Shit. I need a cold shower.
I take my time in the shower before quietly making my way up the stairs and to my room. When I walk in, I notice right away that she is sleeping. She’s managed to strip out of her dress and heels and is now wearing one my favorite shirts. I have to admit, I like seeing her in it. She looks beautiful; like a fucking angel.
I reach for a cigarette and light it while pacing around my room and watching her sleep. She looks so fucking peaceful lying there. A part of me wants to crawl into bed next to her and hold her in my fucking arms, but the smarter part of me is reminding me of what a horrible idea that is. So instead, I dig out my favorite picture of Helena, grab the chair and pull it next to the window and sit.
I stare at the picture until my eyes blur. I haven’t looked at this in almost a year. It hurts. It hurts so fucking badly that I can’t breathe . . . but there is something making it a little easier. Someone that makes me want it to be easier. That thought scares me.
I must sit there for about an hour, in the dark with my hands wrapped in my hair before I hear her mumbling and moving around. When I look up, I see that her eyes are opened and she’s staring right at me.
“Talk to me, dammit,” she says.
I feel an ache in my chest at the thought of talking about it. I’ve been holding in my emotions for so long; for too long. Maybe it’s time to get it out. She’ll be gone in a couple days anyways. Maybe this will help ease some shit in my head.
Here goes fucking nothing . . .
I jump to my feet, toss the picture on the bed and try to hold back the tears. “Her name was Helena Valentine. She was my fiancé and was carrying my child.”
OH. MY. GOD.
I feel an ache in the pit of my stomach and a part of me feels like puking. Was. He said was. I blink a few times to focus my vision before reaching for the picture next to my feet and rubbing my thumb over it. It’s moist and the color is smeared. It wasn’t like that last time I saw it.
“I really don’t want to talk about this, but it is starting to take every fucking thing in me to keep my shit together. I do everything I can to keep my mind busy. It’s getting pretty fucking exhausting. I don’t think I can take it anymore.”
I look up at Slade and suck in a deep breath while taking in the pained look in his eyes. They’re wet and I can tell it is taking everything in him to not cry. I can’t even speak. I don’t want to. I’m afraid to hear more. I’m scared to hear what he went through.
It’s silent as he starts pacing. The silence is getting me so nervous that my stomach hurts. Not that the liquor helps any . . . but I feel totally sober now; wide awake and alert.
“I loved her with everything in me,” he finally says. “I would have never left her or my child. Don’t ever think that. It sends a flood of rage through my body. I may be a piece of shit now, but I wasn’t always this way.” He looks up toward the ceiling and rubs his hands over his face, clearly frustrated with himself. “We dated all throughout high school and I had known her since I was ten. She was my best fucking friend and I never had the courage to tell her how I felt. I went years holding it in, afraid that she would reject me and it would ruin our friendship.”
He stops pacing, pulls out a cigarette and lights it before continuing. “She meant more to me than that. I couldn’t lose her. I wouldn’t allow it. Our freshman year I watched her date numerous assholes that always broke her heart. She always came to me for comfort and I was always there to take care of her. I promised her I always would be and I keep my fucking promises. One night after some asshole put his hands on her, I kicked the shit out of him and told her I couldn’t take seeing her hurt anymore.”
He takes a long drag of his cigarette and looks out the window as if trying to picture it all in his head. His voice is starting to break and I can tell this is tearing him up inside. I hate this.
“I told her I loved her; that I was in love with her. She was shocked as hell when I told her. I still remember that look on her face before she leaned in and kissed me harder than I had ever been kissed in my whole life. It was as if she were desperate; as desperate as I was. Come to find out, she had been in love with me the whole time and she was afraid of the same thing I was. From that day on she was mine. I took care of her.” He turns to look at me. “And I never fucking hurt her. She was my life. I would have given my life for hers.”
He places his hand over his face and looks down at the ground. I can’t be sure, but I think I see tears falling. He puffs his cigarette and clenches his jaw. “If I could trade places with her I would, dammit. Fuck!”
