Vote Then Read: Volume II

by Lauren Blakely

  I swallow. I know all that I’m about to throw away, and yet, there’s not an ounce of fear in me. I can’t undo her pain from all those years ago. I can’t fix things for my sister. But I can fix this. At least for her.

  “Wyatt, I…”

  “Print up the agreement, Rex. Or I walk out that door and walk right to the nearest news station.”

  Rex drops his head, realizing his defeat. He nods to me slowly, and I spin on my heel and walk out of his office door. I walk into mine and start grabbing my things, throwing them into a box I have on my shelf. I see Rex walking out to Priscilla, then she makes her way to Maryn and whispers something to her.

  Maryn’s eyes flick up toward my office immediately, and I tuck myself back inside. I hear her coming as I’m shutting down my computer, the realization of unemployment setting in.

  “Wyatt,” she says quietly at my door. I look up at her. She looks confused and scared, and all I want to do is hold her.

  “Hey,” I say, trying not to sound as completely flustered as I feel. “Listen, I know you got into something you didn’t understand. But everything is going to be okay, okay?”

  She takes a step closer to me. I know she doesn’t know what I mean, but she doesn’t have to. As long as this doesn’t ruin her, as long as she stays happy…that’s all I need.

  “Wyatt, what did you—”

  I cut her off by touching her arm.

  “It’s gonna be okay,” I tell her again before giving her the warmest smile I have to offer. Then, I gently push past her and make my way to the elevator.

  25

  Maryn

  I’ve never felt such a whirlwind of emotions before. To go from being so scared, to so devastated when I thought my career was over, to being elated that I got my job back within a matter of minutes was giving me serious whiplash.

  But then, he walked out of the building with all his shit in boxes, and I’m back to that sinking, devastating, scared feeling.

  Within a matter of minutes, I went from being totally blindsided by the fact that my boss is a conniving, scheming asshole, to discovering that I was going to be fired for his illegal activity, then being told “Nevermind, you’re all good. Take a seat and keep working.”

  As I walked out of Rex’s office, crying, all heads were turned to me, and all noise had ceased.

  Then, everyone’s eyes turned to Wyatt as he left Caldell without saying goodbye to anyone.

  Then, Priscilla helped me unpack the things I had already packed, and now I’m just sitting here while everyone pretends like this is a normal fucking day. I stand up from my desk a few minutes later and walk toward the front desk. Priscilla looks up at me, her whitish-blondish hair a little unkempt today, no doubt from the stressful orders she’s been receiving and un-receiving over the last few hours.

  “Priscilla?” I ask.

  She looks up from her computer over the rim of her glasses.

  “Yes, dear?”

  “Is Wyatt gone because of me?” I ask her straight up. She swallows and looks around, making sure that none of the higher-ups are within listening distance.

  “Not because of you,” she says in a hushed tone. “But he is gone. He resigned today.”

  I swallow.

  He resigned, and then I was told I got to keep my job.

  He resigned so that I wouldn’t be fired.

  He’s taking the heat for me.

  I nod slowly and go back to my desk, somehow feeling worse than I did an hour ago when I discovered I had unknowingly signed documents to be used to fund a drug operation. Ha. I should throw that on my resume.

  I pack up my bag and throw it over my shoulder, heading for the doors a few minutes early. Yet, after the day I’ve had, no one seems to care.

  I should really call someone—my parents, my friends—but the only person I want to talk to is him.

  I wave for a cab and give them his building address. And then I sit in silence in the backseat, staring out my window, not knowing if this is the right move or the absolute most wrong. All I know is, I need to see him.

  I take a deep breath outside as I stare up at his window then force myself through the big doors. I press the elevator button gently, like I’m not confident that I should be pressing it at all. When the doors open and I walk down the hall to his door, I feel my stomach swarm with butterflies, my hands clammy, my breathing rushed. I knock lightly three times. It takes him a moment, but then he’s there, pulling the door open slowly, peering down at me with those big green eyes that make me lose my fucking mind.

