by B. E. Laine
I walk into the living room, throw my purse down, take my coat off, and fall into the sofa. I lean my head back, closing my eyes, and take a deep breath. I hear another slam. We are not going to settle anything with me sitting here and him drinking away the night.
I go to the opposite side of the island. He slams another drink down. When he automatically goes to refill it, I say, “Drew, we need to talk and I do not think that whiskey will help.”
He puts both of his hands on the edge on the counter and drops his head in a look of defeat. My heart instantly feels for him. I am sure he’s under a lot of stress at work and with his mom, and the way I acted stupid tonight didn’t help matters. “I’m sorry about the way I acted tonight.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong. My jealousy got the best of me. I have a lot going on right now,” he mumbles, with his head still down.
“I know. I should be here for you and I’m failing.”
I start to realize that he’s always been there for me, no matter what … when I dropped the biggest bomb on the very first date to when I was attacked at work. My body shudders at the thought. When things were hard for me, he was there. Now when things are hard for him, I just make it worse.
I walk around the island and start rubbing his back. He grabs my waist and places me in between the island and him. He puts his hands on either side, trapping me. I don’t mind, though. He smells of sweet whiskey, a fresh shower, and Drew. Even though I could do without the one smell, the mixture is still my favorite. I slide my arms around his neck and he immediately reacts, wrapping me in his strong arms. “I’m sorry, sweetie.” His voice is muffled, as he kisses the side of my head.
“Mmm …” I close my eyes and get lost in his scent while his hands roam over my back.
He places his hand on the small of my back and slowly pulls me to him, as he pushes me further into the island. I open my eyes and see that his eyes are smoldering. I run my hands through his hair, pulling his lips to mine. He pushes his hips into mine, and I can feel his hardness against me. Suddenly, he lifts me onto the island, and I let out a little yelp and a giggle. He finally breaks into a smile.
He runs his hand down my legs to my heels. “You’re gunna’ leave these on, baby.”
Oh, my! After all this time, we are actually going to do it! I have tried to make it crystal clear that I am ready and just waiting on him. He would always say he wanted to wait, but maybe he has changed his mind.
He starts kissing me, working his way from my neck to my bare shoulders. He pushes my dress up further, as he slides his hands up to the thin strap of my panties. He pulls back and gives me a devious smile, like he is up to something. When he starts to pull the thin fabric down, I lean my hands back behind me on the counter to hoist my ass up to make it easier. He freezes. He is looking straight down and frowning so I follow his eyes to the handprint that is beginning to show on my pale skin. I have always bruised easily so I figured it would leave one, just not that big.
I take my legs and try to pull him back to me, but he loses it. Effortlessly, he maneuvers out of my grasp and starts to pace, murmuring profanities that I can’t make out. I place my head in my hands and sigh. This night could not get any worse but, as always, I spoke to soon. I hear a loud crash that causes me to jerk my head up.
I see a hole the size of a grapefruit in the wall. Drew’s leaning his head against the wall with arms stretched above. Shit! Not-so-gracefully, I jump off the counter. I forgot about having the damn heels on so I cling to the edge of the counter for dear life, as I steady myself to take them off.
I run to him, placing my hand on his back and try to soothe him. I talk like I’m talking to a child. “Drew, baby, look at me.” I try to place myself between him and the wall, and he adjusts so that I can fit. He is squeezing his eyes shut and tensing his jaw. My only strategy is to be calm so I can calm him.
“Drew, I know you did not mean to do that. You are not that person. Please, don’t beat yourself up over it. I’m fine.”
He huffs in response. I lay my head on his shoulder and wrap my arms around his bulky chest. “I love you, Andrew,” I breathe in his ear.
That does it. He instantly relaxes, engulfing me in his secure arms. “Oh, baby,” he whimpers. We just stand there, holding each other.
