Rough Love

by Landish, Lauren

  “Again, it started little . . . bumping into me in the hallway or squeezing my fingers too hard when we were holding hands. He made it seem like I was bumbling and high-strung. The slap, though . . .”

  She interrupts her own train of thought. “I don’t even remember what brought the whole thing on, what drove him to that point that time. Was it work? Me? Cooper? Just a natural progression of our fucked-up relationship? I don’t know. But I was standing in the kitchen, Cooper on my hip with my arm wrapped around him to keep him steady and a spoon in the other hand. I was making soup. I can remember that but not what triggered Jeremy.”

  Her eyes go vacant for a second and then she shrugs like it’s inconsequential.

  “He was yelling, and I was numbly tuning him out, only listening for the tone changes that signaled things were going to get better or worse but not hearing the words. He knew somehow, even though my back was to him. He grabbed my arm and spun me around, pointing in my face. I can see his face twisted in rage, white spittle gathered at the corners of his mouth, but I can’t hear the words, not in my memories. I guess I wasn’t reacting the way he wanted because he reared back and slapped me across the face. That woke me up, the hot burn of my skin, the pain in the muscle below, the stars dotting the black in my vision.” She blinks, lost to the memory.

  “So you left?”

  She blinks again, coming back to the present time. “No, not at first. In the moment, he seemed horrified and apologized, said work was stressing him out and he promised it’d never happen again. It wasn’t like some instantaneous wake-up call like in the movies because it almost wasn’t a surprise. We’d been slowly getting closer to that for years at that point. It was the next morning. I was barely awake, just rolled out of bed and went into the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. He was sitting there at the table, reading the paper as usual. He told me good morning like everything was fine, just a normal day like any other, and I thought we’d gotten past it. Until I turned around and he screamed in shock, jumping in his chair. ‘What happened to your face?’ he asked me, pointing at what I later realized was a pretty ugly bruise along my cheekbone.”

  She delicately fingers her cheek, and I make the connection of why today’s events set her off so badly. The yelling, the finger pointing, the hit . . . all unfortunately so familiar, the perfect storm, as she called it.

  “I was so confused and tried to tell him that I accepted his apology for slapping me. He accused me of doing it to myself, even saying that I was going to try to use it against him. But I knew, and I think he realized his hold on me was tenuous, in this at least. He switched to telling me that I must’ve just slept funny and that it wasn’t a bruise, just that I’d laid funny. He even said I’d tossed and turned all night. ‘Maybe you bumped the nightstand,’ he said.”

  She lifts her brow at the ridiculousness of that. “The moment I lay in bed that night, forcing myself to lie on my back and propping up with an extra pillow, with him telling me that I’d sleep better that way and not do any more damage to my face, was it. I listened to him snore and felt the bruise on my face. I knew how it got there. What’s more, I knew I knew. I wanted to ignore it, but every time I opened my mouth, I felt that tenderness as a reminder of what had really happened.”

  “I did some soul searching lying there in bed that night. I’d been holding Cooper, just a tiny toddler, when Jeremy hit me. All I could think was that if Jeremy could do this to me, what would he do to Cooper? How fucked up would my little boy be? I went into the relationship strong and healthy, and yet, I was cringing at loud noises, praying Jeremy would be in a good mood, and didn’t trust myself to do anything right. If he’d destroyed me, Cooper wouldn’t stand a chance growing up like that. I knew if I stayed, Jeremy would destroy my son too.”

  I embrace her, needing to touch her. “You’re not destroyed, Al. Neither is Cooper.”

  She hugs me back but pulls away. “Not anymore, thanks to a whole hell of a lot of intensive therapy. I had to rewrite my inner voice back to being my own, and my therapist gave me some tools and tricks to help when I get nervous or anxious.”

  “The finger tapping patterns?” I hold my hand up, mimicking what I’ve seen her do, and she looks shocked.

  “You noticed that?” Her eyes are wide with the slightest pink to her cheeks.

  “I notice everything about you, Allyson,” I say honestly.

