Honor and Redemption

by A. C. Bextor

  Sitting on this, for more than a few hours today, I’m no longer mildly irritated.

  I’m fucking livid.

  “Gypsy, maybe you want to tell me what you and Ziah talked about,” Cricket urges, clinging to the knot of her towel.

  As I step closer, she retreats until her body backs against the wall.

  “You were in his bed,” I get out. “You slept with Leglas.”

  Realization dawns and her expression falls. Not into denial, but complete admission.

  Fuck.

  “Well, Ziah’s wrong,” she tells me, closing her eyes. “So, so wrong.”

  Caging her in, I blanket her body with mine. The damp towel cools my heated skin, but does nothing to soothe my fueled anger.

  “How’s he wrong?”

  Opening her eyes, Cricket scans my face. “Ziah’s a kid, and I—”

  “That’s not tellin’ me he’s wrong,” I clip. “That’s admitting you were in Leglas’s bed after having me in yours.”

  “No!” she snaps. “I’m trying to explain!”

  Calmly, I concede. “Don’t suppose there’s much left to say. You’ve chosen.”

  Her brows furrow and her nose scrunches. “I’ve chosen?”

  “Leglas or me.”

  “You can’t be serious.” Tilting her head to the ceiling, the creamy skin of her long neck mocks how badly I want to wrap my hands around it. Cricket sighs. “God, please tell me he’s not serious.”

  “We’re right back where we started,” I tell her. “Same place we’ve always been.”

  Cricket purses her lips before dropping her head where she smiles—yes, smiles. “You’re going to feel pretty stupid—”

  Not wanting to hear this, I cut her off. “Fits, doesn’t it?”

  She tilts her head to the side. “What fits?”

  “Us.”

  “Honey, I don’t understand,” she relays quietly.

  There it is again. Honey.

  Cricket doesn’t refer to me with endearments. Spiteful name calling comes at me on the constant. I live for being coined an asshole, dick, and whatever else she determines appropriate.

  But ‘honey’ has never been in her catalogue of references for me or anyone else that I’m aware of. And I won’t let myself contemplate what she calls Leglas.

  Goddamn it.

  “This fits us, meaning, I get my shit together, separate from a job, a career I love, only to come back here to find you’re with him.”

  “That was a while ago, and you knew I was with him when you left for Texas after Pyke died,” she remembers calmly, collectively. “You told me to stay with Leglas.”

  Unfortunately, I can’t deny her claim. Yet, I’d hoped for her to struggle with this as much as I had. Fuck, at least maybe pause for a moment of deliberation.

  “You’re tellin’ me you weren’t mine the entire time you were in his bed?”

  Leaning forward, Cricket’s eyes alight with fire. The blaze in them I’ve missed.

  “I’m telling you, you’re a blind man walking in a minefield right now,” she returns. “So, I’m advising you to use caution.”

  “Don’t bullshit me, Cricket.”

  She laughs in my face, whole and true. If she topples over where she stands, I won’t be surprised. I also won’t extend a hand to help.

  “I’ve loved you for years, you idiot! Years!” she screams between us. “And I spend one night in bed with him holding me and you’re…. what?”

  “I said don’t,” I growl, pulling away. Looking down between us, I remember she’s naked under that goddamn towel.

  I could have her; she wouldn’t tell me no, because this is our way. The back and forth. The push and pull. One of us always chasing the other. Yet, even through that, speaking the words or not, we both know this time is different. Cricket and I are in a place we’ve never been. We’re so fucking close to starting where we should’ve years ago.

  Rather than doing something she’s not ready for, I lean in close.

  “Stay the fuck out of his room.”

  “You’re insane,” she accuses.

  Seething, I dip my chin to my neck. Leaving my lips a breath away from hers, I fire back, “Oh, yeah? Well, I fuckin’ feel it.”

  Reaching up, Cricket presses her hand dead center on my chest. Her touch is warm and familiar, calming my nerves with every passing second.

