Madness

by J. L. Vallance

  “Twins?” Rory asked, snaking an arm around my waist.

  “Fraternal. Neve had difficulties becoming pregnant. In vitro gave us Charlie and Caroline.”

  “That little one really looks up to you, huh?” he asked.

  “I’m the cool aunt,” I replied, smiling. “Elise is too uptight, Palma is too far away. I’m here, always have the goods that Mom and Dad refuse to give them. And. . . I’m colorful. What kid wouldn’t find that awesome?”

  “Palma was at the wedding?” he questioned. I wasn’t surprised he couldn’t remember entirely. After all, we had lived and survived Tequila Fest 2014.

  “Yeah, but she lives in Boston with her wife,” I explained. “Her and Jade are expecting their first little one this summer. She doesn’t come home too often. She has a life that she loves in a place where she has found overwhelming happiness. She also finds more acceptance there than she ever found in this small, close minded shithole town.”

  “At least she found it.”

  “That is such a sad statement, Rory. No one should ever have to run and seek out acceptance. It should be one of those things that are offered freely—it should be a natural part of human nature. Human nature has become closed and angry and aggressive. It’s unaccepting and unforgiving,” I replied, moving across the room, feeling him moving with me at my back.

  Once I could finally get a word in, I reintroduced Rory to the family he had met briefly at the wedding. My mom surprised him with a warm and welcoming embrace, followed closely with a kiss on the cheek. She looked so enamored with him—the man that was making me believe in something. I wouldn’t have been surprised if she’d have dropped to the floor to bless the ground he walked on.

  I walked away as she was fawning over him, asking him a barrel of questions, and walked into the kitchen to grab the containers of food. Footsteps echoed behind me, and I felt hands close over mine as I reached for the first dish. I stilled, closed my eyes, and relaxed back into a firm and warm chest.

  “I accept you, just as you are,” Rory’s voice was low and felt like pebbles moving over my skin. “I’m falling in love you, Francesca.”

  Overwhelmed.

  That’s what I felt from that little admission. Overwhelmed and absolutely terrified.

  **

  This is what being surrounded by family feels like.

  It’s warm, it’s a little frightening and overwhelming, it’s humorous. . . and it’s fucking nice. No one had any violent outbursts flavored with foul language. No one threw dishes. The cops did not show up because the neighbors were sick of hearing the same old bullshit. There was nothing but laughter and love. It was an extreme contrast to the life I lived while growing up. Love and laughter were rarely found within the walls of the O’Neill home. Especially when our dad went on a bender. . .which was more often than fucking not.

  Never in my life had I known this was how families interacted with each other—with love, adoration, and respect.

  I was on my third glass of wine, Frankie had none. I needed something to take some edge off. I felt like my head was spinning, like I needed to jump up from the table and sprint around the room. The buzz of the alcohol helped calm that. Somewhere in the background, Ryan hung back, waiting. I could feel him—always.

  Everyone in Frankie’s family had been kind and welcoming. Colin watched me carefully, but then he knew my demons. I knew he wondered if I could be any good for Frankie. I wondered that too. I wanted to be. Karleigh was clearly the buffer and calming force for Frankie. She was great for redirecting conversations and telling jokes when the subjects were steering toward something uncomfortable for her friend. Karleigh’s brother on the other hand, he watched and listened with a look of stone cold murder on his face.

  The fucker hated me? How does that shit work? Shouldn’t I be the territorial and jealous one—he used to fill my girl’s needs and remained friends with her. He’s probably just waiting for me to fuck up so he can swoop in and be the big hero.

  I snickered and nodded at him when our eyes met. It was my silent response to his earlier promise. I’ll surely fuck up. But I’ll fix it too. She’s mine. His eyes narrowed as he cracked his neck. Was that a pass at intimidation? He could intimidate away. My bed was the one she would be landing in at the end of the day.

