Does She Love You?

by Rachel Spangler

  “You look thirsty, baby,” Cindi purred. “Want a drink?”

  Nic nodded. Now that she mentioned it, her mouth did feel awfully dry.

  Cindi lifted the bottle over her chest and tipped it until a narrow stream of liquor ran down between her breasts and pooled at her stomach. Like a pilgrim before an altar, Nic knelt and closed her eyes, breathing in the harsh scent of the alcohol with a subtle undercurrent of strawberry body lotion. Leaning forward, she licked broad strokes across smooth skin, pulling more tequila into her mouth with each pass. The sensation of slick skin against her tongue was sheer gluttony, and she wanted to drown in it. Cindi arched her chest and tipped the bottle a little more, flooding Nic’s mouth, covering her face and soaking her shirt, but Nic didn’t care. She couldn’t even bring herself to lift her head while she tugged at her own buttons, roughly yanking the fabric off her body and slinging it to the floor.

  Her head spun from the combination of sexual arousal and the first effects of the alcohol hitting her system. Even though she’d built up quite a tolerance over the past few months, she usually sipped whiskey. Now she lapped at the tequila like an animal, running her tongue in a variety of strokes from short and fast to long sweeping loops around Cindi’s breasts and back down again.

  “Suck my tits.” Cindi panted, splashing more tequila across her chest before bringing the bottle to her own mouth. Nic climbed onto the table so she could take one nipple in her mouth, licking and sucking it clean before moving to the other. She had no idea how much alcohol she’d consumed by now. Three shots’ worth, four? It must have been more than she realized, because every time she moved her head to worship another body part, the edges of her vision blurred.

  She didn’t need to see, though. She could do this with her eyes closed. In fact, she almost preferred not to look too closely at the women she had sex with. If she looked too hard, she’d make comparisons to women she couldn’t have, women she probably should’ve never had. No, sex was a purely tactile experience these days, a way to shut out the world, not embrace it. The woman below her differentiated herself from the others only by offering both of Nic’s drugs of choice instead of just one.

  “God, baby.” Cindi pushed her fingers through Nic’s hair and down her back, scratching with enough pressure to leave a mark. At least Nic thought it was hard enough, based on the pressure crushing her to Cindi’s chest, but she couldn’t actually feel any pain, the edges of her senses numb now. She walked a tricky tightrope between getting drunk enough to let go and losing her grip so far she wouldn’t perform up to her usual standards. As amazing as the physical world could be, her need to prove herself capable provided as much pleasure as any orgasm.

  Reaching out to anchor herself to the physical, she worked her hand between Mindi’s legs. Or was her name Cindi? Shit. She had a fleeting awareness that she should’ve felt disgusted, but really, what did it matter once she was inside her?

  “Fuck me hard.”

  Nic might not have known her name, but she knew what she wanted. She pulled back to give it to her, but lost her balance. Falling forward onto the woman below, she thought she heard something come unlatched. Had they broken the coffee table? Who cared about that piece of crap? She reared back again, but this time she kept going until she hit the wall.

  Everything exploded as her head cracked against wood paneling, and she almost laughed, thankful for the questionable workmanship that meant the walls weren’t cinderblock. She might’ve even said so if not for the feeling she’d been hit in the stomach. Another blow landed against her ribs, and she realized she hadn’t fallen. Her feet weren’t even touching the ground. Everything blurred, but pain burned through the cloud as she tried to open her eyes and steady her vision.

  Somewhere in the distance Cindi/Mindi screamed. So did someone else, who sounded much closer. She took another punch to the side, and this time she was certain she’d been punched. Red flashed behind her eyelids, making it impossible to focus, but amid the yelling she heard the phrase, “fuck my wife.”

  The pieces, no matter how disjointed, began to form a picture she didn’t want to see. They obviously weren’t alone, and what’s-her-name wasn’t single.

  “I didn’t know.” She coughed and sputtered. “I didn’t know.” If the Mack truck of a woman holding her against the wall heard her, she didn’t care.

