by Larsen, K.
“I got drunk. Really drunk. Okay? It’s not that big of a deal,” I huff.
“It’s not that big of a deal?” Bentley grinds out.
“Why do you give a shit?!” I bark.
“You know what? I need time to cool off. Go to work tonight. When you get home, we talk,” he growls as he storms past me pausing at the door.
“I’m not yours, Bent!” I holler after him. Brocks hand runs down my left arm. The contact makes me spin around, glaring.
“Is this how you want to be remembered?” Brock pleads.
“I don’t want to be remembered at all. If I’m being remembered, it means I’m dead,” I snip.
“Mags, there are two types of tragedies in life. One is not getting what you want, the other is getting it,” he says, shaking his head at me. His words send chills down my spine.
“Listen to him, Mags. You can’t do this to yourself. Maybe you think no one cares about you, but you’re wrong,” Bentley says gently before seeing himself out. Brock follows him out. I shut the door behind them, lock the deadbolts and slide down against the door to the floor. What am I doing? I moved past this phase! I function again without drinking. Feeling like I was run over by a Mack truck, I slowly crawl across the trailer to my phone to call Aster when I notice the date. One year. It’s been one year since his funeral. The funeral I missed. The funeral I caused. I pull myself off the floor and grab my keys.
“Hey! Back again so soon?” the pimply faced kid says as I set the bottle of bourbon on the counter.
“Yup,” I answer, thankful that I thought to snag my sunglasses before heading out. My eyes are a scary bloodshot mess.
“Well, have a great day!” the little shit sings as I toss cash at him and head out. There is nothing great about this day at all. I pull into my spot and jerk the car into park before it’s even stopped fully, making the contents of my purse spill onto the floor of the passenger seat as the car lurches.
“Shit,” I mumble. I rake the loose items back in, grab the bottle and head inside. I don't bother with a glass, or ice, I open the bottle and pull directly from it. It burns going down. The burn is familiar and comforting. I feel the warmth spread slowly throughout my limbs. I take another slug of the liquor and wait for the same warmth to come over me. I don’t set the bottle down until it’s half empty.
If a person’s heart could bleed, physically bleed, that’s what mine would be doing right now. The weight of the silence in my trailer is deafening. The weight of my guilt is crushing. I transfer it all to the hate side of me. I morph it all into rage and direct it at the cause, the root. I’ve taken numerous steps to protect myself long enough to get justice.
Chapter 11
“Death ends a life, not a relationship.”- Mitch Albom
“My parents think you’re leading me down the wrong path.” ‘Cypress, that boy’s the wrong kind of bliss, he’s born to be a leaver,’ my dad had shouted at me.
“I am, Mags. You shouldn't get involved with me,” he crowed.
“You didn't let me finish.. I just want the chance to find out on my own. I don't agree with them. They don't understand. You’re more than Ezra and the boys. You have a soul, Cane. I see it. Please, please don’t shut me out.”
“I don’t know how I’m going to live without you, Mags. Tell me what to do,” he begged.
“I’m only going to be thirty minutes away. It’s college, not the end of the world.”
“You’ll change. I won't be good enough anymore.”
“Never,” I said sternly. “God, Cane. I’m so nervous about you being here and me being there, please don't make this harder. I need to know that we can do this.”
“You want a promise?” he asked.
“I want...something. I want to know we’re something you intend to follow through,” I mumbled. He lifted me and walked into the bathroom, closing the door and setting me down. I glanced at the speaker and tub and whipped my head back to him.
“Cane...” my voice was breathy.
“Trust me.” I wondered if he could hear the strain in his voice like I could.
He turned the water on, letting the tub fill, and then lit the one candle in his bathroom that I made him buy. He plugged in his phone and started the playlist he had been making for me to bring to school when I leave. When the music was softly lilting in the background he reached for the hem of my dress and lifted slowly.
“Cane,” I put a hand on his to stop him. “I ah...I’m…nervous…” My voice was quiet and insecure.
