I parted my lips and coaxed hers open, swallowing her air to keep my lungs working. Her moan was small and delicate as she swung her leg over my hips.
“Is this okay? Are you …” She started to ask if I was okay, if my mental state could keep it up, but she didn’t have to. The past week had been sexless and cold. But now, I needed it, proven hot and hard against her hips, practically begged for a distraction, a release, anything but the worries flurrying around in my head like the snow glittering the sky. Words wouldn’t form on my tongue, it had other things in mind, but I gripped her ass in my desperate hands and pressed her to me until she groaned and devoured my mouth again with a gentle nod of her head.
The open fly of my pajama pants proved to be little hinderance as I pulled Audrey’s underwear to the side. We fitted together easily, so comfortably tight and warm, and I sighed with the relief of coming in from the bitter cold. If I had allowed myself to think too much, I would’ve hated myself for needing sex so badly, while my brother was fighting for his life, but I couldn’t let myself think that. Not when this was too good, too soothing, and too necessary for my sanity, as I let her use my body however she wanted. I stared up into her blue eyes, dipping into their oceans and streams to float serenely on my back, until they closed and so did mine. I wondered about her neighbors and parents, and how much they could hear, as I was forced to cry out and her hand clapped over my mouth.
Audrey giggled like we were younger and this was forbidden, taking her hand away from my lips and leaning forward to press her mouth to my ear. “I love you, Blake,” she whispered, her words broken with the impact of her climax. “I love you so much, I forget to breathe sometimes.”
I pulled in the scent of her hair and nodded, kissing her cheek and her chin and finally her lips. “I know the feeling.”
“I feel like I should be scared of this,” she whispered, now resting her head on the pillow behind my head, her body still covering mine.
“Why?” I threaded my fingers between hers and kissed her knuckles, her palm, her wrist. Just to touch her and remind myself of her warmth and life, to hold onto when I felt cold and so alone in the solitary confines of my tomb of a house.
“Because I know this is it for me, and I don’t know if you feel the same way.”
My eyes met hers in the darkness. “What if I said I didn’t?”
She swallowed hard and gripped my fingers. “I’d still love you, anyway.”
I chuckled and shook my head, still unsure of how someone could love me so much. Hell, not even my own mother could manage. “You’re something else, you know that?” I laughed, kissing her again.
A thoughtful sound vibrated against my lips before she asked, “So, then what am I?”
“You’ll laugh if I said it.”
“I promise I won’t.”
Sighing, I rolled my eyes to the ceiling and lifted a shoulder. “Maybe you’re my angel.”
I expected a giggle, or even hysterical laughter, but all I heard was that noise again. Thoughtful and contemplative. “Sent to Earth to save you?”
I nodded. “Yeah. Maybe.”
“You were the better twin to save Jake, and I was the better twin to save you.”
“Maybe we’re the surviving twins,” I found myself saying, and my voice caught in my throat, unable to believe I’d say the words aloud, “to save each other.”
Audrey nodded. “That sounds more likely to me. But that’d make you an angel, too.”
I laughed. “Well, now we know it’s all bullshit.”
“Not necessarily.” She laid her head down, finding a comfortable place for her forehead against my temple. Her yawn was infectious and I wrapped my arm around her, accepting the luring hand of sleep. “Remember, Lucifer was an angel, too.”
Snorting as my eyes drifted shut, I muttered, “So, I’m the devil now.”
“Maybe, Kiefer,” she said, using the nickname I had once found lame but now loved, “but whatever you are, you’re mine.”
“Yeah, I am,” I agreed, sighing contentedly and wrapping my other arm around her shoulders, “and I’m not going anywhere.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
“ARE YOU SURE you don’t want me to come with you?” Audrey worried as she got ready for work. She buttoned a white cardigan over her teal camisole and added, “I mean, it’s just one day. It’d be okay for me to call out sick.”
