When Faults Collide (Faultlines #1)

by Claire Granger

  “Did you always want a large family?” I asked, taking a sip of my water.

  Amy grinned and winked. “Well, I did. The husband, not so much. He wanted two kids, but after Peyton and Marcus came home that changed pretty quickly.”

  “They didn’t all come at the same time?” I asked curiously.

  Amy shook her head. “Nope. Aspen and Quinn were in another foster home first, but we pushed like hell to have them placed here with their siblings, and eventually they were.”

  “Well that’s good!” I said.

  She looked between her kids adoringly before sighing and nodding.

  “You have other kids like Blake? Um...permanent connections?”

  “Haha. Yes...permanent connections. That’s the PC way to say it. They’re all our kids though,” Amy said, laughing. “Yes, we have six adopted kids. Peyton, Marcus, Aspen, and Quinn you’ve met. Then there’s Ariana and Iris, who will be home soon with Dave. Then our other kids: Blake and James, our boys; then there’s Trinity, Marissa, and Kristen...our girls.”

  My eyes widened with awe. “Wow.”

  Amy shrugged as if I was shocked by the day’s weather forecast. “It’s just our family. We didn’t have them all at once, remember. We are limited to no more than eight children under eighteen at a time. The most we’ve ever had is six children living here. Granted, Blake made seven for a while, but he was an adult and living here while in school, so that doesn’t really count.”

  Blake finished chatting with his sisters and made his way to sit next to me on the couch.

  “How many bedrooms do you have?” I asked looking around.

  Blake and Amy laughed before Peyton’s quiet voice answered from behind me. “Three. And please, Lord, do not get her started.”

  My eyes darted in between them not understanding their private joke.

  Luckily Blake spoke up. “We were hardly deprived of space. Mom feels very strongly about children sharing rooms. You could seriously open up a two hour long conversation about this subject.”

  Before I even knew what I was saying, my gums went flapping and I opened my stupid mouth to say, “Oh, God...no judgement here! Where I come from, entire families live in one room. I was just curious.”

  My eyes widened with the realization that I opened my mouth and spoken about my past, opening the door to more questions.

  Blake squeezed my hand and he looked at me, his eyes almost saying ‘I told you so.’

  Damn him.

  Quinn spoke up, never looking away from the TV as he did. “You live in a crack house too?”

  My eyes widened at surprise for how blunt of a question he asked.

  Amy looked in his direction and sighed. “Quinn, remember what I said about asking people questions like that?”

  Quinn scooted back a little, but still kept his eyes fixated on the screen. “People don’t like rude questions.”

  Peyton giggled behind me and came to sit on the other side of me, scooting close.

  Blake leaned over and whispered in my ear, “Quinn and Aspen both have high-functioning autism, so excuse their bluntness.”

  “Ohh,” I said with understanding.

  Peyton put her dainty hands in her lap and then looked at me with big dark brown eyes. “So where are you from, Asha?”

  I don’t know why I suddenly felt comfortable. Maybe it’s because I knew all of these kids had traumatic histories too. Almost like group therapy, but without the therapist. I wasn’t bothered by her question anymore.

  “Oh, um, I was born in India. I moved to America when I was thirteen to live with my dad after my mom died.” I answered honestly.

  “Oh. So you were in, like, a village? That’s why people all shared one room?” Peyton asked, her eyes searching mine.

  “No. I’m from Kolkata actually. Big city. In poorer parts of the city it’s still very common for entire families to share one room.”

  “Oh, so you were poor then?” Quinn asked.

  Marcus slapped his brother in the back of the head. “Shut up. That’s so rude! God!”

  “Um, sort of. Yes, we were poor,” I answered him, not wanting to leave the question open.

  I glanced towards Blake who was watching me with pride and then glanced towards Amy, who was searching me as if she were analyzing me.

  Peyton put her hand on my knee and then said one of the deepest things I’ve ever heard from such a young kid, “It’s okay. You don’t have be ashamed. Our birth mom was poor too. There’s no shame in a past, only shame in what you do with it.”