  Frankie left the table; she darted around the room, chasing after the twins. Their voices filled the space, harmonizing in laughter. I smiled as I watched them. She’d be a great mother. Someday. I shook my head and emptied my wine glass. It was far too soon for me to be having those thoughts.

  Christ. The things this woman is doing to me.

  Chapter 21

  “I’m good for it,” I lied. “Tell Doogan I always make good on my bets. Just give me ten large on the game this week.”

  I waited for lip service on the other end of the line. I was into Doogan for five grand as it was. I hadn’t made a single payment. It was a wonder he was taking my calls and not smashing my skull in.

  “He’ll allow it. But, O’Neill?”

  “Yeah?”

  “You lose, you better have the fifteen you owe or you lose a body part, playboy.”

  He hung up on my before I had a chance to argue the playboy insult. It was probably for the best. Duke could kick my ass using his pinky. . . with his eyes closed.

  I hoped like fuck I didn’t lose my ass on the game. I had fifty dollars to my name until my next paycheck. I’ve spent the past twenty five years with all my body parts. . .I’m quite fond of them all. I’d like to keep them.

  God knows Max won’t bail me out—again.

  **

  My second favorite sound in the entire world, the first being the laugh of my sweet nieces, was hands down the sound of Rory’s gasping laughter. Not just a simple chuckle or the forced laugh when someone tells a failing joke, definitely not the nervous laugh that one gives to break tension in a shit situation. No, it was the rolling laughter that took all the air from his lungs, that made him snort and then laugh harder. I loved it because it meant for a few seconds, he was free of his pain.

  “Do you not like this?” he asked once he caught his breath.

  “No, it’s fine,” I replied.

  “You don’t seem to find it as funny as I do.”

  “I’m enjoying watching you more than the movie,” I explained with a grin. “You’re like a kid. It’s cute.”

  “Cute?” He furrowed a brow. “No man of my age ever wants to be ‘cute.’”

  “What do you prefer to be?” I inquired.

  “Dashing, daring, intriguing?”

  “You don’t know?” I laughed.

  “I want to be whatever will keep that smile on those lips.”

  “You think you are so clever. . .”

  “I know I am.”

  He pounced, pinning me to the couch, capturing my mouth with his. I laughed into his kiss, enjoying the press of his body on mine. My hands worked, easing the shirt up his back and over his shoulders. I tossed it across the room, laughing as he growled and smothered kisses along my neck.

  “Are we on Animal Planet?” I asked between gasps.

  “Watch,” Rory replied with the cheesiest Australian accent I’d ever heard, “as the male lion playfully nips the neck of the female.”

  He nipped my neck, and I giggled as goose bumps rose over my flesh.

  “She responds to his advances,” he continued. “Observe the female arching her back, accepting his offer, opening herself for his swelling member.”

  I bellowed in laughter. “Swelling member? Does anyone really say that?”

  “In the rugged outback, doll,” he replied.

  “I don’t think they say it anywhere.”

  He cracked a smile, looking more gorgeous than he ever had. He looked momentarily free and happy. Fuck, he made me feel all of those things. His eyes shone brightly, his hair was spiked haphazardly around his head. There it was, that small place in the dark corner of my heart—the space that had been dark for so lon
g. He lit it up. He set it on fire. I was falling in love with him. I grabbed onto his cheeks and pulled his lips back to mine and kissed him hard.

  I moved from his lips to his cheek and left a trail to his ear. I pulled his earlobe into my mouth and bit down gently before soothing it with a kiss.

  “Take me to bed, Mr. O’Neill,” I whispered.

  He grabbed onto my hands, held them down on the couch above my head, and smashed his lips to mine. He forced his tongue into my mouth, and I welcomed it, moaning low, allowing him to swallow it. He forced my legs apart, the swell in his jeans pressing into my center.

  “Your words,” he smiled, “my command.”

  I gasped as he lifted me from the couch, carrying me toward my room. His eyes stayed glued to mine as he stumbled and fumbled along the way. My arms wrapped around his neck as I pulled my bottom lip in between my teeth.

