Left

by Shyla Colt

  “Damn straight I would. She’s been through enough. Last thing she needs is a pretty boy who’s only interested in getting into her panties.”

  “And you're a choir boy?” he asks.

  I scowl.

  “Wow, the protectiveness has gone up too. Is this official?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I refuse to speak to my baby brother about things we’ve yet to work out between us.

  “You sure about that. I don’t think you’ve taken your eyes off her all day.”

  “Nothing to tell.”

  “Yet you mean. The way she’s sneaking glances of her own, I’d say it’s just a matter of time.” Braden asks.

  I shrug, feigning nonchalance, I don’t feel. We haven’t had a chance to talk about what happened last night. I’m not sure where she stands. She’s not giving me the cold shoulder, which is a plus. But she’s hard to read.

  “It’s about time you saw what was right in front of you, old man.” Braeden bangs the side of his fist on my shoulder.

  “Old man? You’re only three years younger than me,” I say.

  “You’re the one turning forty in a few days.”

  “Rub it in asshole,” I say.

  “Why was the catalyst to this awareness?”

  Next to Ollie, Braeden is my closest friend. I cave and decide to spill my guts.

  “The kids came back home asking questions about families, moms, and why Liv couldn’t be their mom. It made me think, and her panic.”

  “Why? She loves them like a mother would,” Braden says.

  “She’s worried it’s detrimental to them.”

  “How?”

  “That it might’ve skewed their view on families and taken away from what it means to have a mother. Phoenix told a kid, he had something better than a mom, he had a Livy.”

  Braeden chuckles. “I love that little dude.”

  “Yeah, he’s pretty impressive.” Pride washes over me.

  “He has a hell of an example to learn from.”

  “Thanks, man,” I mumble.

  “What did she do after that happened?”

  “Said she needed space and pulled away. This weekend is the most time I’ve spent with her in like a month.”

  “What’s your plan?”

  “I’m figuring it out as I go. I don’t want to spook her. Told her already if she runs, I’m chasing her ass.”

  Braeden snickers. “Damn, tell me how you really feel.”

  “You know I’m not one to bullshit.”

  “Sounds like you made your decision,” he says.

  “Maybe I have. You don’t get many chances in life like this.”

  “Dude, this is huge.”

  “Yeah, it is,” I admit. The conversation’s illuminating. There’s no going back to what we were. I want more. We deserve to find happiness after all the utter hell we’ve lived.

  “Well, you aren’t going to make any Leigh way from over here, let’s go bug, Neve,” Braeden says as he rises from his chair. I follow him across the lawn.

  “You up for some corn hole, or what?” Braeden asks.

  I want to hug him for his laid back approach.

  “Girls against boys?” Neve asks.

  “What? You still think I got cooties, sis?” Brae wraps his arm around Neve’s shoulders, and she laughs.

  “I’d be amazed if you don’t have something. You want to play with me? I’m game big brother,” Neve says.

  “Maloney’s versus whatever lame name you guys come up with,” Braedon says with a wink.

  “Brats,” I call as they walk over to the slanted board with a hole in the center. They pick up the black bean bags.

  I wrap my arm around her shoulders. “You ready to slay them?” She relaxes against me, and I mentally pump my fist in the air.

  “We should be the slayers.”

  “Sick name. We’re the Slayers. Yes, I know you’re regretting your name choice now,” I say.

  “Nope. I stand by Mahoney.”

  “And you’ll lose by it too,” Liv says.

  I bark a laugh.

  “Oh, you’re trash talking now? “Braeden says.

  “You know Mahoney girls are full of piss and vinegar. But now, Liv’s earned her honorary M,” Neve says.

  Liv sticks out her tongue.

  “Game on,” I say.

  Braeden hands the tiny black square to Neve. “Ladies first.”

  “You’re too kind,” she says as she bends down and tosses the bean bag underhanded. It lands on the inclined board with a plop, balances on the edge of the circle for a moment and goes in. Neve turns and holds up a finger. “One.”

