by Danika Stone
“Thanks,” he murmured tiredly.
Ava’s face was doing that thing again, flickering like rippling water, moving one way and then the next. For a moment he thought she was going to bolt – expected it actually – but then she stepped forward, putting her hands on his shoulders and pressing herself against him like she’d done at the studio.
That broke what little control he had.
In half a second he was on his feet, pulling her roughly into his arms in the cramped bathroom, his mouth slanting against hers, hard and needful. She gasped, opening her lips under the onslaught. Cole noticed – in some half-removed part of his mind – that she wrapping her arms around him, not pulling away, her body trying to keep up with him. He tasted her deeply, tongue plunging into her mouth. His teeth nipping lightly at her bottom lip. She moaned and his fingers tightened around her back and shoulders.
Breaking the kiss, he reached down, one hand sliding under her knees, the other moving around her shoulders. He pulled her into his arms. Ava watched him all the while, her eyes deep pools of dark blue as he carried her out of the bathroom.
“Where,” Cole muttered, glancing at the two closed doors.
“Mine’s the first,” she answered softly, laying her forehead against his neck.
Cole opened the door, then set down next to her bed. He noticed things as he impatiently pulled his clothes off, dropping them on the floor: the pile of dog-eared paperback books on the side-table; an analog alarm clock; brightly coloured prints and paintings on the wall; an unframed photograph of Ava and Chim wearing formal clothing. (The one in which she had a shaved head.) With his clothes off, his attention went back to Ava and nothing else.
Reaching out, Cole put a hand to her cheek and leaned in to kiss her again. He could feel her shaking as his arms wrapped around her, his bandaged fingers finding the zipper on the back of her dress, undoing it while his mouth moved against hers. She tasted of warmth and sweetness, lighting his senses on fire. In a quick motion, he pulled the dress off her shoulders, letting it pool in a whisper of silk at her feet. He sent her panties down a second afterwards; his body hot and hard where he pressed himself against her thigh as they stood kissing. Cole’s mouth moved down her throat as he fought with the clasp on her bra, sucking hard against the skin of her neck while he fumbled with it.
“Here,” she whispered, reaching behind and contorting her shoulder as she undid it. Then it too was on the floor and he was pushing her down onto the bed, leaning over her, his body starting to throb with the need to be inside her.
Ava twisted sideways to the table, picking up something and pushing it into his hands, her cheeks staining crimson. He glanced down at the condom, realizing that unlike him, she was actually prepared for this. That this was a decision for her, not just something randomly happening. There was half a minute of fumbling – Cole silently cursing the clumsiness of his damaged knuckles – and then he was back atop her, kissing her hard, revelling in the growing heat between them and the unbelievable feel of her fingers moving against his back and chest and face. He was desperate to touch her everywhere. The anger from earlier was gone, replaced by driving need and long-banked desires.
Pulling back, Cole moved down her body, trailing kisses as he went. For a moment he stopped at her breasts, pulling one rose-coloured peak into his mouth while his fingers rolled the other hard. It struck him in a completely abstract way that the breasts on the statue were slightly too large as he’d carved them. Ava moaned, low in her throat, dragging the thought away. He moved his lips to the other side, his fingers kneading her soft curves, worshipping her flesh. Cole’s hand dropped down, running along her ribs to the curve of her waist and from there to the short crop of dark blonde curls. Under his hands and mouth, Ava’s writhing increased, her movements growing more frenzied with each brush of his fingers and tongue. With the moment drawing nearer, Cole felt himself honing in on her pleasure, the small pants telling him where to caress again, tease more, suck harder. He could feel himself nearing the edge.
Cole tried to slow down, but his body was on fire, and all the urges he’d been hiding under a thin veneer of control for the last two months were demanding to be met. For a moment he considered taking her fast and hard, but he was determined that she enjoy this too. He suckled her nipple, then laid a path of kisses across the flat plane of her stomach, heading lower. His teeth grazed the raised ridge of her hipbone before he moved inward, dropping his mouth down to her wet heat, tasting her.
She gasped, her fingers tightening painfully in his hair as his tongue darted out, slowly at first, then moving faster until he reached a steady pattern in time to her gasps. Her moans were growing desperate, hips jerking in convulsive spasms as he worked her body, his own driving need leaving him painfully hard. Frustrated, he pushed her thighs wider, giving himself room, his fingers joining his tongue in pushing into her warm folds, adding to the growing pressure. He wanted to hear her scream his name, his entire focus on her release.
He felt the slight internal shudder even before Ava cried out, her voice breathless and raw. Her body tightened down like a fist around his fingers and Cole lifted his mouth, moving over her and sliding inside before her climax even ended. The tight, perfect fit almost undid him right then. He couldn’t think anymore, just moved in time to her moans, his body – primal and desperate – pumping hard, trapped in a storm that threatened to drown them both. Ava wrapped her legs tight around his hips, forcing him deeper and Cole felt himself pulled under a tidal wave of sensations, pounding brutally into her, forcing his dark emotions into actions.
