The Fisherman Series : Special Edition

by Jewel E. Ann

  “So I cut her bangs. And she came back the following week for a full cut. Then she scheduled a highlight. Then she just showed up one day with a plate of cookies. That led to lunch. Then meeting at the same coffee shop every morning for coffee. A movie here. A concert there. We became friends. She was married and so was I. And I remember the day I was going to say something to her, confront the elephant in the room. I’d worked it out in my head a million times. Maybe I didn’t know what it would mean for my family or her marriage, but I knew even if it didn’t change any of that, it would change me on a cellular level. I knew it would be the most honest moment of my life.”

  I didn’t care. I told myself I didn’t care. She lied to Dad. She lied to me. It felt unforgivable, yet I found myself asking her, “What happened?”

  Rory glanced up at me. “Well, she had something to say to me that day too. And from the pain in her expression, I thought it was the something I wanted to tell her. The ‘I love you, but I don’t think we can be together, but I just need to tell you.’ I knew … I just knew that’s what I saw in her eyes. But it wasn’t, not that day. No. She needed to tell me she had stage three colon cancer, and her husband was leaving her because he didn’t have the strength to watch her die. She needed someone to take her to treatments and doctor appointments.”

  I don’t care. I don’t care.

  “And you did?”

  She nodded. “I did. Then I drove her here, to Colorado, right after they legalized marijuana. It helped her a lot.” Rory’s lips turned into a sad smile as she averted her gaze. “It helped me a lot. It made dealing with my reality a little less stressful, dealing with the possibility of losing Rose a little less painful. Then one day Rose decided to grow her own, in the very illegal state of Nebraska, but she didn’t have a great place to do it. So I suggested we use the back room of my salon. No one besides me ever went back there. For years all that had been back there were some old chairs, cracked sinks, and expired products. A few tables and grow lamps and we were growing our own marijuana. No more tiring trips to Colorado. No more paying for something we grew on our own for pennies.”

  She chuckled, running a hand through her wet hair. “It was stupid. Most things people do in the name of love are stupid. I never thought about getting caught. I was too busy worrying about Rose. Besides … who would ever think to look in the back of my salon? I was a mom with a child and husband. We went to church every weekend, never cheated on our taxes. I hadn’t ever received as much as a parking ticket in my life.”

  “Dad said it was a break-in.”

  Rory nodded. “Yes, in the middle of the night, someone broke into my salon. The security alarms went off and whoever broke in didn’t stick around. But the cops came and that’s how my world shattered. I lost your dad. My freedom. Five years with you. And according to her doctors, it was unlikely Rose would make it to see me get out of prison. But she did. She made a full recovery.”

  “And Dad? How did he find out about the two of you?”

  “We talked before the trial. He didn’t understand why I would grow marijuana for a friend, a friend I’d met through my salon. Why would I risk so much? And he kept digging and digging until I cracked. I told him I did it because I was in love with Rose.”

  “You loved her more than you loved me.”

  Rory shook her head over and over. “No. I have never nor will I ever love anyone the way I love you.”

  “Yet, you chose to do something that took you away from me.”

  Her head continued to shake as she squeezed her eyes shut. “I … I wasn’t for one minute thinking I would get caught. I wasn’t thinking that someone would break into my shop and therefore bring the police right to me.”

  “Well it happened. So do you regret it?”

  Rory hesitated. That was my answer.

  “I’ll sleep at the airport.” I stomped past her.

  “Wait! No! Just …” She grabbed my arm, her hand sliding down to my wrist as she inched her body to hunch in front of me, head hanging low. “Yes …” Her voice broke.

  I didn’t want to cry for her. She didn’t deserve my tears. Rory destroyed our family. She destroyed us.

  “Yes …” She sobbed. “I regret the st-stupidity and r-recklessness. I regret risking s-so much when you were … are my w-world. I’m so very sorry.”