  “Hi,” I say sheepishly, internally panicking because I’m not quite sure why I’m here, now that I’m…well…here.

  “Hi,” he says, leaning his arm up against the door over his head. He’s wearing baggy sweats and a t-shirt, and I want to rip them off.

  “I wanted to check on you,” I say with a shrug. He nods and opens the door wider to let me in.

  He closes the door slowly and welcomes me into the apartment.

  “Well, thanks,” he says, shrugging and stuffing his hands in his pockets. We stare at each other for a moment, then both of our eyes fall to the ground, both of us not knowing what to say. I look up at him again, soaking in how he looks, soaking in what he did for me today, and I’m overcome by this urge. I picture myself running to him, throwing myself on him...wait, no, I’m actually doing those things.

  I jump up and wrap my arms around his neck, burying my face in his shoulder. I feel his thick arms curve up, wrapping around my back and lifting some of my weight. We stand still for a moment, just holding each other, and I haven’t felt this good in weeks.

  “I can’t believe you did that for me,” I whisper, not wanting to be in his line of view as I say it. He sets me down slowly then tilts my chin up with his finger.

  “You did nothing wrong,” he says, “and you shouldn’t have had to take the blame for it.”

  I feel tears prickling at my eyes again, because I feel so many things. Gratefulness toward him. Sadness that I won’t see him every day. Anger with Nate. Love for the beautiful man in front of me.

  “Neither did you, Wyatt,” I say, realizing that my hands are still entwined around his neck.

  He realizes it at the same time I do, because he reaches up and slowly unhooks them.

  “What will you do now?” I ask. He shrugs and smiles, walking around behind the breakfast bar to put something away.

  “I’ll figure it out,” he says. “Not sure I’ll be able to find anything right away until this all blows over.”

  Oof. This hits home.

  “Wyatt, I…”

  He looks up at me and smiles, and I feel a tingle all over.

  “Hey,” he says. “Don’t. I’m okay. I’ll be okay. Just keep your head on right and keep working. You’re doing a great job. They’re going to move you out from under him. You’ll get a small promotion. Not sure who your new manager will be, but no doubt it will be someone better. Just keep working. And keep your eyes peeled for another opportunity and another company. You deserve better.”

  I swallow and nod. I want nothing more right now than to grab him again, hold on to him, let him feel how much what he’s done means to me. I can feel him trying to fix our past, trying to mend old wounds by stopping these new ones before they form. But what he doesn’t get is that he is an old wound for me. One I’m not sure I want to heal if it means I can’t have him.

  I walk slowly around the breakfast counter and look down at his hands, pulling a few things out of grocery bags. I set my hand on top of his busy one, and he looks down at me again.

  I’m looking for words. Something to tell him, something to build him up, like I did for Dad while he was going through everything. Things I told myself that I wasn’t quite sure if I believed. But nothing’s there. So I push myself against him and pull his lips to mine. He steps back for a moment, breaking us apart, and I swallow. I’m breaking the rules that I set for us.

  But he looks down at me then wraps his finge
rs through my hair and pulls me into him again. I lock my arms around his neck and let my lips do all the talking for me. I kiss him hard, my tongue on his, pulling him into me as close as possible. He bends down and lifts me onto his kitchen counter, sitting me in front of him.

  He gently tugs my hair back so that my head tilts up to him, and he pauses for a minute to look into my eyes. His eyes are searching my face, no doubt for the answers I’m not able to give him, then he kneels down to kiss me again. He cups my face in his hands, stopping every now and then just to look at me, and I can’t remember a time when I’ve felt this close to someone.

  He tilts my head back further then kisses my neck, and I feel a tingle zip through my body and park itself right between my legs. I moan and scoot myself closer to the edge of the counter so that I can wrap my legs around his waist.

  As I grind myself onto him, he pulls away, his eyes widening. He looks down at me, his eyes hooded.

