A Flawed Heart

by April Emerson

  I reach my hand up and touch his cheek. His fury quiets and he closes his eyes.

  “I’m okay, I’m all right.” I sit up and shake my head. I feel a bump forming on my skull behind my ear.

  “Are you sure you’re okay? I’m sorry Claire, I—”

  “It’s okay, Lydia. I’m fine I just got the wind knocked out of me. I’m totally fine.”

  As I stand I’m swallowed up in Jason’s arms.

  “I’ll leave you guys alone for a minute,” Lydia says.

  Jason carries me over to a picnic table. His hands roam my body, but this time he’s searching for broken bones and bruises, not soft skin. He slides his fingers through my hair and he finds the bump.

  “Are you sure you’re okay? You don’t feel dizzy or nauseated at all?”

  “No. I’m fine, I swear. What happened, anyway?”

  “My drunk, asshole, immature, idiot sister started shaking the tree and you lost your grip. You landed on soft ground, but you must have hit your head on a branch or something.” He grits his teeth. “I seriously want to fucking kill Lydia right now.”

  “I’m fine. Don’t be mad at Lydia, she was just kidding around.”

  He pulls me into his chest and massages the swollen area. “If anything ever happened to you, I don’t know what I’d fucking do.” His voice cracks as he speaks, and I can hear the fear in his words. “Let’s go home.”

  We arrive at Jason’s around two in the morning, after a long walk home. Jason obsessively asked if I was okay, and insisted on supporting my weight. I’m fine, considering I fell out of a tree. I’m suffering from dry mouth and a headache, which is probably due to being hung-over, rather than the fall. Jason lays me in his bed and holds an ice pack to my head. We’re both in nothing but underwear, the room lit only by a small candle. My headache fades once I’m in Jason’s pillow covered bed.

  “I can’t remember what it was like to not have you in my arms. I feel like I’ll never be able to sleep without you again.”

  “Did you sleep with a teddy bear when you were little?” I ask.

  “Shut up, I’m serious. You’re stuck with me. I hope that’s all right with you.”

  I run my hand across the sculpted muscle of his chest. “I think saying you’re stuck with me, is more like it, but it’s perfectly fine with me. More than fine.”

  We lie together in silence. The minutes tick by. Jason’s shallow, even breaths tell me that he’s dozed off. I should feel tired. I need to get some sleep since I have work tomorrow, but I’m wide-awake. I sigh into his chest and the feel of my breath on his skin wakes him from his doze.

  “What? What’s the matter, babe? Can I get you something?”

  “No, I’m fine. I just can’t sleep.”

  “You can’t sleep? Hmmm. Maybe I can help you with that. How about I sing you a lullaby?”

  I look up at him and see that he’s completely serious. “That would be really nice, actually.”

  He slips out from under me and walks to his keyboard. The streetlight casts a glow on his skin and a shadow chases across his face. He looks lonely and sad. I’m reminded of the pain he carries with him, the pain that only comes out when he plays—his memories of loss and guilt. He looks the way he did the night I first saw him at Alexa’s. He’s changed so much since then, but the dark parts of him are still there—lingering just below the surface. He takes a breath and begins to play a lullaby. The sorrowful and haunting notes slip inside my head, and as I fall asleep the image of Jason alone at his piano lingers in my mind’s eye.

  Chapter Twelve

  ~Jason~

  “I don’t see what the big fucking deal is.” I mumble into the refrigerator as I rummage around, looking for eggs and butter.

  My sister sits at the kitchen table in the early morning light, tapping her foot and drinking an oversized mug of coffee. Kat is still passed out on the sofa where they crashed last night. Even though my back is to Lydia, I sense the judgmental look on her face.

  “Really, Jason? You and Claire moving in together? No. That’s not a big deal at all. You’re my brother and she’s my roommate.”

  “I don’t need your sarcastic shit here, Lydia. I’m not saying she should live here, I’m just asking her to keep some of her stuff here. And keep your voice down, she’s still asleep. I’m talking to you about this because I want you to be cool with it.”

  “Fine. I’m cool with it. But do you think Claire is going to be?”

