by Lila Felix
A flood of heat pooled in my belly at just the thought. But it would be too much for me to bear, reliving his kiss over and over again, knowing I could never have it again.
We talked through most of the night, there in my backyard garden, one I’d always considered my small Eden. If I shivered, he pulled me closer. And when I mentioned something about Abraham, he’d tuck my head under his chin.
Something dramatic had happened to him that week—I didn’t know what and I didn’t know who caused it, but I was thanking them as I laid next to this man who, in another world, was a celebrity of sorts. But next to me, had become someone I felt safe with.
“I thought you would be scared.” He whispered as my last hold on wake failed.
“Hmm?”
“That night that you were upset. I thought if you woke up with me there that you would freak out. I didn’t want you to be scared.”
The only response I was capable of was to inch closer to him.
He didn’t say anything for a while. His hand lay flat against my face while his thumb brushed the hair from my temple.
Maybe it was a dream, or maybe it was a fantasy, but before sleep claimed me, I swore I heard him say. “I didn’t know I had a heart before you.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Crown
All Crown and No Lyra
The weekend Lyra was in New York was disconcerting. Like I’d forgotten something, but couldn’t put my finger on what.
Before she left, she’d given me a key to her apartment so I could get more books to read. Thoreau didn’t really resonate with me. I may be changing, but I wasn’t ever going to live in a cabin and eat wild mushrooms.
He could forget it.
But I got his point.
There were things in this world that were more important than the money and the fame.
Imagine that.
Eric and I went fishing the Saturday she was in New York. The man never shut up. But I was thankful. He had tons of things to say. Things about my mother. Things about life. Things about love.
Things that my father probably should’ve said had he taken his eyes off of the goal for one second and realized he was raising a boy to be a man, not a robot to be a pawn.
It was a little overwhelming, realizing that in reaching so high, you’d missed life.
By Sunday morning, I was bored as shit and missing Lyra. I’d never missed anyone before. As much as I tried to drum it up, I didn’t even miss my dad. I thought about him sometimes when I made a mistake on the field or needed motivation to get through a workout.
But I didn’t miss my dad.
I didn’t know how to miss my mom.
I missed Lyra. Deep down in places I didn’t know I harbored, I missed her.
Under the false bravado of needing a new book, I went to her apartment. I stumbled on her rug, in a haze from the waft of her perfume. The whole place smelled like her. The blankets we’d used the night before she left were in a pile on her couch. I folded most of them and laid the rest out where I thought they went.
Everything about her was inviting and she made sure it was so.
Everything about me was off-putting and for a long time I’d made sure everyone knew it.
Now I was standing in her living room not knowing who I was or what I wanted them to think about me.
Then there was the deal. That was probably the only reason she was being so nice to me. She wanted more income. I didn’t blame her.
I pulled a book that looked like it had seen better days from the shelf, navy blue and tattered, its pages were outlined in gold. Flipping through the pages, I found it to be a Bible. And though I was changing and trying to be not so Crown Sterling, the Bible wasn’t something I was really ready for.
I tried to put it back, but something was sticking out of it.
Opening it once more, only the first few pages were real. Inside, I found more than I’d bargained for.
Passports, probably a dozen or more all with Lyra’s picture, but most with different names. There were international drivers’ licenses and money and more. That’s when I began to really take a look at the shelves. Tucked between Tolstoy and Jane Austen in no strategic order were country guides. Germany, Spain, France, and Italy. I’d seen them before, but chalked it up to her travelling so much.
But the passports coincided with the books. Every travel book she owned, she had a passport to match.
A passport not in her name.
A passport with another identity.
“What the hell are you doing in here?” A shriek voice pierced my ears.
“Looking for a book.” I slid the fake book back into the shelf and pretend to be calm.
“She gave you a key?”
“Yeah. What’s with this?” I had no right to ask the question, especially behind her back, but the need to know overwhelmed me as I pointed directly at the book in question.
Tippi had no poker face.
“Lyra is one of the smartest people I know—especially in protecting herself from whatever. Her father always taught her to have a back-up plan.”
“From Abraham?” She shrugged one shoulder and replaced the milk in Lyra’s refrigerator with a fresh carton.
“From whatever. Abraham isn’t the only danger to her well-being. She’ll be home in a few hours, key or not, don’t be here when she gets home, she’ll shit bricks.” She covered her mouth. “Don’t tell her I said shit. Ugh, I said it again!”
“Why?”
“It was our New Year’s resolution. Stop cursing. She’s winning, but she doesn’t know it.”
“As long as you don’t tell her I know about the passports.”
“Deal. Now out.”
She shooed me with her hands and we both exited at the same time. Other than that nasty old man, I didn’t know what other threat existed for Lyra.
I had exactly seventeen days to find out.
Every hour without her felt like the sands were flowing through my fingers faster.
Hours later, I heard her car in the driveway and barely stopped myself from flying to the door to see her. I laughed to myself as I heard her go through what I’d dubbed the night routine. She went through the same things when she got home from a trip—noted.
