What is he thinking? Does he want to kiss me? Do I want him to kiss me?
I hear the loud thumping of my heart.
Please, stop, heart.
He doesn’t say anything when we separate, but he keeps looking at me as he walks beside me, slowly letting me lean into him as his hand settles on the small of my back. His eyes are constantly on me, and somehow we always find a way to touch each other. I believe my attraction to him isn’t one-sided.
He’s a friend now. It’s undeniable, but how far will this go? This is all it can be. A friendship.
“Are you okay to drive? I can drive you home. Let me drive you home.” He’s not asking; he’s demanding, as I fumble with my keys.
“No.”
“Yes, let me.” As he takes the keys from my hand, the warmth of his touch makes my pulse flutter.
“But my car—”
“Don’t worry about your car,” he interrupts. “I’ll take care of it. That’s the last thing you should be worried about.”
I relent. He’s right.
The drive is quiet except for John Mayer’s “Heartbreak Warfare” playing softly in the background as we pull up to my house where James’ black Range Rover is missing. The words of the song fill the cabin. I dream of ways to understand my pain. I wish James would just try to see what he’s doing to me, but he doesn’t know since I keep it all bottled up, pretending I don’t know what’s going on.
Mason’s company was needed tonight to fill the places inside me that are hollow, the places that throb with fear and loneliness. I don’t want to feel this way, not for another minute.
What does that mean?
Mason sighs deeply as he puts the car into park and kills the engine. Fidgeting in my seat and glancing at my phone, I attempt to pull my thoughts together. I grab the keys to the house from within my purse and sneak a look at Mason, finding he’s already watching me.
“He’s not here. Is he?”
“No.”
“Are you going to be okay?”
“I’m fine. I’m sorry I told you all of that,” I murmur with an aching heart.
“Stop. Don’t ever apologize for that. I’m serious about what I said. If you ever feel like you need to talk to someone, I’m here.”
I shake my head and stare down at my lap. With his free hand, he lifts my chin and turns my face so that we’re eye to eye. I notice the stubborn expression on his face.
“The one thing that caught my eye about you is your smile and the blush in your cheeks. There’s no room for sadness in such a pretty face like yours.”
My face flushes red.
“I’m serious. I’m your friend. I’m here if you need me. For anything.”
I let the words soak into the saddest part of me.
“Thank…thank you for listening tonight,” I reply.
“Thank you for listening to me, too. Thank you for trusting me.”
After saying goodbye to Mason, I enter the empty house. Taking out my cell phone, I notice it’s almost midnight, and James hasn’t called. I don’t cry. I don’t throw anything. I don’t call him. Instead, I grab whatever alcohol is in the house, throw myself onto the couch, and wait for him.
“Can you hear me?” His voice is so close. I reach out to touch him, but all I feel is air. “Everything will be okay.”
“James?” I can smell the alcohol on his breath, and the alcohol on mine.
“Yes, it’s me. Do you remember?”
“Remember...” I croak. My mouth feels like cotton, and my body aches.
“Shh...It’s okay. Everything will be okay. Just close your eyes. I’ll take care of you. I’ll take care of everything.”
I blink a few times and try to focus on his voice and face. He looks at me like no man has ever looked at me, a hungry possessiveness in his stare. A prickle of fixation takes root in my belly, a familiar feeling. I focus on the cute dimple in his cheek as he carries me into the bedroom and lays me onto the bed.
“Go to sleep, Brie. I’ll take care of everything. Everything is going to be just fine. I promise.”
The first thing that hits me when I crack open my eyes is the steady pounding of my brain. I roll over, noticing that James is not in bed. Turning my head toward the bathroom, the sound of running water pacifies my ears. I breathe a broken breath. He’s here. I pull a pillow over my throbbing head and slowly close my aching eyelids, thinking about what I saw yesterday.
What do I do? Tell him what I saw? Pretend it didn’t happen?
A part of me is telling me I’m overreacting. I don’t even know what time he came home. How did I get in bed? The last thing I remember is finishing off a half-empty bottle of vodka and waiting for him.
“James,” I murmur. I actually saw him with another woman, and it brings everything rushing back. I glance at the alarm clock that reads eight-fifteen AM. I sit up, throw my legs over the edge of the bed, and let my feet hit the icy floor. The water continues running, and the impulse to go the other way hits me, but I want to be close to him at the same time.
I ease open the bathroom door, and a thick rush of steam wraps me in a haze. I notice his silhouette behind the glass. I step closer to him with the image of him touching her and knowing he lied to me about what he was doing.
How long has this been going on, and why did he tell me he wanted to try when he obviously is spending time with another woman and not me?
“Fuck. Play dumb,” I whisper as I stand at the shower door, resting my palm on the glass and tracing his silhouette with my finger before I open it, letting a cool draft of air infiltrate the space.
Frigid.
My heart.
His heart.
“Brie?”
He turns, pushing his hair away from his face. He’s so striking. So devious.
“How are you feeling?” He takes my hand and pulls me into the shower. “Let me take this off.”
“No, James …” I trail off, still hazy from last night as I try to pull away.