  “Maryn…” he says, but I reach up and take his bottom lip in my teeth.

  “Shh,” I say when I let go. “Not tonight. Just let me have you.”

  His eyes are moving frantically between mine, and then he makes his decision. He slides his hands down my body and under my ass, picking me up and letting me wrap my whole body around his. He carries me into his bedroom and kicks the door shut behind us.

  He takes a detour before we get to his bed, and he pushes me up against the wall. I squeeze my legs around him, feeling how hard he is and letting it drive me wild. He pulls my hair back and kisses my neck more, and I lean my head back against the wall, not sure I can support my own movements anymore.

  I slide my hands down and tug his shirt off, throwing it to the ground. Then, I hold my arms above my head and let him do the same. He lets his fingers slide around my back and unclasp my bra, and I shiver as it slides down off of me. He moans as he takes my breasts in, sucking and nipping at them until I feel a pool between my legs.

  He carries me to the bed and lays me back gently, sliding back down my body to pull my pants down. The anticipation is enough to make me explode in place, but I don’t. I know what’s waiting for me, and damn, I know it’s worth waiting for. He pushes himself back then slides his sweats and boxers down and steps out of them.

  There’s something about seeing him completely naked that’s dumbfounding to me no matter how many times I see it. It’s like seeing him at his most glorious and his most vulnerable all at the same time, and it does inexplicable things to me.

  I buck my hips in his direction, letting him know, letting him see how badly I need him. His eyes narrow at me, and he stalks toward me. I’m reaching up for him, and as soon as I can grab a hold of him, I pull him down to me. He rests on his elbows above me and strokes the side of my head with his thumb for a moment as he peers down at me.

  “Maryn,” he whispers.

  “Hmm?”

  “I’d go down for you a million times,” he whispers. I close my eyes as his lips close in on mine, letting his words and kisses wash over me. God, I’d go down for him again, too. Any time, any where. His words lie above us in the air that’s thick with our breaths, because I know what he’s saying. And it’s a hell of a lot more than what he’s saying out loud.

  He moves his hips back and parts me with his core-rattling size.

  “Jesus, Wyatt,” I moan, digging my nails into his brown skin. He’s groaning above me, moving in and out of me in tantalizing, tortuous motions. But as he’s thrusting in and out of me, I feel myself getting too close, too fast. I push back on him, and he pauses for a moment to make sure I’m okay. I grab his arms and swing him around, pressing him down onto the bed. I straddle him and slide onto him, and I watch as his eyes roll back into his head as he rests his hands on my hips. I move back and forth on top of him, and he slides a hand over to stroke his thumb over me while we ride together.

  “Wyatt,” I try to say, but the breath is stolen from me the second I open my mouth. I arch my back and throw my head back, clenching myself on top of him and watching as he starts to go wild beneath me. He pushes himself up into a sitting position and wraps one of his hands around my head, pulling my lips to his feverishly.

  He scoots us to the end of the bed slowly and gently, him still inside of me, then stands up, and I’m impressed by his strength. He lays me back down gently, his eyes pouring into mine as he moves in and out of me again, faster, harder, clutching onto me as he does.

  As he’s moving, he pauses for a minute, and I look up at him.

  “What is it?” I ask. He smiles and kisses my calf that’s now perched on his shoulder.

  “Just thinking,” he says between kisses, “it would make this easier tomorrow if you hated me again.”

  I smile back at him, and I feel those tears pierce my eyes again. I reach up and pull him down to me for one last kiss.

  “Never,” I whisper then throw myself back on the bed to let him finish taking every piece of me that’s left. He holds my hips in the air, and the angle drives me to come faster than I expect. I call out his name one more time as he lowers himself down on me again, letting himself empty everything into me. He slides out of me and collapses next to me then slinks his hands around my arms and pulls me up onto his chest.

  After a few minutes, we clean up then make our way back to his bed. I bend to reach for my shirt, but he steps on it. I look up at him.