I shook my head, crossing my arms tightly over my chest. “Stop, I’m fine.” And, I actually meant it, too. After sleeping well for a solid seven hours, I now felt prepared to face what awaited me at home. But Audrey clearly wasn’t convinced, turning her bright blue eyes on me while she chewed her bottom lip with disdain.
“I just feel really bad making you go alone.”
“Don’t feel bad,” I assured her, unraveling my arms and stepping forward to kiss her forehead. “Go to work. I’ll be here when you get back.”
Guilt washed away the worry. “Blake, if you really want to go to the hospital, then—”
“No,” I stopped her, pressing my lips again to her forehead. “I’ll go tomorrow. You were right; I need one freakin’ day outside of that room.”
So, after Audrey left for work, I got into my car and headed across town through a path of dead leaves and speckles of snow leftover from the night before. Pulling into my driveway felt like a slice of déjà vu from a past life, and I swallowed at the worry that maybe I couldn’t do this after all.
The door opened with a groan and the floors welcomed me with untimely whispers. I swept my gaze over the living room, taking in Jake’s Legos and stacks of puzzles and movies, and the exhale that came from my mouth felt like my last. It left me empty and starved for air in that shell of a room, and I hurried to my bedroom to find my breath.
Behind the closed door, I set to work, grabbing clothes from my closet and stuffing them into a duffel bag I hadn’t used since college but had kept anyway. I wasn’t sure how long to pack for, and how long I’d be at Audrey’s place, so I mindlessly shoved in as many clothes as the bag would hold. Then, I scurried around the room, grabbing miscellaneous things I’d been missing over the week, when my hand brushed against the information pamphlet I’d been given at Shady Acres, still standing on my drafting table. It stopped me in my tracks and I stared at the smiling faces of their residents as I remembered my parents’ plans.
Whether he woke up or not, Jake would be leaving anyway.
“Son of a bitch,” I muttered, snatching the smooth piece of paper from the table. My eyes bore through the crisp letters and vibrant colors as I repeated, louder this time, “Son of a fucking bitch.”
It came on quick, the tornado that began in my gut and moved its way to my heart. A swirling frenzy of rage and despair, unleashed through my hands as I crumpled the pamphlet and chucked it across the room. It was too light to go far, and fluttered to the floor only a few feet away. That wasn’t good enough. I needed more, and controlled by my blinding emotions, I picked a book up from a nearby shelf and threw it at the opposite wall. It made impact, rattling the window and leaving a scuff mark. I picked up another.
“You motherfucker,” I growled, throwing the book. I picked up another. “You son of a bitch. What the fuck did I ever do? What the fuck did he do?”
I didn’t have time to feel silly or stupid as I tipped my head back and looked to the ceiling. “Well, asshole?! Where are your fucking signs now, huh?”
And as I had suspected, I was met with nothing but silence in the vacant house.
“Yeah,” I muttered, swiping the back of my hand under my nose. “That’s what I fucking thought.”
I grabbed the duffel bag from off my bed and rushed down the hall to the living room, when I was stopped in my tracks by the vibrating of my phone. It was ridiculous to think the Almighty could’ve been giving me a call, absolutely absurd, but my hand shook anyway as I took it out.
Surprise, surprise—it wasn’t God.
I took a deep breath, allowed myself a seco
nd to feel like a jackass, then answered, “Hey, Gus.”
“Hey, Blake, is it a bad time?”
“Not really,” I lied, wiping a hand over my brow.
“How’s your brother?”
“Still in the coma.” I hadn’t meant to sound so sardonic, but what the hell? He’d know if there were updates. This was small talk, and not the kind I wanted to have. So, I repeated once again, “What’s up, man?”
Gus took a deep breath and began, “Well, I know you’ve got a lot going on right now, Blake. I get what you’re going through, but you’ve been getting tons of calls lately and I got to thinking—”
“Are you firing me?” I cut in, panicked and strained. “‘Cause, dude, if you’re firing me, I’ll—”
“Fire you? Jesus Christ, Blake, calm the hell down. You’re too quick to fly off the handle, you know that?”