  Her honesty and apology meant something, but I wasn’t sure what. I needed time to think. After believing one thing for five years, I wasn’t able to erase my thoughts and feelings to embrace her version of the story. Not yet.

  “I’ll be back Sunday, but I don’t know if I’ll stay here. I just … don’t know.” I pulled away as she continued to sob.

  I arrived in Houston by noon on Saturday. My grandparents took me to lunch. I put on a brave face and gushed about how much fun I’d been having in Colorado. An interesting mix of truths and lies.

  On the way back to their house after we left the restaurant, I got a text from Fisher.

  If you’re not dead, text Rory and tell her you made it safely to Houston. Don’t be a total asshole about it.

  I read the text three times to verify what I was seeing on my screen. Fisher was calling me an asshole, or at least a partial one since he insinuated not texting Rory would make me a “total asshole.”

  Like the impure and sinful thoughts that often made their way into my head, but were never allowed to leave my head, I typed my knee-jerk response knowing I would never actually send it. Sending it would be equivalent to saying it, and I would never say this to anyone, not even Fisher.

  Reese: Go fuck yourself!

  I smiled at the screen, allowing myself to enjoy my bravery for just a few seconds before deleting it and responding with a WWJD attitude.

  “Stay in your lane!” Grandpa honked the horn as he quickly swerved, moving my thumb just enough to send the text.

  It sent.

  “Oh my gosh,” I whispered.

  “You okay, honey?” Grandma looked over her shoulder at me.

  On a thick swallow, I nodded slowly, but I wasn’t okay. I was horrified.

  My phone vibrated with a new text from Fisher.

  I’ll let her know you’re not dead.

  I was in a quandary. Reply? Tell him it was a mistake? Autocorrect? Would my autocorrect default to go fuck yourself?

  I didn’t text him back.

  Instead, I focused on my grandparents, got ready for the party, fielded a million questions at the party about my summer in Colorado, and made it to bed just after ten.

  The next morning, we attended church service and fellowship dinner. More questions. More fake smiles and half-truths.

  On the way to the airport that afternoon, I picked my grandma’s brain.

  “I work with someone who is gay. She’s so nice and so is her girlfriend. Do you think that’s wrong?”

  “Of course it’s wrong, Therese. The Bible says unnatural desire is an abomination punishable by eternal fire. You know this.”

  I nodded once while twisting my lips.

  “You should pray for her.”

  “Yeah,” I whispered. “Do you think it’s worse than any other sexual immorality?”

  “It’s not my job to judge that, but I know your friend will not be welcomed in Heaven if she doesn’t stop her actions and accept Christ as her savior.”

  “Well …” I bit my thumbnail. “Saying that sounds like you are in fact judging her.”

  “No. I’m simply stating what the Bible says. I tell you, I don’t envy your generation. This LGB etcetera etcetera stuff has gotten way out of hand. I don’t understand why everyone feels the need to stand out.”

  “I’m uh … I’m not sure it’s about standing out. What if it’s just about fitting in? What if they just want to be themselves without being seen as different or inferior or less worthy? I’m just … thinking aloud.”

  “I’m worried your friend is brainwashing you. Honestly, I worried that your time in Colorado would be difficult on you. I really h
ope you’re not skipping church. I hope you’re spending time in God’s word every day.”

  Looking out the window, I murmured, “Yeah, I am.”

  After landing in Denver, I took my time getting my car and making my way home. To my disappointment, Fisher and Rory were on his front porch, drinking beer and it was nearly dark.

  Rory gave me a reserved smile as I wheeled my carry-on suitcase up the driveway. “Hey, how was your trip?”

  “It was just overnight, barely a trip, but it was fine.”

  “Did they have a nice anniversary party?”

  I nodded.

  Things were so awkward. After leaving Rory in tears, with the uncertainty as to whether or not I’d ever forgive her, and sending Fisher a F-you text, I wasn’t sure what to say.

  “I’m going to go unpack and do a load of laundry.”

  “Need help?” Rory asked.

  “I’m good.”

