Fallen Angel

by K. S. Thomas

  Chapter 7

  It’s been a week now since the arrest and I haven’t been able to see Angel at all since Moe insists on hanging around, causing the group to make a unanimous decision without me that it would be best if I adhere to the distance set forth in the restraining order Ava filed against him on my behalf. I’ve explained to everyone that this is not how a restraining order is supposed to work, but no one seems to care how the distance between Moe and I comes to be as long as it does in fact exist.

  So, I’ve been back to spending my time holed up at Ava’s house. Which is fine, I guess. I mean, I had no business being at Angel’s every day in the first place. And we were more or less finished with his house anyway, so there’s really no reason to go over there again. Or, at least, it’s what I keep telling myself. I don’t believe it yet, but then I’ve always been somewhat delusional where Angel is concerned.

  “Addy?”

  “In here,” I call back from the bathroom where I’m still examining my own reflection trying to determine if I’m ready to face the outside world or not. I’m not generally a big primper, but your outlook on certain things changes when you’re confronted with the paparazzi every time you walk out of the front door. Not that they’re there to take pictures of me, but inevitably it does seem to happen and I’d just as soon not look like a homeless person when said pics wind up on Just Jared or TMZ.

  “You going somewhere?” Ava lifts her brow curiously.

  I shrug, in a non-committal way. “Was thinking about heading out to pick up some lunch or something.” And if I have extra maybe I’ll bring it to Angel. In case he’s hungry.

  “Good. I’m glad you’re getting out of the house.”

  She nods and turns to leave, then stops in the doorway. “I know I don’t need to clarify this, but the extent of physical contact you’re allowed to offer Angel when you go to see him is a fucking hug.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

  “Don’t give me that. You’re wearing lip gloss and heels. I know you’re going to make a detour while you’re out even though you know how I feel about you crossing paths with Moe-lester by accident. More importantly, I saw how your little face lit up when Angel tugged you down into his lap the other morning. I know how you feel about him. And I know you. You’ll do whatever you can to make him feel better while he’s busy trying to convince himself he’s not like his shit father. I just don’t want either of you to get hurt in the process. This is Angel. His ideas about physical affection and yours are vastly different. And I don’t want him doing something in the midst of his down spiral you’ll both regret later. So, just, hug. Okay? That’s it. ‘Above the clothes’ hugs.”

  I’d be offended if I hadn’t done so much over the last few years to earn that speech.

  “Hugs. I got it. Because anything more would mean nothing to him and everything to me. Thanks for pointing that out. It’s not completely heart crushing or anything.”

  She reaches over and flicks me in the forehead. “It’s all out of love, Addy.” Someday I’d like to live in a world where love isn’t always related to some sort of pain, physical or otherwise. Of course, if it was, I probably wouldn’t recognize it as such.

  “I know it is,” I mutter as she leaves for real this time.

  Since I no longer have to come up with a story as to why I magically wound up heading to Angel’s house while I was out, I go straight to the sushi place I know he likes and then cruise over to his house. Derek’s car is absent again when I arrive and I’m starting to wonder if Angel was wrong about Sammy and Derek being done for good.

  I knock on the door multiple times, but I don’t bother with the doorbell. Thing’s not hooked up anyway. Angel has some inexplicable aversion to the sound of it. When I’m still standing outside in the heat with my raw fish goods five minutes later, I reach for the knob and try it. The lack of security around here is shocking when one considers the reality of stalkers and crazy sperm donors running rampant around these parts. In other words, the door is unlocked and I let myself in without so much as a home security buzzer beeping to announce the open door.

  Inside, everything is pretty damn dark and depressing and I’m thinking Ava wasn’t wrong about her comment regarding Angel and his down spiraling. I’d hoped she was misinterpreting boredom over being pretty much on lockdown until the media mess simmers down as something deeper, but judging by the drawn curtains and the limited use he’s making off electricity around here, he’s already forgotten all the excellent points I made during our last little chat. The man needs me. Clearly.

