What I Need

by J. Daniels

  “Riley Tennyson, what the fuck has gotten into you?” I ask as she covers her mouth with her sleeve. A laugh rumbles inside my chest. “Come here, crazy girl.”

  She takes the three steps toward me and drops her knee on the couch. “I told him. Now he knows,” she says, words slow and slurring. “It’s not a secret anymore. I don’t want it to be one.” Riley crawls closer, puts her hand on my knee and drops her other to the center of my chest. She laughs quietly, bend downs, and whispers, “CJ,” like she needs me to do something.

  Do what? And fuck, she’s drunk. I’m damn near it. If I do anything—touch her a little or look at her longer than I should—I’m not going to be able to stop.

  “Babe,” I say in warning when her eyes lower to my mouth.

  She wets her lips. She doesn’t say anything. She doesn’t stop. Closer and closer, she moves in, until I can taste the tequila on her breath and just the slightest tilt of my head or slant of hers would put our mouths together.

  “Tell me a secret,” she whispers.

  I close my eyes.

  I want this so fucking bad, I don’t say.

  “Darlin’.” I fight every desire I have screaming at me to just kiss her—do it. It’s all you want—and instead, put my hand on her hip and sit up, easing her away. “I think we need to get you to bed,” I suggest. “It’s late.”

  Riley chuckles as she rocks back onto her heels, pulling my hand off her. Her head flops sideways onto the cushion and she tilts it down, peering at me from behind her lashes. “Do you want to take me to bed, CJ Tully?” she asks in this low, raspy, sex-soaked voice I feel straight in my dick.

  I inhale sharply through my nose before looking away. My jaw ticks.

  Motherfucker. Why did I agree to tequila? Devil’s nectar is what it is. It’s completely fucking me over right now. Riley’s dangling a hot as fuck carrot in front of me, I’m a starving rabbit, and I can’t eat it. I shouldn’t even be looking at the damn thing.

  I grab my boot I discarded beside the couch and step into it, fastening the Velcro. I could go without it like I’ve been doing lately, but I won’t. Not now. Then I stand from the couch and offer Riley my hand. “Come on. Can you walk?”

  She smiles up at me with heavy-lidded eyes, and nods her head. “Nope,” she says, voice breaking on a giggle, and I think Riley is going to make me carry her, which on any other night, I’d welcome the chance, just not tonight. I won’t take advantage. I won’t pretend Riley is meaning everything she’s saying to me right now and every look she’s giving. But then she tips over, kicks her legs out and gets to her feet, saving me the torment.

  Thank fuck.

  She rounds the couch, spinning around and walking backward down the hallway as I follow. “Do you need a bath? I could join you?”

  Heat rushes to my groin. I slowly shake my head, nostrils flaring as I bridge the gap between us.

  Either I’m walking faster to get to her or she’s slowing down. I don’t know.

  Riley braces her hand on the doorframe, turns and backs herself into the bedroom. She bites at her bottom lip.

  “Quit, baby,” I order.

  “Do you really want me to?”

  “Fuck no.”

  Riley’s mouth tips up. “Well, then, maybe I shouldn’t quit,” she says, stopping when the back of her legs hit the mattress.

  I get in front of her, toe-to-toe, and Riley has to tip her chin up to continue looking me in the eye.

  “I mean, if you don’t really want me to quit, then I shouldn’t, right?”

  “What I want and what I need you to do right now are two totally different things,” I clarify for her. “You’re drunk, babe. I’ve been drinking . . .”

  “I’m not that drunk,” Riley argues. Her fingers find their way beneath my shirt, brush against my abs and threaten to slip lower, teasing the band of my shorts.

  My stomach clenches. “Darlin’ . . .”

  “Take me to bed, CJ. I want you to.” She presses closer, slides her hands to my hips and rolls up onto her toes. “Please,” she whispers, blinking slow. “I want it so bad. This isn’t the tequila talking. I swear.”

  Groaning, I grab onto her wrists and pull her arms down. “You’re killing me, babe. I’m not playing.”