When she knocked on my door, it startled me. I hadn’t expected her so soon, but I was completely grateful.
“Hi.” Whenever she was unsure about something she said things like a question.
She had tons of make-up on and a dress I’d never seen her in. It was red and off the shoulder.
Damn the kissing rule.
“Hi.” I answered and pulled her to me. After a moment’s hesitation, she wrapped her arms around my waist and exhaled. I’d missed her more than I cared to admit. I didn’t just miss her—there was an absence in my life when she wasn’t around. She was missing from me.
“I texted you, but you didn’t answer.”
“I let my phone die. No one calls anyway. Blake and Eric just come over if they want to. That must be a southern thing, just stopping by.”
“It is. Like I just did. I’m sorry, were you busy?” She pulled away a little, but I was having none of it. She’d become a craving to me and Crown Sterling craved nothing.
“Not at all. How was your trip?”
“I made big bucks, so good.” She tried to laugh with her statement, but anyone could see through it.
Looking down on her so many things stormed inside. With everything I now knew about her, my instinct was to bring her inside, bring her to an island if need be, and stop anyone from harming her or making her scared again.
“You look beautiful.” My voice shook as I said it to her.
“Of course I do. I’ve been made over by a professional make-up artist and I’m wearing a four hundred dollar dress.”
Everything I wanted to tell her welled up in my throat, preventing me from saying what I wanted to. Lyra was every kind of beautiful in the book. She was beautiful right then, staring up at me with eyes
that begged me for so much more than I thought I could give her. She was beautiful in her fear, clinging to me for security. Mostly she was beautiful because she was Lyra—she was vibrancy at its core.
I’d been reading too much Thoreau.
“It’s not the dress. It’s just you.” The tawdry words choked out.
“How goes the publicity? Everyone think I’m hot? You know, a faceless type of hot?”
“Yeah. They’ll be calling you for some celebrity girlfriend show any day now.”
That didn’t seem to impress her and I wasn’t too impressed that I’d said it.
“You tired?”
“I am. You got more books?”
“How did you know?” Lyra’s blush crept up her neck and it nearly matched the hue of her dress.
“I—my apartment smelled like you.”
Heat nested in my chest knowing that she knew how I smelled. It was ridiculous to feel that way about such a tiny thing, but I felt it nonetheless. Her eyes were fixed on my chest as she rolled her lips between her teeth. What I wouldn’t give to roll her lips between mine.
“It’s too bad about your rule.”
There were only two rules, but by her gasp she knew exactly which one I spoke of.
“You don’t bend the rules?” If she knew how tempting she was, she wouldn’t ask such a question. I’d bend whatever she wanted me to for one taste of her.
“I only have three weeks here.”
Thanks a lot, Mouth.
The moment was iced by my own words. I wasn’t sorry I spoke them, but I did regret the splash of hurt that marked her face.
I can’t fall for this girl.
I’ve already fallen for this girl.
She deserves better than me.
I have nothing to give her.
“Maybe we should make them count.”
She reached up, fisting the front of my shirt and pulled me downward so that her mouth was a breadth from mine. Her breaths washed across my lips, making me well aware that the rhythm matched her heartbeat, pumping and frantic. I swallowed and her eyes followed the motion of my Adam’s apple. She leaned in, her breasts pressed against my chest, phantoming her lips right under my jawline. I was helpless to stop her or to encourage her—stuck in place by the shock and desire coursing through me. Before I could react, her lips went lower, across my collar bone, igniting every part of me.
“There’s more to kiss than just lips.”
I choked—completely choked. I stood there, as worthless as a white crayon, grasping at any thought I could conjure. Never had a woman had such an effect on me. I could kiss the girls and make them cry with the best of them.
My feet stood concreted to the floor below me while I watched her leave, awfully pleased with herself.
I was pleased with her too.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lyra
Kissing and Killing
What in the actual hell was I thinking?
I could smell him on my skin, the perfect mix of man and cologne. Maybe that was it. Maybe he wore some kind of mind-altering cologne that made me insane.
No, I was just insane all by myself.
Sitting on my chair, laughing at my own ludicrousness. The plan had been to go over there, say hello, and then hightail it out of there like nobody’s business.
One look at him and it took every drop of self-control I had not to plaster myself to him.
Wait, I’d done that.
My own words had betrayed me. I couldn’t be that girl. I couldn’t let him love me and then leave me. My heart couldn’t take it.
Then again, I wondered if one day I’d wonder what could’ve been.
How he would’ve kissed me if I’d allowed it.
I was allowing this indiscretion willingly. Crown Sterling was a gust of wind that no matter how much shelter I gathered around me, I could still feel the force of him blowing me away.
After changing and feeling brave, I got my tablet from the desk drawer and tackled the beast of e-mails again. Pauline said I was getting a good amount of them again and I should check them more frequently.
