Bound in Blue

by Jessica Ingro

  “That about sums it up. So you see… I’m running from her ghost. I’m running from the fact that no matter how much time has passed she’s who I miss; who I love; who owns me.” His hand pressed into his chest to emphasize that fact.

  “That’s heartbreakingly beautiful.” For both him and me. It was obvious no matter how much time we spent together, I was never getting in there. Maybe this was good. It forced me to keep things in perspective.

  Feeling the need to comfort him, I took a step towards him and reached out, intent on making some of his pain ease.

  “Don’t touch me.” His tone was hard, forcing me to stop where I was. “I don’t want your pity. I only told you so you would know that we all have something we hide from. What I want to know is what’s yours?”

  “I don’t see why it matters,” I evaded. There was no way in hell I was going there with him tonight. Maybe not ever.

  “It matters because you matter.” Whoa. What? I felt like I was getting whiplash here. Didn’t he just say that his dead wife was the only thing that mattered to him?

  “Mack—”

  Correctly reading my hesitations, he said, “Don’t worry. I’m not promising you hearts and flowers. I don’t do relationships. I have hook-ups. Some regular. Some not. My point is, all I’m going to give you is my time and my cock. In exchange, I want to know a little more about you. Christ. The amount of trust you put in me when I have you tied up and at my mercy should show you that you can trust me with that burden.”

  His words were all so right, but I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t share that piece of myself with him. Not now.

  “I hear you. I do. And maybe someday I’ll tell you. But that day isn’t today. I’m sorry if you’re disappointed, but I just can’t talk about it.” I looked down at my watch and cursed. “I have to get going. The hospital needs me.”

  “Fine. I’ll see you around.” He shouldered past me and down the stairs.

  That did not go very well. Shit.

  Chapter Five

  “The place still looks the same.” John flopped himself down on the end of the couch in the formal living room, while I sat in the slipper chair next to him. My hand ran idly over the fabric as I remembered what happened the last time I sat in that chair—the night Mack tied me up.

  John and I had just finished having Sunday dinner consisting of homemade sauce, meatballs, spaghetti—actual string spaghetti, not some stupid shape, because growing up with Italian grandparents, I learned it was imperative to have spaghetti on Sundays—and garlic bread. Conversation had been light and breezy while we ate. John updated me on what he had been up to since the last time I saw him and how much he liked working in the city. For my part, I updated him on the different shelters I volunteered for and gave him the rundown on the hospital. It was the perfect setting for two old friends to catch up with each other, and I was thoroughly enjoying reconnecting with him.

  “Rachel always loved this place,” he continued and broke me from my thoughts. It was like splashing ice cold water on my face.

  Total buzz kill.

  “She did,” I sighed and tears instantly pricked the back of my eyes. “It was her dream for you guys to move here when you had your first child. Well, given Granny wasn’t still living here.”

  “Those were the good old days. We would have been happy here,” he said wistfully. His eyes were trained on the photos of Rachel on the built-in shelves. One look at his face and you could see the pain and agony as clear as day. It was as if no time had passed at all. I knew that feeling all too well. Moving over to the couch, I leaned my head on his shoulder and a few lone tears made their way down my face. John’s arm wrapped around my shoulder in silent support.

  “I miss her,” I whispered after several minutes of silent comfort.

  “Me too,” he admitted in a strangled voice. “Every second of every day.”

  “Have you ever tried to move on?” I asked carefully. This was such a touchy subject, and I didn’t want to hit a nerve, but it had been six years. I wanted him to be happy.

  The thought led me to thinking about Mack and his wife. He obviously hadn’t really moved on either and judging by his age, I’d say it had been at least eighteen years since she passed. Maybe you never really got over your one true love. Maybe settling for second best didn’t seem so great after knowing you were doing just that. I could imagine that a lifetime of almost wasn’t nearly as good as a lifetime of perfection.

  “Honestly? I’ve dated a few people. None of them were Rachel,” he answered and confirmed my earlier thought. “I’m still holding out hope that one day I’ll meet someone who can make me happy.”

