Tin

by K. S. Thomas

  I feel like he’s just knocked the wind out of me. Months it’s been. Months of lying beside him naked and never once truly exposing myself. Or, at least, that’s the delusion I’d created for myself. Turns out, he’s seen me all along. All of me. Everything I thought was carefully hidden, right there in plain sight.

  “I’m...sorry.” It’s all I’ve got. That, and an instinct to bolt. Right now. “I shouldn’t be here. You shouldn’t have to...I shouldn’t be here.” It’s like I’m on autopilot as my legs start marching for the door, still holding the same disgusting box that started all of this.

  Behind me, I can hear Riker scramble to his feet and it makes me move faster. But he beats me to the door anyway. His hand flies out over my shoulder to hold it shut just as my hand struggles to reach the handle while still balancing the box in the other.

  He doesn’t even say anything. Just takes the box from me and places it on the floor where he pushes it off into the corner. Then, he cups my face with both hands, cradling my cheeks in his palms, and stares me down. Hard. Long. Unwavering. And I know. He’s not letting me go. Not today. Not ever.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Riker

  Fuck me. Fuck me and my stupid mouth. Why did I have to push her? Now she’s crying and I can’t even help her because she won’t fucking tell me where the darkness hides or why it keeps coming back for her. And it always comes back for her.

  I would give anything to protect her from it. Anything. Only this time I’m the asshole who woke it up and I’ve got nothing to fight it with.

  So I hold her. I keep her shaking, sobbing body pressed to mine and I’m reminded over and over just how fragile she is. She’s strong, but she’s broken. And the pieces that are left are hardly holding onto one another. All I’ve got is my love for her to put them back together and she won’t take it.

  “Breathe, baby. Please, just...breathe.” I kiss the top of her head. The side of it. Her forehead. Anywhere my lips can reach her. “I’m an asshole. I shouldn’t have gone through your stuff. You have every right to your privacy.” I stroke her back, my fingers moving through her soft, thick hair. Suddenly it feels like the most solid thing about her. Like she’s dissolving right here in my arms. It scares me. “Keep your secrets. All of them. Just let me keep you.”

  She still doesn’t say anything, but her breathing is getting calmer and her hands are moving, touching me, holding onto me, because I’m her safe place. And that’s all I’ll ever need to be.

  ***

  Quinn

  We didn’t go out tonight. We didn’t make love either. We just lie here. Entangled in one another, staring at each other. For hours we’ve been like this. Not saying anything. I don’t think I’ve ever learned so much about another person without uttering a word.

  He’s been studying me too. But it’s different than before. I don’t feel like he’s looking for the things I don’t want him to know. He’s not trying to understand. Just accepting what is. And that means more to me than I could ever tell him.

  So, I’ll tell him what I can. What he wants to know. What I swore I wouldn’t share. After he answers one question.

  “Why do you hate Nox so much?”

  He looks almost startled, as if I yelled it instead of the quiet whisper it actually was. I guess that’s what happens when no one says anything for several hours.

  “I don’t hate Nox.” He stretches his arm and adjusts his head a bit.

  “Liar.” I slide my hand under my cheek for extra cushion. The pillows losing its fluff from lying on it this whole time.

  “Fine. I hate his four legged ass.” He laughs when he says it though.

  “But why? He’s so smart.” I don’t think I’ve ever been around a horse like him.

  “That’s why I hate him.” His hand moves up to take a fallen strand of hair out of my face. Sometimes I still find it strange how comfortable I am with him in my space. Like right now as he’s tucking the hair behind my ear. It’s such a simple thing. I should be doing it myself, but by some miracle I’m okay with him doing it for me. If only I could feel that way about everything.

  “You hate a horse because he’s smart. That seems like an odd reason. No?” I should drop it. After all, I would want him to if the roles were reversed and I was purposely not answering a question.

  “You’re right. It’s bullshit.” He sighs. “I hate Nox because he’s a selfish son of a bitch who refused to let me wallow in my own misery when all I wanted was to stay in bed until I died there.”