  A tear threatened to escape, but I forced myself not to cry. “Thank you, Peyton,” I said, putting my free hand on top of hers.

  She grinned and then stood up to join her brothers on the floor.

  I glanced at Amy again, who was watching her daughter with deep love pouring from her eyes.

  “She is definitely her mother’s daughter.” Blake said, eyeing Amy teasingly.

  “Yep,” Amy answered simply with a smile.

  The door burst open and two older girls came rushing in followed by a smiling man I assumed to be Dave.

  Dave was jolly looking guy. There was no way to describe him. Someone you both wanted to hug, but was big enough that you would think twice before crossing. He had dark skin, dark brown eyes, and a goatee. He was wearing a Bengals shirt and jeans with Converses.

  The girls were clearly biologically sisters, though one appeared to be older. The older girl had a short, spiky hair cut that was died platinum blonde and she wore a faded Breathing Carolina shirt with ripped jeans. The younger girl had dirty blonde hair that was braided into French braid pigtails and wore skinny jeans and a Hollister shirt.

  “Hey mom,” the girl with the short hair said as she approached Amy and gave her a hug.

  She was followed by the younger girl who hugged but didn’t say anything.

  “Girls, where’s your manners? Say hello to our guest.” She motioned in my direction.

  “Oh, hey, what’s up? Ariana Green.” The older girl said holding out her hand.

  “Iris Green,” the younger girl said, in a voice that was barely a whisper.

  Peyton hopped up from the floor and held Iris’ hand. “Come on. Let’s go in our room, okay?”

  Iris nodded, keeping her eyes on the floor and the girls walked silently down the hallway.

  When I glanced in that direction I noticed Aspen sitting on the floor with her legs crossed, looking at a mirror that hung low on the wall.

  Dave walked over and greeted me with a hug. (Another hug!) He squeezed tight before sitting down next to Amy.

  We chatted for about another hour before Amy served dinner.

  Dinner was this joyous occasion. They had two dining tables in their dining area and everyone sat around laughing and talking and making jokes. It was nothing like the meals I had at my dad’s house, and obviously nothing like I had with my mom. This was a warm family event, and according to Blake they ate dinner like this every night.

  After we all ate, Blake pulled Dave aside while Amy and I cleaned up.

  “Amy can I just say that I think it’s so amazing that Blake has you guys? I can’t imagine who he would have been without you. It’s a blessing,” I said as I put the clean plates in the cabinet.

  Amy set down the pot she was drying and looked at me. I turned my head so that I met her eyes.

  “No, trust me. We are the blessed ones. Blake has brought so much joy into our lives; believe me, we are the lucky ones.” She said this strongly.

  I glanced down at my hands and said, “Yes, but everyone needs somebody, and you are his somebody. That’s all I meant.”

  Amy smiled, her eyes shining with love.

  “Yes, we are his somebody,” she said while reaching over to squeeze my hand. “But now you’re his somebody too.”

  Tears glossed over my eyes but I refused to let them fall.

  Amy leaned over and whispered, “I forewarn you, though, Blake is my baby. If you break his heart, I break
your neck.”

  She winked at me and we both burst out in giggles.

  “I’ll remember that,” I said playfully.

  Blake came up behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist. I was a little shocked at the public display of affection, but squeezed his arms reassuringly.

  “Come on,” he said. “I have a surprise for you.”

  “What surprise is that?” I asked curiously, turning around in his arms to look at him.

  “Just come outside and see for yourself,” he said, with a hint of mischief behind his stare.

  Chapter Twenty Three

  He turned to me with a glimmer of trouble and an edge of playfulness in his eyes. “You ready?”

  I smiled a nervous smile and nodded slowly, still unsure of what he was about to show me behind the door of the shed.

  He opened the door and I gasped.

  A motorcycle.

  I slowly shook my head and pursed my lips. He couldn’t be serious. Sure, I let the romance rule go but no way was I putting myself on that death machine. Nope. Not happening.

