Losing a Piece of Me

by K. B. Andrews

  I sit down and continue to look around. “So this is where you’ve been all these years?”

  She presses her lips into a tight line and nods.

  I let out a loud breath and lean back, running my hand through my hair. “Why haven’t I heard from you?”

  This takes her by surprise. “I didn’t think you would want to hear from me after I snuck out of your house.” Her voice is timid and hushed.

  I turn to look at her. “That’s fucking bullshit. Why haven’t you called?”

  “I don’t know your number,” she shoots back.

  My eyes narrow in anger, and my I can feel my face flush as my blood pressure spikes. “Why haven’t you called?”

  She just looks at me. Her eyes are cold and emotionless.

  “We both know that if you wanted to talk to me, you could’ve gotten my number. So why haven’t you?”

  She takes a deep breath and pushes up from the couch. “Because it’s too hard.” Her instincts are clearly telling her to run but her movements are confined to the small living room, so she resigns herself to restlessly pacing back and forth. “Being with you, it’s too hard.” She stops and her eyes lock on mine.

  I stand but remain still, not moving any closer to her. “What’s hard? I love you and I know you still love me. Why won’t you admit it?”

  “I don’t have to admit it, we both know it!” she shouts. Her hands fly to her hair and start gently tugging at it.

  Her words cool my blood a little bit, reducing it from a boil to a simmer. I take a few deep breaths to ground myself.

  “Why is it so hard being with me? What did I ever do to make you think you can’t trust me? Why do you keep fucking running from me?”

  She shakes her head. “I can’t.”

  “You can’t what?” I ask, moving closer. The closer I get to her the more of a pull she has over me. It’s like I’m not even moving my feet anymore, she’s pulling me to her.

  “I can’t tell you what you want to know.”

  “Why?” I whisper as I continue to move closer. Heat radiates from her, and I can smell her shampoo. We’re chest to chest, eyes following each other’s every movement. Her breathing speeds up and her lips part.

  “I can’t tell you. Can you please just accept that? I can’t tell you, I would if I could.”

  I place my hand on her hip and let my fingers trail up her stomach. “Can you feel this?”

  She tears her eyes from mine, but I don’t stop. My fingers make their way over her breast and up to her neck. “Can you feel me now? I’m here, standing in front of you, wanting you like I’ve wanted you even after all these years. Can you feel me?” My fingers slide over to her shoulder and down her arm where I grab her hand and place it on my chest, over my heart. This intimate touch makes it pound even harder.

  With her palm flat against my chest, I say, “It’s beating for you, only you, and I need you to feel it. Can you feel it?”

  Suddenly, her blue eyes find mine and light up again with burning desire and determination.

  She nods her head and her lips start to turn up.

  “Don’t think of anything but us. Just you and me, right now. Feel my heart pounding for you. Do you know how much I love you?” As I’m talking, I’m walking her backward.

  She nods her head again.

  “Do you still love me, Lex?” My voice is filled with emotion, it sounds strange to me. This is me. Bare and raw in front of her. She’s seeing a side of me that I seldom see myself. I’m throwing all my cards on the table with this one, but I have to make her see it, feel it.

  She nods.

  “Then say it. I want to hear you say the words.”

  She swallows and takes a calming breath. “I love you, Striker.”

  I have her pinned to the wall while the words are still forming on her lips. Our chests press tight together as her legs wrap around my hips, arms around my neck, and our lips collide.

  This time isn’t like the last. She’s feeling everything. She’s grabbing my shirt, pulling me closer, scratching my skin and biting my lip.

  I move my hands to her ass to support her weight as we move through her apartment and open the first door I come to which, luckily, is a bedroom. I press her back to the door and move my hands to the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head.

  When the shirt hits the floor, I move us to her bed and cover her perfect body with mine. Her skin is so hot pressed against me, it’s damn near burning me.

