KISMET

by Leigh Ann Lunsford

  “You stayed away for three years.” I push all the way in, hard. “Oh, God.”

  I pull all the way out. “Get out of your head, Embe. You mine?” She doesn’t respond. I slap her clit with my dick and rub with my fingers.

  “Yes.” I slam home.

  “You sure?” I want to hear it again.

  “Yes. But I’m fucked up.” She’s honest.

  “We all are.” My lips bite down on one nipple as I power into her. She meets me thrust for thrust. “I’ll take all your fucked-upness and make it mine. I’m yours.”

  No words are spoken as I caress and kiss every inch I can reach until we both come. Our breathing evens, and my head is buried in her neck. Wetness hits my cheek, and I take in her face. “Why are you crying?”

  “What if you leave again?” I stand and pull her to me. Kissing her forehead, I struggle for words.

  “Pack a bag. You’re coming to my apartment so I can show you I’m not going anywhere. If I have to spend all weekend proving it to you, I will.”

  She shakes her head. “You can’t fix me.”

  “You aren’t fucking broken, Embe. Your dad is. His fucked up views, and whatever you’re hiding. That’s what’s broken— not you.” She better pack a bag or she’ll spend all weekend naked. “On second thought, forget the bag.” Her lips turn up and she giggles.

  “Barbarian.” She gathers minimal clothing, thank you, and we tell her friends goodbye. They’re in party mode, so it’s pretty much a moot point.

  Mason catches us at the door. “Give us a second, Lee Lee.” She’s hesitant until I nod at her.

  “What’s up?” I know I’m getting a lecture, but it pisses me off. Nobody knows how to take care of her but me, so I don’t need advice.

  “You solid with her?” I nod. “Don’t fucking hurt her again. I don’t give a shit if you’re big bad Rambo— I’ll end you.” I try my hardest to hold in my laughter, but I can’t help it.

  “I know you care. I appreciate it, but I’ve got it handled.”

  “I’m serious, Brody. She’s still dealing with shit. She hasn’t been the same since you disappeared on her. She’s herself with you.”

  “That should tell you something.” I point out the obvious.

  “It does. That’s the reason I’m having this talk.” I feel him. I offer my hand, and after a friendly handshake, he imparts some wisdom. “Remember . . . wrap your rod before you please her bod.”

  “MACE!” Saylor shrieks coming from the living room. “You need a fucking leash. I’m sorry, Brody.”

  I can’t help it. I like this group. I bend over laughing, and Emberlee comes to my side. “What?” Saylor repeats a Mac-ism and she’s chuckling.

  “Night.” I grab her hand and haul ass to my car. Shit! I didn’t use a condom. “Babe?”

  Her face soft and she looks at me with trust. “Yeah?”

  “Uh, I may have gotten a little carried away in your room.” She nods.

  “I’m on the pill, but are you . . .”

  “Yep.” I reassure her. I’m safe.

  “I am, too.” I had no doubts.

  “I guess you don’t have to cover your stump before we hump.” She shoots me a wink, and I realize why she and Mason click.

  She’s snorting at herself, and I kiss her lips startling her. “Let’s go.” She skips the rest of the way to my car, and a nice peacefulness that falls over us. We enter my apartment in quiet, and it isn’t the awkward silence. “Wanna talk or sleep?”

  “Nap, then talk?” she asks.

  “Of course. Shower first.” Her smile makes my dick hard, hoping to see some action so I can tire her out for a restful sleep.

  I have her tucked to my side, running my fingers through her dark tresses after a much needed nap. “You okay with this?”

  “Mmm-hmm. Especially if you wake me up like this.” I snicker, and she taps my chest. “Stop moving. I’m comfy.”

  “Me too.” I brush my lips over her head and inhale. “But we need to talk.”

  She lifts the covers and peers down. “Just checking.” She places her head back to my chest.

  “What?”

  “Making sure you didn’t turn into the girl in this bed. All this talking.” She’s teasing but trying to divert my attention.

  I grip her hip and make her squirm. “I assure you I’m all man. After we talk, I’ll show you.” She laughs. “I fucked up last time and didn’t talk to you, and you’ve become the master at pushing your feelings down or finding another outlet for them.”