  I’m about to call his name when I hear music. Drums to be more specific. And maybe it’s not music at all. Maybe he’s just beating the shit out of them. I set the bag of food down on the table in the hall and head up the stairs to his bedroom.

  He’s completely caught up in the rhythm he’s pounding away at. He doesn’t even notice I’m there. It’s not until he repeatedly slams the sticks into the same spot, making me seriously concerned he may start breaking things, that I step into his path and take hold of his hands, forcing him to stop.

  Startled, he stares up at me. “I didn’t hear you.”

  “I know.” Still holding onto him with one hand, I use the other to free the drumsticks from his grasp. The palms of his hands are red and he’s got creases burrowed into his fingers, some where the skin is broken from where he was gripping the sticks so tightly. I don’t even know what I’m thinking when I run my own palm over his, gently stroking the wounded parts like I can heal them or something.

  For a minute he just watches me. Then, his hand closes around mine, holding it securely in his grip, and he gets to his feet.

  “How do you keep showing up right when I need you to the most?” His deep smooth voice causes chills to run down my spine.

  “Bad timing,” I joke. It’s probably the dumbest thing I could have possibly said. Internally I’m busy reminding myself of the super specific instructions Ava gave me regarding my visits with him.

  He doesn’t smile. Just rubs his thumb back and forth over the back of my hand in a way that makes me think about things I shouldn’t be thinking about. Things like how I can’t remember if I’m wearing underwear or not. And how Ava’s crazy for always complaining about the guys wearing their sweats too damn much because he looks fucking hot in them. Of course, the fact he’s not wearing shit else isn’t hurting matters any.

  “You really think your timing’s bad?”

  I swallow. I think my tongue goes with it. And maybe my voice. And part of my brain cells. Because all I can do is shake my head.

  ***

  I feel like I’ve been fucking drowning and it’s only been getting worse since the lawyer called saying Moe’s considering a civil suit. I don’t care so much about the money he wants as I care about the fact I can’t seem to get rid of his ass now. Or the thoughts that haunt me day in and day out since he showed up again.

  I don’t know why, but seeing Bam Bam is like glimpsing a fucking life raft and all I want to do is climb on top of it and hold on for dear life. Literally. I don’t even care how wrong it is. Not right now. Because right now all I care about is breathing. And I can’t fucking breathe, unless I do the second stupidest thing I’ve ever done. And kiss her. Right now.

  “I’m only allowed to hug you,” she whispers as I lean in.

  “What?”

  “Eda said...” But she doesn’t finish her sentence. Instead she pulls me to her and grazes her soft lips over mine, until I can’t take it anymore and crush her mouth with mine. I don’t fucking understand it, but I need her. Just for a moment. Just so I can breathe. Then I’ll stop. Then I’ll apologize. When I can breathe again.

  Only I don’t stop. And neither does she. The whole room turns into a blur around us and the darkness I’ve been stuck in shifts into something new, something lighter. Something I can move around in. And it makes me move faster, more frantically, like maybe this moment of peace is fleeting and I’m
scared to death of losing it again.

  Before I can think a rational thought and undo what has already gone beyond the point of no return, I’m tearing the dress Addy is wearing over her head, my hands running down her body, over her perfect soft skin until they land around the tight curve of her perfect ass. I lift her to me, carrying her across the room to my bed. And she lets me. Worse, the way she’s moving against me, her hands wrapped around the back of my head, fingers curled into my hair, I think maybe she’s been suffocating too.

  The frantic blur continues. Clothes continue to disappear. Then we’re on the bed and I’m on top of her. Inside of her. Kissing her, breathing her in. Taking everything she has to offer. Feeling her. Feeling me. My own body and the way it’s reacting to hers. It’s got a life of its own now. Like a fucking magnet drawn to metal, impossible to deter or distract or derail in any way, and desperate to be connected. That’s how she makes me feel. Connected.

  Then it’s over. My heart slows. My head clears. And I realize what I’ve done.

