean she’s in jail? For what? Christ the girl doesn’t even leave her room! Oh, God. Okay. No, no. I’m coming to get her.”
“Shit.”
The jail is packed when I walk into the front room. The receptionist lifts her thick glasses and says, “Name.”
“I’m here to pick up Annabelle Jacobs.”
She picks up her phone and begins calling someone. I wait as she talks to someone on the other end and places the phone down. “You can have a seat in our waiting area. They’re bringing her out now.”
I take a seat in the hard chair and watch as different people walk in and out of the front doors. Ten minutes later, an officer walks out with Bella by his side. She’s not crying like I expected, she’s pissed.
Those pretty lips are pressed into a hard line, and both hands are crossed over her chest like she’s about to explode. She’s still wearing her dress from dinner and it looks like she hasn’t been home since.
“Are you Beau Richards?” the officer asks, stretching out his large hand. I take it and nod. He scratches his smooth face and takes a long look at Bella. “We found her drinking—,”
“That’s none of his business!” she shouts at him.
“He’s picking you up, isn’t he? You should learn how to respect the people that are coming to pick you up this late at night.”
She sighs and turns to look the other way.
“It’s okay,” I say. “She doesn’t have to tell me if she doesn’t want to. Do you need anything from me?
He takes off his hat and rubs his balding head. “No, I’m letting her go with a warning. Just get her home safe. That’s all I ask.”
“Thank you, officer.”
I don’t wait for her to say anything. I turn and walk out of the police station. I hear her soft footsteps behind me as she follows me to my Jeep. I start the Jeep once she’s in and head toward her apartment.
“I wasn’t drunk, ya know.”
I lift a brow and give her a long sideways glance. “I didn’t say you were.”
“Well I wasn’t—wait! Where are you going?” I ask.
“Taking you to your apartment, what do you think?”
She frowns. “I lost my apartment key and Ashley wouldn’t answer the
phone when I tried to call her.”
I smile and touch my radio to turn it down. “Now we see the real reason you called me to come pick you up.”
Her shoulders fall and she rests her head against the headrest. “My parents live too far away—I didn’t know who else to call. I’m sorry—,”
“Don’t be sorry, Bella. I’ll always help you when you need it. All you’ve got to do is ask.” She stills against her seat and intertwines her fingers. “So, I guess this means we’ve got to go to my apartment, right?”
“It’s up to you.”
I roll my eyes and make a U-turn. “I wouldn’t let you sleep in the goddamn car Bella. Christ.”
She curls into a ball and stares out the window. I notice she’s not wearing shoes but I’m not sure I want to know the reason so I don’t ask. She quietly follows me when we park at my apartment. It isn’t like she hasn’t been here before. She’s slept here too many nights to count. With Jordan.
She stands with her hands behind her back when I shut and lock the door behind her. Her hair is tangled and her dress is dirty. “Do you need to take a bath? I think you still have some clothes over here. Mrs. Finch left them for you to pick up.”
She fiddles with the end of her hair and nods. “Yeah, I’m disgusting.”
“I don’t think that’s possible,” I say, gesturing toward the pile of her clothes sitting on a side table in the kitchen area. “I was going to bring those to you but forgot. You can just change into those and I’ll wash the dress you’re wearing.”
“Okay.” I watch her grab the clothes and disappear into my bathroom. I quickly tidy up my apartment, picking up the empty beer bottles and setting an air freshener on my coffee table.
Once everything is in its place, I hear the shower turn off and the shower curtain being pulled backwards. I turn my TV back on but turn the volume down. She emerges a few minutes later, water dripping from the ends of her hair and soaking into her white tank top. “Here are my clothes,” she says. “It needs to be washed in cold water. I can do it if you want me to.”
I shake my head and point toward the couch. “Sit. I’ll do it.” I push her dress into the washing machine behind the sliding doors, pour some fabric softener in and turn it on.
Her eyes are glued to the TV when I walk in and take a seat beside her. COPS is playing and I can’t help but bust out laughing. “I wouldn’t be surprised if you showed up on here.”
“Oh, whatever,” she laughs. “I was hardly dealing drugs or breaking into someone’s home.”
I slide my finger against the crease in the couch cushion, aware of how close she is to me. “Are you going to tell me what you did? Don’t I deserve that?”
She sighs. “I’ll tell you later,” she says, pretending to be interested in the show. We watch the show in silence until the credits come on. I know it’s nearing two o’clock and she’ll want to go to bed soon but I don’t want her to.
I close my eyes for a brief moment and shift to the side, pressing something in my pocket into my leg. Emily’s IPod.
“Bella?”
She drags herself upright and looks at me. “What is it?”
I dig in the depths of my pocket, before pulling out her IPod and palming it. She watches it in my hands and slowly reaches out to grab it. “You have it,” she whispers. “I thought I lost it on the mountain,” she lets out a shaky breath and tucks it against herself.
I shrug my shoulders like it’s no big deal. “I guess it accidentally got shoved in with my things at the hospital.” I clear my throat. “Did you get Jordan’s hat?”
Her gaze leaves the IPod and she stares at the floor. “Yeah, I’ve got it.” A look I can’t read is on her face but I don’t push it. This is the first time we’ve really talked about anything specifically dealing with the crash.
“Where am I sleeping?” she asks.
“You can have my bed. I’ll take the couch.”
A small sigh escapes her and she stands up quickly. “You okay? You need something to drink or eat?”
