by Ginger Scott
And then there’s my testimony—me…on the stand.
I know it won’t be for months, maybe even years. But I’m terrified to face him, to stand up there and point at him in front of a room full of people. And the room will be full. Mac’s death has been the story of the town for the last three years, and there are a lot of men and women in blue who are waiting for this closure. They need it, and they need to see justice prevail.
You don’t get away with killing cops.
“Tell me about Mac,” Cody says, rolling on his back and pulling me into him, holding me close.
I shut my eyes tightly and force myself to remember my life here in this house—before. It’s a flood of memories, and some of them feel like lost pieces, parts missing their whole. We spent so many years just existing, but not really knowing each other, and I think that’s what I regret the most.
“He liked to watch me golf,” I start, the smile spreading on my face as I remember Mac cheering for me loudly, breaking all the rules of the course. “We didn’t really get along until my senior year, but that last year…he was my best friend.”
I choke on my words. Mac was stolen from me, and I wasted the time I had with him, and I’ve been beating myself up over it since the moment his heart stopped.
“Why didn’t you get along?” Cody asks. I knew he would; I wanted him to. I wanted a reason to share all of me with him. I want him to know me better than anyone else. I think I need him to.
I take a deep breath before I start, and I turn my body into him, putting my hand on his chest so I can feel his heart beat. I can’t look at his eyes when I talk, they see me too well—like he sees through me—and I know I’ll never make it through the story of me if I have to look at his eyes.
“My mom was a junkie. She had a fling with Mac, got knocked up, and kept me secret for a long time…until she couldn’t take it—take me—any more. I was seven, and she just left me with him and took off. I haven’t seen her since,” I say, realizing how little I think about my mom, how little I remember of her.
Cody doesn’t speak; he pulls my head in closely and waits while I continue. I tell him about those first few weeks, how scared I was to leave my room, how I slept with the light on until I was 16. I tell him about the boy who hit me, and about how my dad woke up that day and finally became my father. I tell him about my daily routine of school, golf, homework, and dinner—all with Mac.
We talk about Caroline, about the time I caught her rocking back and forth on the kitchen floor, counting out sunflower seeds, and starting over every time she lost count. I tell him how much worse she’s gotten since Mac’s death, and he just listens—he doesn’t judge, or tell me what I already know, that I need to get her help.
I talk for hours, sometimes laughing, sometimes crying, but Cody just lets me go—stroking my hair, chuckling when he should, and embracing me when he senses I’m about to fall apart. By the time I run out of stories, it’s 2:30 in the morning, and I’m fighting to keep my eyelids open.
“You’re tired. You should sleep. We’ll head back tomorrow—if it’s okay with Trevor, I’d like to drive you?” Cody asks. I know if I go with Trevor I’ll be back in time for school. I have a few days left in my semester, and I need to study for my calculus final. But I know the school has excused my absences for the next week given my circumstances—that was the only call I made before we left the airport on our way to Louisville. And Cody’s going to end up tutoring me anyhow.
“That would be really nice,” I sigh into his chest, nestling in and pulling the double blankets up tight under my chin. Caroline keeps the house cold—so much so, I can actually see my breath inside.
I’m fighting the waves of sleep as they lap against my chest, each time pulling me down farther and farther. Cody’s saying my name, but it almost sounds like an echo. I scratch my way back to the surface, just long enough to understand what he’s saying. “Tomorrow, before we go? We should go say goodbye,” he says.
I nod yes and let the final wave take me away completely, but I carry on our conversation in my dream, and I feel my body tense up despite how deep my sleep is. He wants me to say goodbye to Mac, and I don’t even know if I’ll be able to find his tombstone. I didn’t go to the burial, and I never visited.
And I’m not sure if I’m brave enough yet.
Caroline has decided today is a good day for cleaning. Of course, in Caroline’s world, this means pushing all of the boxes against the walls and vacuuming the main hallways over and over until the carpet bends in just the right direction. I swear I can actually smell the fibers burning from her constant mowing when I wake up and find my way to the shower.