  My lips move from hers, down her neck, and to her chest. Her fingers are digging into my skin as I make my descent. I suck her hard nipple into my mouth and flick my tongue against it. She breathes deep and lets out a sigh.

  I lean back on my knees and look at her as my hands work on freeing her from her skin-tight jeans.

  Her chest rapidly rises and falls with her erratic breathing, her knees tremble with anticipation, and her eyes… fuck, her eyes are showing me more emotion that I thought was possible with Lex. They are so blue, without a hint of doubt or fear. Just love and a hint of needing.

  She loves me and needs me, and is finally letting herself feel it. Emotions are so thick that, when I finally slide into her, a tear runs down her cheek. I wipe it away as I thrust into her, slowly but forcefully.

  She’s holding my body as close as she can get me. Her arms are wrapped around my back, legs tight around my hips as she moves into my thrusts.

  “I love you, Lex.”

  “I love you too,” she whispers as she shatters around me.

  Chapter 11

  Being with Striker is a constant internal struggle. My heart and body want him with everything I am. My head, on the other hand, says to stay away and not let him in. I wasn’t prepared to see him today. I’ve thought about him every day since I left home. I’ve talked myself out of going to see him so many times, I had to. If I went to him, I knew I would stay and that would only cause trouble.

  I don’t know his current situation with his dad, but that is something that’s been broken for years. My family, they aren’t broken. Not yet anyway. But if I don’t watch myself, they will be.

  I hold all the cards in my hands now. The question is, what will I do with them?

  I’ve kept this secret so long, can I let it out now?

  What if I only tell Striker? Let him know why I left and why I continue to run from him when all I want to do is run to him.

  I know I can trust him, but telling him why I left, putting the blame on his father, will only anger him. He could very well march out of here and go straight to him. Who knows what he will do then? He will hurt Ken, that’s for sure. Ken will retaliate in some way, maybe spilling the secret.

  I can’t tell him. I can’t trust him. Not with this. This is too important to risk.

  Where does that leave me?

  Striker moves inside of me, pushing me closer and closer to the brink of my climax. He’s also pushing me to feel the love I have for him, and that he has for me.

  It’s easy to ignore those feelings when I’m miles from home, but with him here, it’s impossible. He’s always had a hold on me that I’ve never been able to escape. He’s had me wrapped around his finger since that very first day.

  “What did you say to me?” the teacher asks with a scowl on his face.

  “I said, fuck you. You can do it yourself,” Striker says. He crosses his arms over his chest and leans back in his seat, staring daggers at him.

  The class gasps. Nobody talks to Mr. Collins that way. He’s the hard-ass around here. He’s given detention for something as simple as picking up a pencil off the floor.

  “Hallway, NOW.” He grabs Striker by his shirt and pulls him from his chair.

  “Get your hands off me.” He fights against him.

  I can’t help but laugh. I don’t know why, maybe because this twelve-year-old boy has more balls than anyone I’ve ever seen. My own dad backs down when Mr. Collins speaks in his serious voice.

  Striker’s eyes land on mine and my sm
ile is still visible.

  “Something funny, Ms. Grant?”

  Everyone freezes.

  I stand and place my hands on the top of my desk while I lean in just a bit. “You should probably take your hands off him. You are an adult and we have a class full of witnesses.”

  He seems taken back. “Are you threatening me?”

  I shrug.

  “Both of you to the office now.” He continues to push Striker toward the door and I walk behind willingly.

  When Striker sees me, he stops fighting and we share a look. I don’t know what that look is, but it’s filled with unspoken promises.

  After we’re dropped off in the office, we sit and wait in the chairs lining the wall. My hand sits beside me, and Striker reaches over and takes it in his. Our eyes meet.

  “What are you doing?” I ask him.

  “Thank you.”

  I shrug. “For what? I didn’t do anything but get myself in trouble.”

  “But you tried. Nobody else has ever tried for me before.”