He crouches down, resting his elbows on his knees with his face buried in his hands. “It should have been me. We were both in that fucking car. Not just her. Both of us, dammit!”
He starts shaking his head back and forth, hitting his head against the dresser behind him, as the tears come out steadily, dripping down his face and arms. “I didn’t want to go anywhere that night. I tried so hard to get her to just stay where we were. It was New Year’s Eve and all though I wasn’t drinking, I knew others were. I told her. I fucking told her I didn’t want to drive her home with all the crazy people that would be out that night, but she was eight months pregnant with our baby girl and she kept complaining she was uncomfortable and needed to go home to sleep. Finally, I caved in.” He looks up toward the ceiling. “I’m so fucking sorry, Helena. I should have said no and put my foot down. You may have been pissed at me, but you and Hailey would be here right now. I would be taking care of you both; protecting you.”
His body starts shaking as he looks back down at the ground and breaks down. He’s crying so hard that I can’t help the moisture building up in the corner of my eyes just from watching him. My heart aches for him. He’s been holding all this pain in. That’s not healthy for anyone. Not to mention the fact that he blames himself. No one should have to bear that pain.
I stand up and walk over to stand in front of him, but he doesn’t look up from the ground. He just takes a quick drag and exhales. “The car killed her on impact; broke her neck. Dammit! All it did was throw me around a little.” He brushes his fingers over the scar on his face. “I still remember holding her until the ambulance came. It felt like forever before they got there. I knew she wasn’t breathing, but I . . . I just kept on yelling at her to hold on; that her and Hailey were going to be okay, but the blood . . . it was everywhere. Her seat was soaked in it, but I never let myself believe that Hailey wouldn’t be born. I refused to give up hope.”
He stops and chokes back a sob before whispering, “My life ended that night, along with theirs.”
Without thinking, I drop down on my knees in front of him and place my hands on his arms, but he jerks away. I grab his arms again and pull them away from his face. He looks up at me through wet lashes while dropping his cigarette and putting it out with his knee. “You can’t blame yourself for that night, Slade. Please, stop blaming yourself. You did everything you could to take care of them.”
His nostrils flare and his jaw muscles flex as tears roll down his blotchy face. His eyes are distant and his whole body is shaking under my touch. His pain is too much to handle. All I want to do is help ease it.
I grab his face and rub my thumb over his scar as a tear slides down my cheek. He still hasn’t said another word. He just looks numb now; dead inside. He’s staring at me as if he’s a bit surprised by my comforting him. “It’s okay for you to talk about it. It’s okay to let it out and ask for help to carry some of the burden. Let me help you.” He starts shaking his head as he closes his eyes, tears still falling. “I know you miss them. That is nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing at all. Okay, dammit? The world should know how much you love them. Don’t let the memory of your family die out because you’re too afraid to talk about it; to remember. You shouldn’t live life that way.”
He clears his throat and looks blankly at the wall across from him. “Every day is a struggle for me to get by. Just the thought of losing them takes t
he breath right from my fucking lungs. It hurts so fucking bad. I never thought a day would go by that I wouldn’t have Helena by my side. We spent every day together. Even as kids. It’s not easy to just move on with life after losing the biggest part of you; like losing a vital organ. After that day, I just shut down. I gave up. Every day I feel like I’m fucking dying, over and over again. I can’t fucking breathe, Aspen. I can’t.”
Feeling my heart break for him, I wrap my arms around him and pull him to me as tightly as I can. To my surprise he doesn’t push me away. Instead he snuggles his face into my neck and wraps his arms around my head, letting the tears fall. So, I sit here and hold him for a while until the tears stop. It feels like forever, but I refuse to let him go. He needs someone. All of this pain has been consuming him and he’s been living his life by numbing himself to the world; getting out of his own head.