  “Do you have any idea, Francesca, the things you do to me?” His voice rumbled low in his chest. He was still the lion. “You give me life. I’ve been without it for so long. And I love this life. The rapid flutter of my heart in my chest, the flight of a million thoughts and dreams through my mind, the whisper of a future.”

  I was speechless, completely breathless, from his admission.

  Rory dumped me onto the bed as he prowled from one side to the other, his eyes hooded and dangerous. His fingers popped the button at the top of his jeans, worked the zipper down slowly, and I watched every smooth muscle move beneath his flawless skin as he stripped free from the remainder of his clothes. He stood in the middle of the floor, gloriously naked, his features fierce, and his body promising a rapturous experience.

  He moved quickly, grabbing my ankle, pulling me across the bed, my yoga pants and panties gone before my toes met the floor. Our fingers laced together as Rory pulled me up only long enough to slip the oversized sweater over my head, tossing it over his. He shoved me back down to the bed, following close behind.

  Rory grabbed onto my leg, rough fingers smoothing over the tiger that began just above my right knee. His tongue quickly followed that trail sending shivers up my spine. His mouth pressed to my stomach, kissing a line up the middle of my chest, where he stopped. He drew my pierced nipple into his warm mouth and nipped it gently, making me moan and arch into his body. He followed over to the other, biting a little harder, before kissing up my neck.

  I felt him pressing at my opening, and I lifted my hips, attempting to meet him the rest of the way, to help guide him home—to make the unbearable ache go away. All I wanted was to feel him, to wallow in him, to suffocate in him.

  My body relaxed, giving a relieved sigh as Rory pushed forward, our bodies meeting. The feel of his weight on top of my body, of his hands pressing on my arms as he held them above my head, the press of him inside, it was all erotically familiar and welcome. When Rory moved within my body, I felt more alive, more like myself than I had in a decade.

  I was officially and shamefully addicted.

  **

  The familiar buzz of a tattoo gun filled the air as I lay across the leather bench.

  My shirt was folded neatly on the chair across from me, my purse resting atop of it. Each breath left me silently and slowly as the sting and burn was a therapeutic reprieve that I hadn’t been aware I was missing until I felt it moving over my skin.

  Rory left for work this morning, and I dressed for my day at the shop—the tattoo shop. I walked in and slapped my money on the counter, my wide smile already plastered on my lips as Steve came out of the back.

  “Frankie!” he called. “I’ve been wondering when I’d be seeing you again. What are we doing today?”

  “Japanese cherry blossom tree, Stevo. It’s time,” I replied, slipping out of my coat.

  “That’s multiple sessions.”

  “Today is the first, my friend.”

  Two hours later, I felt like I could slip into a deep sleep. My bones were tired, my soul relaxed, my muscles—used and sore.

  Steve had been doing my tattoos since the very first. Lukas introduced us back in the beginning, a month after I had been discharged from the hospital, and I desperately wanted to hide the sins of my past. He’d been hesitant to cover the scars at first—said they were the signs of my survival. He insisted I should wear them proudly. I insisted I’d find someone else.

  We eventually came to an artistic agreement on how to best cover them while embracing my ability to own my past and rise above it. I’d never dream of seeing someone else to mark the journal of my life. My body is my canvas; it’s my way of expressing the things I lock away inside.

  I’d wanted the tree for a long time. It was my visual reminder that life is beautiful. No matter how dark, sad, or tragic it may feel at times—it is beautiful. It’s also incredibly short. It barely begins before it’s coming to an end. We have to do all we can to live each day, enjoy them as much as possible before they run out. Never should we end them before it’s time.

  “You seem different today,” Steve observed, pausing to wipe at my back.

  “I started seeing someone.”

  “How did Lukas take that?”

  “Considering that we are just friends—”

  “Not really,” he interrupted.

  “What do you mean, ‘not really’?” I questioned.

  “Do I need to dignify that with an answer?” he replied and I rolled my eyes.

