by K. L. Savage
Well, she is shy. I need to remember that about her. She gets braver as the months pass, and I’m so proud to see how she has grown. She has no idea how strong she is, especially when someone she cares about is threatened.
Her hair was down, but now the brown locks are plopped on top of her head in a messy bun, her cheeks are wet, and her eyes are swollen.
I can’t look away from the pain I’ve caused. It’s devastating. I deserve to see the anguish I’ve caused Melissa. Looking away is taking an easy way out; I have to face what I’ve done.
“I’m sorry about Holly,” she says, staring at the floor so she doesn’t look at me. “I can’t be her, Poodle.” Her eyes swing to me, acting as a pendulum since she can’t decide if she wants to look left to the floor or right toward me. “I won’t be a replacement.” Her arms cross over her body, hiding her insecurities.
“I never want that. You aren’t a replacement. Never. You’re my sunflower. A bright bloom on the permanent darkness that marks me.”
“You’re cheesy.” She glances away so I don’t catch her hiding a smile, but I see it. Her cheeks plump, and her eyes crease from the small twitch of her swollen, red mouth.
I’m addicted to that mouth, and I can’t wait to have those lips again.
And I’m going to consider that a win.
“I can borrow more comfortable clothes, and then we can talk? I want to know more about Holly. I feel pretty insecure right now, cut open, and I don’t want to be near you, but I want to listen to you. Don’t touch me, okay?” I could go back to my room and change, but I’m afraid if I leave I won’t get the answers I need to understand Poodle completely. The chance to get to know this side of him is an opportunity I can’t let slip between my fingers.
“Whatever you want, I’ll do it.” I push myself off the bed, and on instinct I reach for her, but she flinches away. I have to earn that. The wood grinds as I tug the old wobbly drawers out of the dresser, and the fresh scent of cotton linen hits me in the face. I take out a black shirt, Kings Garage written in red above the left breast pocket. It’s soft from being worn and washed so much. Out of all my shirts, it’s my favorite.
“Here.” I hand it over by stretching out my arm, and her hands slowly take it from me, her fingers brushing against mine quickly, almost as if it didn’t happen, but the surge of electricity between us is hard to miss and even harder to ignore.
“Thanks,” she mumbles and scurries into the bathroom again. I like that she wants privacy, even after what we did. Seeing her body naked is a privilege that’s earned with trust and love, and I have neither of those things right now.
A minute or so later, she comes back out and shuts off the light in the bathroom that has an orange hue, making the natural auburn highlights in her hair seem red. She closes the bathroom door behind her and lays her tank top and bra on top of my nightstand. My cock stirs knowing that beautiful fucking tits are under my shirt, bare and waiting for my attention.
She looks like she’s wearing nothing since the shirt falls to her knees, engulfing her tiny frame. I’ve never seen my clothes look better. How am I supposed to concentrate when she’s irresistible wearing nearly nothing?
Melissa jerks the comforter back and climbs into bed, bringing the blanket to her lap to cover the smooth skin of her legs. I get a glimpse of her inner thigh since the shirt inched up and right as it’s getting good, it’s gone.
“So talk,” she snips. It’s obvious she’s still pissed off since her patience is short with me. “I don’t have all day, Poodle.” Melissa crosses her arms over her chest, and Lady jumps on the bed and curls up next to her. I go to pet Lady, but she turns her snout up at me.
Great. She’s turned against me too. The women in my life have banded together to be mad at me.
Understandably. If I were a woman and this were happening to me, I’d be furious too.
I sit at the bottom of the bed, away from her and not touching her, even if I really want to. I rub my hands over my face then scratch a spot under my chin. I’m not sure how to begin. Explaining Holly is difficult. I’ve never had to do it before. Sometimes I wonder if Holly even happened at all because it feels so long ago.
“If we’re just going to sit in silence—”
“Just give me a second to get my thoughts together, please. I don’t talk about her. Ever, to anyone, okay? I don’t talk about them.”