  “Let her go!” Cindi or Mindi shouted. “You’re going to kill her.”

  “Damn right,” the other woman shouted. “She deserves it.”

  Did she? Nic tried to think of one good reason why she should live. Surely there had to be something?

  Anything.

  Shouldn’t she have thought of a reason by now?

  Her memory filled with images of the hurt in Davis’s eyes, Annabelle’s tears, Davis shutting off her emotions, Belle sinking to the ground. She couldn’t remember anyone else’s face, not even Cindi’s. Oh, God, what if she did deserve to die?

  Suddenly the woman let go, and Nic crashed to the ground. “You piece of trash,” the other voice shouted. “Worthless, stupid whore.”

  Who was she talking to? Nic? She squinted up at the figure towering over her. Her father? The person was big like him, with dark hair, too, but all the details were foggy. The voice shouting obscenities sounded like him, or maybe not the voice, but the words. Was he right?

  He was. She couldn’t face him. She summoned her last ounce of strength and scrambled to her knees. She focused long enough to see the door. Adrenaline coursed through her as she zeroed in on her escape. She’d run before, and she could do it now, too. Leaving her shirt and her shoes, she bolted. In a flash of short-lived clarity, she made it to her car and slammed the locks from the inside while she fumbled for her keys.

  She could still hear the shouting, but she couldn’t tell if she’d been followed or if the voices existed solely in her head now. She didn’t intend to find out. Turning the ignition, she slammed the gas, spinning her tires in the gravel driveway until she found enough traction to shoot off into the night.

  She didn’t dare slow down as she raced back toward the center of the city. At least she thought she was nearing the city, but the roads seemed so dark. Her mind processed her surroundings slowly, alcohol and fear making everything harder to examine logically. Why were there no lights? An idea burned deliberately through the haze. Lights. She needed lights. Her headlights weren’t on. She clutched a knob near the dashboard and turned on the wipers.

  “Damn it,” she shouted. She couldn’t do more than one thing at a time, but she wouldn’t pull over. The voices still chased her. Fumbling with the controls, she tried again. This time she found the light switch and flipped it. The white of the headlamps blinded her as they bounced off a small reflective strip on a telephone pole.

  Too bright. Telephone pole. Too fast. Too close. The stream of thoughts flashed through her consciousness in an instant. Then mercifully everything went dark until even the voices that chased her fell completely silent.

  *

  Davis was lost in the press of Annabelle’s lips against her own. In the past she’d felt drunk on another’s kiss, but this was altogether different. It wasn’t frantic or delirious. It was better. She remained completely aware of every scent, every touch, every spark of electricity running through her. Anna’s body against her own made her burn in a way she hadn’t wanted, but couldn’t imagine ever wanting to stop. Running her hands up over the bare skin of Anna’s arms, she thrilled at the feel of a woman’s body, and not just any woman, but Anna. Somewhere in the recesses of her mind she knew she wasn’t supposed to crave her like this, but how could she not? Sweet, strong, determined, and so very beautiful, Anna was too much to resist even just on the surface, but beyond that, Davis trusted her. Until recently she wouldn’t have thought of trust as sexy, but here, within the safety to surrender, she couldn’t think of anything more attractive than the freedom to let go without fear.

  Anna broke the kiss only long enough to inhale a deep breath, but
Davis hated the lapse in contact. She pressed her lips to Anna’s neck until she tilted her head back, shaking out her long, beautiful hair and exposing the slender curve of her throat.

  “Davis, you feel so good.”

  “You,” she murmured against her skin. “You feel so right.”

  Anna sank her hands into Davis’s hair, holding her close. “How it that possible?”

  “Hmm?”

  “How did we miss this?” Anna pulled her up again, kissing her deeply, sensually, before pulling away. “How did we miss that?”

  She shook her head. “You’re beautiful. I never missed that. Not from the very first day, not in my pain or doubt. I always saw how stunning you are.”