  “Not yet,” he whispers, bending down to kiss me gently as he takes my hand and pulls me to his bed. He holds the sheet up, letting me slip in next to him, then pulls it down on top of both of us.

  I feel his arms wrap around me as we look out over the city. His face is buried in my hair, and I tighten my grasp on him. We lie in silence for a while, and I think he’s asleep, but then he stirs.

  “You have to leave soon, huh?” he asks. I close my eyes and swallow back the fear of reality I’ve been battling since we got back in bed.

  I nod slowly.

  “Yeah, I should.” I’m not sure how to fix this. Because with him, there’s a hole in my family. There’s a hole in our unit. But without him, there’s a hole in me that gets bigger every time I Ieave. I feel his arms loosen around me in defeat. I turn to face him, tracing his lips with my thumb, kissing his forehead. “But not yet. I want to be yours a little while longer.”

  He closes his eyes and pulls me in close to him.

  “Maryn,” he whispers, “you can be mine always.”

  I blink, and a tear rolls down my cheek, landing on his chest.

  26

  May 2015 - Maryn

  Dad lunges forward toward the remote to turn it up. Mom sits on the arm of his chair, and Tucker sits on the couch. I stand in the background.

  I’m watching my dad, his eyes glued to the television. He’s hanging on every word, every silent moment before the police chief takes his stand at the podium for the press conference.

  The words “Breaking: Found Body Possible Tilden Girl” keep streaking across the screen in bright red.

  The captain makes his way out of the glass door to the precinct, clears his throat, and repositions the microphone.

  “Ladies and gentleman, thank you for being here this afternoon,” he says. Captain Franks is a tall man with a bit of a pot belly. He’s been the Tilden police chief since before I was born. “At approximately 6:30 this morning, Tilden police received a call from Meinhart police regarding a body of an adolescent teenage female discovered in Sheldon Park in Meinhart, 30 miles outside of Tilden lines. The body was discovered in the woods near the jogging path toward the west end of the park. It was transported back to the Tilden station this morning for an autopsy and family identification.

  “After testing and a positive I.D., it was concluded that the body discovered was that of Willa Mills, the Tilden resident who went missing in February of this year.”

  Mom gasps, and Dad brings a hand to his mouth, staring at the screen. I watch as tears form in his eyes, and I feel them doing the same in mine. I’m crying for Willa, and
I’m crying for my dad. Because after all he’s had to go through over the past few months, he’s also dealing with loss. His career made him a man who cares deeply for the students he taught, and now he’s suffering through the loss of one—the definitive, infinite loss.

  “Her poor parents,” Mom says, squeezing Dad’s hand. “I can’t even imagine.”

  Tucker turns to us.

  “And her brother.”

  Mom and Dad pause for a moment then nod.

  “The whole family,” Dad agrees then stands up from his chair and makes his way up to his study and gently closes the door.

  Captain Franks is still talking on the television.

  “Further testing will be conducted as we do believe there is some DNA evidence present on the body that might bring us to further leads. We will report on that as we have more information. No questions, please. Thank you.”

  Mom shakes her head and turns the television off, letting us all sit in silence.

  The next few days in school are weird. People are crying in the halls. It’s depressing as hell, but the fact that someone killed her—and we still don’t know who that someone is—is a bit jarring, too. In homeroom, we get a letter to be brought home to our parents that mentions extra counselors should any of the student body need extra support. Then, details of Willa’s funeral arrangements were handed out.

  When I get home from school, Dad’s making a salad in the kitchen. I walk up behind him and wrap my arms around him, resting my head on his back. He stops pulling the lettuce apart and puts his hands on mine.

  “Hey, kid,” he says.

  “Hi,” I say, pushing the handout on the counter in front of him. “They gave this out today at school. I wasn’t sure if you’d want to go, but I know Willa meant a lot to you.”

  Dad stares down at the paper, nodding his head slowly.