Eventually, he pulls back. When he goes to place a hand on my cheek, I see blood. I automatically grab his hand and start inspecting. “Oh, let me get you a towel … and ice.” I rush back to the kitchen, and retrieve a towel from the drawer and ice pack from the freezer.
I make him sit at the bar while I wipe the blood off and place the ice pack on his swollen knuckles. He stays quiet as he I clean his hand. He runs his hands through his hair, making him look like pure sex.
I finish cleaning his hand, and openly admire the most handsome man I’ve ever seen. He looks up at me through those dark lashes of his. I take my time to admire the man standing in front of me. He is all mine for the taking … and I think I shall take.
I drop the towel, place my petite hands around his face, and move in between his legs. He doesn’t think twice about wrapping his muscled arms around me, pulling me to him. As I stroke his face with admiration, we have our silent look into each other’s eyes. As he takes my mouth in a forceful kiss, I push back just as hard. I run my hands through his messy hair as he stands up. He lifts me slightly so that we won’t break our heated kiss.
He talks against my lips. “Wrap your legs around my waist, baby.”
I obey, and he begins walking towards his bedroom. Butterflies … more like freaking birds … are going crazy in my stomach. I have no clue why I am nervous. I want this. I have wanted this for the past six months so why am I feeling this way? I trust him; I know he will be gentle with me.
My thoughts trail off as he starts to suck on my neck. My back automatically bows to him. I melt into him, stretching my arms around his massive shoulders. He puts one knee on his bed and slowly lays me back.
As he pushes a curl away from my face and looks deadly serious, he says, “Are you sure?” I nod, looking him straight in the eye. “Say it.”
“Yes, Drew.”
That is all it takes for him to slide his hot tongue down my neck to my collarbone, leaving light kisses as he goes. I start clawing at his back in an attempt to pull his dress shirt up. I hear his shoes hit the floor and, in one quick motion, he pulls me into a sitting position. I look up at him, awaiting his next move. He moves to unzip my dress; I lean into him to make it easier. He slowly drags the top down just past my breast. Even though he has seen every part of me, it still seems like if this is the first time, for everything.
From somewhere inside, I find boldness and reach up for the buttons on his shirt. Passionately, he looks down at me. I push the silky dress shirt over his shoulders and he lets it fall. I run my hands over his chest, feeling the ridges of his hard muscles. He grasps my chin in his hands, making me look up at him. “You are beautiful.” His voice is more husky than normal.
With shaky hands, I undo his belt and unbutton his dress pants. Just as I go to push them down, he lowers me back onto the bed and begins to slide my dress further down my body. I arch and move to accommodate him. Each time he pulls a little more, he places one kiss, then another. I start wiggling in anticipation, grabbing his hair in my fist as he makes his way down. He maneuvers effortlessly to take off my dress, as well as his pants.
Gently, he grabs my leg and starts to trail kisses to my upper thigh, spending extra time where his hand left marks. At this point, there is no reason for any foreplay on my part because I can feel how wet I am, but who am I to stop that talented mouth of his?
He kisses all around me down there, then puts one finger inside my folds, “Oh, baby, you are so wet already.” He licks, then pulls away, leaving me wanting more.
He takes my panties off, then moves to my bra. Out of all the times I imagined this moment, the first time with a guy since that night, I do not feel close to what I thought. I alway
s thought I would feel scared but, with Drew, I don’t.
He is on his knees, admiring the view. I should feel embarrassed, but the only thing I feel, as I see the desire in his eyes, is excitement. I am panting just seeing him enjoying the view. I never knew that could be a turn on.
He places his hands on either side of my head and lowers himself above me, holding his weight up. I raise my hands to run them down the tensing muscles in his arms. As he pushes my legs apart, he presses his hips into mine, making me feel his penis at my opening. I gasp at the foreign feeling down there.
He starts kissing me across my cheek, down to my neck, to my ear. He softly mumbles, “You have to relax, baby. I don’t want to hurt you.”