  NO. FREAKING. WAY.

  His stupid grin never left his face as he nodded and pulled two helmets down from a hook on the wall of the shed.

  I took two steps backwards and he took two steps forward.

  “No, Blake. No way. Uh uh,” I said firmly, head continuing to shake.

  He chuckled and bent his head down, a few tendrils of curls falling in his face. He peeked up at me and held out his hand.

  “Trust me,” he said, his eyes searching mine.

  Internally, I waged a major debate.

  You don’t want to die.

  He wants you to trust him.

  It’s a death machine.

  There’s a helmet...trust your man.

  DEATH MACHINE.

  TRUST YOUR MAN.

  In the end the choice was easy. I was serious about Blake, so if this was some type of test I had to pass...I needed to do it.

  Slowly, I placed my hand into his and his eyes shown with adoration. He pulled me in, kissed the back of my hand, and then fastened the helmet to the top of my head.

  He slipped his helmet on, backed the death machine out of the shed and onto the driveway, put the keys in the ignition, and then climbed on. He motioned for me to join him and instructed me to put my hands around his waist and not to let go.

  I climbed on, fitting with him on the seat perfectly, wrapped my hands around his waist and held on as if my life depended on it. Pun 100% intended there.

  He turned the ignition and the motorcycle burst into life.

  My hands around his waist shook slightly, but I just gripped even tighter. My lip trembled so I bit down and then leaned my face into his back as he began to slowly drive the bike down the driveway and out onto the street. He drove slowly until we got a few neighborhoods away and he turned to get onto the highway.

  I felt a tear slide down my face into his back and then he took off.

  Suddenly the fear was gone.

  This was...amazing!

  I felt like I was flying, but clutching to Blake I felt more. I trusted him, and this was amazing.

  I loosened my grip slightly from around his waist and lifted my face so I could see. Everything went by fast but it felt so liberating.

  This was freedom.

  Blake gave me a piece of himself when he took me on this ride. He gave me this gift of freedom.

  Because he loves you, fool My subconscious screamed at me.

  I leaned my head against his back, but this time not out of fear. I watched the cars and lights as we zoomed by, enjoying every moment.

  When our ride was over, we hugged Blake’s family, Amy giving me a knowing look as she hugged me.

  “You take care of our sweet boy,” she whispered in my ear, squeezing me slightly.

  I nodded.

  We drove home with Jason Mraz playing softly through the speakers, holding hands and not saying a word. In fact, we hadn’t spoken a word to each other since we got off the motorcycle.

  When we got home I went upstairs to change into pajamas, wash my face and brush my teeth.

  I opened up my pajama drawer and suddenly made a decision.

  I heard Blake coming up the stairs and I dashed into the bathroom.

  I quickly washed my face, brushed my teeth, shaved my legs, and tousled my hair the best that I could.

  I grabbed the red lipstick, did what I wanted to do, then slipped on my silk robe and tied it before walking out into the bedroom.

  Blake sat on the end of the bed with basketball shorts and no shirt, looking at his phone, then slowly turned to look at me. He tilted his head, confused.

  I walked towards him, my hands shaking at my sides.

  “Asha, what’s wrong baby?” he asked me, concerned.

  I shook my head and then stood directly in front of him. He rested his hands on my hips and our eyes locked.

  My hands shook as I put my hands on the tie of my robe. His eyes widened but he didn’t move. I slowly untied it and then dropped my hands to my sides to let the robe slip apart.

  I stood in front of him completely naked, with the words “I trust you” written on my stomach in red lipstick. A single tear fell down my cheek.

  Blake looked me over from top to bottom and inhaled sharply.

  His eyes filled with moisture and he stood, cupping my face in his hands.

  Our eyes met and the energy between us was amplified.

  “Asha,” he breathed.

  Then he said it.

  His eyes locked onto mine firmly and he said clearly, “I love you.”

  My lip trembled and I put my hand on his hip. “I love you too.”