  “Anyway, he’s kind of complicated. But that is what makes him. . .that’s what draws me to him more than anything else, you know?”

  “It’s the madness that draws you in.”

  “Exactly,” I confirmed, closing my eyes as the tattoo gun began buzzing again.

  Rory contained plenty of it. And I enjoyed it. All of it.

  “So, what’s he like?” he asked when he paused again.

  I thought long and hard, the returned buzzing of the gun giving me an excuse to be silent. What’s Rory like? I released a heavy and loaded breath. How could I sum him up in a few words? Steve stopped inking my skin once more, beginning to clean around the fresh designs.

  “Well?” he prompted.

  “Tragic, Stevo. He’s tragic and beautiful.”

  It was a blessed and alluring combination that held me in its thrall. It threatened to devour me, and I looked forward to it.

  Chapter 22

  “Bet Doogan was pretty pissed, huh?”

  I’d never learn. Poking a very pissed off Irishman that I’d just won ten grand from was never smart. But, it felt fucking good.

  “You got fookin’ lucky, O’Neill,” Duke replied.

  “Right.” I rolled my eyes¸ not that he could see it. “You tell him to hold onto my spoils of war for me. March Madness is coming up, and I’ll have some bets to place.”

  “What, you win once and get brave?” he taunted. I fucking hate this guy. “Be smart, playboy, take your scraps and run.”

  “Fuck off, Duke,” I retorted. Apparently, bravery was my new soon to be dentist. “I’ll be calling you.”

  “Don’t be stupid, O’Neill. Come pick up your money, invest it in something, spend it on a whore, do whatever the fuck it is you dumb fucks do. But don’t go planning wagers you can’t cover.”

  “Let me worry about my business,” I replied.

  When the time came, I wasn’t going to lose.

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” he snapped, slamming the receiver down without another word.

  “Hey, are you in here?”

  The door had opened, and I hadn’t heard a thing. I was too consumed with Duke and his bullshit.

  “Yeah,” I answered, waiting for her to come find me.

  “I brought dinner.”

  The smile that lit up her entire face as she walked through the kitchen door was enough to light one of my own. I met her halfway and wrapped an arm around her waist, crushing her into my body. I smoothed a heavy kiss onto her lips, my free arm rubbing up and down her back.

  “Ah,” Frankie said, pulling away.

&n
bsp; “What’s wrong?” I asked, not missing the wince on her face.

  She set her bags on the table, shouldered out of her jacket, and lifted her shirt over her head. The excitement that began in the pit of my stomach was unimaginable as I watched her reach a hand back and unclasp her bra.

  I’m about to fuck, right on my kitchen table.

  My hands went to the hem of my own shirt, and Frankie started to laugh.

  “Hold on there, big boy,” she smiled, turning as her bra dropped to the floor.

  A massive white bandage secured with tape spanned her back. My erection fell flat as I started to panic about all the things that could have happened. Did she wreck her truck; was she mugged? What if she fell down some stairs and scraped her back the whole way down? And all I could think about was sex?

  “Take it off,” she commanded. I swallowed hard, my hands trembling as I reached for the top corner.

  I pulled down slowly, uncovering mildly inflamed skin that surrounded a tree. The branches started at her right shoulder, travelling down to meet up with the trunk of the tree that stood from the small of her back. The branches reached out, covering most of her back, almost connecting to the left shoulder.

  “This is what you spent your day doing, huh?” I asked, looking but not touching.

  “It is,” she replied, looking at me over her shoulder. “I am going to have to go back to have it finished.”

  “What will it be?”

  “Japanese cherry blossom tree. It’s a symbol, a reminder that life is short and beautiful. But more than beautiful enough to enjoy and live and survive.”

  “It’s perfect.”

  My hands rested on her shoulders, smoothing over the warm skin all the way to her hands. I laced our fingers together and placed a gentle kiss to her neck.

  “You ready for dinner?” she asked, breathless.

  “Dessert.”

  “The food will get cold.”

  “I have a microwave.”