  Her body leaving my side isn’t what I was aiming for, but when her eyes meet mine and the confusion clouds them, I feel like an ass for my choice of words. “I’m sorry.” Her voice is soft, unsure, and it’s like a punch to the gut.

  “I didn’t say that to make you sorry. Or upset. But I need you to know we aren’t dicking around anymore. You’re mine. You have something to work out, you do it with me. I’ll let you use my body.” I waggle my eyebrows and get a grin from her. “Past is past. I’m working on the next few years.”

  “Yeah? What does that entail?” She props her gorgeous face on her hands as she rolls to her stomach.

  “School. You. Me. Our friends. Making memories, babe.” I shrug because that’s the near future. Our lifetime together will be the next stop.

  “Sounds good.” She winks at me. “You and Brecklynn gonna stay here next year?”

  “That’s the plan. There’s enough space.” I watch her face, and I don’t have a clue what she’s thinking. “You get along with her?” They seemed to hit it off.

  “Oh yes. We text and email all the time. She’s bringing me some embarrassing pictures when she gets here next month.” I groan and fall back.

  It hits me like a lightning bolt. I sit up, “You can talk to her, but you ignore me?” Not gonna bullshit; that hurts.

  She looks embarrassed. “You know I’m still in therapy? It’s a struggle to deal with one man in my life— adding you to the mix seemed like too much.”

  “And now?” I don’t want to make things worse, but I won’t let her go.

  “I’m wondering what the hell I was thinking. But I’m still scared.” I’ve got to get to the bottom of this.

  “Of what?” I pull her back to my side because she’s struggling with something.

  “I feel like I have a cycle with the way I let people treat me. I’ve let others shape my sense of worth. My dad— that’s a work in progress. He seems to be trying, he’s remorseful and trying to build a relationship, but there have been so many years of him discarding me, I don’t know if I can let it go.” Her hands roam my chest, and I reach up and press them close. Anchoring her to me— letting my strength seep to her. “I don’t blame anyone but me for the way I let things happen. I’ve gotten clarity in so many aspects. It’s scary. I fought for Adriane even though she wasn’t the best friend, but I saw that as a form of abandonment. I fought to hold something that wasn’t there because it seemed like a failure on my end.”

  “Then when I left I added to it?” My chest constricts, and I’m struggling to swallow past the lump in my throat.

  “Yes.” I barely hear the word that has me wanting to pummel something. Myself. My actions. Circumstances. I knew I fucked up, but I had no clue it was this monumental. “Brody, I’m not angry at you— anymore. I didn’t know how to process and separate things.”

  “Embe, I’m so sorry. I feel it isn’t enough.” I’m scared I can’t hold her here if she wants to leave. I don’t have the right after what I did.

  “It is enough. It wasn’t logical . . . to me. Your actions made sense to you, and it’s how you dealt. Do I wish you would’ve talked to me? Yes. But if I’m being honest, I don’t know if we would have made it. So much separated us— age, distance, communication, maturity, and experience. I would have fought you if you’d tried to explain it to me.”

  “You fight? No. You aren’t the most stubborn girl I know,” I tease.

  “Hey.” Her light punch d
oesn’t faze me. “I’ve had several conversations with your sister. She’s pretty feisty.”

  Laughing, “That’s the understatement of the year. I’m gonna find a way to keep you two apart. Y’all are a menace.”

  “Oh, add in Avery and Saylor with us— you’ll be crazy.” She ain’t lying.

  “Back on subject,” she groans. “I don’t want to be the cause of any more doubts so you have to learn to share.”

  “I’m trying,” she admits.

  “Open mouth and let the words come out. It’s simple.” I want her to comprehend that I’m here for the long haul.

  “It isn’t.” She sits, frustrated with whatever she’s struggling with. “I’ve learned some things, but there are steps I’m fighting to face.”

  “Us?” She shakes her head.

  “No, that ship has sailed. I wanted to have everything in place and see where we were when I confronted some issues. You had other plans.” She quirks her lips, and I caress her cheek.

  “Can you tell me?” Her eyes are fixated on my sheets. “Or not.” I try to force the hurt down, but I’ve told her everything.

  “It isn’t that. I want to tell you, but I can’t say the words or get the answers in therapy because I’m scared. I’m scared the outcome will make me spiral.”