  “Fuck.” I scramble out of the bed as if I can somehow gain enough speed to go back in time if I do it fast enough. I can’t. There’s no undoing this. “I fucked up, Bam Bam. I’m sorry. Shit.” The expression on her face is killing me. Of course, this is temporary. Until Ava finds out. And then she’ll kill me. Literally.

  Adjusting the blanket to cover her bare chest, she sits up. “Fucking relax, Angel. I’m not eleven anymore. I’m a big girl and I knew what I was doing.” She shrugs. And I’m starting to think maybe I misread her initial reaction. “You were upset. I wanted to make you feel better. Do you feel better?”

  Not really. Not anymore. Now I feel like fucking shit. “Yeah.”

  She grabs her dress from the floor and slides it back over her head. “Then my work here is done.” She gets up and starts toward the door.

  “Bam Bam.” I can’t just let her leave like this.

  “Really. It’s fine. I promise.” She forces a smile and I know for damn sure things are not fine. Things are the opposite of fine. But this is uncharted territory for me. I’ve never regretted a hook up. I’ve never felt anything after a hook up.

  The door falls shut behind her. And the dark is back. And I can’t breathe.

  Chapter 8

  After spending five days in humiliated seclusion, doing my best to lead my sister to believe my sudden desire to revisit my previous attempts of sleeping non-stop has everything to do with my ex and that special dose of drama, and nothing at all to do with Angel and my most recent visit to his house, I’ve finally stumbled onto a reason to come out and rejoin society again. It’s a risky move, but ultimately, if it were to work out, it would be enough to make me forget about men all together. Well, almost all men.

  Now all I need, is Ava to get on board and help me make it happen.

  “Eda?” I wander through my sister’s massive house aimlessly in search of her. Finally, I stumble onto Blaise. “Hey, B. You seen Eda around?”

  “Ava,” he emphasizes the correct pronunciation of her name dramatically, “went next door to see Royce.”

  “I bet he’s regretting being back in town.” It’s been less than two weeks since they got home from their honeymoon, but between the drama with Angel and Ava’s inability to respect boundaries, I’m sure they’re wishing they were still on a deserted island in the tropics somewhere.

  “Yep. At least today I managed to hold Ava back until after nine a.m. before she catapulted out the front door and ran right into his. I don’t even think she knocked.” He shakes his head.

  So much for the weeks Hudson and Royce spent in a completely Ava-free zone. Hopefully, they haven’t gotten too accustomed to that, because my sister is completely uncomfortable with alone time and therefor figures the rest of the world hates it too. Something I am having to learn all over again now that I am living with her and Blaise. I find myself constantly wondering why they bother having doors to any of the rooms at all. It certainly doesn’t make a difference to Ava whether or not those suckers are closed or open. If she’s going in, nothing is stopping her. And more often than not, she’s going in.

  I mean, she was always sort of bossy and controlling when we were kids, taking on the motherly role when our own mom crapped out on us thanks to her little liquid buddy Jose’, but even back then she wasn’t this bad. Maybe this is what happens when you spend years of your life living on a bus with people. You forget the concept of privacy because no one ever has any anyway.

  “Where are you going?” Blaise calls after me as I leave the room.

  “Where do you think? I’m going next door.”

  “Yeah, because that’s what they really need. Another crazy Jennison girl killing their post-honeymoon buzz,” he mumbles. Thanks to the high ceilings, his voice travels well into the hall where I can still hear him.

  “I’ll be sure to let Eda know you think so.” I grin. She already knows. She just doesn’t care.

  Then, before I know it, I’m in massive house number two, searching some more. “Eda?”

  “They’re out back.” Hudson walks in from the kitchen grinning. Not because he’s happy to see me. Because he’s not surprised.

  “How come you’re in here alone?” I go and give him a hug. I’m not much of a hugger but he’s family. I’m family. Hugging seems appropriate.

  “You know how those two get. One insult leads to another and the next minute your sister’s pressing him for a detailed account of our sex life. It gets a bit awkward when I stick around for those.” He shrugs and makes a face. He’s cute. Like in a ‘why do all the hot ones have to be gay’ kinda way.