  Our lips met, slowly at first and then fiercely.

  Suddenly I felt arousal. True arousal. Not that I hadn’t felt a connection, spark, and tingles when we touched before, but this was the first time I felt true arousal.

  You know, down there.

  Something was different with him too. He wasn’t nervous or shaking at all as he ran his hands down my bare back.

  He reached down and picked me up and laid me gently on the bed.

  And it was magical.

  Chapter Twenty Four

  I wondered for years what sex was so hyped up about. I didn’t get it at all.

  Sex, to me, was grotesque. It was dirty and debasing and I saw no value to it whatsoever.

  Well, folks, I get it.

  Let me specify... I do not understand casual sex. I do not understand giving your body to a stranger, or someone you aren’t in love with.

  I don’t even know much about love, being new to this and all, but I can tell you that what we shared, I would not want to share with anyone else.

  Love, the love that I feel for Blake, that is, is transcendent. It’s unconditional. There’s something so complex, yet at the same time, so simple.

  Blake is it for me. There would never be anyone else for me.

  We gave each other something so much more than our bodies. We rose above all the bullshit from our lives and shared something monumental. We gave each other our trust, our hearts, our very souls.

  Something that had been perverted and ruined to both of us was suddenly something beautiful.

  I understand why religious people say to wait until you’re married. To be certain. To make sure. Because I think that it’s supposed to be like this. Something sacred.

  But unlike with a sixteen-year-old in the back of a pickup truck parked on the side of the road somewhere, there is no uncertainty. There is zero chance I could end up with anyone else. Ever. There is no piece of legal paperwork that could possibly make me any closer to Blake.

  I’m all in, baby.

  I feel both transformed and ruined all at the same time. My heart is 100% unequivocally his, and there’s no turning back.

  Leave me some comment love.

  xoxo, Asha

  Closing blogger, I took a sip of my latte and smiled softly, thinking about my night with B
lake.

  Suddenly I felt his hands wrap around my shoulders, smelling freshly showered. I kissed his forearm and tilted my head back.

  “Morning handsome,” I said softly.

  He leaned down and kissed me chastely on the lips.

  “Morning, gorgeous girl,” he said with a wide, dimple-showing grin.

  “So, what are we doing on Thursday?” I asked him.

  “Thanksgiving... Yeah. I wasn’t sure. What do you want to do?” he asked.

  “Well, normally Lily and the rest of our friends get together and do Thanksgiving together. I wasn’t sure if you usually made plans with your family, though? Either way is fine with me.”

  “You don’t go to your dads?” he asked curiously.

  I shook my head. “No. I spend Christmas Eve with my dad, Thanksgiving with my friends.”

  “Well, how about we do Thanksgiving with your friends, Christmas Eve with your family, and then Christmas Day with mine?” he suggested.

  I nodded and grinned. “Sounds like a plan.”

  He kissed the top of my forehead. “Really, babe, as long as I’m with you, I don’t care what we do.”

  I spun around in my chair to face him. He held out his hand and I took it, so he could pull me gently to the futon to sit in his lap.

  I laid my head on his shoulder and sighed. “Is it supposed to be this easy?”

  “Hmm?” he asked, rubbing his hand down my back.

  “Relationships. They’re supposed to be hard, or whatever. This seems too easy.”

  “Asha, I think the only reason it’s easy is because we don’t have to bullshit each other. We understand what we have gone through, so it is naturally easy,” he said, leaning his head against mine.

  “There’s a Hindu proverb that says, ’When a person responds to the joys and sorrows of others as if they were his own, he has attained the highest state of spiritual union.’ I didn’t really get that before, but it makes sense now. Your sorrows are mine, my sorrows are yours. That’s why this clicks, I suppose,” I said thoughtfully.

  He squeezed me tightly without saying anything else.

  We spent the rest of the weekend at home; it was wonderful. We cooked, we talked, we laughed, we read, and we enjoyed exploring our bodies in this new and profoundly wonderful way.