  “Have you had dinner?”

  I shook my head. “I’m not hungry.”

  “Rose and I are going for pizza. We’d love for you to come too.”

  My head continued to shake. “I’m not hungry. Enjoy your pizza,” I said, my voice void of all emotion as I turned and started to head toward the basement. After a few steps, I turned back toward Rory. “I don’t know how God feels about you and Rose.” I shrugged. “I just know that I’ve felt lost for the past five years. The lie didn’t protect me. And my reaction the other night wasn’t really to Rose … or you and Rose. I know this because I’ve had time to sort through my feelings. It wasn’t Dad. It wasn’t even your arrest that destroyed our family; the fact that you tried to live the wrong life … that’s what destroyed us. And it might take me awhile to come to terms with everything, but I can imagine it must have been painful to find the right person at the worst possible time.” I kept my attention laser focused on Rory. Had I given Fisher the quickest of glances, I would have lost it.

  Rory returned a smile. It was a little sad and a little relieved. “Thank you.” Tears shined in her eyes.

  After I unpacked and tossed in a load of laundry, I grabbed one of Rory’s beers from the fridge and took a seat on the porch, music flowing from my phone and my gaze on the sun setting behind the mountains.

  “I fucked myself.”

  I didn’t want to grin as Fisher stood at the door to the porch, but I couldn’t help it. I took a swig of the beer to hide my grin.

  “I’m pretty good.” He stepped onto the porch and sat in the rocker where Rory usually sat.

  “I don’t doubt that.” I rubbed my lips together. “But what do I know? I’m just an asshole.”

  Fisher eyed the beer in my hand, but he didn’t say anything about it. “Rory grilled me on what I said to you while she was gone. Thanks for that.”

  I nodded. “You’re welcome.” After a long pause of silence, I caved. “What did you tell her?”

  “I told her I used a lot of swear words around you.”

  “And she believed you?”

  He lifted a shoulder. “I don’t know. I guess so.”

  I took another big swig of beer, praying for a little buzz to soothe my nerves.

  “What are you going to do, Reese? Move back to Texas because your mom is going to Hell?”

  “I don’t know, Fisher. Would that make me a total asshole?”

  “Probably.”

  I rolled my eyes and refocused on the view. “Well, you would know what it’s like to be a total asshole.”

  “Why? Because I wouldn’t fuck you?”

  “Well, from what I hear, I’m the only single female in a twenty-mile radius you haven’t put your dick into. That makes me a unicorn. Maybe that makes me the one woman you can’t have.”

  He stood and took two steps in my direction, snagging the bottle of beer from my hand and drinking the rest of it in one shot. “If I wanted you, I could have you, and we both know it.”

  “No.” I shook my head. “You can’t have me. Not now. Not ever. I don’t want you anymore.”

  “You do.” He handed the empty bottle back to me.

  “I don’t!” I stood, chin up, shoulders back, teeth clenched.

  With a smug expression, he eyed me like he used to do, but I didn’t fall for it. “It’s almost too easy.”

  “What’s too—”

  He kissed me. Hard. Harder than he had ever kissed me. And I fought him, but I lost because I did want him to kiss me. It’s all I wanted. But it didn’t mean I was going to give myself to him. No matter how much I wanted his kiss, it didn’t change what had happened between us.

  My hand dropping the empty bottle to the floor so my fingers could dive into his hair didn’t change anything either.

  His hands grabbed my ass and lifted me off my feet. Fisher kissed me and carried me up the stairs like a drunk man on a mission.

  Through the door.

  Down the hallway.

  Onto his bed.

  His demanding mouth made it impossible to protest, not that I had one ready to go, not yet. We’d been there before, done that. It wasn’t sex. I was still in control.

  He discarded my shirt. I still had control.

  When he ripped down the cups to my bra and did things to my breasts that made me moan and claw at his back, I still had control. I could play his game.