“Them? More than Holly? Were you in like a polyamorous relationship? Are you wanting to get back together with the other party involved?” I’m might be a little—okay, very—hysterical and thinking outside the box, but it’s the first thing that comes to my mind.
“What? No, that’s not it at all.” I play with the key around my neck, where all my secrets are buried, and cut my eyes to Melissa. She’s staring at me, but it isn’t with the same expression as usual, with love and desire. She’s closed herself off from me.
I scoot up on the bed and place my back against the wall as I take a deep breath. I hate talking about this. “I knew Holly all my life, but we started dating when we were thirteen. I just knew she was the love of my life. Everyone thought it was puppy love, kid stuff, the kind of thing that wouldn’t last, but I knew better. Well, when we turned sixteen, we had sex, a lot, and we weren’t smart. She got pregnant.” I smile when I remember those nine months. Holly was miserable. The morning sickness had been terrible for her. “Our families weren’t supportive. Our parents kicked us out. I dropped out of school and got a job at a paper plant and worked my ass off. I got us a piece of crap trailer, but we were saving for a house or an apartment. I made good money, had benefits; it just took time to figure finances out, especially with a newborn and being seventeen.”
It was so stressful, but what I would give to have it all again.
I’d give my life. I’d sell my soul.
I wouldn’t turn back the hands of time, though. It’s the one thing I won’t do because time brought Melissa. I hear that time heals all wounds, but I think time brings someone to heal the remainder of the pain. And that’s Melissa.
My healer.
The person who resets the clock and makes me realize that this life is worth all the bad to get that feeling of good.
14
POODLE
“What happened?” Melissa’s voice comes closer, and the bed squeaks as she crawls over to me. She takes my hand and holds on tight. Her touch is comforting, grounding, and it’s all too much. The pesky emotion rears its ugly head in my chest, and I press the heels of my hands against my eyes to stop the burn.
I clear my throat and blow out haunted, depressed air. “I worked late every night. I never got home before ten. When I pulled into the house everything was fine, until I saw that the door was cracked. It was never left open. She was good about keeping it locked, you know?”
“I’m sure she was,” Melissa says, stroking her fingers up and down my arm.
“I stepped inside and everything was eerily quiet, the sound of nightmares. The baby wasn’t crying. Holly wasn’t in the kitchen. I knew something was wrong. I felt it.” I hold a hand over my heart and rub it when the memories cause my pulse to rise. “I ran into the bedroom and there she was.” The tears flow freely. I can’t stop them. Not when I’m baring my soul to a woman who has opened it again. “She was dead, laying on the bed, and there was so much fucking blood.” I stare at my hands and flip them over, expecting to see the red staining my hands. “Someone stabbed her repeatedly. Her body was cold. I just held her.” A sob breaks free from my throat, and I try and swallow it, try to stop the pain creating havoc and strife. “Ellie was gone too. Someone had taken my daughter. Someone had taken everything from me.”
“Oh God, James, I’m so sorry,” Melissa launches herself at me and wraps her arms around my neck. “I’m so sorry that happened to you. You never found her?” Melissa keeps her arms around my neck and leans back to look at me. “Your daughter?” Her eyes drift between my eyes when they start to well again.
I shak
e my head and wipe my eyes. I haven’t cried in a decade. I can’t believe I’m breaking now. “No. I’ve searched and searched. I’ve—” I almost say I’ve killed, giving away my deepest, darkest secret. “I haven’t stopped searching. It’s become an obsession.”
“I had no idea you were a father,” she whispers.
“I’m not,” I say with sickening realization. “I’m not anymore. I haven’t been in a long time.”
“You’ll always be a father.” She cups my cheek and wipes the tears away. “Searching for her like you have, that’s what a father would do, James. You’re still a father.”
I nod when another wave of blasted sadness hits me. “I miss her. I miss them.”
“I know you do,” she says, placing a kiss on my forehead. “I can’t imagine what you went through, what you’re going through. The pain isn’t something that ends.”