“Mags, everything about you is beautiful. But, I promise, I won’t do anything you don't want me to.” He started moving his hands again. His fingers grazed my hips as he lifted my dress higher. I thought I’d be more nervous but I only felt beautiful. I raised my eyes to his and trailed my hands up his sides under his shirt. He pulled the dress over my head. A strangled sounding moan slipped from him. The look in his deep brown eyes was full of heat, so much that I think his zipper is going to undo itself from the strain in his jeans. He reached around my back and unclipped my bra, gently tugging it off, letting it drop to the floor. His breathing was shallow and labored but he kept his focus on my eyes. I moved my hands to his hips and tucked my thumbs inside the waistband of his jeans, before undoing them and slowly pushing them down. I started trembling then.
“Step out, baby,” he cooed. I looked down and stepped out of my underwear. He picked me up and, gently, set me down into the water, never tearing his eyes away from mine. “I wish I could tell you how much I love you, how much you mean to me." He nuzzled my cheek and continued down my neck, setting a fire across my skin, coals deep in my soul bursting into flames.
"Show me,” I whispered and moved my hands up to his shirt and started lifting it off of him.
My hands moved on his chest, his ribs, his belly and sides as my lips moved to his jaw, then neck, throat, collarbone and down. Everywhere I touched and tasted his muscles jumped. He crawled into the water with me. The warm water moving around and over us only added to the sensations. I went down, tracing the ridges of his abs with my tongue. He growled. I felt bold with him. Adventurous. His fingers flexed at my neck and that sent a shot of heat right between my legs. His lips met mine and claimed me. I was his. Always. Never breaking our kiss, he moved us from the tub to the bedroom.
Taking a deep breath I trailed my tongue along the line of muscle that curved from his hip to his groin. The hand at my neck disappeared and I was suddenly being pulled up his body. He brought me up so I’m straddling him. He kissed me while holding me tight to him. His erection was between my legs and in that moment, there was nothing else I wanted or needed. My hips ground down on him. Cane’s hands came to my sides, one hand coming to my breast, lifting it slightly. I broke away from the kiss and looked down to see him taking it to his mouth. His lips closed around the nipple and he sucked, hard. My hips bucked in his lap which caused him to growl against my nipple. I whimpered from the sensations rolling through me. His mouth left my breast and he picked me up and laid me back on the bed. Looming over me, trailing a calloused hand on me from my shoulder to my waist, I shivered. He ran his hand over my hip and in between my legs.
“Beautiful… ” His hand paused.
“You want this?” he breathed. Was he serious?
“Yes,” I rasped.
“You sure, baby? After this, there’s no going back.” I sat up. “There's only one thing I need." I placed my hand on his heart. "The rest are just technicalities, Cane.” His torso was heavy on mine. I liked the feel of it. I wrapped my legs around his waist while his kisses worked my ear, neck and collarbone. His fingers toyed between my legs and my groans were drifting into his mouth as he kissed me.
“I need you, baby girl,” he whispered. His thumb put pressure on my clit and my hips bucked again. His hips shifted and I adjusted my legs around his and felt him drive in. I squeaked, trying not to let the pinch bother me. Once he was all the way in he’d stopped and waited.
“Are you alrigh
t?” he asked. I nodded my response. He slowly pulled out and then pushed back in. It was amazing. My lips parted, my neck arched and my eyes fluttered closed. His thrusts were driving me towards an orgasm the likes of which I’d never experienced before when he pulled out. My eyes flew open. “Don't stop!”
Suddenly I was flipped on my belly and moving backwards towards the edge of the bed. My feet hit the floor, a palm pressed between my shoulders and I was bent over the mattress. The pads of his fingers squeezed my hips. “Full of surprises!” I gasped playfully. His voice was low and heavy as he held tight to my hips and resumed thrusting. “I want you to feel how good you make me feel.”
