A Long Time Coming

by Heather Van Fleet

  His heart did that familiar pitter patter thing that it did whenever he knew she was getting closer. It was way out of his control anymore. “Cuz baby toniiiiight, the DJ’s got us falling in love agaaaain,” he grinned harder, finding his feet stepping down the rest of the stairs before he could stop them. He was drawn to that voice, even if it sounded raw and animalistic and downright shitty. He was drawn to everything about that figure nearing him in the darkness of the night. Holy hell, he was so damn needy, that you might as well have thrown a thong on his ass and called him a girl.

  “Abs, seriously, shut up! The neighbors are all old around here.”

  He chuckled to himself—leave it to Harley to become the mother hen. Excitement brewed in his chest. God he missed his sister with every fiber of his being.

  “Aw, come on, Little Beast, you know the neighbors don’t mind the noise. Especially the other night when I was doing that thing you really like with my fingers, and you were all like—”

  “Okay, shit you two, enough! I do not need to hear this shit. I’m not getting laid anytime soon and if I hear any noises whatsoever tonight that require the neighbors to complain, then I swear to God I will get on a plane, and take my ass back to Hillsdale. Hell, I’ll call the cops myself if I have to.”

  David gritted his teeth, feeling the exact same way, but for completely different reasons. His sister was a nun in his book. She didn’t have sex. She didn’t scream when… Ah, hell, he couldn’t even think about that.

  “Sorry,” Harley giggled.

  David groaned, almost seeing his sister’s face light up in the surrounding night. He was happy for her, damn happy she was in love, but he still didn’t like the guy she was supposedly in love with.

  “Yeah, yeah, whatever, I will believe it when I hear…it…”

  He swallowed hard, little balls of sweat beaded up on his forehead as he made his way down the last step. He clenched his jaw even tighter as he waited for them to come closer. It was about time for his secret surprise visit to become not so secret and surprising anymore.

  “Well shit, look who it is. Are you seeing this, Little Beast?” David rolled his eyes. Yeah, leave it to the surfer boy to say the first words. He seriously didn’t like the guy.

  “Oh. My. God. David? Seriously? Is that you?”

  Screams elicited through the night air, followed by the sound of running feet. And the next thing he knew, he was getting pummeled—full frontal—by a head of curly, brown hair. “Good to see you too, sis.” He smiled wide, wrapping his hands around her shoulders. He pulled her tiny little body into a powerful hug. He kissed her head, instantly feeling wetness against his tee shirt as she sobbed her tears of, hopefully, happiness into his chest.

  “Jesus, I can’t even…when did you…I mean…how…? Shit, D, do Mom and Dad know you’re here?”

  He shook his head, gripped her shoulders, and pulled back to look down at her. Even in the dark he could see how lit up she was, tears and all. Joy wasn’t an emotion he’d seen on his sister’s face for a long–ass time, and it was damn good to see it there again. Finally.

  “I flew in this afternoon,” he chuckled, yanking on her curls as he pulled her into a one armed hug, “…and I got on a plane. And yes, they know.”

  She slugged his side with her tiny fist. He barely flinched as he winked down at her. “Don’t be such a smart ass, I mean how did you actually get here without Mom and Dad hounding your ass about it? I mean I’m sure Dad didn’t care much and all, but Mom…”

  His face went stoic, “I told them the truth. I told them I was a big boy and that I could handle it.”

  Mason approached his other side, eyeing him up and down. David arched one eyebrow, staring back at him, pursing his lips in annoyance. What was he doing? Sizing him out like a piece of meat he wanted to sink his teeth into? Or did surfer boy suddenly swing the other way? David always thought there was something off about the guy, or then again, he just didn’t like him because he’d stolen Harley right out from under him.

  “Look at you, dude! No chair, one crutch… Damn, it’s really good to see you, man.” Mason mock punched his shoulder, a seemingly genuine smile curled up on his mouth as he did. David couldn’t see much, but the warmth he felt from his welcome was unlike any other time he’d been around him. It was weird…to put it mildly.