For a moment, it was like being on the stormy sea – as he’d been a few times in his life – holding onto the rudder in a desperate hope of not capsizing. Behind closed lids, a swirl of dark colours – like storm clouds roiling on the horizon – appeared in flashes of lightning. There was the euphoria of imminent release, and in that moment, Ava’s face flared to mind. With a rush of ecstasy, he tipped over the edge, his body shuddering in climax before collapsing against her.
Coming down from the post-coital high, his breathing harsh and ragged in his chest, Cole realized that he could hear something at a distance… ‘It’s someone sobbing,’ his mind announced numbly. The sound grew louder, and then, after a moment longer, he realized it was himself he could hear. His face was tucked against Ava’s shoulder, their two bodies still tangled together, his body wracked with sobs. She had her arms around him, and she ran her fingers through his hair, petting his head like a child and whispering as he cried. Comforting him.
“Shh...it’s okay, Cole,” she said gently, lips against his ear. “I’m here now.… it’s okay.”
And for some inexplicable reason, those words were the ones he needed to hear.
Chapter 14: After the Storm
Ava lay with Cole half atop her, her hands running slowly over his cap of black hair, her calm exterior in direct contrast to her internal chaos. The last few hours left her shaken to the core.
She had discovered a disturbing truth about Cole Thomas. He’d been controlling himself around her for a long, long time, but she knew now that his restraint could be broken. There was something dark just under his surface, like rocks under still water, ready and able to tear out the bottom of passing boats. Somewhere – under the careful exterior – there rested something dangerous. It terrified Ava that she recognized that aspect of who he was. Knew the face of that anger like she knew herself...
When his crying stopped and his breathing finally returned to normal, Cole got up from the bed, avoiding her eyes. She watched his movements: the weariness in his gestures, the slump of his shoulders, the anguish in his face. Her chest ached, and that word rose in her mind again.
‘Broken...’
More than ever, Ava wanted to run, just grab her coat and keys and get the hell out of here. Just go! She listened to water running in the bathroom, considering whether she could get out of the apartment before he came back. Before her mind was made up, the door opene
d, and Cole returned to her bed. Ava closed her eyes, feigning sleep.
She was trapped.
Sighing heavily, Cole climbed under the blankets. He turned his face into Ava’s shoulder, tightening his arms around her, moving as close as he possibly could, one of his legs tossed over her own, breath warm against skin. He hadn’t spoken yet, and Ava wasn’t sure she was ready to hear whatever he’d have to say. Instead, she lay motionless, letting him burrow his face against her neck. His arms were painfully tight around her back, his breathing harsh.
For a long time, she waited.
The faint ticking of the clock beside the bed measured passing minutes, but Ava was far too panicked to relax. This intensity – the part of Cole that had scared her from the very beginning – had a horrible face that she now recognized. Blinking back tears, she waited for the volatile man in her arms to fall asleep, her mind surging. She’d seen this before.
That dark side of him reminded her of her mother.
Ava winced as the image of Cole merged with her mother, her heart lurching painfully.
‘What if Cole’s like that too...?’
She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to force the silent tears away. All of those growing emotions she’d had for Cole were now imbued with a dark-hued patina of pain. ‘I don’t know if I can do this...’ Ava thought in panic. She knew she was already half in love with him, but she knew that love was far from enough to make things work. (Her parents’ destructive relationship had taught her that.)
Outside, a car passed in the street, the heavy bass of rock music thudding like a beating heart. Cole let out a long sigh, his arms loosening, and a single tear ran down Ava’s cheek. She listened to his breathing. Minutes passed… and then more… and still she waited. Eventually his breathing slowed, and his limbs grew heavy and limp. Finally Cole slept.
Carefully easing out of bed, she went to the bathroom and cleaned up, washing her tear-stained face before pulling on a t-shirt and yoga pants and walking back to the living room. She stared at the phone for a long time before picking it up, dialling the series of numbers for the overseas relay, then waiting through the odd mechanical-sounding dial tone. There was a click of connection and the hollow sound of static from a phone on the other side of the globe.
“H’lo?”
She smiled, hearing her father’s muttered response.
“Hi, Dad,” Ava said, forcing her voice to stay light. “It’s me.”
“Hey Kiddo,” he answered with a laugh. “What’s happening? Thought I was calling you tomorrow.”
Ava sighed, kicking her feet up and laying back. She closed her eyes, imagining him on the other end of the couch smoking – even though he never actually smoked in the apartment – but that was always how she remembered him. The image left her throat aching once more.
“Just wanted to hear your voice,” she said quietly.
There was a pause.
“You okay, Ava? Everything all right?”
She sighed again, her eyes flickering over to the bedroom door.
It was closed. Cole safe inside, her safer out here.
“Yeah....” she answered, then frowned. “No… I mean… I just miss you, Dad.”
He laughed.
“Me too. Me too...”
“So what’re you up to tonight?” she asked.
“Not much, the sound guys are just tweaking the sound system in the Sydney opera house… leaves a lot of time waiting around before rehearsals.” He laughed, the growling sound leaving Ava smiling. “You know, you’d think they’d design it to manage the reverb from the ribs, but there’re always issues.”
While she listened, he launched into a play-by-play of the day’s sound engineering fiasco. At this, Ava chortled.