  “What’s the winner of these get anyway?” Brae asks.

  “Pride,” I say.

  “The title of winner,” Liv says making me giggle.

  “Bitch duty for the rest of the trip?” Neve suggests.

  “Sounds good to me, Liv?”

  “I think we’ll enjoy a dish free weekend,” Liv says.

  I smile down at her. I move my hand to her hip and squeeze gently. She turns toward me with laughter lighting her eyes. In the view from the flickering Tikki torches and white bulbs strung around the perimeter, she’s a fae creature from the old lore of the Emerald Isle. Her full lips tempt me to kiss her, claim her, and hear her needy noises.

  “What?” she asks.

  I shake my head. “Enjoying the view.”

  “You’re up, Slayers,” Braiden says.

  “You go first.” I release her and refocus my attention on the game.

  We play a half a dozen rounds between refills of wine and fresh bottles of beer. Right now we’re tied.

  “This one’s for all the marbles, Liv. Don’t choke,” Braeden says.

  She nails the toss. “Don’t worry.I won’t.” She nails her next two tosses, thrusting us in the lead.

  “Yes.” She jumps up and down, and I open my arms for a hug. She comes to me, and I lift her off the ground. Her hard nipples press into my chest. I hear her intake of breath and feel her muscles tense. I lower her slowly, letting her body graze mine on the way down. Her little pink tongue darts out, and she moistens her lips.

  “We’re going to start on the dishes,” Braeden says. He sounds far away. I’m vaguely aware of footsteps retreating. She places her hand on my shoulders and kneads. I tighten my hold on her. Our faces move toward one another. Her warm breath teases me. I bend down and brush my lips against hers, once, twice. She grunts.

  “You want it. You need to ask me for it.”

  “Houston.” Her voice shakes.

  “Yes, Kitten.”

  “Kiss me.”

  I nip her full bottom lip and tug, punishing her silently for making me wait. Mine. My heart knows what my brain has been slow to piece together. I need her to know it too. I soothe the abuse dealt with the tip of my tongue. She shivers.

  “Let me in,” I whisper, nudging her nose with mine.

  “What happens if I do?” her voice wavers. Despite the light-hearted delivery, I see through to the fear that’s held us both captive for far too long. “We break the last chains of the past, and I show you who you belong to.”

  “Whose that?”

  “Me. I didn't know when it happened or how we missed it, but I know I’d slaughter any many that so much as stared at you too long. I know this is scary. I won’t lie and tell you I don’t have my own worries and demons I’m battling.”

  “Then why?”

  “Because you're worth it, and I think we owe it to ourselves to try.”

  She toys with the nape of my hair. “So sure.”

  “I know what I want, and you know better than most once I have my mind set on something. I don’t stop until I get it.”

  “This could be a huge mistake.’

  “It’s not.”

  “How do you know?”

  “There’s no one else on this earth who knows me better. I’d trust you not only with my life but that of my children. I’m no
t granting anyone else that privilege, ever.” We could sit here and debate this back and forth, but the proof is in her reaction to me. Liv is anything, but a push over, but she melts in my arms like butter.

  “Let me show you until you’re confident that you’re mine.”

  I cup her ass, and she wraps her legs around my waist to stay in position.

  “This is how I know.” I nibble my way down her neck. She tilts her head, giving me access. “And this.” Her skin is salty sweet. I suck it into my mouth, marking her.

  “I can’t lose you,” she croaks.

  “You won’t.”

  “You can’t promise me that.”

  I rest my forehead against hers. “Have I ever broken a promise to you.”

  “No.”

  “Why would I start now?” I ask.

  “Cause me and love don’t mix. As much as I want to do this with you—.”

  “Shh.” I peck her lips. “You’re not ready yet. I get it. We can go as slow as you want, but this thing between us is going to happen. We already opened the door. There’s no closing it and pretending to be blind.”