  “I don’t know. Why the fuck wouldn’t she be?” I grab a frying pan from the cupboard and blast the burner, slapping a spoonful of butter into it.

  “What brought this on anyway?”

  Well, Lydia, after I sang her a fucking lullaby last night, I watched her sleep and realized I can’t fucking live without her.

  “I don’t know. It just feels right. I know she feels it, too. What’s wrong with wanting to feel good all the time, to be together as much as possible?”

  “Don’t you think that maybe you’re moving a little bit fast? I mean, you guys have only been together for like a month. It’s no secret that you’re intense, but one month?”

  “So fucking what? What the fuck difference does that make?” I say, searching through various drawers for something to stir the eggs with.

  “Have you told her that you’re in love with her?”

  “Yeah. I told her this weekend. She feels the same. Why is it so hard to believe that she might actually want to stay here with me?”

  She exhales with exasperation. “I just…I mean it would be awesome if she wanted to.”

  “You think she’s gonna freak out?” I crack an egg and end up getting a huge chunk of shell in the bowl. “Fuck!”

  “Do you need me to do that for you? Why the hell are you making scrambled eggs anyway? You hate eggs.”

  “Claire likes them. They’re for her.”

  “Wow, she’s really got a hold on you if you’re cooking.”

  She comes up behind me, grabs a spoon, and scoops the broken shell out of the yolk. I turn to look at her for the first time during our conversation.

  “She just…she makes me better.”

  “Who are you, and what have you done with my brother?”

  I look into my sister’s eyes and we speak without words, as only a brother and sister can.

  She sighs. “Okay. You should do it. Ask her. I think it would be great.” She smiles and places her tiny hand on my shoulder.

  I return my attention to Claire’s breakfast, stirring the eggs and dropping them in the pan.

  “And, um…I was kind of thinking that I would bring her to mom’s birthday this year.”

  Lydia’s mouth drops open and she gasps. “Wait. What? Jason, you haven’t been to see mom since the burial.”

  “I know that. I want to go this year, and I want to bring Claire.”

  “Jay, that would make Dad so happy. And me too. I think that would just be so great.” I pull her into me and I feel her tears on my chest.

  “If I have Claire there, it won’t be as hard for me,” I admit.

  She wipes her eyes and puts a smile on her face. “Okay. I’ve gotta go. We can talk more later…and don’t burn those eggs. Kat! Let’s go. Love you, brother.”

  “Love you too.”

  The door clicks shut, and I’m left alone in the kitchen. I engage in a ridiculous battle with the stove, and eventually emerge triumphant, with eggs and slightly burnt toast in hand. I carry Claire’s plate to my room and find her still asleep. The sun slants across the bed, creating a narrow, golden path. Her leg pokes out from under the covers and drapes across my side of the bed. The smooth creaminess of her skin is barely distinguishable against the pale sheets. Her blood-red toenails shine in the sunlight.

  I put her food on the night table, sit down next to her, and watch her sleep. Her angular shoulder blades gently rise and fall as she breathes. Smooth, brown hair cascades over half of her face. I push it back and see the sweet pink of her cheeks. Her endless, sof
t eyelashes rest against them, and her eyelids flutter as she dreams. I touch the back of her head and feel the spot where she hit her head last night. The swelling has gone down. She moans and rolls over. Her eyes flutter open and I lean down and press my lips to her neck. I lick her soft, salty skin and she giggles as I kiss the ticklish spot.

  “Hey. What time is it?”

  “It’s ten-thirty. I made you breakfast…if you’re hungry.”

  “I’m starving, actually. That’s awesome. Thanks.”

  I climb over her and lie back on the pillows beside her, propped up on my elbow, watching her eat. I run my fingers up and down her bare legs and feel her getting goose bumps.

  "”How’s your head? How do you feel?” I ask.

  “Just a little headache. Nothing major.”

  “I have rugby practice this afternoon, and then I was gonna work on some songs for the fest. You should come by the space if you’re up to it.”

  “Of course I’ll come by. What time is your practice?”

  “Five. Lydia will be there. It’s at McCaren Park.”