I nod against his shoulder. He moves down to my breast, kissing all around my nipple, taking it into his hot mouth. He flicks his tongue around my hard nub before he moves to do the same to the other.
I am writhing against him while he teases. When he leans up to look me in the eyes, I feel him push the tip in. I don’t know if it is because I have not had sex in years, or if it’s because he is really just that big. I’m thinking the latter.
I close my eyes, as he starts to enter me more. “Open your eyes.” he rasps, making my eyes shoot right to his. “I want to see you.”
He takes his time as he pushes completely into me … and stills. I start to think something is wrong until I hear him mumble, “Holy fuck.” I am taking that as a good sign. His eyes are starting to roll back so I make a move to grind against him. His eyes bolt open, dark hazel eyes look drunkenly at me. “Better not do that. I want it to last more than five minutes.”
“Okay,” I meekly reply.
He begins to move slowly at first. The more I turn my hips to meet every thrust, he starts to go faster. “You feel good, baby,” he manages to say. I moan in response.
I stare at the man I love. This feeling is exhilarating. I never knew that it could be like this because all I have ever known was bad.
“Oh, baby, I can’t last … I’m com—” I can feel him break apart. “I’m sorry,” he sheepishly says, after he catches his breath.
I giggle. “It is fine.” I place my hand on his cheek in comfort.
I get a huge smile in return. He leans down and starts kissing me all over: cheek, nose, forehead, and chin. I am giggling hard now. He looks at me and, in a serious tone, says, “I love you, Kara. You know that right?”
“Of course I do, and I love you.” Why he would even ask?
He kisses me once more, then sighs and rolls to his back. He pulls me to his side and I lay my head on his shoulder, wrap an arm around him, and hoist my leg up. His breathing is still rapid; his heart is beating hard. As he begins to calm, I feel so thankful to be able to hear that heartbeat. It is music to my ears.
We lay in silence for a bit. Then he simply states, “My mother called me tonight before your graduation.”
“Is that why you were late?”
“Yeah, sorry about that. She got into some trouble again, but I told her that I couldn’t help her this time.”
“Oh.” I do not know what to say back because I never had to deal with my mother. “Was that what was bothering you tonight?” Besides Kace, but I keep that to myself.
“Yes, among other things.”
“I’m sorry about her.” I genuinely am.
“It is not your fault. I shouldn’t have brought it up. I want this night to be perfect. Well, as perfect as I can make it after acting a fool.”
“It’s fine. I knew you had things on your mind,” I say, as I absentmindedly rub his abdomen. He tightens his hold on me, and we both fall into a peaceful sleep.
All too soon, the alarms are going off. Wait, it’s Saturday. It’s Drew’s phone, but what time is it? It is still dark out. He moves to answer his phone, and I see it is only 3:30 in the morning. Who could be calling at this hour? He gives a groggy hello, and then falls silent. Abruptly, he stands up and puts on a pair of jeans. It must be serious, but all I can think of is that he’s going commando? He ends the call and sits on the bed, his head dropping into his hands.
“Hey, who was that?” I move to sit beside him, stroking my hand down his back.
“She’s gone,” he whimpers between breaths.
It takes only a second for me to realize who he is talking about … his mom. I suck in a breath. “Oh, Drew. I-I don’t know what to say.” Even though I did not know her, there is a tightening in my chest for Drew.
“I guess it was bound to happen with her antics.” He quickly jumps off the bed, grabbing a shirt on his way to the bathroom.
I drag myself out of bed and start going through the clothes that I have accumulated over the months. At least I have a simple pair of jeans and a hoodie. I am pulling the hoodie over my head when Drew walks back into the room. “What are you doing?” he asks, confused.
“I just figured that we … you need to go, um, deal with things.” I have no clue how he is going to take the news he just received. I know they were not close, but she was still his mother.
“Yeah, I do need to go to the police station, but you can stay here and get some more sleep.”
“I want to be here for you. Please don’t push me away now.”