  “Hm. Well, I think I’ll wait until the recounting of your sex-capades passes. How long do you suppose that will be?” I tilt my head to the side, eyeing him curiously. I’m only kinda serious, but I do need to talk to Eda.

  “Well...they haven’t really had a chance to talk since we got back, and it was our honeymoon. So, probably a while.” And then, because this isn’t weird enough, he gets a faraway look in his eyes like he’s remembering...things.

  “Gross. Don’t do that when I’m right here.” I shudder from head to toe. I’m not anti-sex. I just don’t want to feel like I’m in the room while people are doing it.

  “Sorry. Hey, I made coffee. You want a cup? You can keep me company while they’re busy getting all caught up.” He points back toward the kitchen. No Jennison has ever said no to coffee. Ever. Never. Ever.

  “Okay. But I don’t want to hear about your penis on penis lovin’. We hardly know each other well enough to get that intimate.” Although we’re getting there. Won’t be long and I’ll probably be as bad as Eda. But I don’t say that. I just follow him out of the room and toward the coffee maker.

  “True that. Let’s stick to the basics then. For instance, is it safe to say you have a sweet tooth like your sister?” He cocks his brow as he pours me a giant cup. Apparently sharing a sweet tooth with my sister isn’t the only assumption he’s making. And he’s right not to.

  “That would be very safe to say.” I rest my elbows on the counter and lean my head into my hands.

  “I thought maybe.” He chuckles softly and I totally get what Royce sees in him. He’s lovely. And I can say that as a completely non-expectant observer.

  Then, I fall even more platonically in love with him when I watch him add Nutella to my mug while the milk steamer thingie is still doing its thing and I can tell from where I’m sitting something magical is happening between the coffee and the Nutella like nothing I’ve ever witnessed before. And I’ve had my share of coffee and Nutella combos. “Oh, now I see why Royce rushed you to the altar. It’s true what Eda says about you. You’re like a coffee God.”

  “Try it first. Then, you can give me whatever title you like.” He hands me the cup. It smells freaking amazing. I’ve been missing out. Seriously. All this time, Ava’s been pushing me to stay in school, she was really just hogging all the good coffee. And I’m going to call her out on it as soo
n as she gets done talking man on man sex with Royce.

  “You’re amazing. I mean it. If I was at all equipped to steal you from another man, Royce would be in deep shit right about now.” I close my eyes and take another long sip. Tasty.

  “I don’t know if I find it comforting or unnerving that you’re just as weird as your sister.” He’s laughing, so I’m not offended. That, and it’s not the first time I’ve been told this.

  “Well, if you were a mentally stable and emotionally healthy individual, I would tell you to go with unnerving, but you married into this circus, so clearly you’re neither.” I smirk, but my mug is still attached to my lips so I doubt he can tell.

  He laughs out loud either way. “Touché.” His own cup of coffee in hand, he leads the way over to the kitchen table. Royce has some of the most comfortable chairs I’ve ever seen in someone’s kitchen. Scratch that. They are, in fact, the most comfortable chairs.

  “So, now that I know you share your sister’s coffee addiction, her intense liking of Nutella and her endearing, albeit insulting, sense of humor, why don’t you tell me something the two of you don’t have in common.”

  Several things come to mind. Most of them aren’t particularly flattering though. To me. Ava always walks away smelling like a rose. And she deserves to. Say what you want about my sister, at the end of the day, she’s a motherfucking saint for all the shit she’s put up with from all of us over the years. Not once has she let anyone fall on their ass. Not even when we deserved it.

  “Well, I’m the baby. Like, legit baby, of the family. Even though I’m a twin, I was still born last. Almost eight minutes after my brother Alex, which probably doesn’t sound like much, but definitely meant a lot to him when he was pulling the ‘I’m older than you’ card, which he did often. So, it should go without saying that I’m not nearly as responsible or mature. And, where Eda is the dependable one, I’m the dependent one.” I still don’t come off well in that, but it sums up the major differences pretty accurately.