The Other P-Word

by MK Schiller

  Chris winked at me. I smiled back at him and leaned against Evan’s chest.

  “I appreciate that, Chris.” Evan kissed the top of my head. “And I completely agree with you.”

  “I’ll be right back,” Chris said, taking our empty mugs. He returned with fresh mugs filled with delicious cold, frothy root beer.

  Chris held up his mug. “To Owen, one of the best people I ever knew.”

  “To Owen,” Evan said.

  “To Owen,” I added, clinking glasses with them.

  It occurred to me that maybe Evan did want to share all this with me. Maybe he only had the strength to say it all once, so it was easier to expose these pieces to both of us in one swoop. He said it was a dark place we were going to, but wasn’t it in the dark places that we learned to appreciate how beautiful the light can be?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  We stopped in Clarksville, Tennessee, which was about the halfway point to Frisco City. Before we left, Evan presented me with a leather jacket and told me to wear jeans to protect myself against road rash. Even with all that, I wasn’t prepared for such a long journey on a bike. My legs turned to rubber as I attempted a clumsy dismount. Evan steadied me, removing my helmet first.

  “You okay, Price? How are those long stems of yours?” he asked, taking off his helmet.

  “Stems?”

  “Your legs…how are they?”

  “Good. I could use a long, hot bath.”

  His thick, slightly messy hair made me realize something else. I was feeling amorous…lustful…coital-ready. Oh God, I was horny as hell. After all, I’d had a powerful engine between my legs for six hours, not to mention holding onto him the whole way.

  “Well we’re in the right place for that.”

  Was Evan capable of reading my thoughts? Oh wait, he’s responding to the bath comment.

  I squinted up at the hotel. Its manicured lawns and impressive entrance surprised me. I felt guilty because Evan would have ridden straight through, but he stopped for me.

  “We should go halves on this, Evan.”

  He took my backpack from my shoulders and grabbed our stuff from the small compartment on the bike.

  “This trip was my idea. I’m paying our way.”

  “I wanted to come and the only reason we’re stopping is because of me.”

  “I want to stop too. I can’t handle any more miles with you rubbing up next to me.”

  “Me too, but we don’t have to stay here. We can stay at the motel down the street.”

  Evan flashed an amused smile. “You don’t think I can afford it, do you?”

  “I don’t mean to offend you, but I was wondering about it.”

  He wrapped his hand around my waist and kissed my temple. “I’m not a rich guy by any means, but I’ve eked out a decent living. I’m not offended you asked. It’s nice that you asked—that you don’t expect it. But I got this.”

  As it turned out, this was a top floor room overlooking the city with a huge two-person bathtub and executive style shower. Evan started the bath as soon as the bellhop left. He unzipped my jacket, pushing it off my shoulders. He cupped my ass then drew me in for a deep kiss, tasting my mouth, breathing my breath, swallowing my moans. He stared at me with such predatory lust that I tried to click a mental snapshot of his face.

  “Thank you for coming. You make hard things easier for me.”

  “I’m glad you didn’t say I make hard things softer.”

  Evan’s laugh echoed through the room. “I think that problem resolved itself when your eye healed.”

  His stripped off his shirt and unbuttoned his jeans, shrugging them off. I lingered over his body, stopping at the sizeable bulge that stood at attention for me…problem solved.

  “Strip and get in the tub with me.”

  All my clothes joined his in an instant. I got in one side and he got in the other. We just stared at each other, our legs tangled together.

  “I could look at you for hours and my eyes would never be full,” he said in the low, raspy voice that caused a shiver to travel through every cell in my body.

  I loved that he said that to me and I hated it too. It was almost cruel that he could say such beautiful things, knowing he was leaving me. I traced his tattoo with my big toe. “Stop stroking me with your words. Use your hands and your mouth and your cock.”

  “With pleasure.” He grabbed my left foot. Washing and rinsing it with the soap before he started massaging it, he slowly worked his way up the length of my leg.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’m giving you a massage. I’m starting with my hands, per your instructions.”

  “That feels good,” I said, leaning back in the tub. My arousal grew as his talented fingers stroked, rubbed and pressed into my flesh.

  He did both legs. The pressure of his skillful hands soothed and rejuvenated at the same time.

  “My turn,” I said, when he gently placed my right foot against his thigh.

  He leaned his elbows back against the tub. “I won’t stop you.”

  I moved forward and did my best to match his movements.

  “Thank you,” he said when I finished, his eyes closed, and a pleased grin on his face.

  “I’m not done.”

  His breath hitched as he looked down in the water where his cock stood straight up between my feet.

  “Holy hell, girl, you trying me give me a hand job with your feet?”

  “Depends. Do you like it?”

  “I believe I’ve already answered that question.”

  Feeling his hard girth, there was no mistake I had my answer. His eyes narrowed, turning feral and predatory. I crooked my finger. He gripped my knees and pushed them outward. He moved with such speed that the water waved in his wake.