  Fisher sat up, kneeling between my spread legs, eyes hooded, lips parted as he unbuttoned my jeans and peeled them from my legs.

  I … I had control.

  He kissed his way down one leg, pressing his lips to the inside of my thigh as his finger slipped beneath the crotch of my panties, circling my clit once before sliding lower. Keeping his mouth on my leg, that finger pushed inside of me.

  I sucked in a breath. It was a finger, larger than a tampon but not his dick.

  In. Out. In. Out.

  Agonizingly slow, my vision began to blur. Fisher removed his finger and slid off my panties. After tossing them aside, he unbuttoned his jeans and pulled down the zipper.

  “I’m …” I breathed embarrassingly heavy. “I’m not having sex with you.” Despite my slightly compromised position and lack of blood going to my brain, I felt proud of my will power. The days of being Fisher’s toy … his favorite game … were over. I was the master, the powerful queen who would take down the king.

  Checkmate.

  “No?” He leaned forward and slid his hands behind me, unhooking my bra. As he slid it off my arms, he smirked. “We’ll see.”

  “Ah!” I jerked when he bit my nipple, when that finger slid inside of me again, when he added a second finger partway, making me feel so filled. Was he going to take my virginity with his fingers?

  His mouth latched onto mine. My hips and legs braced, not moving an inch because Fisher’s fingers edged me out of my comfort zone.

  What if he pushed them inside of me the whole way? Would it hurt? Would I bleed?

  And then … they were gone. He stood at the end of the bed and removed his jeans, challenging me. I saw it in his eyes.

  “I won’t do it. You don’t deserve it. You had your chance.” My bravery tank nearly hit empty.

  “We’ll see.” He crawled onto the bed and his tongue went to work. Swiping between my legs. Flicking my nipples. Making a trail up my neck, and finally landing in my mouth, making slow strokes as his pelvis settled between my legs. That dangerous thin layer of cotton the only thing separating his dick from my entrance.

  Thrust.

  Thrust.

  Thrust.

  I reminded myself that we had done this before. We’d been in that position. And we didn’t have sex.

  Thrust.

  Thrust.

  Thrust.

  My hips lifted from the bed to meet him. That was when he pulled back. That was when he rolled onto his back, taking me with him so I sat on top of him, my legs straddling him right there.

  With one look, he dared me to quit. And he dared me to keep going.

  “No sex,” I nearly choked on the words.
<
br />   Fisher jackknifed to sitting, his face a breath away from mine. “We’ll see.” He kissed me, tangling one hand in my hair while his other hand guided my hand beneath the waistband of his briefs.

  So warm.

  So hard.

  I stroked him as he teased his tongue against mine.

  I stroked him as he fingered me again, but just that agonizing partway.

  Slow. Too slow.

  The more I stroked him, the more I wanted more. Not just more. I wanted all of him.

  He broke our kiss and stretched his torso to the side, opening the drawer to his nightstand and pulling out a condom.

  That was when things got real.

  Using his teeth, he tore it open, tossed the wrapper to the side, and pushed down the front of his briefs to roll it on.

  He grabbed my face and kissed me a little softer than just seconds earlier. Dragging his lips across my face, dotting it with kisses, he whispered in my ear, “Your husband can thank me.”

  Those words stopped my heart. The warm blood in my veins ran cold, sending an icy jolt along my spine.

  Fisher lifted my hips and positioned me over him, pushing into me an inch, maybe not even.

  Tears filled my eyes as I stilled, not letting him move my hips any farther. And I saw it in his eyes.

  The pain.

  The love.

  The conflict.

  More than anything, I saw all the reasons I fell for Fisher Mann. He knew we weren’t at the right place to make us work, but he was willing to give me the one thing I thought I wanted. He wanted to give me all he had to give, even though he knew it wouldn’t be enough.

  My hands pressed to his face as tears covered my cheeks, the saltiness pooling at my lips. “Thank you, Fisher.”

  I eased off his lap.

  He said nothing. There wasn’t anything to say.