Knocking Boots (Sexy Standalone)

by Willow Winters

  She shakes her head, refusing to give me an inch. She looks so wounded. She’s not the woman I know. I just need to know what happened so I can fix it.

  “I’ll kill him if he ever touches you again,” I say with conviction in my voice.

  Before I can say any more, her phone rings in her purse. At first she ignores it, but the ringtone is different. It must be someone important. Her forehead scrunches as she digs for it and then answers the call.

  I can barely make out the sound of her father’s voice.

  She answers with a question in her voice, “Dad?”

  Her face pales, and she covers her mouth with her hand, shaking her head. Fuck. I walk closer to her, trying to understand what’s going on. Why she’s so upset. I’m cautious, but then she loses it, and her phone falls to the ground.

  I grab her small body in my arms before she collapses to the ground, with her shoulders trembling and tears flowing down her cheeks.

  “Vi?” I’m desperate to understand what’s wrong. I have no fucking clue. But she’s not okay, she’s hysterical.

  I hold her, not knowing what’s wrong and just trying to calm her down.

  “Vi, what’s wrong?” I pet her back and kiss her hair, waiting for her to tell me something.

  She finally grabs a hold of me, burying her head in my chest. A sob wracks her body. “Vi?” I ask her again, but she just holds me tighter. I sit on the ground, holding her in my lap. “What happened?” I ask again, rocking her back and forth.

  She sniffles and takes in a ragged breath, not pulling away from me. With her head still buried beneath my chin she manages to answer, and my heart shatters.

  “My mama… she,” she cries harder. “She died.”

  Chapter 60

  Violet

  I’m at my parents’ house, just after the funeral, standing in the backyard. My mother’s wake is still going on inside, but I need a break.

  I’m still in my funeral clothes, a black lace dress and black pumps. I brush back a lock of my dark hair, frowning at how windy it is today.

  That’s the weather report today: windy, cool, and grey. I look up at the sky, wondering how the sky knew that it should be grey today.

  When I was little, my mama used to say that grey days were God’s way of keeping the sun fresh. The corners of my mouth curl up as I imagine my mama saying just that to a younger version of myself.

  In my mind, my mama says it to me as I’m peering outside, looking glum. She turns me around and tucks a stray lock of hair behind my ear. Then she says, Today is grey because God is keeping the sun fresh.

  It’s a nice memory, as comforting to me as the smell of cinnamon and the warmth of the fireplace.

  Then I realize that she’ll never say that to me ever again. She’ll never again say anything to me. She’s said all that she’ll ever say.

  The pain is like a knife in my heart, the memory exposing yet another nerve ending to be sliced and shredded. This is about the thousandth time I’ve gone through this exact process since she died. Remembering something small but nice, reliving it, only for the whole thing to come crashing down. Crumpling my heart and causing me nothing but pain.

  I sniffle and kick the dirt, trying to alleviate some of the emotion overwhelming me.

  Reality sucks, big time.

  I shiver and wrap my arms around myself, even though it isn’t exactly cold. It’s warmer than it has been lately. I look out into the woods behind my parents’ house, trying not to cry.

  I think I’ve cried myself out, anyway. I cried when my father told me that my mama died. I cried almost all day, every day between then and now. I cried when they put my mama in the ground.

  That’s a lot of crying, a lot of tears. I think my mama would’ve appreciated my efforts not to cry anymore, now that the funeral's over.

  My mama is dead. She’s gone. There is nothing on this earth that can bring her back. Nothing that can ease my pain.

  It’s midmorning, but I could do with some sleep. I’ve only slept a handful of hours this whole week, but now it seems like all I wanna do is sleep.

  Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve ever been as tired as I am right now.

  The sliding glass door opens, and I turn to look at who decided to come join me out here. It’s Hunter, looking somber in his dark suit and tie.

  I don’t think I’ve ever seen him in a suit. His broad shoulders fill the jacket and make him look… powerful. He looks like he owns the world wearing that suit. Or maybe just me. The sight of him, looking so polished and domineering, makes me want him. I look away at that realization. I don’t want him. I can’t.