Quite a bit of time passes, but finally, he pulls away from me and stands up. He doesn’t even bother with wiping his face off. He just lets the last tear fall; unashamed. “You should get some rest, Aspen.” He looks me in the eyes for a moment before picking me up and walking over to his bed. He stops in front of it and gently places me atop the mattress. “It’s really late. Cale should be home soon. You can just crash in here.”
He takes a seat at the edge of the bed and places his face back in his hands while yawning. I sit up and crawl over to him to place my hand on his shoulder. It’s tense and he’s still slightly shaking. “You should get some rest too. I am fine on the couch.” I swallow hard while looking at his solid muscles though his snug shirt. They keep flexing as if he’s struggling with something; as if he’s fighting frustration. “I can stay if you need me to, though.”
He turns around, wraps his arm around my waist and pulls me to him before laying back on the mattress. He gently brushes my hair away from my neck and snuggles up against me with his face against the side of my neck. His breathing is soft and warm against my flesh. It gives me goose bumps. “I need you to,” he whispers.
My heart skips a beat from his words and I find myself wrapping my arms around him for comfort and to pull him closer; as close as I can get him. For some reason, being in his arms this way is making it hard for me to breathe. I have never seen this side of him and I’m afraid the feeling is too good for me not to want more. Right now, being in his arms makes me feel special. He’s opened up to me in a way that I doubt he has with anyone else in a long time. This feeling makes me happy.
WHEN I WAKE UP, SLADE is gone. Just like he was the last time I stayed in his room. Except this time, I know he stayed the whole night because he never let me go. He held me so tight that I could barely move. Being in his strong arms made me feel safe and at home; something I haven’t felt in a while. It confuses me.
I sit here for a while waiting for Slade to return, but he doesn’t. It’s been, I don’t know, maybe twenty minutes or more since I’ve noticed him gone. A part of me worries that he’s still suffering from the pain of last night and maybe he left to numb the pain. I’ve noticed the way he uses alcohol to numb the pain because, well, I did it last night. Pain gets the best of us all at some point.
I tiredly crawl out of bed and make my way down the stairs. When I pass the couch, I see that Cale is asleep on it. He must’ve assumed I was in his room when he got home late last night. Well, he was definitely wrong.
When I get to the bathroom door I stop, because it is slightly cracked open, but the lights are off. Last time this happened, Slade was behind that door and I’ll never forget that look in his eyes when he saw me standing there. I’m not sure I can face that again. It made my knees weak.
Working against my nerves, I push the door open and take a step inside. Slade is standing there in a T-shirt and a pair of white boxers briefs. He’s leaning against the sink while staring up at the ceiling. He looks lost in thought.
I hesitate before speaking. I’m not sure he wants to be bothered.
“I . . . I just wanted to check and make sure that you’re okay.” I step further inside and he turns to look at me. The look in his eyes is different this time. I can’t tell exactly how, but just different. He doesn’t speak; just clenches the sink and then lets go. “Do you need anything?”
He slowly walks toward me, his eyes focused on my face. His expression is calm and relaxed. I’ve never seen him like this. His hands reach out and he softly caresses my cheek before bringing his eyes down to my lips. “Yeah,” he whispers. “You.”
“What-”
My words are cut off when he tangles his fists in the back of my hair and gently presses his lips to mine. He kisses me soft, but with a want that makes my heart speed up. My lips part enough for him to slip his tongue inside and swirl it around mine. When this man kisses like this, he doesn’t just kiss you, he owns you.
His muscles flex around me as he pulls me closer to him and slowly backs me up against the wall. I find my hands desperately seeking his body; just wanting to touch him in any way I can. Right now, we couldn’t possibly get any closer, but I’m still trying; he’s trying.
“I love the way your mouth tastes,” he whispers against my lips. “I haven’t wanted to kiss someone this much . . . in a very long time.” He tugs on my bottom lip with his teeth before sucking it into his mouth and releasing it. “With you, I can’t get enough of it.”