  He lifted my bottom until I was on the rim of the tub. I laid a foot on each side of the bath to keep myself steady, although Evan’s hands on my waist did that too. He stroked and rubbed and pressed again, but with his tongue this time. I tugged his damp hair, watching him lap me up, amazed how fucking hot it was to have his head between my thighs. He spoiled me with his gifts. This man really knew how to eat a girl out. He wasn’t shy about it, dipping his tongue with trepidation. At the same time, he didn’t just go straight for the deep waters like a hostile raider invading new land. Instead, Evan explored. He coaxed. He persuaded. He demanded. He kissed and sucked and flicked and swirled his tongue inside me until I released…until I surrendered. And just when I thought I couldn’t take it anymore, he did it all over again. I never had to ask him to go down on me. I had to beg him to stop before I imploded.

  I pulled on his thick hair even harder. “Please, Evan…come here. Come to me. I want you inside of me.”

  He worked his way up my body until he stood on his knees, his lips shiny and wet. “I’m so greedy for you that it’s gotta be a sin.”

  He tilted me so there was a gap between us. My upper back pressed against the tile. Then he placed one of my legs around his hip and the stretched the other over his shoulder. He pushed inside me, burying his head against my neck. I arched my back.

  “I’m gonna fuck you hard.”

  Don’t we already fuck really hard? Then he moved in fast, penetrating thrusts that made my body tremble in places I didn’t know it could tremble.

  I clutched his neck. The steam rose between us and within us. His fingers dug into my hip. Even in the primal moments where all we sought was satisfaction, there was something tender about it. I lost myself in that span of time, shredding every ounce of control. Relinquishing it to him gladly, asking—almost begging—him to take me to new places. As my body shook from my climax, his mouth searched out mine. His tongue followed. I tasted his flavor…our flavor. I breathed his breath. I swallowed his moans.

  I would never be full.

  * * * *

  We sat cross-legged on the balcony of our hotel room, an empty pizza box and a half-finished bottle of merlot between us.

  “We shou
ld talk about what happened with Chris.”

  “What about it, Billie?”

  “You shouldn’t have kept me in the dark. I had no idea that’s what you were going to do.”

  He played with my hair. “I’m sorry. That was unfair to you. I figured I’d just hand him the envelope and we’d leave. It ended up being much more than that.”

  “It was nice what you did. I think Chris was right about the timing.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Can I ask you a truth?” I held up the bottle of wine, shaking it slightly.

  “Shoot.”

  “Why didn’t you go to Sri Lanka?” I held my breath, waiting for him to answer.

  His head shifted toward the wine and back at me. I sighed, handing it to him. He shook his head. “I don’t need it.”

  I expelled a long breath.

  “That last trip to Orange Beach—the one I told you about.”

  I nodded.

  “My Aunt Lydia called. A pipe broke in her house. Since we were only two hours away, my dad went to help. Owen and I were going surfing. I started feeling guilty that I didn’t offer to go with. I caught a ride with these guys heading in that direction. When I got to Lydia’s, our rental car was in the driveway but no one answered the door so I went around back.”

  He winced at the memory. “The patio door was open. Something…some sense told me to turn around and go back, but I didn’t listen to it. I found my dad in a position that a son should never witness.” His mouth tightened. “She was my mom’s sister.”

  “Evan, I’m so sorry.”

  He chuckled then, the laugh ripe with animosity. “My mom had said that morning what a terrific man my dad was, going to help her like that. She was clueless. We all were.”

  “What did you do?”

  “I went ballistic. I confronted him. He begged me to calm down. He didn’t want the neighbors to hear, but I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. Then he punched me.”

  “He hit you?” The anger in my own voice surprised me.

  “He missed…but I didn’t.”

  “You hit him?”

  “Yeah, I hit my own father. I’ve never done anything like that. In my family, we called my dad ‘sir’ and my parents didn’t request our respect, Billie. They demanded it.”

  “Adrenaline and anger are a bad combination. Under the circumstances, he had to forgive you.”

  “Will you come here?” he asked, sliding the box out of the way.

  He took a swig of the wine. I crawled onto his lap. His muscles were stiff and tense.

  “He did forgive, but I’m not sure if that was because he wanted something from me.”

  “What?”

  “My silence.”

  “He asked you not to tell?”

  “The whole ride back. He wanted to tell her and I’d have been fine with that, except he wanted to wait until after Sri Lanka. I wasn’t okay with that. I said it’s a one-time thing, maybe Mom will forgive you, even though I knew she wouldn’t. Turns out, I was wrong.”

  “She forgave him?”

  Evan tightened his arms around me as if he needed to feel me before he could finish the story. “No, it wasn’t a one-time thing. The affair had been going on for a long time. He played me some old tune about how they tried to stay away from each other. How he moved all of us to Chicago close to his family, thinking the distance would resolve it, but it didn’t. I have no idea why he spilled all that to me, except I figured he never told anyone. Maybe on some level, he was relieved I caught him. Then he has the nerve to say that a man can’t help who he falls in love with.” Evan gritted his teeth. “I swear if he hadn’t been driving, I’d have punched him again.

  “I turned on the radio really loud. He didn’t try to turn it down. I just wanted him to shut up about his fucking godawful love story for a minute. I thought about how this would destroy our family. We’d never be the same again. I thought about my mom, who’d been talking about this trip non-stop. About Erin, who wanted to go snorkeling. About Owen, who wanted to surf.”