  She doesn’t respond to that, which worries me, but rather continues with her awful tale. “The next day, after Jeremy went to work and I took Cooper to the babysitter’s, I went into my boss’s office. He was the first person I told what was happening to me, and he definitely wasn’t ready for that particular bout of verbal diarrhea at nine in the morning, but he had a lawyer friend at the office before lunch. That lawyer was an absolute shark, a beast in the mediation room. He inspired me to do mediations by helping me with my divorce.” She glances over to her work bag, hanging on a hook by the door. But I’m not sure she’s back in the present moment yet.

  “I pressed charges, had to get pictures taken of the bruising and write out pages of history. But I got an emergency restraining order that day, and Jeremy couldn’t come home. He went to his parents’. There’s no telling what he told them because he was their golden child. I packed up what Cooper and I needed, and we were gone forty-eight hours later, first to a domestic violence placement facility where I got some help, then to my own apartment, and a few years ago, back to Great Falls. I came back because . . . I wanted a fresh restart, I guess. And Great Falls was the last place that was a hundred percent good.”

  “That took so much courage, Al. More than I know.” I mean it. I can’t imagine making that decision after something awful happened. Truly, just changing your whole life on a dime takes big brass ones, and my girl’s got them, which makes me so fucking proud of her.

  She smiles in thanks at the compliment. “Divorce was done by mail so I never had to sit in the room with him. But my lawyer got Jeremy to terminate his parental rights so he can never come after Cooper. In return, there’s no child support, but I don’t want his money and Cooper’s better off without him. He asked for the divorce to be sealed because it’d affect him at work, and I honestly didn’t care because I didn’t want people knowing either, but my lawyer used that to our advantage. It worked, I guess. I am strong again, Cooper is strong, and he has the life he deserves. I won’t do anything to mess that up.”

  There’s a hint of something resembling an accusation in that last bit, whether she realizes it or not. “You think I’m like your ex?” She balks, but I rush to continue, not sure I want that answer. “Look, I’m an asshole, a possessive one at that, and rough around the edges for sure. I’ve been in more fights than I probably should’ve been, but I would never hit a woman or a man who didn’t deserve it. I was defending you today.”

  She sags. “I know, but I freaked. I can’t handle that, obviously.”

  “Look at me, Al.” She slowly lifts her eyes, meeting mine hesitantly. I can see that hamster running in her head, her eyes tormented with thoughts of kicking me out or letting me stay in her heart. Because I’m there. I know that because she’s already told me she loves me. But she’s scared. “Everything you want is on the other side of this fear. I’m here, waiting to give you everything, but you have to want it enough to go after it. You have to want me enough to risk it. If it helps, I swear to God, I’m a sure thing.”

  She snorts a tiny laugh, and it feels like the scales are weighing in my favor so I keep going. “Jeremy wanted you small and scared.” Even his name on my tongue pisses me off and makes me want to rage, but I push that thought away like the mature motherfucker I am. “I never want you to be those things. I like you proud and sassy, leading me around by my dick and putting me in my place.”

  Her smile is bigger now, little white teeth flashing between puffy lips I want to taste. “Your place? Where’s that?”

  This minx is flirting with me. After all the shit she just poured out, she�
�s flirting. I guess she’s had a few years to process and make some semblance of peace with it, but it’s all painfully fresh to me. But if she’s flirting, I’m damn sure flirting back. “Well, in private . . . with my head between your thighs. But in public, right next to you and Cooper.”

  Chapter 30

  Allyson

  His answer shocks me if I’m honest. No, that’s not it.

  Bruce is a good man despite the roughness, as he calls it, and I knew he wouldn’t bolt on me. Even though everything I just told him . . . it’s a lot. To process, to carry, to understand, to accept. I don’t have any choice because it’s the reality I lived through. But Bruce could walk away.

  I can see that thought never enters his mind, though. The vehemence with which he says that he belongs with Cooper and me makes that crystal clear, like he believes it with his whole being.