  “Oh.” Not the response I was expecting.

  He grants me half of a smile and then, even though I can tell it isn’t easy for him, he continues, “He wasn’t always like this. You know, how he won’t let anyone handle him? When my grandfather was alive, he would put kids on him and he would be just as calm and gentle as a fucking Golden Retriever. Nox loved people. He loved my grandfather. We all did.” His gaze drops down to my free hand resting on the mattress near my stomach and his fingers travel down to interlock with mine. “When he died, it changed Nox. He was still friendly. Just, sad. And it only got worse. Then, more shit hit the fan and I wasn’t going out there anymore. I just needed a fucking break, you know? Some sort of an escape from everything that had happened. I took off in my truck one morning and didn’t stop for two days. When I finally couldn’t keep going I was somewhere in the middle of Nevada, stopped in some shady little motel, bought a bottle of bourbon and went straight to bed. Didn’t get up for a week straight. Then, Sid called. Nox wasn’t eating. He was destroying everything in sight and had nearly injured three people. Herself included. They’d tried everything. Nothing was working and the vet insisted he wasn’t sick...but that he wouldn’t last long at the rate he was going.” His eyes traveled upward to find mine again. “He left me no choice. Just because I wanted to die, didn’t mean I was going to let him go with me. So, I got back in my truck. Drove another thirty-four hours straight to get home and fed him his supper. Then I spent the night in his stall and I stood there with him, eye to eye and I understood. He knew what I was doing. That I was giving up. And he wasn’t going to let me. He saved me. And I’ve fucking hated him for it ever since. Until now.”

  I feel the pressure on my hand as he squeezes it.

  “I’m glad he saved you,” I whisper.

  “Me, too.” His soft rumble warms me at the pit of my stomach and spreads up into my chest. “I’m even happier he brought me you.”

  “You think he knew what he was doing that day?” It seems ridiculous, really. “Think he was trying to save me, too?”

  But Riker’s completely serious. “I do.”

  I do, too. Sometimes I even think it worked.

  “My mare’s name was Jazz.” I know I’ve changed the topic abruptly, but if I don’t just spit it out, I’ll never get myself to say it out loud. “She was stunning. Not the same way Nox is. Her beauty was different. Wild.”

  Riker smiles. “Like you.”

  A rush of heat touches my cheeks. “More beautiful than me. She was my partner from the time I was seven. My father bought her for me after I’d been barrel racing in junior rodeos for two years on my trainer’s horses. He said I’d made my point by then. I wasn’t going to be growing out of this horse phase anytime soon, so he figured it was easier to just cave and quit fighting the inevitable.” I untwined my fingers from his and crawled out of the bed over to the corner where the box was now hidden in the darkness. I was glad for the darkness. It meant I couldn’t see any of what was living in those frames. I just had to feel for the one I was looking for. When I found it, I slipped back into bed beside him and handed the picture of Jazz and me over.

  “We competed for twelve years. We were really good. At eighteen I joined the WPRA and was competing at a professional level. I had every intention of making a career of it.”

  Riker was peering at the photograph in his hands thoughtfully. “What happened?”

  I shrug. “Life. Things came up, things I couldn’t avoid o
r change and I had to quit.”

  His eyes are level with mine. “What happened to Jazz?”

  I swallow several times. Back to back, trying to force down the lump in my throat threatening to suffocate me. Then again, maybe I should let it. “She died. Two years ago. She had a degenerative disease in her joints. All the years of competing took their toll on her and hit with a vengeance a year into what were supposed to be her carefree years of retirement. Treatment only worked temporarily. Eventually, she was carrying all of her weight on her front legs and dragging the hind ones. She wasn’t able to lie down anymore because she knew she couldn’t get back up. She was dropping weight. It was just a matter of time before she collapsed or injured herself.” The words are getting harder to find. “I wasn’t even there for Jazz at the end. Kirsten had to go for me. She was the one who held her head in her lap while the vet did what he had to do to set her free.” Pissed at myself, I wipe my eyes with one harsh swoop of the back of my hand. Riker catches it as it comes back down.