  I grip her chin and force her face up. “You won’t spiral because I’ll tether you, babe. I’ll be your safe spot to land. I promise I won’t let shit touch you. I can’t stop the pain from other’s actions, but I can make sure you have a nice place to land.” She falls into my arms, letting me show her I’ll catch her.

  The next words I hear shock me. She’s holding a lot of questions, wallowing in a lot of doubt, and it kills me I can’t be the man to ease her fears. “Embe, you have to tell him. Ask him. The chips are going to fall where they may— you can’t change it, but you can learn how to cope once you have the truth. Whatever it may be.” Her dad has fucked himself but most importantly he’s skewed her identity. His actions have made her feel she has to be something she isn’t. She keeps searching— seeking the combination to earn his love. “Remember, I love who you are. Your friends love who you are. The real Emberlee. You keep being her, and it will all fall in place. Nobody, and I mean nobody, has the power to make you be someone else if you don’t give it to them. Take that control back, baby.”

  “Will you go with me tomorrow?” Her big green eyes scorch my heart.

  “To therapy?” I don’t think I can see her dad without murdering him.

  “Yes. Not in the session but just be there.”

  I can’t deny her. I just promised to be her shelter in the storm. “Of course.”

  I walk through the door and see Dr. Ross in his usual chair . . . my dad sitting on the couch. With much fanfare, I walk to stand in front of him and drop the letter in his lap.

  “Is that what I think it is?” Dr. Ross stands.

  “Yes.” I answer him. “Read it,” I tell my dad. I’m fucking terrified. All the pep talks Brody gave during the drive here didn’t help. They did at the time, but in this room nothing is helping. My breathing is wild, and my palms are damp. Dots blur my vision, and tears are threatening.

  “Sit down.” Dr. Ross is guiding me to a chair, and all I want is to run back into Brody’s arms. I can’t focus; I refuse to look at my dad’s face as he reads the words.

  He finishes and raises his head. “Why do you have this?” He isn’t comforting me. He doesn’t spill the truth. Nonchalant and confused is the best description.

  “I f-fo-found it after Thanksgiving.” I swallow a few times. “Why didn’t you tell me Adriane was my sister? Did you have an affair?”

  His mouth drops. “God, no. Is that what you think of me?” He has the audacity to act wounded.

  My back straightens, and I can hear the blood pounding in my ears. “You definitely aren’t perched on the clichéd pedestal if that’s what you’re asking.”

  His head drops, and his hands rub his face. Scrubbing the mark my words cause. “Why do you think Adriane is mine?”

  Good God, are we going to play twenty questions. I don’t have time for this. I stand, “Answer the question. Otherwise there’s no reason for me to be here. This is for nothing.”

  “Please, sit down, Emberlee. I’m confused by your accusations.” His eyes, the ones that match mine, penetrate me and I fall back to the chair.

  “That letter is self-explanatory.” He shakes his head. “I’ve searched my entire life for a reason you don’t love me. A reason pinpointing when you decided I wasn’t worth it. Nothing made sense. I did what you asked. I was to be seen and not heard. I studied. Took all the classes you demanded. Nothing I did mattered.” I wipe my hands against the fabric abrading my skin and continue, “I went searching for some pictures and stumbled on this letter. I’m not stupid. I can put two and two together.”

  “You’re wrong. Why’d you jump to that scenario?” He’s being condescending, and if it isn’t the truth, why can’t he fill in the gaps?

  “I wasn’t sure what to think at first. The words are pretty powerful, as are the pictures. When you had your accident, I looked at the photo albums. Every picture you were smiling in, every picture you were present in my life had one common denominator. Adriane was there. You were laughing. You were holding me. Then she wasn’t. She disappeared from the photos, and so did you.” Argue those facts, asshole. I’m past the point of hyperventilating, and Dr. Ross places a cup of water in my hands.

  “Can I get you anything else?” I shake my head because if I open my mouth it’s going to be me screaming for Brody to come get me.