  “She’d want that for you.”

  “I know,” he murmured and kissed the top of my head. “I get so damn angry whenever I think of that asshole. I wanted nothing more than to know that bastard was going to suffer for what he did to her, but I can’t even get that because the fucker killed himself. Fucking pussy.”

  John was known to swear whenever he was truly upset. It didn’t happen frequently, but it was known to happen. I waited until he was done ranting before I apologized to him again. “I’m so, so sorry for what happened. If I could go back and change it I would. You’ve got to believe that.”

  His arm around my shoulder tightened for a moment. “It wasn’t your fault, Tweedledum. It was a random act of violence perpetuated by that fucker. To this day, I don’t understand what you believe happened that night.”

  “What happened was my need to have sex with whomever I could, whenever I could, got Rachel killed. God! I was such a slut!”

  “Don’t call yourself that,” he chastised me.

  I pulled out of his hold and scooted towards the other side of the couch, anger filling me as I remembered that horrible night. “Well, I was! I didn’t care about anything or anyone as long as I got off. No wonder I’m being punished for it.”

  “Jesus. That’s how you see it?” He shook his head in disbelief and gave me an incredulous stare before continuing. “What happened was you met a guy who was a fucking lunatic. You could no more have controlled what happened that night than I could. You weren’t the one that told him it was okay to follow you home and then return the next night intent on taking what he wanted from you.”

  Didn’t anyone get it? Seriously? I felt like a damn broken record. I was so sick and tired of everyone trying to make me feel better by telling me it wasn’t my fault instead of laying the blame where it belonged—square on my shoulders.

  “If I had been there it would have been me. It should have been me. You two should be celebrating your wedding anniversary and making beautiful babies. My poor decisions took that away from the two most important people in my life. They’re the reason why my beautiful, selfless, loving sister was brutally raped and murdered.” At his not so subtle flinch, I knew I was right. So I forged on and asked the question that still bugged me to that day. “How can you even stand to look at me when I tore everything away from you?”

  “Because you didn’t.”

  “Right,” I scoffed.

  He wrapped both my hands in his and leaned forward. His expression was determined and his voice was earnest when he said, “I am right. And one day you’ll finally realize it. Or at least, I hope you will because living with that kind of regret isn’t healthy. Then again, you aren’t really living at all. Are you?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” His words reminded me of my argument with Mack a few nights before, making my insides twist with anger and annoyance.

  “It means you wrap yourself up in this narrow little world, filled with work and volunteering. You hardly ever make time for friends and I doubt you date,” he answered. My eyes narrowed, and I fought the urge to punch him like you would a brother who was getting on your nerves. What? Were he and my mother comparing notes about how they think I needed to live my life?

  “I like to stay busy. And I don’t think there is anything wrong with doing positive things with my ti
me rather than the alternative of falling back into fucking anyone and everyone in order to fill my free time,” I defended myself in a biting tone.

  “You do realize I think of you as a sister, right? I don’t like thinking about you fucking anyone. It’s gross,” he teased. “And you’re right. There isn’t anything wrong with doing things that help others, but you still need to make time for yourself. You want to see me happy? Well, I want to see you happy. And that means getting past your guilt and finding someone who makes you feel alive. Love is never wrong, Megan. Believe that you’re meant for it, will you?”

  Guilt is like a sickness that never really goes away. It’s always with you, dragging you down and eating away at your insides. You have no control over when it’s going to rear its ugly head. You can’t just wish it away. And there is certainly no medicine for it. Living with guilt is an everyday reminder not to screw up again; to keep on the straight and narrow, and maybe someday you’ll be able to atone for your sins. John’s words were not enough to banish that demon away.

  Wanting to make him feel a little better—even though there was no way in hell that I’d ever believe I could have a normal life while my sister lay cold in the ground—I decided to give him what I had given no other until that point.