“No. But—what did you get out of Jordan’s room earlier?”
What? Furrowing my brow, I place my hands on my knees and stare up at her. “Nothing. Why would I take something?”
She shrugs and pulls at the end of her damp hair. “What was in your box?”
“Why?”
“Because I want to know,” she says, slamming her fists down on her hips. “Because I have a damn good right to know.”
“Oh and I don’t have the right?” I ask.
“Never mind,” she says, waving me off before storming toward my room like it’s hers.
Oh hell no. I jump up and follow her. She’s slipping underneath my covers—something I’ve dreamed of forever—and lying back against my pillow. “Do you think I don’t have a right to have some of his things? He was my best-friend, Bella. You’re not the only one hurting right now.”
She darts out of the bed like a bullet and stops when she’s standing in front of me. “I know we’re all hurting, Beau. But this is extremely hard for me.”
“Me too!” I scream, shoving my finger in her face. “I miss them too!”
She tosses her arms in the air and pulls at her hair. “You don’t understand! I have to live everyday knowing that I’m in love with my dead boyfriend’s best-friend and he’s there every time you turn the goddamn corner!”
In love. She loves me? Emily and Bella had always joked about Bella not loving anyone but her cat. And I know she hadn’t told Jordan she loved him back yet. Her face pales as soon as she says it and she sucks her lip inside her mouth.
I can hardly think straight and I know I need to open my mouth and tell her. But the words escape me. Tears build in her eyes and she covers her face with her open palms. But I stop her before she starts to cry because I’m a selfish asshole.
Or because I may never fucking breathe again if I don’t.
I grab her waist and drag her toward me, pressing my lips down onto her trembling ones. I feel the tears in her mouth from crying as I give her a featherlike kiss, dancing across her lips and jaw.
Her mouth immediately responds to mine, opening to let me lap at the sweetness of her mouth. Her tongue. Ten small fingers grab my shirt and pull me closer. It’s as if she wants all of me. Now. No hesitation.
Reaching down, I pick her up from underneath her ass and toss her onto my now unmade bed. Her hair spans out across my white comforter, her body sprawled and ready. When I settle between her thighs, I lean down and take that pouty mouth in mine again.
She moans as I trail my paw up her side to cup the curve of her neck. Foolish. Foolish. Both of us. I’m kissing her like I may never get another chance and she’s letting me. Breathing hard in my ear, grinding her waist against my growing erection. And I know this is right—regardless of how wrong it is, I know it’s right.
She rests her head, intertwining her fingers into my hair and pulls me back further against the mattress, her legs wrapping around my waist, pulling me closer to her still. I kiss her harder, feeling how hot she is pressed against me.
She returns the roughness, pushing me to the side and crawling on top of me, straddling my hips. She doesn’t stop when I move my hand from her shoulder down her back to rest on the curve of her ass, she kisses me harder.
I want this. I want this. I want it more than I want my next breath. I watch her bite her lip as I smooth my fingers over her ass and up to the hem of her shirt.
She knows what I’m asking and we both know neither one of us should be asking it. But she nods, takes the hem of her shirt and pulls it over her head.
I take in the swell of her breasts in a small lacy yellow bra and the plane of her flat stomach. She’s so beautiful. Slowly, she rises to her knees and begins to strip out of her jeans.
I watch carefully as she pulls them down her long legs, and tosses them to the floor. Hopefully not to be seen again until the morning. When she starts to get back on the bed, I reach up, grab her and guide her down to
my mattress.
A small triangle covers her front, two strings over each hip and when I trail my finger along the back of her, I now know she’s wearing a thong.
I groan, snatching her panties and yanking them down her thighs until she kicks them off. “I want you,” I whisper, watching her gray eyes watch me.
“This will change everything,” she whispers.
I nod. “They’re already changed. Everything is fucked up now, Bella.” My featherlike touch over the swell of her breasts gets me the sexiest moan.
“Then fuck me up more,” she whispers. And I obey.
***
Bella
I’m exposed. Completely exposed beneath Beau as he kisses a trail of fire up my ribs to the peaked tip of my breasts. I can’t believe I’m doing this.
I can’t believe anything that happened tonight did. I was arrested for loitering and drinking, even though I was NOT drunk. And not to mention I told him I loved him. Maybe I am drunk.
Beau moves his hips harder against my spread legs and gently bites down on my nipple. My back arches, pressing me closer to his hard body. I have no idea how I went from mourning at my dead boyfriend’s house to letting myself go—letting the man of my dreams take me to where I desperately want to go.
My heart hammers against my chest when his fingers trail down the curve of my side to my soft mound. His gaze lifts to mine—and I dare him, staring into his too-blue eyes. He takes my dare, slipping his finger into my slit and pushing his finger into me.
I duck my head and bury it into the crook of his neck.
“Bella,” he says, roughly. “Look at me.”
I slowly drag my gaze to his. “This is your last chance. Do you want this? If you don’t, it’s fine. I won’t be mad. We can go to sleep, talk or stare at each other. I don’t care.”
I give him a nod and he pushes his finger all the way inside of me. Oh my God. Oh my God. Ohmigod. An embarrassing squeal leaves my throat as he pushes past my barrier into no man’s land. It’s been over seven months since I’ve had sex and my body’s been begging for a release. I wouldn’t have been able to have sex if I had wanted to. The guilt would have been the death of me. Jordan was supposed to be on the other end, giving me this pleasure—but that’ll never happen again.