  I watch my dad’s shoulders slump. He’s been caught. His fingers steeple, and he drops his head. He takes a few minutes to compose himself or come up with an excuse. What he does next shocks the hell outta me. He stands, walks to me, and drops to his knees. “You’re off base about so many things, but I can see how you thought that. I was a shit parent. I wasn’t always like this. I’m sorry.” A tear escapes and I’m stunned. This bigger than life, bigwig, refuse to show emotion man is showing me his fear. He’s showing me he’s vulnerable. He’s telling me he’s wrong. I nod my head and can’t swallow past the lump clogging my throat. “Mark and Sophie had Adriane pretty soon after they married. Their marriage was one that shouldn’t have happened but add a baby to the mix, and it was horrible. Mark put in for a transfer to escape fatherhood, and Sophie started drinking. We caught her drinking and driving when Adriane was four months old and begged her to get help. She refused.” He breaks eye contact and stares at the floor. “By that time your mom and I had been trying for a year to conceive. She suffered a miscarriage and every attempt failed. We learned Sophie was leaving Adriane alone to hit bars, so we all got together and took action.” I’m sure our entire crew’s parents were involved.

  He inhales. “It got ugly. Your mom and I contested the court for guardianship, hoping it would push Sophie to get help or for Mark to step in. None of that happened. We brought Adriane home, and friendships were destroyed. At least for me. Your mom is more forgiving than me.” His lips press into a tight smile. “We learned your mom was pregnant with you, and I was over the moon. I loved Adriane and treated her like she was my own. She was the innocent one in this scenario. Your mom had a rough pregnancy and a lot of Adriane’s care fell in my lap. I bonded with that girl. There were complications during your delivery, and your mom had to have a hysterectomy.” I gasp, understanding why my mom’s so protective of me. “I loved you before you were born, but one look into your beautiful face and I fell in love. By this time, Sophie was in rehab and she and Mark were in counseling.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “It’s a story that has to be told in order.” He grips my hand. “Your mom took the news that she couldn’t have anymore kids hard. I was devastated but felt we had our hands full.” My face drops. My fears becoming my truth. “No, Emberlee. You were enough. We were so in love with you, but we did want a houseful of kids. We fell
into a rhythm. Two girls. Our kids. Where one was the other was. For years we had the family we’d dreamed of. Then Sophie decided she wanted to be a mom. Mark was ready to be a dad. Your mom and I had done most of the hard work. The sleepless nights. The diapers. The potty training. The tantrums. We did it. You and Adriane were so close, and I wasn’t going to hand her over after the shit they’d put her through.” He stands and starts pacing. “She called me Daddy. I taught her to ride a bike. Both of you. Sophie and Mark wanted to keep it civil— have it remain private, because they knew I’d destroy them in court. Your mom started pestering me. Reminding me she wasn’t ours. She blamed herself for not being able to give us additional kids, and felt I was using Adriane as a replacement for her failures.” He stops and focuses on the window— staring at the outside world. “She was going to divorce me. I did what she wanted and gave up guardianship. I was hurt. I was angry. I didn’t stop loving you. I stayed away so your mom and I didn’t fight in front of you. I was considering a divorce. I didn’t want you to see that.”

  “What changed?” I need to know.

  “I love your mom. I love you. Some of what she was accusing me of had some merit. I was ashamed. And hurt. That isn’t a good combination in a man like me. I deployed for eighteen-months, and when I got home I had my head screwed straight and my priorities were going to be family first. By the time I came home, you and your mom had a routine. I felt pushed out of another child’s life whether it was the truth or not. I guarded myself. I had every scenario running through my mind. You rejecting me. Adriane had fallen into a routine with her parents, and it was like we didn’t exist. I felt inconsequential to a child I’d raised longer than you, so in my mind I was replaceable.” Fuck. We’ve been fighting the same demons.

  “Dad, the difference is that I was a child. I didn’t know how to fix it.” The blame lies with him, and I won’t sugar coat it. I won’t deny the truth and the pain it brings. It got us in this mess.

  “You’re right. By the time I wanted to fix it, Adriane was rebelling. She was able to run free no matter how much Mark tried to control her. Sophie had so much damn guilt she let her get away with it. I saw her as a lost little girl and blamed myself for letting everyone pressure me, and I couldn’t help her. I became hard on you. If I didn’t rule with my heart, I figured you’d go the opposite way. I’d lost so much with you, but I refused to let you go down the same path.” He comes back to me and his eyes are filled with love. Anguish. Shame. Hope. “I’ll never forgive myself for causing you doubt. I turned into what I was accusing Mark of. My worst nightmare became my reality, and I didn’t know how to fix it.”