  Finding my torture amusing, Riley chuckles under her breath before finally, thank fuck, falling back and plopping her ass on the bed. Then immediately after sitting down, she yawns, her first one of the night, as if hitting that soft surface triggered the sleep her body has been fighting against.

  I bend down and grab her legs, swinging them up and twisting her so when she lays down, her head hits the dark blue pillow. “You want covers?”

  “I want you.”

  Fuck.

  “Riley,” I groan, fists to the mattress as I lean over the bed. Chest heaving. Jaw clenching. And yes, my cock is rock fucking hard.

  I need to just leave her. Forget about tucking her in. I got Riley to bed. She’ll pass out soon. Any minute. She’s yawning now.

  Just leave, Tully. Get the fuck out of here.

  “Cannon,” she whispers.

  My head snaps left and I meet her eyes, those big, stormy blues as a pressure builds inside my chest, making it grow tighter and tighter and tighter. Never in my life have I liked the sound of my name. Not once. Lived sixteen years with it before I got it changed and that day couldn’t come fast enough for me. I couldn’t wait to get rid of it.

  Then Riley Tennyson says my name one time, one fucking time, and I don’t just like it.

  I fucking love it.

  “Right. I’m going to say this, and then I’m leaving you to get some sleep,” I begin, holding her gaze. I watch her sweet tongue peek out and wet those juicy, plump lips. “Jesus,” I mumble, eyes pinching shut for a beat. I straighten up and rake my hand down my face, then I continue on, looking down at her. “I’m predicting you’re going to be hungover as fuck tomorrow and I’m not going to be much better off. But come Sunday, we’re both sober, I’m still feeling everything I’ve been feeling for you and you’re offering me this, honest to God wanting me to take it, darlin’, I’m taking it. Every fucking way I can take it. And once that happens, babe, we’re not going back to being just friends. If I have you again, Riley, you’re mine. My girl. My lady. My fucking woman. Yeah, we’ll still be us, joking around and doing all the fun shit we always do, but we’re gonna be fucking too. On the regular. Now, you got until Sunday to decide if that’s something you want, or if this really is the tequila talking. Don’t decide tonight. Get some sleep, think about it, and let me know Sunday.”

  I turn around then and cross the room. When I get to the door, I reach around to the back where the knob is and click the lock into place.

  “Why are you doing that?” Riley asks me.

  I peer over my shoulder and hold her eyes.

  “`Cause locking it is the only way you’re keeping me out of this room.”

  I KNOCK TWO Advil out of the bottle and drop them into my hand, then I pop the tablets in my mouth, exchange the bottle of pills for the cold water sitting in my cup holder, twist off the cap to that bottle, and start guzzling.

  I’m dehydrated. I know I am, on account of all the vomiting I did yesterday. And even though I’d rather be drinking something with taste right now, I know water is the best thing for me.

  There's a chance I'm also still hungover. That I’m not positive on, but my thoughts definitely feel half drunk.

  You know when you have a dream and you go to tell someone about it, and the second you open your mouth, the details seem to scatter out through your ears and you’re left with one or two things to share that don’t seem to make much sense?

  That’s me today. It was me yesterday too.

  Grasping for details. Trying to piece bits of conversation together. Getting glimpses that are doing nothing but confusing me. And I’m not even wanting to tell anyone about my Friday night/super early Saturday morning with CJ. I’d just like to know what happened
for myself. Specifics. All of them.

  I remember tequila—there’s no forgetting that. Finding out my grade and celebrating together. I remember his low, rumbly laugh in my ear and his hold around my waist. Were we hugging? Dancing? I think I remember dancing. I definitely remember CJ in my bedroom—I can still see him standing over me, face tense, looking angry about something. What, I have no idea. All’s I know is he didn’t stay in my room. I didn’t wake up next to him. In fact, I didn’t even see him yesterday at all. The two times I pulled my head out of the toilet and went to the kitchen to get something to drink, CJ’s door was closed. He never came out.

  Why? Is he avoiding me? Did I do something or say something wrong?

  I drop the bottle back into the cup holder and pinch the top of my nose, thinking back. Trying to remember.

  Tequila. Dancing. CJ in my bedroom, not looking too thrilled to be there . . .