He sighs. “Okay. I just don’t want you to have to deal with this mess. What she was into was not pretty.”
I try to sound strong, “I know I can handle it.” Can I?
He goes to make some coffee, giving me time to get ready. In ten minutes, I somehow manage to get my hair under control, my shoes on, and do bathroom duties. I make my way into the kitchen, where I find Drew staring off into space. He’s holding hot coffee so I don’t want to startle him too much. I softly say, “Hey, I’m ready.”
He composes himself. “Okay, do you want coffee?”
I nod and he starts to make mine in a travel mug. He knows exactly how I like it. I try to tell him I can make it, but he insists. I hope he does not try to put the façade on like everything is fine because I know it is bothering him.
He acts like a robot the whole way there. When we get inside the police station, we are taken to a Detective Parker. He looks to be in his late fifties. What he has left of his silver hair is combed over. When he stands, he has to be at least 6’2”. Drew is exactly 6’ and he has a few inches on him, although Drew has more build.
Drew puts a stoic face as he greets us. I sit silently, wringing my hands in my lap as the detective goes through the usual questions “When was the last time you saw or spoke to your mother?”, etcetera.
At some point during the questioning, Drew places his hands over mine to stop my twisting hands. I zoned out of the entire interview, only speaking to tell the detective that I had only met her once. I also account for our whereabouts last night.
It continues for another hour. Lastly, the detective says that we can finish another time; we need to go identify her at the morgue. I am at a loss on that one. They know who she is. Why does he have to identify her? I know I just feel that way because I am terrified for Drew to see her like that.
He doesn’t speak on the car ride over, just holds my hand and squeezes every once in a while. From my schooling, I know that there are stages to mourning. Drew is acting fine now, but he will break eventually. I just know that I have to be here for him when he does.
When we arrive, he tries to talk me out of going in with him. I tell him I am here for him. He eventually caves and I find myself standing here, staring at the body of the person that brought this amazing man into the world. She lies there lifelessly. She looks the same as when I saw her last … dirty fingernails, ratty clothes, very pale. Now, her face is sunken in more, and she looks like she has lost forty pounds. There are two holes in her tight shirt that I am assuming are from bullets.
I look up to Drew. He has not let go of my hand the whole time. With a tense jaw, he nods at the mortician, who covers her, and he turns and heads for the doors, dragging me along.
The rest of the day goes by in a fog
. He calls the funeral home, then makes the very few calls to family to break the news. I made some lunch, even though he refused to eat it and said he was not hungry. I tried to let him have his space to let it sink in, but I don’t think that is helping.
“Do you wanna talk about it?” I sit beside him on the couch.
He stays quiet for a while, staring at the wall. “I refused to help her,” he solemnly says.
I’m shocked. He thinks it is his fault because he blew her off for my graduation last night.
“It is not your fault! I didn’t know her, but I do know she chose this life. Whether you went last night or not, I believe there are reasons for why things happen the way they do. We just may not agree with it sometimes.”
He just nods so I continue, “I know you helped her multiple times. You did all you could. You can’t help someone that does not want to help themselves.”
He pulls me onto his lap and just holds me. “Thank-you,” he whispers.
“It is what I am here for. I am here for you. Always.” I kiss his forehead as he lays it on my chest, and I cradle him in my arms.
He did end up breaking down that night; he wept for the mother he lost, and the mother he never had the chance to have. He shared stories about his past. How he would come home at the timid age of seven and find her so drunk that he would have to fend for himself for dinner and for bed. She had stuck to drinking until he was in high school, then she found harder stuff. That is when he started fighting the drug dealing boyfriends of hers.
That was the first time I ever had to help plan a funeral, and I hope to never have to do it again anytime soon. Today is the day that the love of my life will bury his mother. My only goal I have is to be here for Drew in every way and through everything. I called Paula and told her what happened. She was happy to give me a few days off. He has been through so much that he deserves some good in his life, and I hope I am the one to give it to him.