  “What are you doing?” he whispers.

  “I shouldn’t be crying.” I sniff loudly and I know I sound disgusting. It’s good. I should. Nothing about me should be remotely appealing or endearing right now.

  Riker frowns. “Why shouldn’t you be crying? You lost someone close to you. What, because she wasn’t a person that makes it lame to grieve her? I know you don’t believe that.”

  “Of course not.” It’s the exact opposite. “I shouldn’t be crying over her, because I have no right to. She gave her whole life to me. And I let her down when she needed me the most. I don’t deserve to grieve her. Any more than I deserve to experience even an ounce of the joy a horse can bring you. I lost every right to that life the second I lost her.”

  “You can’t seriously think that.” He’s starting to sit up and I know he’s going to try and set me straight the way he always does. Only it won’t work this time. Not with this.

  “I do. And nothing you’re about to say will change my mind. So don’t bother. That’s not why I told you.”

  His expression softens. “Why did you tell me?”

  “You asked.” I nestle myself against his chest. “And you deserve to get an answer every once in a while.”

  His strong arms envelope me and his leg slides between mine. Sometimes I lie here with him and think how being with him gives new meaning to being wrapped up in someone. Riker’s not the center of my universe. He’s not my whole world. Or even my guy. But things have changed. We’re not the same couple of lost souls desperate to escape our reality and willing to fuck our way out. We’re not even the same people we were two months ago when we were just enjoying a casual fun fling.

  We’re not fucking anymore. Or even having sex. Riker makes love to me now. And every time he does, it feels like he takes a piece of my soul with him and leaves a piece of himself behind with me. I’m afraid if we keep going like this, one day in the near future we’ll stop and look at each other and no longer be able to tell one from the other. Too much of me will live inside Riker for me to survive without him after this all comes to a crashing end. And it will end. It has to. Every dream does. And most of mine end with me screaming in agony. Why would this one be any different?

  When I wake up the next morning, I’m somewhat taken aback by the fact that I am lying here alone. There’s a certain amount of irony involved in waking up alone for the first time ever on the first morning that I officially live here.

  I’m about to call his name when I hear the thud of a cupboard door closing. He’s in the kitchen.

  Wrapped in one of the sheets toga style, I drag my feet over the hardwood floor and sleepily wander over to where he is.

  “Looking for food you don’t keep here?”

  He stops mid search of the cupboards above the sink. “Ha! That’s where you’re wrong. I went to the grocery store yesterday. Bought everything I needed to make you a proper welcome to your new home breakfast, only now I can’t find my frying pan.” Which he seems to give up on, temporarily at least, to give me a proper welcome to my new home good morning kiss.

  “I can think of things I’d enjoy having right now that don’t require a pan of any kind,” I mumble against his soft lips.

  “Hm?” His hands are already roaming down from my shoulders along my waist until they reach the back of my thighs, gripping them tight and lifting me up onto the kitchen counter. “This along the lines of what you had in mind?” His husky voice breathes into my ear as he nips at my lobe.

  But I’m too far gone already to utter even a single syllable. So I grab a handful of his dirty blond hair to hold him steady while I devour his lips with mine and let my tongue send a resounding yes in response to his question.

  By the time we finish the appetizer romp before breakfast, I really am starving and hoping he wasn’t joking about having actually bought food for once. Of course, there’s still no frying pan, so I’m not any closer to eating any of it than I was before.

  “Fuck it.” He slams shut the last of the unexplored cabinets. All of which wound up being empty. “I’ve got some upstairs. I’ll just grab what I need. Be right back.” He gives me a quick peck on the lips as he hurries from the kitchen.

  “Wait. Upstairs? There’s still real stuff up there?”

  He stops, apparently confused by my question. “Yeah. Why?”

  I follow him out into the living area. “I don’t know. That first night we had dinner on the deck, the door was open and I caught a glimpse inside. I wasn’t snooping or anything, but the place looked like it had been cleaned out pretty good. Just random trash left lying on the ground. I thought it was weird, but we weren’t really doing the sharing thing back then, so I didn’t bring it up.”