I was going to explode. I could feel it coming on hard. He pulled out and flipped me back over, wrapping an arm around my ribs and hoisting me up the bed with him. He entered slowly, taking his time now. Our eyes locked and he started rolling his hips. The buildup was too much. “Cane!” I breathed as my orgasm crashed over me and his tongue traced my collarbone. Five seconds later with my legs tightly holding his hips, he planted his face in my neck, drove deep, and groaned my name. I loved the weight of him on me. We were both panting. I’d had okay self-orgasms before, even what I thought was a good one before, but nothing compared to what just happened.
I turned my face into his neck and kissed him behind the ear while I lightly traced the muscles of his back, feeling elation deep in the joints of my bones. Before my brain caught up with my mouth I whispered, “I love you, Cane.”
His body went stiff. Then he kissed me.
“I love you too, Mags.” Those simple words changed me forever. I would never be the same.
I wake up with an epic hangover and an ache between my legs. I squeeze my thighs together tightly and pray for the sensation to go away because it’s just that, a sensation. No truth behind the feeling at all. Just my body conjuring up old feelings. Muscle memory. It's like I've woken up in bed and he's not here...because he's gone to the bathroom or something. But somehow, I know he's never going come back to bed. If I could just reach over and touch his side of the bed, I would know that it was cold, but I can't. I know I can't have him back but I don't want to wake up in the morning thinking he's still here anymore. But how can I heal? I can feel the details of him, the bits and pieces I never bothered to put into words. And I can feel these extreme moments, even if I don't want to. I put these together, and I get the feel of him, enough to know how much I miss him...and how much I hate the person who took him away. Knowing that person is me - it’s torture. Please, this has to get easier. I will myself to stand up and stumble to the bathroom. After I relieve myself I push my hair from my face and take a good look in the mirror. Hell. I see hell. There is no resemblance to the pretty girl who was brought into this world. There are only broken remnants. Shards. Bits and pieces of Cypress.
I brush my teeth and then shower. In the mirror I line my eyes with thick black eyeliner and blend silver and navy eye shadow across my lids. Taking the crimson red tube from my makeup case, I carefully color in my full lips with the deep colored stain. I sweep a little bronzer across my cheeks and swipe my lashes with mascara and call it good. I run the comb through my hair and twist it up off my back and neck on top of my head and tug on my work shorts, push-up bra and tank-top. It’s time to see Penny.
Penny looks over the brim of her glasses at me and shakes her head slowly.
“Honey, no matter what happened to you, and especially since you won't tell me, I’m left guessing here, but you can't drink yourself into a stupor. It’s not going to make any of it disappear. It’s not going to change history or your reality. I can’t keep giving you chances. You’ve done well for the last year. You’ve picked a handful of fights with customers but quite frankly I’m sure that they had it coming, considering you generally keep your mouth shut and your hands to yourself.” She winks at me.
“I know. I know. Penny, please, I need this. Don’t fire me.”
“I’m not firing you, Mags. Just show up for the next seven days, I need to give some of the girls who covered your ass a break…so you’re pickin’ up all their shifts.” I fight the urge to roll my eyes and whine at her. Seven nights on is a lot for anyone but I’ll take it. I thank her profusely and get my ass out to the bar to get everything ready for the night.
Chapter 12
“I’ve lived too long with pain. I won’t know who I am without it.”- Orson Scott, Ender’s Game
“I think the fool who came up with ‘you should always be yourself’ never met you,” I jest and chuckle quietly at my joke.
“Well thanks, I’ll go inside and untie the noose,” he laughs. “You’re a real joy today aren't you?” Bentley quips as he sits down next to me. I smirk and roll my eyes at him.
“And here I was thinking I was always a joy to be around.” At that Bentley roars, a full on deep belly laugh and for the first time in what feels like forever, I laugh too. A real laugh. It feels...good.
“So I take it you got over being mad at me,” he says once he’s recovered.
“Nope, still pissed. At Brock too, actually.”
“That’s a shame. We’re only concerned about you. It’s good, right? To have people who care?” he offers.
“Not always. No,” I answer hesitantly.
“Okay. You still owe me a talk. Out with it,” he says, completely changing the subject on me.