Scrolling through my e-mails while a kettle of hot water heated on the stove, I didn’t see much of interest until one e-mail caught my attention. No matter how much I tried to forget him—no matter how much I pushed it all from my mind, it always found me. The e-mail was from the local sheriff’s office informing me—in addition to their letters—that Abraham would be out of prison the next day. And while I didn’t think the man would get out of prison and hail a cab straight to my house—it made me queasy just to think that he was out in the world, under the same sun as me—without bars to hold him away.
My only solace was the promise of better things. Everything was almost ready. I almost had enough money in the bank to last me a while until I could find a decent job. My passport was ready along with a fake birth certificate and more.
Why I’d chosen Germany was beyond me.
I’d loved it when I visited. The people were warm and it was the kind of place where no one asked too many questions and most just minded their own business.
It would be home until Abraham met his maker.
And maybe beyond that.
An image of Crown hooking his finger under my chin, eyes blazing with a desire I refused to openly acknowledge, crawled into my thoughts causing my stomach to bounce with a splash of fear. It was the other reason that nothing could ever happen between us.
It wasn’t like Crown would follow me to Germany.
I was just a means to an end for him.
A way to remain in the limelight.
Glancing back down at the e-mail, I shuddered as my kettle screamed its readiness. My thoughts left unchecked would puff out of proportion leaving me with a hankering for another tiny pill and the vacation it brought me.
Though I just got home, I needed to get out already. Not out of my home necessarily, but out of me and my thoughts.
As much as I probably owed it to Tippi to spend some time with her, the only place I wanted to seek comfort was with the exact person that I shouldn’t want to be around.
I used to comfort myself, but now that I knew what it felt like to be in his arms, it was like nothing else would quite be enough.
I was screwed.
I shouldn’t want to be around someone who would bring me nothing but heartache.
But I did.
Like there were magnets buried beneath my skin that continued to buzz with attraction to whatever magic he was wielding.
I couldn’t believe what I was about to do.
I picked up the phone and threw it back down three times before deciding to just go for it. Except he didn’t answer. He’d turned his phone off. So, for the second time that day, I would be knocking on his door like a girl in love.
Crown’s love wasn’t even a star I could hope to see.
“You’re back for more already? Couldn’t get enough?”
His smile gleamed. He knew exactly what he was doing, smiling down at me like that and giving me the spark of conceit that I found so aggravating and exhilarating enough to reward his behavior with a smile so telling that it hurt my cheeks. Even the cool night couldn’t hide the blush that crept over me when he was around.
“Do you want to hang out or are you busy?” I backed up one step, a nudging deep inside me hoping that he was busy—it would be easier that way.
“I’m not busy. I’ve got movies.”
My nose crinkled at the thought. He knew better. “I can’t. The screen. I just can’t.”
“Come on.” He grabbed my hand and squeezed it once for effect. “Trust me?”
I didn’t trust this man as far as I could throw him.
I trusted him more than I should.
“Yes.”
Brown eyebrows bunched in disbelief of my claim, but then quickly corrected themselves. With a gentle pull, he led me into his living room. A flick of the wrist turned his TV on and the tones let me know that the power was on
and so was my trepidation. He knew how I felt about the devil that was electronic devices.
“Uncle Eric gave me these movies yesterday, but I didn’t really want to watch them alone. I thought you might want to see them.”
His shoulders sagged. He didn’t think I wanted to see the movies. He just didn’t want to watch them alone.
I couldn’t blame him one bit.
“Is there a chance I get to see naked baby Crown?”
“You can see naked grown-up Crown. No TV needed.”
“I’ll pass.” Even though I did trust him, and why I didn’t know, I had to look behind the huge screen just to be sure.
His eyebrows rose, asking me if I was satisfied with what I saw.
“It’s fine.” I waved him off. He plopped down on the couch with his less strong leg in the air and then let it down gently. I sat down on his good side. As selfish as it sounded, I was using him, using the fact that he wanted me with him to share something intimate, as my security blanket.
No matter what, somehow I knew I was safe with Crown.
He drew me against his side. The warmth of him enveloped me and relieved the coldness of my anxiety. With a few buttons pressed, he brought up a movie that looked older, like the seventies home movies with scratches and flicks of hair-like anomalies that jumped into the shot here and there.
“That’s her.” He whispered. It was his mother. A younger Chela and Eric were in the background and a stern-looking man turned the camera onto himself and waved as if it was the last thing in the world he wanted to be doing. His eyes were warm and loving and the way Crown’s mother smiled and flicked her gaze in his direction, anyone could tell that they were deeply in love. His mother was devastatingly beautiful. He’d inherited her full lips and warm brown hair. Where he’d gotten his gray eyes, there was no telling.
“She’s really lovely.” I whispered more to myself than to him.
“I never really saw very many pictures of her. None that compare to this.”
His arm tightened around me and a shudder wracked his chest. He was crying.
We watched the entire thing, but there was no sign of Crown. His mom had a tiny pooch of a tummy but neither one of us mentioned it. There was no use in speculating.