“And this surprises you because...?”
Her father laughed and she grinned. They’d had this conversation more than once.
“Doesn’t surprise me,” he admitted. “But I can only bitch about it to you.”
“Bitch away then, Ollie.”
He chuckled at the endearment.
“Only another couple weeks,” he said with a sigh. “Then I’ll be back home again.”
“God, I can’t wait,” Ava answered, and this time she couldn’t keep the longing out of her voice.
“Alright,” her father growled, his voice growing serious and parental. “Spit it out, Ava Jane Brooks. There’s something going on with you. Now what is it?”
She grinned, turning into the back of the couch, laying her forehead against the worn leather. They'd had the sofa since she was a kid and she’d lain like this a hundred times before.
“It’s nothing, Dad, really. I just had a bad night.”
She could almost hear her father smiling.
“And...?”
She sighed, closing her eyes.
“And I’m just feeling.… weird,” she muttered. He didn’t say anything in response, so she added another thought. “And I miss you.”
“I miss you too,” Oliver said quietly. “So what is it? School stuff? Art stuff?” He paused. “Boy stuff....?”
He let the last question hang there in the space between his voice and her ear. Ava knew he’d been reading her – it’s what her father always did with people – but she didn’t mind. She felt better just talking to him.
“School’s fine,” Ava tried to think of how to phrase it. “It’s… yeah. It’s a guy.”
“Ah...” he said quietly.
There was another silence. Ava knew without seeing him that her father had picked up a pack of cigarettes and was tapping one out. (Oliver Brooks might be a great father, but he was damned predictable when it came to his own coping mechanisms.)
“You wanna talk about it?” His words were muted by the cigarette now dangling from his lips.
“Uh… I dunno, Dad,” Ava answered, then sighed heavily. “Can I just ask you something?”
“Sure.”
“When you met Mom, was she...?” Ava stopped, her throat aching. She pressed her eyes closed, her fingers a claw around the receiver.
“Whoa there, kiddo,” her father said gently. “What’s going on? Seriously now. What is this about, Ava? This is not about your mother.”
She let out a laugh that was sharp with suppressed tears.
“No, that’s not the only thing going on,” Ava admitted, rubbing angrily at her eyes, “it’s not just that… but I want to know. What was she like? Before… I mean.”
Ava heard the whoosh of her father blowing out a lungful of smoke. It was a sound she knew, the sound of him settling in for a long phone call.
“Well then,” he said softly, “let’s start at the beginning...”
Chapter 15: Fields of Gold
An hour later and they were still talking. They’d rehashed the ill-fated marriage of Oliver and Shay Brooks, stirring the cold ashes of love for the hidden embers of what had gone wrong. “It didn’t help that you were already on the way,” her father told Ava. “Getting married seemed like the right thing to do… But I never regretted you in the least.” His words had left her with a truth that consoled her more than she could explain.
The man sleeping in her bedroom was nothing like her mother.
Ava knew her father was good at listening, and without really intending to, she shared her concerns about Cole and the darkness he carried around with him. The control she’d seen him practise for so long. (The tether she’d only just discovered could be broken.)
“Can I give you my read on things?” Oliver finally asked.
Ava smiled. He didn’t like people calling him on his ability to do that, but here he was admitting to it.
“Yeah, Dad,” she said tiredly. “You can.”
“Well, I’d like to meet him before I say anything for sure,” he said lightly, (and Ava wondered how long he’d been working around to dropping that offhand comment), “but if Chim thinks he’s a good guy, and Cole’s kept it together for this long around you… it could be that this artist really hit a
hot button topic for him.”
Ava shifted, her eyebrows knitting together in worry.
“What do you mean?”
She could hear her father sucking the smoke into his lungs. He blew it away, buzzing the receiver, before he answered.
“Well, kiddo, you were an angry kid for a long, long time after your mother left.”
He left rest of that story standing, unchallenged.
“Yeah.”
“It took a long time for you to figure a healthy way to deal with that… Years, in fact...” Her father sighed sadly. If he’d been there with her, she would have hugged him.
She wished he was.
“It’s okay, Dad,” she whispered.
“But your friend Cole here has got more than just a divorce to deal with,” he continued. “Who knows what those issues with his dad are. But he never talks about his mom either. Throw in a stepmother and a dead sister – expectations of a military family – and then this hotshot artist pushing the anti-war rhetoric in his face, calling him out in front of a crowd of—”
“All right, all right!” Ava said, wincing. “I get it. He’s messed up. I get that.”
“Ah, but I don’t think you do,” her father argued gravely. “I believe people can change. I believe anyone – absolutely anyone – can get better… do better… and it sounds to me like Cole is trying.”
Ava scowled.
“Okay...?”
“So from what I can tell, he freaked out tonight… maybe with good reason. Maybe not. After that, he went and blew off steam the only way he knew how. Not healthy, no, but… it’s not the worst thing I can think of. Sounds a lot like a sixteen-year-old girl I once knew.” He laughed. “And she turned out alright in the end. So maybe Cole just needs some nudging in the right direction… needs someone to talk to who might know how he’s feeling...”