  A sick feeling twists in my stomach.

  Ohhh, no. Nonononono . . .

  What if I begged him? What if that's why he was in my room? I know I wanted him in my bed—that’s all I seem to want lately. What if I shared those desires and pleaded with CJ to carry them out? And now he feels embarrassed for me, and being the decent guy that he is, he's giving me space because he thinks I’ll feel weird being around him after the way I acted.

  Sloppy. Sex-starved.

  He’s huge. I didn’t drag him into my room against his will, did I? Am I even capable of doing that?

  Groaning, I drop my head forward until it hits the steering wheel. I squeeze my eyes shut.

  Never again, tequila. Never. Again. You're dead to me.

  After wallowing in my shame for a solid minute, I guzzle the rest of my water before dragging myself out of my car.

  I can’t just sit here forever. I have prep work to do. And I refuse to make people wait for their hot meal. It might be the only one they get all week.

  I lock up and get halfway up the walkway to the front doors at Holy Cross when a loud horn startles me, halts my footwork, and whips my head around.

  Reed’s truck finishes pulling into a space two down from my car. I watch Beth lean over and kiss him through the windshield, then her door is opening and she’s jumping down, those cute black flowered boots of hers smacking the asphalt.

  I glance down at my own footwear, squint, and then shake my head when I realize I have on one black Chuck and one navy blue. Awesome.

  Life- I’ve lost count. Me- somewhere in the negatives.

  Beth leaves her door open and moves around it to step up onto the sidewalk. She walks toward me, smiling and lifting her hand in a wave. “Hey. He wants to talk to you,” she says over the rumbling noise behind her. “I’ll meet you inside.”

  I look from her face to the windshield, squinting. Huh. I wonder what this is about? “Uh, okay. Can you make sure Wendy puts out the fliers she made for the clothing drive? I want them on the tables before people start arriving.”

  Beth nods when I meet her eyes again. “Yep. I’ll do that.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be in in a sec.”

  “Okay.”

  We move past each other, and when I get close to Reed’s truck, moving to the left of it to get to the open passenger side door, I wave at him through the windshield.

  He doesn’t wave back.

  “Yo,” I nearly shout just as Reed is cutting off the engine. I tilt my head up and peer across the seat. “What’s up? I gotta get in there and delegate.”

  “What the fuck, Riley,” he growls, his one arm bent, resting on the wheel, and his body angled, turned toward me and rigid against the leather.

  I jerk back. “What? I’m not saying your wife can’t delegate. I’m just saying, that’s my job.”

  “You’re living with CJ? How the fuck long has this been going on for?”

  My mouth falls open. Panic floods me and causes my stomach to do a rollercoaster drop. “How do you know that?” I ask, voice so quiet I’m not sure Reed will be able to hear me.

  His brows knit together. He’s hearing me. “You told me you are. What do you mean, how do I know that? You left me a message saying you’re living with him and in some sort of squad together, whatever the fuck that means.”

  You know when you forget parts of your dream, important, crucial parts, and then somebody reminds you of these forgotten moments and you just want to pretend you’re not hearing them, these moments never happened, and you’ve suddenly gone deaf?

  I blink and tilt my head to the side. “Huh?”

  That’s happening to me right now.

  Reed scowls. “You know, we could’ve cleared this up yesterday if you would’ve answered your phone the thirty times I called it, but you didn’t. So, before you go in and delegate, we’re clearing it up. How long?” he asks.

  “I kept my phone off all day.”

  “How long, Riley?” he presses.

  I shrug. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “How.” He leans over the seat. “Long.”

  I pinch my lips together, pull in a deep breath, hoping it’ll relax me—it doesn’t—and confess my truth. “Since he got out of the hospital. I moved in the next day.”

  “Are you serious? That was like, two months ago. What the fuck? Neither one of you thought I should know about it?”

  “I asked CJ not to tell you. It isn’t his fault. Really. Please don’t be mad at him for it.” I watch Reed sit back and shake his head, as if he doesn’t believe me. “He thought you should know,” I add. “He wanted to tell you.”