  “I find that hard to believe. I’m so plain compared to you. You’re stylish, and your eyes, there’s something hypnotic about them. Even if you hadn’t kissed me that first day, I would’ve known how passionate you were.”

  “You kissed me that first day,” Davis corrected her, “and you kissed me tonight.”

  “Did I?” Anna asked, then kissed her again, this time more quickly. “See what I mean? You make me forget things.”

  “I hope I make you forget bad things.”

  Anna shrugged. “I don’t know if you make me forget the bad things so much as you make them less important. When I’m with you, I feel safe, and when you touch me, I know you could hurt me, but it seems worth the risk somehow.”

  Now it was Davis’s turn to initiate another series of quick kisses. “I don’t ever want to hurt you.”

  “I know, but we both have so much baggage.” Anna smiled sadly. “Matching baggage maybe, but there’s a lot of it.”

  “Right, I know.” All the reasons they shouldn’t go down this road rushed up to meet her.

  Anna deserved better.

  She was better than Davis.

  She craved security and stability, not the volatility and insecurity Davis brought to the table. Not painful memories either, memories most people thought they’d never break free of. “Not a single person in our lives would say making out on my couch is a good idea.”

  “True. When you look at the facts on paper, we’re a very bad investment.” Anna cradled Davis’s face gently in her hands and pulled her close. “But this isn’t happening on paper.”

  She sealed her comments with a searing kiss, pushing the temperature in the room up several more degrees. How did she take all the caution, the warnings, the well-reasoned rebuttals, and incinerate them?

  “I didn’t think I could ever feel this way,” Anna whispered.

  “I didn’t think I wanted to.”

  “But you want to now. I can feel it.” She placed her hand over Davis’s rapidly beating heart.

  “I do. I want you.”

  Anna’s cell phone rang, causing them both to jump, then laugh.

  “Do you want to see who it is?”

  “Not really.” Anna exhaled. “But if someone’s calling so late, something might be wrong.”

  Davis glanced at the clock. It was nearly midnight. How long had they been making out? She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt so amazing just kissing someone. She’d always been quick to reach for more, but somehow everything about Anna filled her needs in a way she’d never experienced.

  “I don’t recognize the number,” Anna said, coming back to the couch, and immediately reached for Davis. “Let it go to voice mail.”

  “You sure?”

  “Very sure.” Anna’s tone sent a shiver through Davis’s limbs. She’d been so impressed with how Anna had learned to state her desires more confidently as of late, but she’d never realized how sexy the trait could be until she had those desires directed at her.

  They collided again. Davis groaned at the feel of Anna’s hands on her body. She hadn’t let herself miss this. She hadn’t even let herself think about the need to be touched, to be wanted, to feel alive. This wasn’t a performance space. She was weak and vulnerable, and in admitting that, she found the strength to allow Anna behind the walls she’d spent so much time building.

  At first she couldn’t tell if the buzzing in her ears was a result of sensory overload or something external. Then Anna pulled away, leaving a void she felt almost desperate to fill.

  “That’s your phone,” Anna said with a wry smile.

  Davis reached behind her to grab her still-vibrating cell phone and checked the caller ID. “Another wrong number.”

  She tossed the phone onto the couch between them. “Where were we?”

  “Two wrong numbers at midnight.” Anna glanced at the phone, her smile fading. “It’s the same number.”

  “What?”

  “That’s the same number that called me.”

  Davis couldn’t process that information, not with Anna’s lips so close. “No one knows both of us except Cass, and that’s not her.”

  Anna’s face went white. “Answer it, please.”

  “Yeah. Okay.” Her hand shook as the possibilities raced through her mind. Two calls on two different phones late at night from an unknown number didn’t add up to good news. “Hello?”

  “Is this Davis?” an official but unfamiliar female voice asked.

  “Maybe. Who’s calling?”

  “I’m Janice Roberts calling from Emory University Hospital. We’ve had a patient admitted unconscious on arrival, and we’re trying to reach next of kin for—”

  “Oh, my God, is it Cass?”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t have a conclusive ID, but the car was registered to a Nicole McCoy. Do you know anyone by that name?”