  My heart soars, my chest filling with a heated happiness. But I have to be careful. For Bruce, for me, and most of all, for Cooper. This isn’t a decision to take lightly for either of us. The minute stretches with pregnant possibilities.

  “Are you sure?” I steady my nerves, tapping my thigh with my fingers softly so maybe he won’t notice. “If it’s too much, I’d understand. I swear it.”

  All my walls are down, and I don’t know if I can handle losing Bruce again. Before, we were stupid kids, too inexperienced to have a hard conversation, and we lost each other and so many years, so much opportunity. Now, we’re adults, and this conversation is heavy but not as weighed down as my heart is. If I lose him now, I won’t ever be the same. I know that with certainty. This will change me more than any of the stuff with Jeremy ever did.

  Losing Bruce would break me.

  I love him. I love him so much I exposed my most ugly, vulnerable parts trusting that he wouldn’t look away in disappointment even while expecting him to do just that.

  Bruce tilts his head, his dark eyes boring into me. I feel so . . . seen. Not that I’m invisible most of the time. I’m not exactly a shrinking violet anymore, but Bruce sees more of me than anyone ever has. And I just shone a big old spotlight on my damage and invited him to weigh in on it.

  He stands up, looming over me, and from my seat on the couch I feel so tiny. Common sense for self-preservation should tell me to run, but whatever inner alarm system I have is blissfully silent. He bends down slowly, reaching for my hand to pull me to my feet too.

  There’s more than a foot between us, but I can feel him. A magnetic pull draws us closer to one another, the promise of contact powerful as I stare at his chest. I measure his width, I count the small threads in his T-shirt, anything to avoid his eyes.

  “Allyson, I can see that hamster in your mind running so fast he’s about to destroy that wheel. Listen to me.” He cups my jaw firmly, forcing my chin up and my eyes to his.

  This is not a lover’s touch but a power move. He’s not letting me hide. In my mind, I’m sitting on the scattered and empty boxes of my demons, small and broken, with my knees cradled to my chest and my face tracked with tears I haven’t cried in years. But here in reality, my hands are at my sides, my eyes hopeful and begging.

  “I love you. There isn’t a goddamn thing you could say or do that would change that. I’ve loved you since I was a kid, I loved you even when you were gone from me, and I love you now. I’ll always love you, Al. And when I die, I’ll still love you then, so you’d better get your fine ass in the fucking dirt with me because I lost so many days with you that I don’t want to miss a single one again. Ever. I love you.”

  Doubts, like chains, release me. Hope, like wings, lift me. I’m where I was supposed to be all along, with Bruce. There are no walls between us, no questions, no more what-ifs.

  I have to believe that the past happened so we could get to where we are right now, as who we are right now. It’s a different path than either of us ever plotted, but it got us to the same place, nevertheless. Together.

  I lift up to my toes, keeping my eyes open as I get incrementally closer to him. He bends forward, reading my intention, and we meet in the middle. Our lips touch softly, gently writing promises to each other with every caress.

  Bruce releases my jaw, his hands tracing heat down my sides before wrapping around my back. I squeeze at his biceps, digging my nails in to make sure he’s real and not some figment my imagination has drummed up. But he’s remarkably solid and hard under my hands and groans into my mouth at the sharp bite of my trimmed nails. “Fuck, Allyson.”

  He sounds as emotionally wrung out as I am, but thankful, so thankful that I’m here in his arms finally as he holds me tight, my cheek pressed to his chest. The rumble of his words vibrates against me as he murmurs into my hair. “You are so goddamn beautiful, woman. Outside,” I feel his fingers toying with the loose ends of my hair, “and inside.”

  He squeezes me again, the smallest shudder going through him. “So strong, so brave,” he whispers, and then quiets. After a silent breath, he continues, “You turned your pain into power and wear it like a crown. Don’t shrink yourself for me or anyone. Be this big hearted, loud, proud, amazing woman that you are. Because she is fucking stunning. I want it all, the full spectrum of whatever you’re feeling, thinking - whatever it is, I can take it, always. Just share it with me, share your heart with me…”

  He’s still pleading his case, doesn’t believe that he’s had my heart all along too. “I love you,” I say into his chest. “I always have.”