  Riker glances back and forth between myself and the door. He’s contemplating something, and judging by his expression, it’s something big. I’m suddenly sorry I asked. We’ve shared plenty already in the last twenty-four hours. I’m not sure I’m up for more monumental revelations.

  “It’s my place,” he says slowly. “From when I was married.”

  Shit. Why didn’t I see that coming?

  “Oh.”

  His eyes drop to the floor. “I know. It’s weird. I should have sold it by now. I just...” He exhales loudly, then lifts his gaze again and stretches out his hand for me to take. “Come on. It’s easier if I just show you.”

  Against my better judgement, I take his hand. Because somehow I no longer know how not to. Whenever I see his hand, mine simply insists on being in it. So, there it is. My palm resting on his, my fingers anchored to him and thereby tying me to whatever lies beyond that door and up those stairs.

  We’re in the driveway and he’s keying in the code on the garage door opener to gain entry to the main house that way, when I’m hit by my moment of truth amid all the lies I’ve been telling myself since the second I met him, and I panic.

  “Wait. I can’t do this.”

  He turns back to look at me over his shoulder, the garage door already in motion. “I’m not hiding any dragons in here, Quinn. Nothing’s going to happen to you, I can’t protect you from.”

  I start to pull back, putting a strain on the grip between our hands. “It’s just...If I go inside here...if you show me this last secret piece of yourself. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to walk away from you. This whole time...all of my insisting I could just leave in two weeks and never look back...I was just pretending.”

  He moves in close, taking my other hand as well. “So was I.” He smiles, but it’s a sad smile, wrought with the possibility of loss. “How about we stop?”

  “You might not like what you see,” I mumble because speaking clearly and confidently is a luxury I don’t have right now.

  “It won’t keep me from looking.” Then he eases the intensity by tugging at the oversized t-shirt I’m still wearing from the night before, and grinning. “You should see yourself right now, by the way. Wearing nothing but my ratty old shirt with your hair all a mes
s. I bet you haven’t even brushed your teeth yet.”

  I yank my shirt back out of his grip. “Can’t be all that disgusting. You couldn’t keep your hands off of me five minutes ago.”

  “Still can’t.” And he draws me in for one more kiss before he leads the way inside.

  Now that he’s diffused enough of my angsty tension, I notice the shiny black Mercedes SUV parked inside. It’s probably not the most recent model, but it still has the brand new feel to it.

  “You have a Mercedes SUV?” Because I still can’t wrap my mind around it. It’s just not him.

  “Wasn’t mine,” he says dryly as he walk past it.

  “Oh.” Yeah. That makes more sense.

  We’re already at the next door and I’m guessing this one leads to another set of stairs. I take a deep breath and brace myself. Since Riker’s tightened his hold on my hand this time, I won’t be getting a second chance to make a run for it.

  “Hang on, let me get the light,” he murmurs while we stand together in the dark. When he finally flips on the switch, there’s an explosion of sparks at the ceiling, and then, darkness yet again.

  “You should really talk to your maintenance guy about this shit. This place is practically falling apart.” Because bad humor always makes me feel better.

  “No kidding. Where is that asshole when you need him?”

  Always at my side. But I don’t say that out loud. I just close my eyes and wait for them to adjust to the lack of light. When I open them again, Riker has already navigated us safely to the main level where we enter through the kitchen.

  “Sweet. We can get in and out. No harm done.” I know he’s not really going to let me off the hook that easily, but I have to try.

  “Nah. We’re already here. Might as well give you the full tour.” And he’s on the move again.

  Since it’s an open floor plan, the tour starts pretty much immediately, in what I can only assume is the dining area. It’s hard to say considering there isn’t a single piece of furniture left in the place. Just...stuff. Picture frames mostly. Some random knick knacks. A vase in the corner with a full bouquet still in it, only of course they’re not so much flowers as they are dried out zombie blossoms.