  She nibbles on her toast, trying not to get crumbs on the bed. “This is delicious. Thank you for cooking for me.”

  “No problem, baby. You can stay here again tonight if you’d like. And maybe you want to keep some stuff here. I mean, so you don’t have to keep going back to your place.”

  “You mean like a toothbrush?”

  “I mean, like…some clothes and shit. If you want. I can make some room in my closet, or whatever.”

  I study her face as she stares at her food, contemplating what I’ve said. She chews slowly, and I rake my fingers through my hair as I suffer through the seemingly infinite seconds of silence awaiting her response. Her face becomes pale and she puts the plate on the nightstand, and then turns toward me.

  “Can we talk about this later? I’m gonna be late for work if I don’t get going.”

  I feel my heart sink at what I can only assume is an excuse to avoid the subject. Maybe Lydia is right and this is too much, too fast. I leap off the bed and light a cigarette.

  “Why do we need to talk about this later? It’s really a yes or no question. Either you want to or you don’t.” I hear my voice rise against my will.

  “Jason. Jesus, I—”

  “You know what? Just fucking forget I said anything, all right?”

  She stands. Her fists are balled and her cheeks are beet red. “There’s no reason for you to get angry. I said we could talk about it later.” She begins to grab her things from the floor.

  “Whatever, Claire. Don’t make lame excuses. Forget I said anything.”

  “Why are you being so nasty to me right now? I don’t deserve this shit.”

  She heads for the door. In her eyes I see hurt and confusion. I turn my back to her and blow smoke out my open window.

  She leaves without another word.

  The second the front door slams shut, I know I fucked up. My pride took over. The thought of Claire rejecting me made me insane. I shouldn’t have flipped out on her like that, but it’s obvious to me that, if she doesn’t even want to keep a toothbrush here, then she’s not gonna want to stay here. My dream of having her here with me, in my life, in my bed every night—it’s all fucked. She doesn’t want it.

  I watch as she disappears down the street.

  I head to rugby practice in a horrible mood. I’m pissed, and I don’t blame her for how she reacted. I’m not good enough for her, and she knows it. I see Ben and a bunch of guys from the league stretching down on the field.

  Ben’s in a great mood, running drills and throwing the ball around. I drop my gym bag by the bench, throw on my jersey, and pop in my mouth guard.

  “What up, bro? We’re about ready to get a scrum goin’. You all right? You don’t look so good.”

  “I’m fine.”

  Across the field, I see Aidan and his boys warming up. I haven’t seen him since the fight at Alexa’s. He better stay the fuck away from me. Today is not the day to give me shit. I glance at the sideline and see a bunch of people sitting on blankets, waiting to watch us practice. I scan the crowd looking for a familiar face—but no Claire.

  We link arms and begin the scrum. The opposite side gets the ball first. They run it down field, and a maul begins. I link arms with Ben and smash into someone. My shoulder burns, but it feels good to release some aggression. We hit the ground and I stand up, looking down at the dude I smashed. It’s Eli—one of Aidan’s boys.

  “Maybe it’s your turn to have your fucking jaw broken, Taylor?” He steps toward me with his chest out and I meet his advance.

  “You here to defend your little bitch? What’s the matter, he can’t fucking take care of himself?” I shout at him, feeling my blood heat and my fist clench. Ben steps up and pushes us back, separating us with his arms.

  “Cut the shit. We’re not here for this.” I hear Ben speak, but my eyes are locked on Eli.

  I see movement on the sideline, and out of the corner of my eye I make out Claire’s form where she stands with Lydia. I step back from Eli, distracted and relieved by the fact that Claire showed up for practice in spite of our fight this morning. Ben puts his hand down and stares at me, shocked, as I back away.

  “Just stay the fuck away from me, Eli.” I turn and walk to the bench, determined to not act like any more of an ass in front of Claire.

  Practice continues with minimal bullshit. I tackle a few guys, scraping up my knees and chin. I’m covered in dirt and sweat by the time we’re through. I grab a Gatorade and pack up my stuff. I look to the sideline and see that Lydia and Claire are gone.