Thankfully, her various collections seem not to have made their way to the bathroom…completely—though there are a lot of recipe cards in the two drawers. No recipes, just the cards she’s collected.
The shower takes minutes to heat up, and I stand outside with my hand under the running water, my body wrapped in the towel for warmth, until I feel Cody slide in behind me.
“Cody! Get out of here!” I whisper at him, pushing against his chest, trying to force him back out the door.
“Relax, your aunt didn’t see me come in. I’m pretty sure she’s moved on to the den now. She should be at it for a good 30 minutes,” he says, a crooked smile on his face. He’s nervous about making a joke, not wanting to hurt my feelings.
“Probably an hour,” I say, making the same smirk back at him. He laughs lightly, relieved that he didn’t offend me.
“How’d you sleep?” he asks, pulling me close and wrapping me up in a hug while he holds his hand under the running water.
“Okay. You?” I wonder if he even slept. I know he was awake each time I rolled and turned, and his shrug says he probably didn’t get a lot of sleep last night.
“I’ll be a’right,” he says, pulling his long-sleeved T-shirt up over his head.
“Cody!” I say, my eyes darting between him and the door.
“Oh, yeah…right,” he says, turning around and flicking the lock in place. When he turns back to face me, he’s wearing the grin. It’s so cocky and confident—and it amazes me every time he does it, because on anyone else I think I would despise it. But when Cody flashes me the deep dimple—his lip curled up only on one side and his eyes heavy and intense—I melt. I absolutely die and become desperate for him.
He kisses me before I’m ready, and I back into the shower on instinct, carrying him with me, soaking his jeans and the towel that’s now barely clinging to me. I giggle uncontrollably, and I can feel Cody’s smile stretching across his face while he’s kissing me, but he doesn’t stop. He pushes his jeans down to his feet and kicks the now sopping-wet denim out the shower door along with his boxers and socks, laughing when the clump of material gets stuck on his toes. He tosses my towel out next, all the time our lips not parting, despite how much our bodies are moving and our faces are grinning.
In seconds, though, my laughter is replaced by rapid breathing, and Cody has me pinned against the back wall. The hot water is quickly steaming up the entire room. Cody’s chest is flush to mine, and his hands are roaming my arms and bringing them above my head where he holds my wrists together tightly while he continues to kiss me. My eyes roll back as he leaves my lips, trailing his tongue down my jaw and finding his way to each of my breasts.
It’s like he’s drinking me in, the way he’s devouring me. He’s forceful and rough as he bites at my skin, his hands starting at my hips and rolling up my stomach and breasts until they’re buried behind my head and tangled in my hair. Cody’s pulling my face tightly against his again, kissing me and sucking my bottom lip between his. The roughness of his unshaven face is what I notice most—not because it scratches, but because so many times I stared at it and wondered how it felt, wanted to rub my cheek across his jawline and feel it.
Cody pauses, holding either side of my face in his hands, and presses his forehead to mine. His breathing is hard, and his thumbs are stroking my cheeks
gently while he looks at me.
“The way I see it, your aunt can’t hear a thing over that damn vacuum,” Cody whispers in my ear, biting at it lightly before he backs off and looks me in the eyes again, tucking his bottom lip under his teeth and smirking to the side. I don’t say anything in return, only mirroring his look, letting him know it’s okay—that even after everything that happened—this trip to Louisville, the way Trevor found out—this is okay.
Cody runs his hand slowly down my back, trailing his fingertips slowly until he reaches my hips. His grip becomes stronger as he reaches under the back of my leg, and then pulls me forward, bending my knee and wrapping me around him. I’m caught off guard, my heart beating too fast to give me time to look at him—and I can feel him hard against me.
“Cody, we can’t…” I start, not wanting to stop him, but also not wanting to have unprotected sex with him in the heat of the moment. I know all too well what can happen when people make rash decisions out of passion. And that worry consumes me. It’s why I’ve always been so scripted with Trevor—every intimate moment carefully planned.