Desperate for more of him, I slam my lips against his and dig my nails into his strong back. I feel him growl against my lips before he picks my legs up and walks to the right, stepping into the shower. He sets me back down on my feet while grabbing my hip and pulling me against him.
With his lips still pressed against mine, he reaches over and turns the shower on before guiding us both under the water. He continues an assault on my lips; kissing me so hard it’s a little painful. The stubble from his lip scours my smooth skin, but at the moment I couldn’t give a damn.
The water is cold at first, causing me to jump back, but he squeezes me tighter to him and causes a friction between our bodies. The radiation of body heat warms me up and it only makes me want him more.
His hands work slowly, pushing his T-shirt up my thighs as he works his beautiful lips against mine; teasing me in a way I have never been teased.
Every time his tongue caresses mine, I feel myself clenching my thighs to keep from going crazy. His touch and the taste of him is driving me mad; not only making my body want him, but crave him. Now I see why Hemy was so hard. This man is so erotic.
Both of us are drenched; our wet clothing plastered against our bodies as we stand here trying to catch our breath. He’s now looking me in the eyes as he reaches for my thong with both hands and drops to his knees, gently guiding them down my legs as if I’m delicate and he’s trying not to break me.
I place my hands on his shoulders and look down at him as I lift my feet out of them. After he tosses my panties aside, he looks up at me while running his hands up my thighs, followed by his soft lips. My whole body quivers from his touch and my breathing picks up as he gets closer to the ache between my thighs.
Just when I think he’s about to pleasure me, he stops and stands up while wiping the water from his face. The bathroom is still slightly dark, but I can still see the steely blue of his eyes and the intensity in them is so great that I find myself grabbing the back of his head and slamming my lips back to his for more. They can’t get enough; I can’t get enough.
I feel his erection press against my belly as he cups my ass cheeks and squeezes. He picks me up and presses me against the wall. My legs wrap around his waist on instinct. His stiffness against my pussy sends a surge of pleasure and need throughout my body, causing me to moan out against his lips.
“Why does this feel so good,” I ask breathless.
He runs his hands up my side and speaks against my lips. “Because it’s with me,” he breathes, “And I want you in a way I never thought I’d want anyone again. There is something about you that is different.”
Pressing my body tigh
ter against his, he rubs my pussy against his erection, making me want to scream out, even through the wet fabric. It feels so big and firm and it is still confined inside the cotton of his briefs. I’ve never wanted a man like this before. I want to touch him bare; undress him and pleasure him.
Loosening my legs, I slide down his front until I am standing on my two feet. I drop to my knees; my eyes level with his hard cock that is begging to be released from its cage. As I take hold of it in my hand, I picture what it felt like inside me and with that vision I lose control, having no other option than to release it from his briefs, so I do by hooking my small fingers underneath the elastic band. Pulling outward, his cock springs free, allowing me to pull them down his legs until they pile up at his feet.
His cock is standing at attention, commanding to be touched. It’s the most beautiful cock I’ve ever seen. I run my hand up and down his shaft, brushing the tip of his penis once in a while to tease him. Each time I do this, he moans and bucks forward.
“Touching you drives me crazy,” I whisper. “I want to feel you.” He takes my hand and pulls me to my feet, pressing me against the wall. He touches my cheek with the tips of his finger, brushing my wet hair off my face. He lightly traces the seam of my body, stopping at my thigh and clenching it in his palm before pulling it upward to rest around his waist.
He brushes his finger of the opposite hand over my entrance, slightly dipping inside and running it up my folds before sticking it inside and slowly moving it in and out. He’s good at pleasuring me and he damn well knows it. “Mmm . . . yeah. Touch me, Slade.” I run my tongue up his wet chest, then up his neck, making my way to his ear. “I love you inside me,” I whisper.
Pinning me against the wall with his sculpted body, he presses deeper inside, quickening his pace at an angle like a hook. Each time he slams inside, he hits a spot and it feels amazing. I can’t help but to vocalize the way it makes me feel. “That’s it. Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”
Walk Of Shame Page 11