  When I get home, I grab a cold beer and head to my room, not bothering with a shower right away. I climb out onto the fire escape. The air feels good on my sweaty skin. I smoke and drink and think about calling Claire. What the fuck am I going to say? How can I fix this?

  Down on the street I see a girl half-running down the sidewalk. It’s Claire. I hear her stomp up the stairs and throw my unlocked door open.

  “Jason!”

  I fumble through the window and come face to face with a visibly furious Claire. “Listen,” she snaps, “I don’t know what that shit was about this morning, but don’t ever talk to me like that again.”

  “I’m sorry, I—”

  “You’re sorry? I don’t know why I’m even here right now!” she yells, with her finger pointed in my face.

  Even in this intense state of anger, she’s sexy as hell. My dick is rigid as I watch her scream.

  “You’re here because you love me.” I step toward her and she takes a step back.

  “Don’t try to charm your way out of this.” She places her hands on my chest and pushes me away. “I have a say in what goes on in this relationship just as much as you do.”

  “This isn’t about you or me anymore. This is about us. I want you to stay here because I can’t fucking stand to be away from you. When you’re not with me, all I do is wonder about what you’re doing. I want you all to myself.”

  “We can’t be together twenty-four hours a day.” She places her face in her hands and takes a deep breath. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll get sick of me? I don’t want that.”

  “I can’t imagine how that could possibly happen.”

  She stares at the floor and I take another step toward her. “So, we’re good?”

  “Yes, you ass. We are.” She shakes her head. “You’re fucking crazy, you know that?”

  “A little intense…definitely flawed…but not crazy.”

  We stand an inch apart, and I feel the heat radiating off of her body. She looks up at me and our eyes lock. I want to kiss her and touch her everywhere, but she takes another step away from me.

  “Oh no. You’re not getting off that easy. You’re in trouble, Jason Taylor. Big trouble.” Her voice has changed from angry shrieks to sultry threats in spite of her effort to rip me a new one.

  “Oh yeah?” I place my hands on her hips but she quickly grabs my wrist
s and pushes me up against my bedroom wall.

  I lean in to kiss her and she jerks her head back.

  “No way.” She holds both of my wrists in one of her tiny hands. She can barely wrap her fingers around them. I could easily break away—but I have no desire to do that. I’m enjoying Angry Claire far too much.

  “All right. What’s next?”

  “First, let’s get this nasty shirt off of you.” She takes the sweat soaked shirt off, and her tits rub against my chest. I feel her breath on my skin as she does it. I lean in to kiss her but he pushes me back, more forcefully this time, and I slam into the wall. She wags her finger as a warning, then grins and turns away. I watch her ass sway from side to side in her tight jeans. With her back to me, she slips her shirt over her head and takes off her bra. I’m left gaping at the sight of her flawless, bare back. She looks at me over her shoulder. Her big eyes are now filled with want rather than anger. Her hands move to her waist. She opens her jeans and slides them over her perfectly round ass and down her long lean legs.

  I could easily go to her but I’m enjoying this too much. She’s wearing some kind of see through, lacey underwear that leaves nothing to the imagination. Before I can take a breath, they’re off and thrown at my feet. She crawls onto the bed, finally turning to face me.

  “Don’t move one muscle,” she warns.

  She leans back on the pillow and spreads her legs, then drags her hand down her body and begins to touch herself. I take a step toward her and she stops.

  “No, no. Be good and stand still.” She sounds like a teacher scolding a student, and it’s hot as hell.

  I move back against the wall again. My mouth is dry and my cock is trapped in my rugby shorts. She starts to touch herself again, making slow circles over her clit. She looks me in the eye and brings her free hand to her mouth and licks her fingertips. Then she starts to squeeze her nipple. I feel like I’m gonna pass out.

  “God damn, baby. What the fuck are you trying to do to me?”

  She stops rubbing and slips her finger inside. “Do you want to touch me? Do you?”

  That’s all I can take. I lunge at her, and she grips my shoulder as I lower myself on to her, thrusting my tongue into her mouth. She moans with pleasure and strains to pull my shorts off my body. Finally, my throbbing cock is freed. Claire flips over and stretches to reach into the nightstand. She opens a condom and slides it down my cock.