Cody backs away, but only for a few seconds. He reaches into the pocket of his wet jeans for a condom and pulls it on quickly. He’s back in front of me in seconds, and I suddenly find myself full of nerves. My hands are shaking, despite the steam surrounding me; I’m shivering, and I feel like I might faint.
“We don’t have to…” Cody starts, when he feels my hands quiver in his.
“No, I want to. I want you—here and now. I just, I feel like I might not be enough…like you might realize you made a mistake. I’ve never done anything…you know…like this?” I say, my face flushing with embarrassment.
Cody reaches under my chin and pulls my face up to look at him. “Neither have I,” he says, and I laugh it off at first, but his grip is strong on my face, not letting me shy away.
“Look at me, Charlie. I mean it—neither have I,” he shrugs his shoulders and raises the corner of his mouth, shaking his head and grinning. “I love you. You’re the first. I’ve never felt anything like I feel when I’m with you. Yes, you’re sexy as hell, and that part of me wants you for the way you look right now, soaking wet and naked in my arms.”
“But this part…” Cody lifts my hand in his and presses it flat against his chest. “This part wants you because it needs you. It needs you to live and survive. And it scares the shit out of me, Charlie, because I’ve been burned before—and I wasn’t in love then. But I’m more afraid of what might happen if I don’t try. I’d regret it for the rest of my life, and I’m sure of it. So the only mistake I could have made was leaving you alone, letting Trevor take you away—not telling you how I feel. But being with you now? Coming here with you and holding you all night in my arms? Feeling you tremble in the shower in, oh, say about 15 minutes? Yeah, I’m pretty sure there’s no way in hell I could ever think any of that was a mistake.”
His eyes are drilling into mine, and his smile is soft and sincere. If there was ever a doubt that I wasn’t supposed to be with Cody—that what I felt wasn’t real—it was completely dashed by the things he just said. I smile at him, biting my bottom lip, trying to look sexy—trying to get back to that moment before I hesitated. My gaze dips down in that second, and I take in the words written within the scrolls on his chest:
Love with everything.
I run my hand lightly over his heart, knowing without even asking that the words are a lesson from his father. Cody notices my gaze and quickly leans in to kiss me softly, his hand once again tender along my face.
“That’s how I love you, you know?” he says, swallowing slowly and meeting my eyes. “With everything.”
My knees are weak, and I’m grateful that he’s kissing me again, his arms holding me up. I wrap one of my legs around him, desperate to feel him against me, and he’s there. He grips my leg and pushes into me against the wall, completely taking me over, and I bite at his shoulder to muffle the tiny cry I let out.
“Are you okay?” he whispers in my ear, and I pull on him, forcing him deeper into me, assuring him, and he responds with a groan. I feel his teeth at my shoulder as he kisses his way up my neck, his hand deep in my hair.
“Cody, I just want to feel you—I need to feel you…closer,” I say, gripping at his hips and guiding him into me.
I cling to him as my hands slide up his back until my fingers are twisted in his hair, and his forehead is pressed to mine—our eyes never shut and never leave one another’s. Our lips graze each other, but we stay locked just like this—afraid to break this bond.
I’m clutching his arms, my fingers digging into his biceps and sliding up and down his back under the warm water. His skin is smooth, but I can also feel every ripple along his body. He’s strong—his muscles hard and tested. I want to look at him—I’m dying to see his chest and abs as they work over every piece of me, but I can’t break away from his eyes. It’s like they’re telling me a story, about how much he loves me, trusts me—I can see him giving himself to me in the deep pools of blue staring back at me.
I watch his face as he releases everything, and I follow close behind, whimpering softly as I do. Cody doesn’t speak, but his eyes grow even more intense, and his body quivers. When we’re both done, we stay there, holding one another and staring into each other’s eyes. It’s a connection like I’ve never felt. I know I was always supposed to find him, my piece that was missing.