  “Ziah didn’t lie, I did sleep in Leglas’s bed,” she admits quietly against my growl. Sensing my reaction to her words, she stares at her hand rather than at me. “But all we did was sleep.”

  As evenly as I can, I point out, “When has Leglas ever slept with a woman without fuckin’ her first?”

  “You’re driving yourself crazy because you’ve not listened to anything I’m trying to tell you.”

  With Cricket’s argument at its end, she leans her forehead to mine, resting the palm of her other hand on my cheek.

  “Fine,” I clip. “What are you trying to tell me?”

  Cricket closes her eyes, capturing my lips and kissing them with reverence, as if we have all the time in the world. When my mouth opens, her tongue dips inside. My hands find her small waist and I step into her, forcing her back against the wall.

  “I’m trying to tell you that nothing happened between Leglas and I,” she whispers, her eyes still closed.

  “Babe, look at me.”

  Pulling back, Cricket’s eyes open, dancing with elation.

  She smiles and drops her hand from my face. “Leglas and I were saying goodbye.”

  “You were saying goodbye?”

  They were saying goodbye.

  Fuck.

  “I love you,” she whispers. I’m not granted a second to take in her words or their meaning before she adds, “Though, right now, I don’t like you very much.”

  Grabbing her waist and pulling her to me, I take a long, deep, relieving breath. “You were saying goodbye.”

  “Yes, Gypsy. Goodbye.” She rests both hands on my chest. “Leglas is my friend, and he deserves—”

  “Shut up,” I demand, slamming her body against mine. “Shut up and hold on.”

  Cricket’s thighs spread as I lift her feet from the floor. She wraps them around my waist, just as her arms circle around my shoulders. Her mouth is on mine, biting my lips through her smile.

  They were saying goodbye.

  “Fuck, please tell me you’re still on the goddamn pill,” I hiss, dropping her hurriedly to the bed.

  Cricket scowls up, grabbing the knot of the towel. “Gypsy, maybe we should talk.”

  Unbuckling my belt, I glare down, popping the button and dropping the zipper.

  “Fuck first, talk later.”

  Her eyes widen in surprise, and she giggles. She cocks her head to the side and rushes out, “Okay. Fuck first, talk later.”

  With my cock free, I use my knee to part her thighs while grabbing the knot of the towel. The threaded material splits wide, giving away the full view of her chest.

  “Are we in a rush?” she mocks.

  In spite, I bend my neck, latching onto her nipple and sucking hard. She takes in a quick breath, her hands darting out to hold the back of my head.

  “So, we’re in a rush,” she breathes, wrapping her legs around my waist.

  Working my hand between us, I get ready. Before thrusting, I use my finger to slide across her clit. She trembles, locking her eyes with mine.

  She’s ready.

  Thrusting my hips, I enter her in one long, determined, upward slide.

  The tight walls of her center are greedy, clasping around my cock. I fight the need to take her hard.

  “Honey,” she calls, and I glare. “Are you going to move?”

  Tempting little witch.

  “Shut up,” I clip, pulling out and diving back in. This time, I don’t stop. I can’t. The fire’s been lit, its burn rolling through my back, striking my hunger for her with vengeance.

  Leaning up, Cricket kisses my neck, my body flat agai
nst hers. She tilts her hips, accepting every powerful drive.

  “This is ours,” I grind out, closing my eyes.

  If I look at her, I’ll lose it. If I let myself truly believe she’s here with me, choosing us over them, I’ll let myself go.

  “Yes,” she agrees, running her fingers over my back.

  The bed moves and the sounds of our breath mingle in the air.

  “Baby, I’m close. Come with me.”

  “Gypsy,” she rushes out, her nails digging deeply into my skin. “Wait.”

  I can’t stop. I’m too close to release. The sound of her voice pushes me forward into three more powerful thrusts before she lets go at the same time I do.

  “I love you,” she tells me, holding me tightly, waiting to hear me say the same.

  Resting my arms on either side of her head, I run my thumbs over her jaw.