I groaned and shook my head, remembering the many times Dr. Travetti had pointed that out. “Yeah, sorry. Working on it.”
“Anyway, I got to thinking about how things have been lately. You know, how your career has been really taking off—about damn time, too, by the way—and how I’m not getting any younger …” He trailed off and cleared his throat. “Kara’s pregnant, did I tell you that?”
“No, you didn’t mention that.” My voice was hoarse, as if it’d been unused for a while. I dropped the duffel by the door and headed toward the kitchen for some water.
“Yep,” he answered, unable to contain his pride. “She and Matt came over last weekend and gave us the big news. I’m gonna be a grandpa.”
“Congratulations, Gus. That’s awesome,” I told him as I went to the fridge and took out a bottle.
“Thank you,” he replied with an abundance of gratitude. “The thing is, Blake, I really want to be there for my grandkid, you know? I want to be that kickass grandpa who babysits their grandkids while their parents are working. I wanna be able to take him or her to Disney World, the aquarium, and all that cool shit.”
Uncapping the bottle, I nodded thoughtfully. “I feel you, man.”
“Now, I know that’s sort of why you’ve been reluctant to take on more of a workload, but you’ve been managing, right? You got that pretty girlfriend of yours and her little boy now, and of course your brother, and you’ve been good. Right?”
While I took a swig of water, it slowly began to settle in why exactly he was calling, and after lowering the bottle, I answered, “Well, I mean, this past week—”
“Well, obviously, we’re not talking about that,” he assured me. “That’s a whole other situation, but I just mean, in general. Things have been going well.”
“Yeah, I guess so. Sure.”
“Right. So, how would you like to take over?”
“Take … over,” I drawled, pursing my lips and considering what that meant. “Would the, uh … would the place be mine? Or …”
“Well, I thought we could be co-owners,” he suggested. “But you’d manage the place. You know, handle business your way.”
I considered rejecting the offer right away. The dream of having my own tattoo shop never involved taking over Salem Skin. I’d always wanted to own a place in Derby Square, in the heart of the town and in the middle of the crowds. But Salem Skin was my home away from home. Gus had taken me under his wing and changed my life. The guy was more of a father to me than my own dad, and suddenly, I couldn’t imagine ever wanting to be somewhere else.
“You wouldn’t wanna ask Kara or Matt?”
Gus pulled in a breath, hesitating in his reply, before saying, “I love those kids, you know that, and they like what they do. But you have a gift, Blake.”
I snorted at that word. “A gift,” I scoffed, shaking my head.
“Yeah! A gift!” he shouted impatiently. “God, kid, I shouldn’t have to tell you this, but there’s a lot of people tattooing out there right now, and a good chunk of them are decent at what they do. But it’s a lot less common to come across the ones that are artists, honest to God artists, and you’re one of them. So, take credit, for fuck’s sake, and take over the shop.”
I cast my gaze over the kitchen floor and spotted Mickey’s water bowl in the corner, still full and never to be used again. Seeing Jake’s stuff scattered all throughout the house hadn’t tempted my emotions as much as I thought they would, but that damn bowl forced a lump to rise in my throat and I struggled to maintain my composure.
“Okay, Gus,” I croaked, then clamped my lower lip between my teeth as my eyes pinched shut.
“Okay? To which?”
I laid a hand over my eyes. “Both.”
“Well, that was easy,” he commented, chuckling lightly.
I wished him a good day and promised I’d call if there were any updates on Jake’s condition. Then, I stared at that dish and fought the bout of tears that begged to leak from my eyes and drip into my beard as I muttered, “You giveth, and you taketh away.”
***
“When’s Jake gonna wake up?” Freddy asked Audrey that night while she put him to bed.
“I don’t know, honey,” she replied solemnly. “Hopefully soon, but it could take a while.”
“Mama said she misses him at school,” he told her.