  Davis sagged against the couch. Cass was fine. All she could process for the moment was her relief, but the woman had asked a question. Nicole? McCoy. Nic. “Shit.”

  “Is it Cass? Has something happened?” Anna asked, fear plainly written across her beautiful features.

  “It’s Nic,” Davis said to her, then into the phone added, “I do know her, but I’m not her next of kin.”

  “Is she hurt?” Annabelle whispered.

  “She’s unconscious.” Davis answered over the sound of the woman on the phone trying to talk over her. “I’m sorry, what?”

  “We need to get ahold of someone authorized to make medical decisions.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not that person. Trust me.”

  “Do you know who that person might be?”

  “No. Honestly I don’t know if she has any family.” God, she wanted to slap her forehead at the reminder of how little she knew about Nic’s life. Anger welled up again at Nic for being so callous, and at herself for being so stupid. This little predicament might be her just reward.

  “The only other person in the cell phone not listed under her work contacts is someone named Belle. Do you know her?” the woman asked.

  Davis glanced at Anna with her tousled hair and her swollen lips. She looked more beautiful than ever. Davis should tell the woman on the phone to leave them alone. They didn’t owe Nic anything. She certainly wasn’t worth dragging Anna back into the fire she’d worked so hard to escape.

  “Davis.” Anna touched her hand. “What does she want?”

  Rage flared in her, bitterness biting hard at her heart, and she fought to keep from lashing out about how little she cared about Nic’s health or safety. Fear mingled with an overwhelming urge to protect Anna. She’d known all along that someone would pull Anna away from her, but why Nic? Why now? Terror and fury fed off each other, threatening to consume her, but she tamped them down. Anna had asked her a question, and she wouldn’t lie to her. “She wants to talk to you.”

  “Okay.” Anna nodded and took a deep breath before taking the phone.

  “This is Annabelle.”

  Davis couldn’t hear the woman from the hospital now, so she had to infer what she was saying from Anna’s responses and her body language.

  “Yes, I know her…No, she doesn’t have any family she’s in touch with…No drug allergies, blood type A positive…She didn’t have any chronic health
problems as of six months ago, but I haven’t seen her for a while.”

  Davis felt a stab of jealousy, but of what she wasn’t quite sure. That Anna knew more about Nic than she did? That was silly. No, maybe it was that Anna knew more about Nic than she did about Davis. Of course she’d only known her for half a year, but still. Nic was her past. Both of their pasts. Why should they focus on something they both wanted to leave behind? Davis wanted to be part of Anna’s future, and she needed her to be a part of her own.

  Anna’s hands shook. “I was her last known power of attorney, but surely she’s changed that by now.”

  Her what? Had Anna just admitted to a hospital official that she had the legal ability to make medical decisions for Nic? Why would she do that? Surely she wouldn’t rush to her side. Not tonight.

  “No, I can’t think of who else she would grant those powers to.” Anna rubbed her forehead as if trying to relieve a headache. “No, I didn’t receive any notification of that being revoked. What kind of decisions are you talking about?” Anna’s eyes grew wide, and she covered her mouth with her free hand.

  “What?” Davis’s curiosity got the better of her, and she cursed herself for caring even a little bit. She didn’t wish her dead. Maybe hurt a little bit, but not dead.

  No, she couldn’t let herself care at all, or at least not any more than she’d care about a stranger on the street.

  Surely they weren’t talking life and death…?

  They were at the hospital already. Couldn’t the doctors take it from there?

  “Right, I understand. Of course I’ll sign the paperwork. I’ll be right down.”

  “What?” Davis asked, a little louder than she intended. “Why do you have to go down there?”

  Anna held out her hand, asking her to wait. “Yes, okay. I’ve got the number of our lawyer. Surely he has the papers on file.”

  How was she so stoic, so efficient? She’d volunteered to care for someone awful, someone who’d hurt them, and she didn’t even look conflicted as she hung up the phone.

  “Is she going to die?”