  “I’m so fucking glad you still do,” I tell her, and she smiles. “No more fuckin’ this up. I’m home. We’re together.”

  Cricket shifts her hips with me still inside. “I got that,” she notes on a smile., “I, um, felt that.”

  “I’m hungry,” I tell her. “Breakfast was shit. Let’s go find somethin’ else to eat.”

  “Okay,” she agrees. If stars of happy were to shine in her eyes, I wouldn’t be surprised.

  Cricket’s glad we’re together. She’s excited for what’s to come.

  And fuck knows, for the first time in our lives together, so am I.

  Eve’s lifeless, gray eyes are empty of life. She scans the room, diverting her attention to anywhere but me kneeled on the floor in front of her.

  All afternoon, I’d been dreading the notion of leaving the club. Until today, I hadn’t left since coming home from under Nikolas’s care. There were a thousand other places I’d rather have seen or gone.

  This morning should’ve been spent in bed with Gypsy, waking up to him for the first time in the way I’d always wanted to before. At the very least, we should’ve been deciding plans for the day, or sharing with the others where we are with each other.

  Instead, I’d been distracted, rehearsing all I planned to say to Eve once I saw her.

  A small part of me thought she would respond to seeing my face again. I held hope in that hearing my voice would bring her from herself and get her talking.

  Come to find out, the soft words of encouragement and empty promises of getting better were for naught.

  Upon my first steps into the solarium, finding her curled up in a ball in an oversized, plain black chair, realization dawned as bright as the windows at her back.

  Sweet Eve, with the big gray eyes and permanent stoic expression, isn’t damaged as I thought she’d only been. Instead, she’s completely destroyed.

  Her long blonde hair is dirty, the dark roots weathered and oily. Her skin is pale, save for the contrasting darkness ringing beneath each eye. Her lips are chapped, crusting at their corners. She’s dressed in a plain, dark green gown, with black fuzzy socks on her feet.

  By all rights, Eve should be in a medical ward under psychiatric care, if not lying in a hospital bed for badly needed nourishment.

  “Please talk to me,” I ask again, holding her cold hand in mine and running my thumb along the top. “If you talk about what happened maybe it will—”

  Eve shakes her head. I stare down at the bandage on her wrist, coming up empty on what to say. The knowledge that her despair drove her to the decision to end her life settles deep. The fact that she can’t think outside of what’s been done, to hope for any other life but this one, spears my chest with an undeniable ache.

  I may have realized before seeing her how blessed I am to have friends who loved me through my anger. But seeing Eve now, I’ll be forever grateful.

  “You should leave her be,” Agatha calls quietly. “She won’t talk about what happened. Not to me or you.”

  I turn at Agatha’s voice, still holding Eve’s hand. Agatha’s round frame is standing at the door. She’s wearing another maid’s uniform, this one gray with white pleating on the front. Her hair is in another high bun, the expression on her face ominous.

  Ignoring her, I turn back to Eve, whose focus falls to me. In the depths of her cold eyes, my body chills. Her soul is gone, and in its place is an haunted, shallow grave.

  Please, God. Help.

  “Is that what you want?” I ask her carefully. “For me to leave?”

  Eve flinches, just barely, but it’s there. She squeezes my hand, pinching my fingers to the point of pain. I chance a glance at Mom. The vision of her standing sentry over Eve causes my eyes to swell with tears.

  Mom insisted she come along with me this afternoon. She said no broken woman would refuse motherly advice, and it didn’t matter if this were to come from her own mother or someone else’s.

  “He made me…” Eve’s words break through her torn, chapped lips. At the sound of her soft, delicate, and higher than I imagined voice, I startle with surprise.

  Staring down, she waits, second after second, before concentrating on her hand in mine.

  “He made you what, Eve?”

  “The man who brought me to that place…” She pauses. “He said I had to take my clothes off.”

  She’s not referring to the group of us together. The way we were made to remove our clothes for the shower was methodical and detached. Eve’s haunted expression uncovers she went through more.