  “So you agreed.”

  “Yeah, except I know myself enough to realize I can’t be in the same room with my father and fake it, let alone a whole vacation. I told him I’d keep quiet but I wasn’t going with them. He tells me my momma’s never going to allow that. I say it doesn’t matter ’cause I’m eighteen, and that’s not my problem anyway. It’s his job to convince her, just like he convinced her he was faithful all these years. I left on the train as soon as we got back. That was the last time I saw my family.”

  I wasn’t sure how to comfort him. I wrapped my arms around him and we embraced for a long time.

  “Don’t blame yourself for any of it, Evan. You were trying to do the right thing in a situation that was so wrong that right doesn’t exist. Your father shouldn’t have asked you to do that. And you have to know that your chances of changing fate are about as high as your capability of stopping a tsunami.”

  “I believe that now. I do. I forgave myself.”

  “For not telling?”

  “For not going.”

  My heart ripped into shreds, and I wished I could have taken all or part of that burden from him. He forgave himself for living. I laced my fingers through his and squeezed his hand, searching for the right words. He wasn’t done talking, though, and I had no intention of interrupting him.

  “And I’m happy they never knew how my father betrayed us. I like to think that in the end, they were the same. Owen kept his optimism for life and he never lost his loyalty to our father. Erin kept her innocence. My mom died still loving my dad, so there is that.” He wiped the tear before it made its descent. “Stop crying, Price. You make me regret telling you.”

  “Have you ever told anyone?”

  His expression turned grim as he nodded. “My silence was like a dam waiting to bust open, and it did. Our extended family from Alabama all stayed at our house during the funeral. Hell, there were plenty of empty rooms. My grandma made this feast. I made a toast with all of them at that table—Aunt Lydia, her daughter and her husband were there.”

  “What did you say?”

  “I can’t remember the exact words, but I destroyed a few families that day.”

  “You just told the truth.”

  “Stop defending me. I wanted to hurt her. I wanted to see the look on her husband’s face and my twelve-year-old cousin’s. You should have seen my grandmother. The thing about revenge is that it can taste sweet at the time, but that sweetness is like a fire, burning a hole in your gut. I have a hole so big a Buick couldn’t plug it. I’ve spent the last ten years blaming that woman for many things that weren’t her fault and a few that were. I blamed myself too.”

  “It wasn’t your fault, Evan.”

  “I’m hoping I can change some of the things that were my fault though.”

  “How are you going to change that?”

  “By doing the only thing I can do. I’m going to apologize for the way I did the things I could control—to my aunt, her ex-husband and my cousin—and my grandparents, too. I have to make amends for that.”

  “What can I do to help?”

  “You already are, angel.” He kissed my head. “I don’t need you to hold my hand during this one, but I would like to hold you afterward.”

  “I’ll hold you whenever you need it and even when you don’t.”

  We never finished that bottle of wine.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Frisco City, Alabama, only covered four square miles. Evan’s grandparents’ home was a two-story, white, clapboard house, surrounded by miniature roses leading up to a sweeping front porch.

  “This is beautiful,” I said.

  “Yeah, Grandpa likes to garden.”

  I gathered our things while Evan looked at the house, smiling wistfully.

  He placed an arm around me. “I’ll get it later. You ready for this?” he asked, as we approached the door.

  “For what?”

  “We’re gonna be assau
lted by at least thirty people and possibly one or two hound dogs in about three, two, one.”

  The door swung open and a woman with a head of the most beautiful white and brown curls came hurtling toward us. “Evan!” she exclaimed, bear-hugging him.

  “Gram.”

  The rest of the family followed, all hugging Evan. He introduced me to so many people that I lost track of names quickly. I did notice Aunt Lydia wasn’t there. They were all happy to see him. His grandma even cried. It was like the prodigal son had returned.

  I held out my hand to shake hers. “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs.—” I looked back at Evan because I realized I didn’t know her last name. I waited for him to answer, but he just shoved his hands in his pocket and smiled. A little help, please? She pulled me into a hug.

  “We hug in this house,” she proclaimed. “And you call me Grandma Fern. That’s my name.”

  That was the great thing about families. They were all different. They were all the same.

  Everyone got quiet as his grandfather walked toward us with slow, shaky steps.

  “Joe, get the lead out and come say hello to your grandson,” Grandma Fern said.

  Evan stepped forward so his grandfather wouldn’t have to make the journey. “It’s good to see you, sir.”

  He looked at Evan almost as if he didn’t recognize him. Then his face flickered with excitement. “David, I’m glad you’re here. I need you to fix the fence.”

  Evan’s face fell. “Grandpa, I’m Evan.”

  “Oh, Evan, that’s right.” He looked past Evan toward me. “Who is she?”

  “That’s my girlfriend, Billie.”

  I walked forward and held out my hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  He nodded, but didn’t take my hand. “Where’s David? Where’s Linda?”

  “They both passed, Grandpa.”

  “Passed what? A test, a kidney stone? What?” The man got agitated with every question, like he knew the answer but didn’t want to hear it.