“It has to. It’s starting to affect my life. Maybe it’s time to let go and move on.” I wrap my arm around her waist and lean against her cheek. “You aren’t Holly, Melissa. I know that. I’m so sorry, and I know it will take time to prove that. I have no good reason. I let a part of her go at the wrong time, but I’ve never been in a situation like this. I’ve never had to let go before,” I say, being as open and transparent as possible.
“James,” she says my name as she runs her fingers down my chest. She isn’t touching me sexually; it’s more tentative and explorative. “Do you feel that your daughter is dead, like Holly?”
“No,” I say right away, without a doubt, without hesitation. “I don’t know if that’s hope or I’ve brainwashed myself into thinking she’s out there somewhere, when she probably isn’t. She’s dead. I need to accept it.” I lift my gaze to the ceiling and count the dots of the popcorn ceiling. It’s the last thing I’ve ever wanted to do, accept the fact that Ellie is dead. I only had four months with her, but they were the best four months of my life. I’ve let those memories control me because I let the worst thing imaginable happen to her.
I won’t ever let it happen again,
“No,” Melissa says, and the one word has me peering into those eyes that remind me of heaven.
“No? What do you mean, no?”
“If you feel that she is alive, you have to keep looking. You can’t give up now. She needs you.”
“Why?” I ask. “She has another family now; if she is alive, she has another father. She doesn’t remember me anymore. I’m nothing to her. She’s never wondered about me like I’ve wondered about her. Face it, if I ever found her, what would I do? Take her from the only family she’s ever known?”
“What if she isn’t experiencing a family? What if her life is worse than you think?” Melissa asks about the one situation I’ve been trying to avoid because my little girl can’t be in a life full of hate and abuse … she can’t be. The world can’t be that cruel to me, to her, and her mother. “Don’t give up on her. I’ll help you find her. I’ll do whatever I can to help. Do you … do you have a picture?”
My hand caresses her arm, trailing up to her elbow, and I hold on to the fragile bone and yank her forward, touching her like she asked me not to. I let her touch me because she was bringing me comfort, but me touching her? That’s a different story. “You’d help me? Why?” I ask, wanting nothing more than to kiss her when her nose brushes against my chin.
Melissa lifts her head and exhales, then she crawls in my lap and lays her head on my shoulder. I wrap my arms around her, the wounds stinging and sending jolts of pain down my arms and chest, but it isn’t enough for me to push her away.
Nothing can push me away from Melissa.
“I want to help you because if that little girl is alive, she needs her dad, her real dad. If the person who has her killed her mom, then I don’t think she’s living a luxurious life. You aren’t alone. You have me and the club. Why don’t you embrace us?”
Because the last things I truly embraced were taken from me. Part of me believes that whatever I touch gets the curse of death. People are better off without me.
I’m not better off.
I need people. It’s why I’m here, surrounded by the club because even though I keep people at arm’s length, they don’t do the same to me. They let me get close to them, and that’s essential to me.
The club. The people I should have told. I’m afraid when the truth comes out it will be too late to ask for their help.
“For a long time I thought I was better off on my own. This is my mess, you know? It’s my problem. We have good women here at the club now, and if my actions were to threaten this place, my home, and something happens to my family, I couldn’t live with myself. Not for a second time.”
She sighs, and the breath escaping her nose breezes across my chest. It feels so good to have her close to me, for her body to be against mine. I never want to let her go. She’s my second chance, a way to leave the past behind, and the power to change my future.
The thought of moving on scares me. I know it isn’t happening too fast because it’s been too fucking long for me to accept my reality, but it doesn’t mean it makes it easy. I kiss the top of her head and inhale.
Another piece of my past lets go, and the memory of Holly isn’t so burdensome. Now that I think about it, I can’t remember what she looks like. I see flashes of her blonde hair, but I can’t remember what it looks like without being matted with blood. There are her eyes, but they are clouded with death; I can’t remember the color.