  Needing to push, I encourage, “Why did he make you do that?”

  “He smelled bad,” she says. Tilting her head to the high ornate ceiling, she studies the variety of different shapes and forms. “He used his hand to cover my mouth so I couldn’t scream.”

  My stomach twists, having not had to endure the same. I didn’t know Eve as this happened. I hardly knew her while we were together, going through what we did. In every sense of kinship, I only know of her here, and during that time, she was lost in tormenting silence.

  “Get it out, Eve. You’re safe here,” I encourage gently when she stops talking. “What else?”

  She hiccups, closing her eyes to remember. “He put a bag over my face. I couldn’t breathe. I thought if I did, I’d be sick.”

  Eve swallows hard, and begins to truly tell her story. For forty-five heart-wrenching minutes, she slowly recounts in vivid detail all that happened before she’d been brought to where I was. And her version of captivity was more painful to take than mine.

  So much more painful.

  Beaten into silence and submission.

  Gagged until the sides of her mouth bled in protest.

  Blindfolded, unable to look into the eyes of those who were abusing her in turn.

  Eve had been raped. Not once.

  Repeatedly.

  As she says her last word, she releases my hand to wipe the tears from her face.

  “I’m proud of you.” I grab her arm, placing my other hand to hold her wrist. Blood seeps through the bandage. We both stare down. “What happened to us wasn’t fair.”

  “No,” she murmurs.

  I raise her wrist. “I understand why you did this.”

  Eve shakes her head in denial and shame.

  “Lucky for us,” I tell her, my tone light. “There was an angel watching. He brought you here.”

  “Nikolas,” she whispers coldly, as if the idea of him saving us the way he did was somehow wrong or beyond reproach.

  “Trust him. He’ll get you the help you need,” I promise.

  Two tears fall from the same eye. This time, she doesn’t brush them away. She stares back with vacant interest.

  “That’s what you want, isn’t it?” I push. “To get help so you can move on from the monsters who did this?”

  Eve nods, but the gesture is by expectation.

  When she looks beyond my right shoulder, I follow her line of sight. Agatha is still standing alone in the doorway, her face a muted mess. Her eyes are red, and her nose and cheeks are blotted pink. I offer a small, reassuring smile, which she does
n’t return.

  Agatha shakes her head, and her gaze passes to my mom still standing quietly across the room. “If you’ll help with coffee, we can share a cup before you go.”

  Mom smiles and walks the long way around the room to get to Agatha.

  When my gaze moves to Eve, her eyes focus back to the window. Her body curls back into itself as she pulls my hand from hers to rest it on her knees.

  Progress.

  She heard my voice.

  She saw my face.

  She listened to my words.

  And she spoke.

  She told her story for the first time.

  This is all I have, but it’s enough for today.

  Slow and steady.

  Progress.

  It’s been hours since we brought Cricket back from Nikolas’s mansion. She’d done all he’d asked. She talked to Eve, and got her to tell her most of her story.

  On the way home, she cursed fate for bringing them together in such a horrible way.

  Since coming back, she’s only a version of who she used to be. She’s reverted back into herself. She’s a ghost lingering, haunting the life she no longer recognizes as her own.

  In that same time, she’s also worried her friends sick.

  Her retreat has troubled Elevent the most. He wears his guilt for allowing her to go to Eve on his sleeve. Vante’s desperation has run a close second. He suggested we have Wren’s husband, Liam, who’s also a doctor, recommend a head shrink for Cricket to talk to. Which, as we pitched his request, Cricket vehemently denied.

  Mia and Sunny are back to climbing the walls. This evening, while Cricket was in her room, they sought me out, finding me outside working on my bike to pass the time.

  They demanded I do something, anything that would snap Cricket out of this. I had no clue where to start.

  Until tonight.

  Cricket doesn’t know the truth of us, or when and where I fell in love with her. Until this point, I’d been so wrapped up in her being with Leglas, pounding my chest, acting out and causing her heartache, I hadn’t given her all she should’ve known years ago.