  She rests her head on my chest, and I allow myself a few more moments to enjoy her like this, soft and pliant. She’s a force to be reckoned with. It’s humbling to hold the hell cat in my arms like this. The back door opens, and I lower her to the ground. She steps away from me and straightens her clothing. I quickly adjust my dick. I’m getting intimately reacquainted with a constant erection. I might as well be a high school teen the way she keeps me ready to blow my load.

  “Dishes are done. You coming into play a few rounds of board games before we head to our place?” Braedon asks.

  “Yeah, we’re coming.” I place my hand on the small of her back and guide her toward the house the rightness of this pushes me further away from my apprehension. I’m done letting my past determine my future.

  Chapter Three

  Liv

  “Hold still,” Efia says as she smooths down the wax strips over my eyes. There are a number of perks to having a best friend who's a makeup artist and licensed and esthetician. I close my eyes and try to force my muscles to relax. We’re doing our monthly spa day. A habit we started in college. I think it’s more to make me presentable to be seen around town with her. With her, insanely high cheek bones wide-set light brown eyes, full lips, and maple colored flawless skin, she looks like the models she often works with. The dimples in both cheeks take her beauty over the top. There was a time I envied her before I was comfortable in my own skin.

  Now I admire her dedication to her craft, and herself. She rips off the strip making me wince. There’s no other person I’d trust my eyebrows to.

  “You’re incredibly tense right now. Is work still running you ragged.”

  “They are. We’re this close to finishing our current project, though, so I’m counting down the days.”

  “So it’s not the day job?” She smooths down my eyebrows with a brush and moves on to the smalls scissors.

  “It’s Houston.”

  “Is everything okay with the kids?” Efia asks concerned.

  “Oh, they’re fine. This issue is strictly between him and me.”

  “Did you have a fight? It’s not like you two to let things go unresolved for too long.”

  “That’s not it. If you ask him, nothing’s wrong. I’m the one with doubts.”

  “About?” She

  “Us.”

  “Wait. Us as in two become one?”

  “If he has his way.”

  “Girl, you got that sexy bearded beast and you don’t want him? Please send him my way. He takes care of his business, bills, and treats you like a queen. And that was as his best friend.”

  I huff. “You’re on his side?”

  “I’d rather be under him.”

  “Ef, I’m serious.”

  “So am I. Damn. You’re not attracted to him?” She asks skeptically.

  “I am. It’s not that. I feel like I’m a convenience. I’m here, and I’m safe. How long until he decides I’m not what he needs?”

  “Houston never struck me as the type of man who doesn’t know his mind.”

  “No, but we’re damaged goods. What are they odds that we’d move on together?” I ask.

  “Considering you’re practically married in everything but name and the swapping of bodily fluids, I’d say high.”

  “Gross.”

  “Hot, sweaty, smex is what you need. You haven’t been dicked down since that waste of sperm and egg. I think it’s way past time you broke your unspoken vow of chastity.”

  “That’s not what being alone was about. I needed to ground myself and rediscover who I was. What happened was a wake-up call. I’d been doing everything for Tony and getting virtually nothing back. He wasn’t even that good in bed.”

  “Ugh. Useless,” Ef hisses.

  I smile. “He was. I can’t believe how much time I wasted waiting for him to get his stuff together because I thought he had potential.”

  “Potential doesn’t pay bills, make a good husband or a decent father,” Ef says.

  “I know that now.”

  “So why continue the drought? You’re good on your own. You have your swank condo, a great job, a nice car, and a sense of self that makes you one of the strongest women I know. If you’re not ready for a relationship now, then when?”

  She rips off another layer of fabric, and I wince. “Never?”

  “No. I refuse to let you walk away from the man I believe is your soulmate. What you did, stepping up and mothering those children is above and beyond godmother duties.”

  “He’s my best friend.”

  “Yes, and they make the best lovers.”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  She clucks her tongue and continues whipping my eyebrows into shape. “You’re making it harder than it needs to be. Sit up.”