“Brie…baby.” He steps to me and slips both straps of the silk nightie off my shoulders so that it falls down my body. As soon as my nightie hits the floor, he draws me into him. “Are you okay?” He peppers kisses on my neck.
“I’m fine.” I whimper, falling limp into his arms. My mind is heavy with so many thoughts I don’t have it in me to stand on my own two feet anymore.
“You need to stop drinking.”
“You were late.” I stare directly into his eyes, searching for something.
“I’m sorry, B. The golf game took longer than expected, and we went out for drinks later. I lost track of time. I’ll make it up to you. I promise.”
Promise. Promise. Promise.
“James, I…” I fight the overpowering urge to cry and to strike him.
“What?” His voice lowers, and his heated stare burns me while his hands snake around my waist.
“Are you happy?”
He takes a step backward, shaking his head. He brings his hand up to cradle my face, capturing my eyes again with his. “Yes,” he rasps before he places a chaste kiss to my lips.
Wisps of steam float around our bodies, masking the tears that want to spill from my afflicted eyes. He covers his mouth with mine. I wrap my arms around his neck, needing to cling to something, anything as his tongue darts between my lips.
“Brie.” He pushes me gently against the wet tiles as the warm water steadily streams down our hot bodies. When it comes to James, the barrier with which I disguise my uncertainties is absent. My mind and heart are conflicted, pulling me every which way. I open my mouth, wanting to tell him, but I smother my voice deep inside my throat, knowing if I do open it, I won’t be able to stop myself from crying.
He shifts closer to me, pressing his hard length against my willing body. I move my hands along his torso and downward, needing the connection with the man I married, when I know I should be running the other way. He spreads my legs with his knees as he trails his fingers down my sensitive skin.
<
br /> “God, B. You drive me fucking crazy,” he says before he licks the valley between my breasts, tenderly tracing his hands down my arms. He lifts his hips, grinding his erection against my sex. “Can you feel how much I want you?”
Where is this passion coming from? Does he feel guilty? Does the other woman bring it out of him? Is that who he’s thinking about? Is this the reason he came back to me?
I don’t want to believe this display of emotion stems from him being with another woman. The thought repulses me. He came back because he wants me and only me. It’s not because of her. I dismiss my doubts, yearning for his touch. I need something. Something I felt last night when he wasn’t there, when I was spending time with another man.
“I want you just as badly.” I breathe softly against his mouth as he runs his finger along the edge of my jaw. I let the beat of his heart soothe me, filling me with bittersweet hope.
Can we really get through this? All of this? Is it too much? Are we strong enough?
I’m holding on to what we can have together, but at times, it feels like for dear life. I can’t let on that I know what he’s doing, so I let him take me because I’ve always found more joy in giving than receiving. I don’t know any other way to be. I have to change. We have to change. Something has to change.
It is the morning of the Fourth of July. The air is already thick with humidity at eight o’clock when the police cruiser pulls up my driveway. I feel like I’m being body slammed, and my gut plummets to my feet. The doorbell rings, and I let the police officer inside as I wrench one hand through my hair. We go through the introductions, and I sit down, unable to carry my weight. This is too much. Cindy and Mom stayed at the hospital, so I could come home to take a shower before I headed back to stand vigil over that tiny, fragile human life.
Officer Harvey peers around my living room and into the kitchen. He has dark circles under his eyes, black hair with specs of silver at the temples, and a few days’ scruff on his face. His uniform is impeccably starched, and his shoes shine like two pieces of black licorice. He looks to be in his early fifties, confident and accustomed to soothing worried citizens.
“Did your sister have enemies? Did anyone bother her?” Officer Harvey asks.
“Not that I know of. She would have told me.” Well, I hope she would have. “Were there any witnesses?” I ask, lifting my eyes from the floor I’ve been staring at for the last couple of minutes. “That’s all I want to know.”
“No one. A passing car almost hit her. She was barely breathing when they found her on the side of the road.”
“Someone must have seen something.”
“There are people on the scene and detectives being dispatched. We are doing everything we can,” he says in a sympathetic voice. “Was your sister into anything?”
“What do you mean?” I look at the clock on the wall. They pronounced my sister dead less than twelve hours ago. The doctors had to perform a C-section, and now my niece is in a plastic case with tubes traveling in and out of her body as she fights for her life.
“Drugs? Anything like that?”
“She was fucking pregnant!” I bellow, balling my fists at my side. “My sister wouldn’t put her baby at risk like that.” The nerve of this asshole to think my sister was some irresponsible female jeopardizing the life of her unborn child! I launch myself off the couch, stalk to the window and glare out past the glass to the peace outside. I need to calm down before I open my mouth again. Rubbing my hands over my face, I reluctantly return my attention to Officer Harvey standing in the middle of my living room scribbling on his notepad.
“It’s just procedure. We have to make sure we go down every avenue. There could be things you don’t know about your sister. I’ve seen it before.” He smiles at me kindly. “What about a boyfriend? Where is the father of the baby?” He continues placing his pen over the paper, ready to scratch some more words while he’s fucking firing questions at me like he’s shooting bullets.