I’m forgetting her.
Christ, I’m fucking forgetting her.
“What is it?”
“I just tried to remember Holly, and the memories are there, but I can’t see her face. I … I’ve forgotten what she looks like. It’s odd, that’s all. All these years I’ve been trying to find out more information on her killer when I should have made sure I could never forget her.” I have pictures of her and Ellie inside the chest, but I never look at them. I’m afraid any progress I’ve made will vanish, and I’ll start at square one.
“You think you’ve forgotten her? James, you’ve remembered the most important parts. Everything that matters you already know. I’ll tell you one thing—I wish I had a father like you, then maybe I wouldn’t have turned out the way I did.”
I’m not sure if I believe her. All details are important, but I’m not going to get mad or upset about it. If I want to be truthful with myself, I’ve been forgetting. The curve of her jaw, her smile, the arch of her brows; all the features that make a person has slowly disappeared over the years because my mind is telling me it’s moved on. I don’t have it in me to be angry anymore. I’ve been dealing with the turmoil for far too long for me to fly off the handle.
“Tell me more about you.” I’m sick of talking about my life and my past. I need to give it a rest. If I keep dwelling, I’ll push Melissa away again, and it’s the last thing I want. Swinging my legs over the bed, my hands keep a tight grip of her ass, and I blindly walk toward the bathroom.
“There’s nothing to know. I’m boring.”
“I don’t believe that for one minute,” I say. “There isn’t a damn thing boring about you, sunflower. Not a damn thing.”
“Why do you call me that?”
I look into her eyes and see the yellow and golden hues surrounded by a thick black band. Her pupil is small and bold, and I swear if it was dark, I’d be able to see them. “Your eyes. I love them. They remind me of sunflowers in a field, reaching for the heat of the sun.” Reaching for me. “They are beautiful, which isn’t surprising because they are part of you.”
Her cheeks are bright red as she glances everywhere else but me. So shy. “That’s very nice of you to say,” she whispers. “Thank you.”
“Just telling the truth.” I bend over, keeping her pressed against my chest as I turn on the bath water.
“What are you doing?” she yelps, holding onto my neck a little too tight. Her nails dig into my skin, but instead of pain, all I feel is pleasure. I want her to rake her nails
down my back until I can’t take it anymore.
“I’m relaxing. What are you doing?”
She worries her bottom lip between her teeth, and I tug it free by sucking it into my mouth and letting it go softly. “That isn’t relaxing. When you do that, it only makes me wish I was biting your lip.”
“Oh,” she whispers, her round lips making the perfect O that I want engulfing my cock one day.
First, I have to close a chapter in my book. I have to know if my daughter is dead. I hope Melissa can be patient with me for a little while longer while I search this new lead. Reaper has a right to know now since the Sniper Serpents are in his territory, but I can hold off until I find answers then I can tell him.
“Oh, is right.” I tug off the shirt she just put on, and her big tits are exposed, bouncing slightly from the jostle.
Maybe a bath isn’t a good idea because I want her.
I really need to start thinking things.
15
MELISSA
If someone would have told me yesterday that I would be taking a bath with Poodle, I would have balked, not laughed, because the thought of he and I together is far from funny. It’s everything I’ve ever dreamed about.
His cock presses against my back, long and hard, but I’m not ready to go there with him again, not yet. Part of me still doesn’t believe that he didn’t call me Holly. It hurts. I shouldn’t even be in this tub with him, but I can’t stay away. He’s a strong current in an ocean, whisking me away until I’m so far out, I’ll never be able to swim to shore. I’ll be lost to his sea. A victim to his expanse.
He brings the loofah up and slides it over my chest, and the scent of pine creates a capsule around us. With every move of his defined arm, water sloshes over the tub and splashes against the floor. He filled the simple white porcelain tub to the rim, and with our bodies not made to fit in this one-person basin, I’m afraid we may just flood the place.