  “Fuck, baby.” The words are choked out, a sense of completeness surrounding us. There’s a finality to the moment, but also an exciting fresh start at the same time.

  Yes, that’s what I want. I’m naked emotionally, so bare and open that it spills over to my adrenalin-filled body. I let go of Bruce’s arms to pull at my own shirt, wiggling to get it up in the tight space between us.

  “Al?” Bruce questions delicately, though his voice is pure gravel.

  “Fuck me, Bruce. No more defenses, no more secrets, no more ‘before’. Everything changes right here, right now. It’s just us, and I love you.” I’ve never been surer of anything in my life. This is the moment everything begins.

  “I love you too, but we don’t have to right now. I know you’re raw.” His words are ones of tenderness, of sweetness, and I appreciate that. But it’s not what I want, it’s not what we need.

  I find myself, the bold and brash girl who lived life wide open with no fear. She hid for so long, but I’ve got her back now and she’s dancing on top of those demon boxes like she’s a fucking queen. I get my shirt off, tossing it mindlessly behind me. Bruce’s eyes lock on my breasts. They’re heavy with need, my nipples hard against my thin bra.

  “Bruce.” I wait for his eyes to drift up, which takes a flatteringly long second like he can’t look his fill of me. When he does meet my gaze, I can see the fiery, smoldering heat there in his dark eyes and also the warm depth of love.

  “I want to start over right now with you buried so deep inside me that we’re one, finally. Always. Like we were meant to be. I want you to take me to the bedroom and fuck me. Hard, rough. Show me that you know I can take it, that I can handle you at your best. Don’t treat me like I’m damaged. Fuck me, Bruce.” My voice is steady, no doubt that I mean every word.

  His jaw is hard, his words fierce. “You’re not fucking damaged, Al. You’re perfect, and you’re mine. Just like you were always meant to be.”

  He pushes at me, leaving no doubt about where we’re going or who’s in charge here. We’re dancing, but it’s not like before. This isn’t me unsure of anything. This is him stepping me back toward my bedroom to take me, both of us knowing it’s exactly what I want.

  When he shuts the door behind us, it’s like all the air gets sucked out of the room and I can only breathe him. Sweat and earth and the underlying musk that is all Bruce surrounds me.

  He reaches behind his neck, pulling his shirt over his head without his eyes ever leaving mine. “Get naked, baby.” The gruff order washes over
me, bringing goosebumps out along my flesh. “I don’t want anything between us ever again. Not even a fucking pair of panties.”

  I swear to God, I almost come right then and there. A shudder of pleasure shoots down my spine as I reach behind my back to undo my bra.

  Bruce is faster, dropping his shorts and toeing off his tennis shoes at the same time. I freeze, my fingers in the waistband of my own shorts, when I see his thick cock bared before me. I don’t think. I just do exactly what I want.

  I drop to my knees in front of him.

  “Allyson?” he grits out. He wants this from me, but he’s still holding back, being careful with me as he watches my every reaction.

  I glare up at him in challenge and lick a long line along the underside of his cock, from his balls to his crown. I lay a chaste kiss there, letting the bead of precum paint my lips. “Do you want me to kiss you sweetly and softly?”

  I do it again, the barest flutter of teasing contact that I know won’t get him where we’re going, as I watch his abs jump in response.

  He growls, and I reward him with a suck along the very tip, a promise of more. “Or do you want me to suck you off deep in my throat?”

  His hand fists his cock, tightly staving off the pleasure even my slight words brought. His other hand works into my hair, tilting my head up to force my eyes to his. He searches my face, wanting to be sure. I nod slightly, the movement pulling my hair ever so faintly in his hand, and open my lips in invitation.

  “Fuck, baby.”

  I know that tone. I’ve got him. My Bruce, the dirty-talking, rough-fucking god who brings out a side of me that only he can—the boldly free, wanton woman who can unblushingly do anything. I smile in triumph, over my past, over my fears, over the loss of what Bruce and I had.