  “Vi,” he says, his voice gone to gravel. “I came to see how you’re doing.”

  I look at him. He was at the funeral, though he stayed on the edges of the crowd.

  “Are you alright?” he asks, moving toward me.

  I stay still as he takes one of my hands in his, squeezing it gently. I shake my head, tilting it down so that my dark hair covers my face.

  He reads me immediately, just like he used to in high school.

  “Hey,” he says, touching my shoulder and then wrapping his arms around me. “It’s okay, Violet. It’s okay. You’re not going to feel this way forever. I promise.” It hurts to hear him say that. It doesn’t feel that way. I can’t imagine ever living a day without her and not feeling this pain and emptiness inside of me.

  I close my eyes and revel in the comfort of his embrace for a moment. It’s nice, feeling the simple comfort of his arms around me. It makes me yearn, makes me want more. I reach up and put my arms around his shoulders, letting him hold me. I melt into him and feel a desire for more. More than comfort. I need to feel something else. Something to take this pain away.

  I want to run my cheek along his stubble until he takes my lips with his own. I want to run my hands up his dress shirt and feel the hard muscles I know are underneath the clothes. I want his hands on me, too. Slow and gentle, leaving goosebumps along my skin, hardening my nipples. I breathe out steadily, but evenly. Lust clouding my judgment as I push myself harder into his embrace and close my eyes.

  I imagine how he used to fuck me. He’d lay me down and cage me under him. He always watched as he entered me slowly, stretching my walls and letting me accommodate his size. But he was never gentle the whole way through. Only the beginning and then he’d lower his body and kiss my neck, my jaw, my lips as he slammed himself into me over and over. Toward the end, it seemed he lost control. I know I did.

  Just for a moment, I want it more than anything. I want us both to lose control.

  But I think of his words. It’s okay. You’re not going to feel this way forever. I promise.

  And I know it’s not true.

  The whole world will go on, the sun will rise and set, and my father and I will just be here. As if we’re frozen in place by grief, this terrible and palpable thing.

  And if I don’t feel this pain forever, if the feelings overwhelming me right now lessen…

  Then it will truly be tragic, because a person’s child should feel their loss, should mourn their death for a lifetime.

  “I’m not…” I whisper into Hunter’s shoulder. I pull my head back, look up at him. “I’m not okay. Nothing is… nothing is okay.”

  I push myself off of him, force myself to move back and forget the thoughts of him taking the pain away. I’m supposed to feel this way.

  “Violet, I can’t begin to imagine what you feel right now…”

  “No, you can’t,” I snap, feeling isolated. “No one can.”

  “Just let me—” He reaches for me again, but I evade him, walking away a few paces.

  “I can’t be with you. I can’t be with anyone right now, Hunter. I’m sorry. I’m not okay. I don’t even know what okay is,” I say, the words all tumbling out at once.

  Hunter crosses his arms and looks at me.

  “Sometimes when you’re not okay, that’s the moment you really need someone. You can feel i
t. I feel it, Vi. I don’t want to lose you again.”

  I feel like my heart is shattering into a million pieces. I didn’t think it was possible to feel any more pain, but here it is.

  That is what I needed to hear him say, needed so badly four years ago. It’s what I lay awake at night dreaming of, that he’d come riding in and a white horse and save me. From myself, from all the gossips in our town, maybe from the world.

  But that was then. I draw a deep breath and exhale, my shoulders bunching.

  I look Hunter dead in the eye, so there’s no way he can misinterpret what I have to say.

  “You never lost me, Hunter. You threw me away. There’s a difference,” I say, sober as a judge.

  “Vi, wait,” he says as I turn and start toward my apartment.

  I throw one last look over my shoulder. “Goodbye, Hunter.”

  With that, I head toward my apartment, my bed.