  The same look radiates from his eyes now. At the age of twelve, I didn’t know what it was, but now I do. It’s love. It’s ownership. It’s a special connection that only we have. It’s something that nobody else will ever get. It’s just us, me and him.

  With one last thrust, we’re both falling together. He shudders inside me and my toes go numb. He collapses at my side and I curl into him.

  After a moment of catching our breaths, he rolls to his side and places his hand on my cheek, forcing me to meet his eyes. They are bright green and clouded with lust. “Please tell me.”

  “I love you, Striker.” His lips crash into mine again.

  His heart is pounding so hard and fast for me. His breathing is deep and his touch sears my skin. Every place he touches me, it’s as if he is permanently tattooing my skin. Every touch, every kiss, and every word spoken, has become a part of me. Worked into sheer exhaustion, we both fall into a deep sleep.

  When he pulls away from me, it’s almost awkward. He places me on my feet and we look at each other.

  I’m frozen. That was our second kiss of the night.

  “Come on, let’s get out of these woods before they send a search party for our asses.” He takes my hand and pulls me in the direction of the road we ran from.

  The road is dark and quiet, and it doesn’t take us long to find our way back to the sign. We walk along the edge, holding hands but not talking. Both of us have so many unanswered questions. Are we going to talk about this? He kissed me twice.

  Before I can ask, a car comes around the bend and Barney jumps out with his deputy. They each grab one of us as we struggle against them. Our efforts are futile.

  We’re placed in the backseat of the police cruiser and driven to the station, where we’re taken to separate rooms for questioning.

  “We’ve called your parents, they’re on their way now. They’ve offered to pay for the sign you defaced.”

  “I didn’t do it.”

  His brow lifts and his eyes fall to my hands in my lap. They are covered in red spray paint.

  “Uh-huh.” He scoots away from the table and leaves me sitting alone.

  I don’t know how long I’ve been sitting here, but my parents finally come inside. My mother is beside herself, blaming Striker for everything, even though I’m the one covered in paint. He didn’t lift a finger. She doesn’t want to hear it though. My father pays for the sign and as we’re walking out, I see Striker.

  He’s sitting in a chair, in his own room. His face is covered with anger. His jaw is set, chest puffed out, and his eyes are intently watching something. I’m only looking through a crack, so I can’t see who he’s staring at.

  Suddenly, I see a hand fly toward his face. His head slings sideways from the force of the hit. Other than that, he doesn’t move. Blood starts to trickle from his lip.

  My heart is pounding in my chest so hard I can hear it in my ears. My feet start walking on their own.

  Someone grabs my arm, but I push them away as my feet move faster. I have to get to him.

  I shove through the door and rush to his side. Suddenly, everything changes. He’s not angry and brooding anymore, he’s in protection mode. I touch his face. “Are you okay?”

  “He’s fine. I think you’re in enough trouble tonight.”

  I spin around to see Ken.

  His own father punched him. I know we’re in trouble, but he can’t be this mad.

  “I’m sorry,” my dad says to Ken as he grabs ahold of my arm, trying to pull me back.

  I shake free and run to Striker to wipe the blood from his lips and something exchanges between us. He wants me to go, but I can’t leave him. Not knowing if his dad will do worse things when they get home.

  “Alexis, let’s go.” my father tries again.

  I don’t respond. Instead, my eyes stay locked with his. All I see is him. All I feel is him. It’s only me and him.

  “I think maybe it isn’t my boy causing all the problems after all. It looks like you need to discipline your daughter,” Ken tells my father.

  “Alexis!” he shouts.

  The sudden loud noise makes me jump. I look at him. His mouth is drawn into a straight line, causing wrinkles to form on his face. I turn back to Striker.

  “It’s okay, Lex. Just go.”

  I shake my head. I can’t leave him.

  He puts his hands on my shoulders and gently walks me back, toward my dad. “Please, go.” He’s pleading with me, and I can’t deny him.

  I nod and my dad pulls me from the room. My eyes sting with tears from not knowing what kind of trouble Striker is really in.