Audrey glanced over her shoulder at me and offered a weak smile. Hang in there, it said, and I tried. “I bet she does. I know he’s very special to her,” Audrey replied, and I knew that was true. When I had called Jake’s daycare after the accident, Amy hadn’t even tried to stop her tears as she cried into the phone with promises to pray, hope, and whatever else she could do to help him wake up and to make him better.
“Get some sleep, okay?” she said to her son and kissed his forehead. She stood up and headed to the door, meeting my eye with a sympathetic glance.
“Night, Freddy,” I said, waving into the room, before he stopped me.
“Blake?”
“Yeah?”
“What are you getting me for Christmas?”
The question brought me to laugh and I shook my head, stepping into the room. “Well, if I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?” I asked, crouching at his bedside. “Why? Got any requests?”
“I want a tattoo. Like you and Daddy and Mommy.”
I chuckled even harder. “Ah, well, I don’t know about that, kiddo. When you get older, I promise I’ll give you all the tattoos you want, but you’re still a little young. I think your mom and dad might get mad at me if I did that.”
His eyes widened with fear. “Would Mommy make you leave?”
Nodding assuredly, I replied, “I’m pretty sure she would.”
“I don’t want that.”
“Good. Neither do I.” I reached out to ruffle his shaggy brown hair. “Get to sleep.”
I began to stand when he stopped me again. “Wait. There’s something else I want.”
“Okay,” I drawled, squatting back down. “What’s that?”
“Bring Jake back. I don’t want him to be at the hospital anymore.”
Pressing my lips into a firm line and fighting the tears that stung the backs of my eyes, I nodded. “I’m trying, kiddo,” I said, while being unsure if yelling at the sky and throwing shit against the wall could really be considered trying.
“Okay,” Freddy replied, offering me a satisfied nod. He reached out a hand and patted my shoulder. “Night-night, Blake.”
“Night, Freddy.”
I stood with a sigh and focused on not slumping my shoulders as I walked past Audrey. She closed the door behind her and instructed me to sit in the living room while she made us some tea. As I sat down on the couch, I remembered the first time I’d been here in her apartment. It wasn’t that long ago, only several weeks or so in the past, but it felt like years since I’d first come here, drunk and confused. I’d been so resistant to what I thought I’d always known, and now, I couldn’t leave. She was my salvation and my belief that there was something more to all of this. Leaving would’ve meant to turn my back on the only comfort I had
left, and maybe it was enough. Maybe I’d be okay if Jake were to die. I could go on with the hope that he was in a better place, if only I had this woman and her child to need me, to depend on me and to love me.
“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath, running a hand over my mouth and through my beard.
“Here you go.” Audrey came into the living room with two steaming mugs and handed one to me. My mood must’ve been written plainly on my face as hers contorted with concern. “You hanging in there, Kiefer?”
My hand wobbled in gesture. “I’m getting there.”
I took a sip of the tea and immediately sighed at the sharp note of bergamot, warmed by the sweet vanilla. It was a simple comfort and I gladly welcomed it to make itself at home in my belly. Audrey asked if it was good, as if there was a chance at all I’d find it bad, and I nodded. “Very good,” I assured her and put the mug down on the coffee table.
“So, Gus called today while I was at the house,” I began, rubbing my hands against my jeans. “He wants me to take over the shop.”
The brim of her mug had barely touched her lips before she pulled it away with an excited gasp. “Blake! That’s amazing! What did you say?”
“He didn’t give me much of a choice,” I laughed uncomfortably.
Her face reluctantly fell. “Oh …”
“I want it,” I said with sincerity, and her eyes lit up again with excitement. “I’m just having a hard time feeling happy about it.”
She didn’t reply. Instead, she just reached over and scooped one of my hands into hers and held on tightly. It wasn’t long ago when I’d need to call Dr. Travetti and release my troubles to someone who would listen and write things down for analysis. It was funny that now I felt content with simply having someone to listen and hold my hand. It felt like enough.
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