  Chapter 61

  Hunter

  I haven’t spoken to Violet in over a week. Not my choice. I’ve left her half a dozen messages. But she’s not answering, I don’t know if she’s even seeing them. The bakery’s been closed, and she’s not answering her door either. I just need to know she’s alright. She needs someone, and I hope she knows I’m here when she realizes that.

  I lay back on the sofa as my phone pings.

  I’m sure it’s Jared, he’s been trying to get me out of the house for the past few days, but I’m not ready to talk to anyone about this shit. I don’t want a beer, I don’t want to get lost in work. Not on the house I’m supposed to be fixing up, the garage I bought, not on a piece of junk car. I just… I don’t know what I want.

  Other than Violet.

  But I can’t have her. She won’t take me back, and she won’t let me help her. What choice do I have?

  “Son,” I hear my pops' gruff voice from over my shoulder and I turn to him. He doesn’t say anything, and neither do I. We haven’t really talked since our argument.

  “Yeah?” I ask him, looking straight ahead at the TV even though it’s turned off.

  “I know we haven’t spoken much, but I thought I needed to tell you how proud I was of you.”

  I’m surprised by my father’s words. I look over to him as he slowly takes a seat on the arm of the recliner across from me. “I mean it.”

  I stare into his eyes, not knowing what to say. I don’t remember if my father’s ever told me that before. I can’t remember a time when he has. “Thank you.” I don’t know what else to say.

  “You’re a good man. It must be the way your mama raised you, 'cause God knows I have my own problems, but she raised you right. And I’m proud of the man you are.” He nods his head, and I feel something shift between the two of us.

  “I just wanted to make sure you knew. I love you, and I’m proud of you son.”

  “I love you too, Pops.”

  He breathes out heavily and stands up abruptly, reaching for his coat slung over the back of the recliner. I feel off-centered, that’s not like my father. He’s a hard man and he always has been. I can admit it’s nice to hear though.

  “Where are you headed?” I ask him.

  “To the Shaw’s. Bud left his glasses at the bar last night, I thought I’d stop by and give them to him. See how he’s doing.”

  I nod my head and take in a slow breath. Bud is Violet’s father. Before I can ask him anything or offer to go with him, I hear Haley’s soft steps as she climbs down the stairs. She’s careful moving around me. Everyone is.

  I watch her hold onto the banister as Pops walks by and out the front door. I think about calling out to him, but I can tell Haley wants to talk by the way she’s looking at me, so I don’t. She’s been distant since our fight, and I can’t blame her.

  “Hey,” she says weakly, walking slowly into the room and taking a seat.

  “Where’s Abbi?” I ask her. She hasn’t asked me to watch Abbi at all recently. Once so she could run an errand real quick. But she’s been by her side and doing everything on her own. In a way, it hurts. I love being there for Abbi and for her, but I think it’s doing her good to be with Abbi.

  “She’s still napping,” she replies, but she sounds distant. “You know, when I look at her, I see Chris.” Her voice chokes some, but she carries on without tears. “At first, it was hard to even look at her. She was just a reminder of him, everything was. Every little thing was just a reminder of Chris and the fact that he was gone and never coming back.”

  I wrap my arm around her shoulder and hold her close to me.

  “I know it hurts. I’m so sorry, Haley.” She lays her head on my shoulder.

  “You were right, Hunter. I was trying to numb the pain, but it was only making it worse for me.” She wipes at the one stray tear and pulls away from me. “Thank you.” She looks me in the eyes. “Thank you, Hunter.”

  It takes a moment until I can find the words to say. “It’s gonna be alright. It will be, one day.”

  “I know,” she answers and then looks at me. “You’ve gotta move on from what happened with Chris, too,” she tells me softly, taking my hand in hers.

  “It’s different between you and me with Chris,” I say. I feel the pain growing in my chest and squeezing my heart, but I take a deep breath and will it away. “I’m guilty in a way.”