  I sit up from the table she put up for my visit and take the silver handled hand mirror from her. “Look in the mirror.” I study my reflections admiring the sharp points of my newly groomed eyebrows.

  “They look awesome.”

  “Of course, they do. What do you see?”

  I study my reflection. My eyes are full of anxiety, and my lips are turned down. “ I see I’m stressed.”

  “Houston,” I smile. “If the very thought of him does that to you. That’s all you need to know.”

  “Damnit, Ef.”

  “You can thank me, by making me maid of honor at your wedding.”

  “NO need to move at warp speed.”

  “By my account, y’all are at least two years behind. Nothing about this will be slow.”

  “You’re supposed to be helping me figure things out. His birthday is tomorrow, and I have to show my face.”

  “I’ll help you by taking you to the mall so you can pick out some new lingerie for you future boo.”

  “Is this where you ignore my reality and insert you own?”

  “No, this is where I give you the truth wither you want to hear it or not. That’s your man. Has been for a long time now. It takes more than copulation to cement a relationship.”

  “Now you sound like him,” I mumble.

  Ef laughs. “Knew I liked him for a reason.”

  “I can’t wait until you finally get into a serious relationship.”

  “Oh no, I like my life unpredictable and fancy free, babe. When someone books me. I like being able to jump on a plane, into a car, without a thought about anyone else. I don’t even own a fish. What the hell would I do with an entire person?” Ef asks looking genuinely disgusted.

  Her lip and nose curl up as if she’s discovered a rancid item in the fridge.

  “People aren’t pets. Ef. Unless, you’re into that type of thing. I never judge.”

  “Girl, please. I have enough problems making choices for myself.” I laugh. “Do you feel better at least?” she asks.

  “Yes?”

  “You’re impossible, you know th
at?” she snatches the mirror from me and lays it on a small wooden table. “Come, let me ply you with wine, pluck you for more information, and help you decide what you’re wearing to see Houston tomorrow. Mama is going to get you laid.”

  “Ugh, Ef. I need an impartial third party.”

  “Whenever have I ever not had an opinion?” she asks.

  “Point taken,” I say as I climb from the bench and follow her out to the kitchen. She reaches into the fridge and pulls out a bottle of Moscato. She pops the cork while I pull down two wine glasses. The hand painted stemware is a reminder of a weekend trip we took. I set them down.

  “What did you get your boo for his birthday anyway?” she asks as I pour the wine.

  “A man crate.”

  “Come again?” The looked confusion on her face makes me laugh.

  “A man crate. They’re this insanely intelligent company that makes crates for men. They have things from beer brews to witling sets, and video game boxes.”

  “What kind did you get him?”

  “I got him a shaving crate. It has all the essentials, beard oil, shaving cream, brush, razor, and shaving soap. I know he’s almost out of a lot of that.”

  “See that right there.” She points to me. “That’s wifely duties.”

  “Buying him something he’ll use?”

  “Knowing that he needs refills on his grooming products.”

  I open my mouth and close it. I have no rebuttal for that. She’s right. I knew because I was putting away laundry and happened to see the nearly empty bottle on his dresser.

  “Pour me a full glass,” I say as the truth hits me. We crossed the line from friends to something gray and unexplored a long time ago. The time has come to start adding definition. I can’t hide the flutter of anticipation in my stomach. Firm soft, and talented enough to charm the britches off the preacher’s daughter, his lips are a lethal weapon. His calloused hands are warm, and he makes me feel small and fragile. I’m pushing six feet, and a solid one-hundred-and-sixty pounds. It’s a rare feeling. I wonder if he’ s big all over. The bulge I felt pressed against my belly has me thinking the answer is yes.

  I take a healthy gulp of my wine. Like the moon with the tides, I’m being pulled by a force greater than myself toward an inevitable event.

  ***

  “Did you wear this for me?” Houston asks. I shift my weight from one candy red heeled foot to the other. It took Efia and me an hour to come up with the scoop neck black dress I’ve accessorized with a red belt. It’s a little fancier than I usually go, but it’s not over the top.