  I wake with a sudden jerk. Striker jumps awake next to me. “What’s wrong?” Fear is in his eyes as he watches me.

  “I’m sorry.”

  His brows furrow together. “For what?” His voice is calm and collected even though every one of his hard muscles is rigid and tense.

  “For everything. For letting your dad beat on you, for not doing anything to stop it.”

  He lets out a breath and pulls me closer. “There is nothing you could’ve done, Lex.”

  “I could have told someone, but I didn’t because I needed you too much. I let you get beat all because I’m a scared little girl and couldn’t live without you.” Tears stream down my cheeks.

  He wipes them away, just as he always has. “There is nothing you could have done. By the time you found out it was already too late. I could’ve left at any time. At least this way, I got to keep you. I couldn’t have made it through all that if it wasn’t for you. You gave me a reason to live. You taught me how to love. You were the one good thing in my life. Don’t be sorry for that.” He kisses my forehead and lays my head against his shoulder.

  The tears slow, but don’t stop. I fall back asleep, but with his strong arms around me and his heat invading my body, the bad dreams stay away.

  “My dad’s been laid off of work,” Striker says as we sit outside our small grocery store.

  I lick my ice cream. “How come?”

  “Budget cuts.” He shrugs.

  “So who’s going to mow for the town? Look at this place, the weeds are already knee-high.”

  “Who knows. Maybe they are just going to let the weeds take over and run us out of town”

  I look to him. “I think we should help them out.”

  Striker turns to me, his perfectly sculpted face scrunched together in confusion. “I’m not mowing the town for free.”

  I laugh. “That’s not what I mean. Come on.” I take his hand and pull him up from the wooden bench.

  The two of us stroll down the sidewalk, talking and eating our ice cream under the hot summer sun. Five minutes later, there it is. The goat farm.

  I look at him, he looks at me. “Are you thinking what I think you’re thinking?”

  I nod at him. “It seems like the perfect solution, doesn’t it? The goats need to eat, the town has a weed problem. Let’s just let out a few.”
I shrug.

  A wicked gleam forms in his eyes and a smile pulls at the corners of his lips. “Let’s do it.”

  Striker gets to work on opening the fence. We walk through the pasture, herding the goats out of the opening. Once enough get out, we walk back to close the gate, but the remaining goats catch on and herd together to charge the gate. A hundred goats come running toward us. Striker is fumbling with the gate, trying to get it to latch, but they plow right through us.

  We both jump to either side. I sit up and watch as a hundred goats go running wild through our town.

  I meet Striker’s eyes, just as wide as mine are. We didn’t intend on them all getting out.

  “Hurry, let’s go.” He takes my hand and we run through the trees.

  I wake up with a smile on my face, and when I open my eyes Striker is leaning over, watching me.

  “What were you dreaming about?”

  I stretch. “The time that we let the goats out.”

  His laughter bellows all around us.

  It all feels so easy right now. Laying with him, laughing with him. It’s like we’re in our own little world.

  We get up and order a pizza, quietly cuddling on the couch. After several long minutes of silence, he asks, “What are we doing, Lex?”

  I knew it was coming. I sit up straight and shrug. “What do you want to do?”

  “I want to be with you, but I…I just feel like you’re holding something back. Whatever it is, you can tell me. You know that, don’t you?”

  With the mention of what I’m holding back, I feel my walls start building back up, slowly but surely. “I can’t. I’m sorry.”

  He lets out a breath and runs a hand through his hair. “How do you think this can work if you’re hiding something from me?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know, but this is all I can offer you right now. I’m sorry.”

  His eyes burn into mine. “What are you hiding from me, Lex?”

  He studies me intensely, trying to extract the secret from me with his eyes. I break eye contact.

  “I’m sorry. This is bigger than you and me. What I’ve kept inside of me, it can wreck us and my family. I know I can trust you, but if I tell you, you will be angry and it will come out. I can’t take that chance.”