  “Why are you living with him?” Reed throws out. “If you needed a place to stay, you should've come to me. I'm your brother, Riley. You know I'll always help you out. Even if I didn't have room, I'd make room for you. Tell me you know that.”

  My shoulders sag. I pull my lips between my teeth and nod my head.

  Sometimes I forget how good of a man Reed is, and just how much I love having him as a big brother.

  It sucks when he has to remind me.

  “I know you would've made room for me,” I say, putting my hands on the edge of the passenger seat and stepping closer. “I know I could've come to you, but I didn't want to impose on you and Beth. You're newlyweds, Reed. You didn't need a third wheel.”

  He jerks his chin, accepting my explanation. “Fine. But that still doesn't explain why CJ. You don't even know him.”

  I flinch as if Reed's words literally slap me across the face. “I know him,” I hiss. “I know him just as well as you do, or Beth, or anybody else. And he knows me. We're tight.” I watch Reed's eyes narrow and the furrow in his brow deepen as he stares across the seat at me, and quickly realize I may want to reel this in a bit. I'm practically shouting. “I mean, you paired us up at the wedding,” I clarify, voice calm and easy listening level. “We got to know each other pretty quickly that weekend between all the festivities. And don't forget, CJ wouldn't be out of work if it wasn't for me. I dragged Richard to that concert. So when CJ offered me a place to stay, rent free in exchange for being his live-in nurse, I took it. I’m helping him. I owe him, Reed. He saved me that night. Who knows what would’ve happened if I would’ve left with Richard.”

  Reed's nostrils flare as his lips press together, and I think maybe he's going to get on me about how aggressive I'm being in my defense, but he doesn't. He looks at the dash, rubs at his eyes with his hand relaxing off the wheel, thinks in silence for a breath, then turns his head back to me. And I recognize the look I'm getting now as the same look Reed gave me at the hospital.

  It's a look of concern. That protective, brotherly look only Reed can give me.

  “Every time I think about that night, I want to go find that asshole and kill him,” he says, shaking his head and looking away briefly before meeting my eyes again. “You doing all right with everything that went down? Richard’s going to be in jail awhile for assaulting a cop.”

  “Good,” I bite out. “I hope he stays there and gets passed around between the big
guys.”

  Reed’s mouth twitches. He pushes his hand through his hair, saying, “I gotta be honest, I hate that you went through that, Riley, but I’m fucking ecstatic you’re not with him anymore.”

  “I’m not surprised. You weren’t shy about hating him.”

  “I won’t be shy about the next worthless piece of shit either. I’m going to make that fucker jump through hoops.”

  My stomach knots up.

  Reed smiles a little, but it does nothing to ease my lingering discomfort surrounding this topic. “So how come you couldn't tell me where you were living?” he asks. “What's the big secret?”

  I swallow and feel my hands sliding off the seat. They fall to my side where my fingers curl under the bottom of my shorts. “I just didn’t think you would understand,” I reply.

  “What’s there to understand? Is something else going on?”

  I quickly shake my head. “No.” My answer is firm and louder than my previous ones. It’s also the truth. Nothing else is going on, but even if there was, I’m still worried how Reed would react. “I’m just helping him,” I say. “That’s it. We’re friends.”

  I’m scared that’s all we’ll ever be.

  Reed stares at me for a beat, eyes assessing, face expressionless while he considers my answer, then he tips his head toward the windshield. “All right. Go,” he orders. “But next time, don’t worry about me understanding or not. Just tell me what you’re doing, Riley. And not in some drunken, middle-of-the-night phone call I can barely fucking understand.”

  I’m nodding, smiling, and so happy to hear the words all right go, that I don’t even pay attention to anything else Reed is saying. Nothing else matters. I’m off the hook! He doesn’t seem to hate me. Thank God. Taking a step back, I grip the edge of the door, ready to close it, but before I do, I remember one last thing that needs to be said.

  “Congrats, by the way, Daddy Reed.”

  Seriously. This is amazing news.

  Ear to ear, a smile stretches across my brother’s mouth. And when men smile like this, beautifully, eyes shining and every muscle in their face reacting, it’s something to look at, smile back at, and appreciate.