By the time we leave the bathroom, Caroline’s vacuuming has stopped. I’m rushed with panic at first, but I soon hear the sound of the leaf blower outside, and I know she’s just moved on to her next obsession.
Cody and I dress in jeans, sweatshirts, and hiking boots. I feel like I should be wearing something nicer, like I should dress for church or something, but I didn’t really bring anything formal, and there’s a slight drizzle outside, making everything muddy and gray. We throw what little we packed into our small bags and carry them out to Cody’s truck. My aunt is refusing to stop her chores—she knows I’m leaving, and this is her way of dealing with it. We don’t say goodbye; never have. Even when I left home for college, I left without any words at all—she was at the store at the time, and I just left a note on the counter reminding her to call me on my cell. I finally get her attention over the sound of the leaf blower, and she stops it, but only for a few seconds.
“So, you’ll be back? For the trial, right?” she asks. This is what she’s thinking about—it’s all she thinks about. The trial. The murder. My dad. I know she doesn’t want to really talk about it, really deal with it—so, I just nod yes and hold my hand up in a wave. She smiles back and returns to her yard work. Caroline has always had this certain detachment from reality. She dropped out of college during her freshman year and has trouble holding a job. She cleans offices for a living, and the irony doesn’t escape me given the chaos she lives in.
I hate coming here. I hate leaving her—it makes me feel guilty. And I hate that I feel guilty instead of driven to fix her or care for her. I tried before I left for Western, and it only made me resent her. I had to leave, and I know Mac would never have expected me to take on his burden. But I also know he’d be proud if I did.
“You okay?” Cody asks as I drag my feet back to his truck where he’s waiting with the door open on my side, holding it for me like he always does.
“Yeah…” I bite down on my lip, begging my eyes not to betray me. But I can’t stop them from tearing up. “No. I hate this place.”
I fold into his arms as soon as I reach him, and he wraps them tightly around my head, kissing the top and laying his cheek flat against mine. “Your aunt?” he asks, and I just nod yes.
Cody squeezes me tighter, and I force my breathing back to normal, willing myself not to break down any more—at least not until we visit Mac.
I pick my head up when I hear the tires turn over the loose gravel on the side of the road, and I back away from Cody as soon as Trevor comes into view. Cody follows my gaze, and I see hi
s entire body tense when he realizes Trevor’s come back. I know Cody wants to do this alone—just me and him—and I can see the struggle in his eyes as he backs against his truck and pulls up his hood on his sweatshirt, forcing his hands in the front pocket.
“So, what’s the deal?” Trevor asks, clearly ready to spar more and aiming to pick a fight with me, with Cody—probably with anyone willing.
“We’re going to visit Mac,” Cody says, looking off to the side, careful not to engage him. His words seem to stun Trevor a little, and he looks down, nodding.
“Oh, I…sorry, Charlotte. I didn’t know you were planning on that,” he says, caught somewhere between the good guy I know him to be and the angry man that wants to pound his brother to pieces.
“It’s okay. Wasn’t really planned, just sorta something I need to do…if that makes sense?” I say, sniffling away my leftover emotions. I walk over to him and wrap my hand around his folded arms, forcing him to look at me. His muscles tense at my touch, his body somehow becoming even stiffer. He recoils, and my stomach sinks knowing how badly I’ve hurt him.
“You flying out with me? I can move our time if you need,” Trevor asks, but he knows what I’m going to say. He won’t even lift his head to make eye contact with me.
“I’m going home with Cody,” I say, knowing my words are killing him. He nods and chews at the inside of his cheek.
“Right,” he says with a false laugh, lifting his head once to smile at me, but it’s all acting. I can see the pain underneath. “Well…maybe…I can come along, just until you guys get through this?”
“That’d be nice,” I say, and I can feel Cody deflate behind me, but he fights against showing it to Trevor, instead forcing his lips into a tight-lipped smile.
“She could use the support. Thanks, man,” Cody says, and I can see his words rub against Trevor’s grain, his shoulders rolling at his words.