  “I know, right? I’m so proud of you too! Mom mentioned no doctor’s appointments for six weeks! That’s amazing, D!” He shrugged, fighting a blush from her praise. No way was he going to turn all pansy here.

  “Yeah,” he nodded down at her, “…guess it is pretty cool.” It was more than cool. It was damn near awesome. And if he were at home, with just Harley, then he would’ve told her just how awesome it was. But David was too distracted to say much of anything because of the third and fourth persons standing just a few feet ahead of them.

  “Abigail, get your ass up here and say hi to my brother,” Harley laughed, scooting away to grab hold of Mason’s hand.

  Heels hit the sidewalk, slow, methodic…hypnotizing, the only sound that echoed in his ears the closer she neared. He gripped his one crutch tightly within his fingers to keep himself balanced both physically and mentally. If he let go, then there was no way he could stop himself from grabbing Abigail and pressing her close to him.

  “Hey stranger,” she finally whispered, appearing in front of him with an almost celestial quality; his perfect angel of the night. He shook his head, and blinked, fighting against his generic, corny thoughts.

  “Hey,” he whispered back, unable to tear his gaze from hers. The electricity pulled him closer, but also kept him away.

  “Yo, dude, wassup? I’m Kevin,” a voice hiccupped behind her form.

  Arms appeared around Abigail’s bare shoulders, and his entire body screamed at him to do something about it. He gnawed on the inside of his lower lip, hating that the punk with the multiple facial piercings, had his hand hanging dangerously low over her shoulder. Another inch and he’d be hitting second base. He growled low in his throat, drawing blood in his mouth from his teeth. There was something about Abigail that made him want to stake a ridiculous claim over her. Nobody was going to play any bases with her but him, dammit!

  Abigail stiffened, her arms plastered to her side. Tension and something else covered her darkened face before she stared up at him completely. Was that guilt in her eyes? What had she done with this…freak? What was she hiding? There were secrets there. He knew when she was holding onto her secrets. He’d seen them first hand. The thought had his insides spinning with worry, as well as rage and jealousy.

  “Hey, um, let’s head inside, sound good, David?” Harley, God bless the girl who could read him like a novel, re–approached with tentative footsteps. She reached out, and locked her arm through his, before leading him on. But he couldn’t stop himself from staring back over his shoulder at Abigail.

  She was still frozen in place, her eyes burning with shock and that unknown emotion. But her little friend was now currently kneeling on the cement, with his face only inches from the sidewalk. Puking noises, followed by groans, soared through the night air, and David couldn’t help but smile as Abigail jumped away, screeching.

  “David man, I’m serious. It is really good to see you!” Mason nudged him from the other side, before darting up the rest of the stairs to unlock the front door. Mason was trying, that much was obvious. But David couldn’t get the image of his sister, laid up in that hospital bed, out of his head. The day she’d taken too many pills, drank all that fucking alcohol… Shit, David still believed that was all Mason’s fault, even though Harley had insisted throughout the whole ordeal that it was her own issues that took her to that point, not anything Mason had done.

  They made it to the door of the complex, only to hear more retching noises coming from behind. The three of them turned in unison, noticing Abigail hunched over his dark frame. Her hand was hovering over the guy’s back, but her eyes were paranoid and unsure as she gave them a ‘wha
t the hell’ sort of look.

  “What should we do with him, Mason? I mean, we can’t just leave him here,” her voice was lined with worry. God, did she suddenly fall for a surfer/skater boy in two days? No. No way in hell. That wasn’t his Abigail.

  “He’s Abigail’s date,” David butted in, unable to contain his annoyance any longer “let her figure it out.” Bitterness was not a nice friend and he held the heavyweight title for displaying it lately. He turned, entered the door Mason held for him, and left the crappiness behind.

  He yawned. He was too tired to deal with these angry, jealous emotions anyways. He’d figure it out in the morning, whatever it might be.

  Chapter Ten

  “Do you ever wish for a do–over in life Harley?” Abigail questioned as her best friend rubbed the hair off of her forehead in that sisterly sort of way. The tired groan of the air conditioning unit rolled through the air as they settled on the deck of the apartment. The sun was just rising, proving that insomnia had won out.