  Haley’s shaking her head before I’m even finished talking. “Nah, you don’t understand, Haley.” I have to tell her. “I was supposed to be there.” I have a hard time telling her what I’ve been wanting to say for so long.

  “If I hadn’t been back on base, I could’ve done something. I could’ve tried to save them. I would’ve seen them coming at least.”

  I look into Haley’s eyes with the flashes of war playing before my own. I can’t stop it. I can’t not see it.

  We’re quiet for a moment and then she says, “There are so many ifs in life. You can’t do that to yourself, Hunter.”

  I nod my head, knowing that what she’s saying is true. And I’ve been trying, Lord knows I have.

  “You know, I told him I was fine with him going on another tour?” She gets all teary-eyed. “If I hadn’t...” her voice breaks.

  “No, no,” I say and hold her closer as she tries to stop from crying.

  “I’m sorry,” she says as though it’s not alright for her to cry.

  “Cry all you want.” I kiss the top of her head. “It’s alright, Haley. It’s gonna be alright. It’s not your fault.”

  After a moment she pulls herself together and sighs deeply. “It’s not your fault either.”

  I let her words resonate with me.

  She stares off and says, “I just loved him so much.” She looks at me and says, “It hurts to think I’ll never be able to tell him that again.”

  “I know.”

  She wipes under her eyes and shakes her head, sighing.

  “Anyway, I just wanted to say thank you.”

  I give her a small, sad smile and say, “You know I love you, sis.”

  She huffs before replying, “Sometimes I love you, too.”

  I huff a small laugh.

  “So what about you?” she asks. “How are things with Violet?” It’s obvious that she wants to change the subject. I just wish it was to something else.

  I look at her with a raised brow, but she just smiles weakly and says, “You know people talk.”

  I huff and lean back, not liking where things are with us.

  “She’s not alright. She says she doesn’t want me. Which I think one day I could learn to live with. But she’s hurting so bad, Haley. And she doesn’t want to see me.”

  Haley suggests, “Maybe she just needs some time.”

  “I don’t think she should be alone right now,” I say. I don’t think she wants to be alone either. She just thinks she deserves to be.

  “Then go to her,” Haley says.

  Chapter 62

  Violet

  I’m standing on the porch of my parents’… of my dad’s house. I s
pent the last week in mourning, hiding out from the world. Crying, or sitting in my apartment and staring at things while trying not to cry.

  Mostly I just wanted to stay out of my dad’s hair. He’s been wandering through the house, touching things that were my mama’s. I couldn’t stand to watch him, so I made myself scarce.

  Today is the last day that I have nothing scheduled. I stopped by my parents’… my dad’s… house to sort out the recycling, something that I know my father can’t be bothered to do. It’s something that mattered to my mama, though.

  So now I’m standing outside, sorting through plastic bottles and aluminum cans. My mama used to save all the recycling up until it overflowed the bins, so now the recycling is all here, waiting for me.

  It’s quiet, except for the cans clinking. A couple of people have come up to give me their condolences, like ancient Miss Juniper from down the street. She pushed her walker all the way over to my house to tell me she was sorry about my mom, and that she was a very nice person.

  I just said thanks, and stared at the ground while she smiled and patted my hand. She’s a sweet old lady and it was kind of her to come to me, but I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what they want from me. I waited until she hobbled away again, then started stacking some of the aluminum cans in the can crusher.

  My fingertips tremble as I stack them. I’m barely able to grapple with the idea of my mama being gone. I keep thinking I’ll turn around and she'll be right there, leaning against the doorway, asking if I want a sandwich.

  I don’t turn to look, though. I force my mind away from those thoughts. They aren’t helping anything.

  I look up from stacking cans to find Hunter’s dad, Milton Graves, walking up the driveway. I clench my fist around a can.

  I haven’t seen or spoken to Hunter since the funeral. I’ve seen his texts though. They make me weak. I want to tell him yes, I need him. I want to get lost in his embrace, but I can’t… if I did, there’s no way I’d be able to let him go. And I know he could leave me. It would ruin me.