“There’s nothing to talk about,” I answer.
“Oh I beg to differ. You moved in. Threw up in the dirt. Refused to let me help you when you clearly needed it. Ran yourself ragged, almost drank yourself dumb and somehow climbed out of whatever hole you were living in. We build this sad little friendship over the course of a year - mostly because I force you to start trusting me to just be near you - and then one comment from me sends you tail-spinning out of control and back into that hole. Talk.” Damn. He really pays more attention to me than I’ve ever given him credit for. I stare at him blankly, wondering how I missed his interest in my life.
“If you’re going to keep talking, I’ll start singing ‘Ninety-nine Bottles’...loudly.” I chirp sarcastically.
“Honestly, I’d rather stick my dick in a blender, Mags, I’ve heard you sing.”
“Well that would solve a few problems, yeah?” I whip back at him.
“You’re trying to distract me. TALK,” he pushes. I stare at the ground for a while in silence. He waits though, making it clear that he’s not leaving until I give him something.
"I see the pain you shoulder, Mags. It's in your eyes. Your actions give it away. I think you're dealing with some seriously bad shit. I can see the emotion in your eyes, regret, or sadness, maybe both. Your guilt is tangible, Mags. It's all there if someone's willing to notice." Bentley's words slice through me like a hot knife. I never thought I was fooling the world but his admission, that he's invested the time to notice me, makes me feel something. It stirs emotion in my chest. Affection, maybe? No, it’s something more. Need. Want. I want to be noticed. I want to be special…again. Maybe it's time I let someone in finally, just a little. Just enough to take the loneliness away until I leave.
“When I manage to forget what happened, when there are no mirrors and no people that remind me, when someone makes me laugh or smile, really smile...in those moments, I have hope. Aster...Aster says that I, um...it’s those moments that make the pain bearable. Those moments happen, but they're fleeting. And then I remember everything and...and I'm filled with so much rage. It's like I want to set the whole world on fire,” I say softly. I have no idea where that all came from but my mouth betrayed my head. He watches me for a moment, his face giving nothing away, and I wonder if he has secrets of his own. He doesn't seem to care that I’m damaged.
“Who’s Aster?” he finally asks.
“My cousin,” I answer.
“Well get out, the loner has family,” he winks. I hate it when he winks.
“Had,” I smirk at his attempt to keep things light.
“Well it sounds like
you still have her.”
“I do, in a small way. We talk on the phone a couple times a week but it’s not like before.” I shrug.
“Well what happened?” he pushes.
“I can’t.” I shake my head at him and will him to shut up. This has gone far enough. I hear a faint buzzing sound coming from his pants. “Uh, your balls are vibrating,” I deadpan. His face is a mix of shock and amusement as he reaches in his pocket and pulls out his phone.
“Are you trying to seduce me?” he chuckles before looking at the screen.
“Why? Are you seducible?” He flips the screen up and reads the message waiting for him. His eyes cloud over and his face gets serious.
“I have to go,” he clips.
“Okay, well that wasn’t awkward,” I blurt.
“Sorry, Mags. Duty calls.”
“So are you, like Special Ops? What were you, Seals? Rangers?”
“Officially, I'm only allowed to say that I'm a sworn officer participating in certain missions that would make most men want to crawl up and hide inside their own assholes.”
“And unofficially?” I cock my head to the side and give him a look.
“Still not allowed to say,” he smirks and takes off around the corner. Moments later I hear his truck speeding down the dirt road towards the main highway. Well that wasn’t terrible. I actually shared feelings with someone other than myself. It almost felt cathartic. I get up and stretch before heading in for the night. I have a busy week of working every. Single. Bloody. Day.
Ezra meandered into the back yard, a beer in one hand, eyeing everyone wearily. His eyes slowed at Cane manning the grill and stopped when they landed on me. A strange look passed across his face but before I could figure out what it was, it’s gone, replaced by a fake smile. “Time to go, Cypress,” Ezra barked out at me sitting at the picnic table.