  Harley seemed to ponder the thought, tapping her finger against her chin as she stared off into the distant, early morning sunrise. Regret started to bloom in Abigail’s chest, and instantly she wanted nothing more than to take back her question. If anyone had a messed up past couple of years, it’d been this girl sitting next to her. Dealing with the whole accident, and David’s amputation, as well as the constant reminder of Aiden’s suicide, had to have hurt her more than Abigail would ever know. Her own current problems were both blessings in disguise in a way. She was going to be a mom, to have the love of her life’s baby, and her parents weren’t fighting as much, due to the fact that one was saucin’ it on the side with her young boy toy, while the other one was doing the freak–nasty…with his job.

  Harley sighed, curling her knees up under her chin, only to lay her cheek on top of them. “No, I don’t. Not anymore at least. Because if I would’ve had do–overs then I wouldn’t be where I am now,” she sighed. Her lips curled up into a sad smile. “I’ve finally learned that the mistakes you make, lead you to where you’re meant to go in life. And because of that, I’m now finally happy. I will never regret anything.”

  Abigail smiled through her tears, admiring the way her best friend had grown—had changed. She was amazing, and there wasn’t a single person in this world who she admired more. “Oh wise one, how I love you!” She giggled, wiping the dampness from the corner of her eyes. How lucky was she to be blessed with such an amazing best friend?

  “Ditto!” Harley whispered, leaning over to wrap her hand over Abigail’s.

  They sat like that, for what felt like hours; silent, comfortable together. It was moments like that one Abigail had missed the most in their months of being apart. “Umm, should I be jealous right now? Because I’m really not!” Mason sighed from the doorway, yawning. Abigail glanced back at him with narrowed eyes, noting his messy hair standing on ends, his eyes heavy with sleep. And yeah, he was shirtless too, and she’d be dead not to notice that six pack he wore the hell out of on his stomach. But the sight of his awesome sauce body did absolutely nothing for her—except for maybe make her want to roll her eyes at his need to be half–naked all the time.

  Harley, on the other hand, was smiling back at him…well, drooling and worshipping him with her puppy eyes was more like it. He waggled his brows at Abigail, but saved the wink for Harley. He was so damn full of himself it wasn’t even funny.

  “You know…that’s your second comment on lesbians since I’ve been in town. You have a fetish or something?” Abigail frowned as he stepped barefoot through the sliding glass doors, his eyes were focused on Harley as if he’d already forgotten Abigail was there. She sighed, and stood up, knowing this was her cue to get the hell out of their way. She’d seen them kiss so much in the past two days, that she’d never again want to watch a rom–com movie without wanting to hurl. How two people could be so goo–goo over each other was beyond her.

  She made it to the door, slapping the frame before she turned back around to say her goodnights, or her good mornings, “Whatever, you two. I’m going to try and get a couple hours of sleep in before we get out today. I’m never gonna make it if…” she stopped and sighed, dropping her hands to hips as she watched them go at it. Damn. Didn’t they ever come up for air? She didn’t want to be a creepy stalker and watch their little deck love fest and all, but the angle they were in, how…shit was that even possible for Harley to…? She shook her head and groaned.

  Just….seriously…ick.

  Her eyelids drooped, growing heavier with each step she took towards the couch. She grabbed the blanket on the back of the loveseat, threw herself on the cold, leather couch, and settled in for what she knew would be an inevitable few hours of piss–poor sleep, especially since her mind kept wandering back to the boy—the man—who was currently sleeping in the spare bedroom down the hall.

  She gritted her teeth, still in disbelief that he’d shown up here. What was his angle? And why now, when he knew she was here, had he decided to come and visit? It couldn’t have been because of her…could it? She shook her head and tucked her chin into her chest, pulling the blanket up tighter around her. It was a selfish thought—a thought she knew would never add up to any sort of truth. But secretly, she kind of held out hope that she was the reason he’d come after all.