“He’s in Florida.”
“What’s his name?”
“Cole...Fuck, I can’t remember his last name.” I stare blankly at him in despair. Is she really fucking gone? My baby sister Doe. She. Is. Gone. I drop my tear-blurred eyes to the gold ring on my finger she gave me on my last birthday.
“Cole Foster?”
“Yeah,” I grumble in a daze, shoving my hands into my pockets. “How did you know?”
“Your sister had a cell phone on her, and he was one of her recent calls.”
“Oh.”
My fucking brain goes haywire. I hate that douchebag. Cole left three months ago at the end of my sister’s first trimester. What the hell was going on with them? She told him she wasn’t speaking to him and didn’t want to see him again when he said he was leaving her.
“Then she made a couple of calls to you and your mother.”
“Fuck.” If I had answered my phone, she would be alive right now. I don’t want to be reminded of the fact I let her down. I don’t say this out loud, though. I fidget from one foot to another, wanting to turn back time so I can answer my phone, jump into my truck, and pick her up.
“Were they having problems?”
“Not that I know of. Only that he left her.”
“Did they fight? Did he ever hit her?”
I think about what I know about Cole and answer, “I don’t know.” The thought of him striking my sister makes my gut twist. I don’t want to go there. Meadow would have told me. She told me everything.
“We checked his record, and it’s pretty clean except for some parking tickets and a speeding ticket. There’s no domestic violence at all, but in most cases, the victim never reports it.”
“Shit.” I hope she didn’t go through anything like that. I don’t want to discuss that quite possibly my sister could have been abused. I don’t care about his background. I want them to find out who was in the car that hit her. “Who found her?”
“Some college kid coming back from a pre-Fourth of July party. He called 911 as soon as he saw her. We took his statement. He has no prior police record. He’s from a town over and was just driving through on his way home.”
“How do you know it wasn’t this kid that hit her?”
“He has a rock solid alibi, and his friends can vouch for him. He even has some receipts with a time stamp, so he’s clean.”
“Fuck.”
This is just a sign of things to come.
The July air is simmering. My T-shirt is clinging to my chest, and sweat beads on my forehead as I stare up at the cloudless black sky dotted with silver stars. It feels like the edge of forever as I take a swig of my beer, savoring the coolness as I watch the first of some fireworks explode into dazzling colors.
I’m distracted.
It’s been a week since Cole showed up at my mom’s front door. After losing both Dad and Meadow, I don’t think I can take losing Lily, too. I’ve been over every day after work to make sure she has everything she needs. It’s no different than before, but now I can’t take these moments for granted. Tomorrow is Lily’s birthday. I’m not sure how things will go and if my decision to have Cole show up will backfire.
I’m out here to clear my mind, but each time I try, the situation continues consuming my thoughts. No amount of beer or fireworks is going to fix it. As if on cue, the sound of my trilling phone tears me away from it all momentarily. Pulling the phone from my pocket, I glance at the flashing screen and smile, feeling her timing couldn’t be any better. She’s the one person I can talk to about something like this.
“Dana.”
“Hey, baby. Would you like some company?” Her voice is flirty.
“I think I can use a little bit of what you’re offering.”
“Good. Because I know you can help me, too. I’m here, so hurry up and open the damn door.”
“Give me a minute. Would ya?”
“What’s going on? You got another woman up there?”
“No, I just got out of work, which
has been hell for me, and I’m just relaxing.”
“If you did, I wouldn’t mind joining you. You know me,” she says seductively.
“You’re every man’s dream. Aren’t you? Be right there.” I laugh and hang up the phone. My cock is quickly rising to the challenge. I jump up from the lounge chair on the deck, reenter my house, cross my clean living room (thanks to the cleaners I hired), turn on the stereo so that Coldplay’s “Magic” fills the room, and finally open the front door.
“Sorry, I’m late,” she teases in a dick-stroking whisper. Rubbing her hand across my cheek, she gives me an enticing kiss on the lips before brushing past me and pinching my ass.
“Just the person I want to see,” I say, closing the door behind me and following her into the kitchen. She’s wearing a short black mini dress with strappy black sandals. Her hair sways across her bare back, and her tanned legs go on for miles. She almost makes me forget what I was just lamenting over, and then she pulls out a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black, and I swear I could kiss her, toss her over my shoulder, and take her to my bedroom so I can forget about my problems for a few hours.
“Yeah, it looks like you’re having a really shitty day.”
“How do you know?” My eyes drop to her lips that were around my cock the last time we were together.
“Because I am, too. I needed to come and vent and then possibly release some tension,” she says as a mischievous smile spreads across her face, and her eyes hover at my crotch. “I think we can help each other make it all go away.”
“Calm down there. We’ve got all night for that,” I kid as she rests her palms upon my chest, and her eyes lock with mine. She’s silently begging me with her eyes, wanting me to touch her. Dana has never been patient. “How did you know I was here?”
“I swung by the Bull, and Micah said you’d be here. So, here I am.” She drags her hands down the front of my shirt.
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