  Nothing would ever be simple between them. And when it came to David’s and her relationship, Abigail just wished, for once, that everything was cut and dry, easy peesy, lemon squeezy and all things like that. She deserved a little happiness dammit, and he did too! Now, she just had to think of a way to get him to realize that they were inevitable…two people who were meant for each other, baby, or not.

  Chapter Eleven

  The last time David was technically awake before nine o’clock on a Saturday morning was when he was a little kid. But damn, this was ridiculous! What the hell was he doing awake this early? He sat up, swinging his one good leg over the edge of the bed, scrubbing his hands down the front of his face before staring at the door. All was quiet in the hall. Obviously, everyone else in the apartment was smart enough to know how to sleep in.

  His t–shirt from last night sat on the foot of his bed; he reached over, grabbed it, and slipped it on, trying not to think about last night in general. God…Abigail showing up with that guy did him in, and he’d been two steps away from grabbing a cab and heading straight back to the airport. But he couldn’t let one obstacle set him back, and since he wasn’t about to play the jealous card—nor did he have any right to—he wasn’t going to act like an ass about it…even though he already kind of had that title won hands–down.

  He hopped up on his foot, careful to keep his balance as he reached for his crutch. Nobody would be around to see him hobble his way to the bathroom and kitchen without his prosthetic, so he didn’t think twice about putting anything on to cover his boxers. He stumbled into the kitchen, glancing towards the adjoining living room, immediately spying a bulging purple blanket on the couch. The face was hidden, but there was no denying the fact that two slender, bare legs were protruding from the bottom.

  Damn… is it hot in here, or what?

  He shook his head, pretending not to notice, even though his entire body burned with the need to stare, and maybe touch while he was at it. But milk was needed…or maybe just the distraction in general. He shook his head, grabbed a glass, poured his drink, but his gaze kept refocusing on the perfectly tan legs he had only barely discovered a little over two months ago. He sat in the chair, and leaned back, determined to keep his thoughts focused and off of her, but the moment she rolled over, and her blanket fell to the floor in a heaping pile, his brain flooded south, and his body responded accordingly.

  He gaped. Jesus, what is she wearing?

  Clad in only a light pink tank top that accentuated every damn curve on her naked body underneath, and a teeny, tiny pair of polka dotted pink, lacy panties, Abigail looked like freaking cotton candy on a stick. His mouth watered as he sta
red slack–jawed at the sight. Hell, they’d had sex…once…but they were both drunk and neither one of them had really paid much attention to what the other looked like that night. But this…? Damn…this shit was a dream in itself, and he was definitely thanking God for his inability to let him sleep this morning after all.

  She moaned in her sleep, arching her back like a cat. Her blonde hair was strewn over her pillow. Her arms were thrown over her head. She was magical–looking…there was no better word for it. She moved onto her side, mumbling something in her dreamy state. He shook his head and smiled, remembering that she’d definitely been a restless sleeper, always talking, laughing, or even crying in her dreams. All the nights he’d sneak into his sister’s room when Harley would have her for sleepovers as kids, he’d heard her, watched her, fascinated even at the age of ten.

  But this…? Hell, this was something entirely different. Because he could’ve sworn that she’d just called out his name.

  He stiffened, gripping his cold glass between his fingers. Should he cover her up, or play stupid and just go back to the room? Jesus, why was this so hard? He shook his head, still unable to stop staring. But the choice was made before he even did anything, when she literally…rolled off onto the floor.

  “God, dammit…somebody just shoot me now.” She moaned, obviously thinking that she didn’t have an audience around. But David couldn’t hide his laughter and he let it all come out, just as she glared over at him.

  “Christ, Abigail, go put some clothes on would you?” Mason came out of the hall, rubbing his eyes, cringing, wearing only a pair of boxers himself. He stalked towards the kitchen, not even bothering to say anything as he whipped a can of Mountain Dew from the fridge.

  “Shut up, you pansy,” she groaned, seating her perfect body on the couch a second later. At least she had the decency to throw the blanket over her lap. “I got an hour of sleep, my head hurts like a bitch and I…” she paled, throwing her hand over her mouth, shaking her head as she stood up. “Oh God, not now…”