  “I’ve… I’ve been seeing someone actually. For a month now. So see you don’t need to worry,” I assured him. Okay so maybe I was embellishing the timing a little bit. It had been three weeks since Mack and I had hooked up again, and that was close enough to a month. It sure as hell sounded better than just a few weeks.

  “Wow. A month is a long time for you.” He looked at me thoughtfully before giving me a playful grin. “I feel it’s my duty to get more information though. Who is this guy? Can he be trusted? Maybe I should meet him so that I can be sure… You know threaten him a little like any good brother would do.”

  Even with his attempt to tease me, it felt like a slap in the face when he said that. Of course, I couldn’t be trusted, and he would need to make sure whomever I hooked up with was safe. My track record wasn’t all that amazing, now was it? Yes, this was one of my penances.

  “You do know him. Or at least I think you do,” I mumbled as a side thought. It would stand to reason that since John knew Jacob that he also knew his partner. “It’s Shane MacAllister.”

  I chewed my lip waiting for John to say something to that. It took what felt like a million years.

  “Mack?” He asked incredulously. Not knowing what to say I just nodded.

  John let out a mirthless and disbelieving bark of laughter. “Figures you’d hook up with the only other person I know that has more commitment issues than you. You know it’s not going anywhere. That’s why you don’t mind being with him, because you know you’re safe from having to open up to him,” he deduced.

  I was slightly offended by that. It was partially true, but the reason I kept going back to Mack had more to do with how he made me feel then how safe he was. He made me feel normal. And the sex. God, the sex was out of this world. Giving him control was liberating and left me amazingly satisfied when it was all said and done. I had never felt that way before. I was always left wanting and yearning for something more. Now I knew what that something was.

  Sure most of our talking was done with our bodies, but it didn’t matter because we were so comfortable with each other. It was completely natural for us to spend a night fucking without barely saying a few sentences to each other. It was just as normal when we did have conversations about work or baseball or any other random thing. I especially liked how low pressure it was to be with him regardless of what we were doing.

  “Things are more than surface with Mack and me. I know about his wife. That has to count for something; that he told me that. I don’t really feel like being judged right now. I didn’t need to tell you about him. Now I’m sorry I did.”

  “Megan—,” he began. My phone chirping on the table stopped him. Reaching over I picked it up and saw a text from Mack.

  Available?

  I bit my lip, set aside my disappointment and typed out a quick reply.

  Sorry, with a friend.

  Setting my phone down, I turned my attention back to John. My mind was mostly on my now silent phone. I wasn’t into playing games, but a small part of me hoped he pushed the issue, and we got to spend some time together tonight. My emotions were so raw with all the trips down memory lane that day, that a release at the hands of Mack would do wonders to ease the tension taking over my body.

  “I had a really great time tonight, John. I don’t want it to be ruined by us arguing over things that we can’t change,” I started.

  “You can change them,” he interrupted me.

  My head shook, and I stood up. I knew we’d keep talking this thing to death if I didn’t put an end to it now. “You have two choices. We can either go upstairs and watch The Goonies,” I smiled at the mention of our favorite movie growing up, “or I can walk you to the door and we can forget all about this conversation.”

  He stood next to me and ruffled my hair before enveloping me in a tight hug and kissing my cheek. With his arm around my shoulder, he guided me to the stairs. We watched our movie in the den, and my phone was virtually forgotten. It wasn’t until the next morning after I found it and plugged it into the charger that I saw Mack’s text that he was standing outside.

  Chapter Six

  Mack

  The last three weeks have been a blur. With the summer heat came the summer craziness that we police officers have become accustomed to. Robberies, assaults, domestic violence, and murders were all on the rise. Every detective in the precinct had been working overtime in an effort to control the chaos that ensued.

  The heavier workload was a welcomed thing. Somehow that little slip of a woman had worked her way under my skin and was tormenting me incessantly. Megan was everything I said I’d stay away from after my wife, Ella, died. She appears strong and comes across as a woman who takes what she wants when she wants it. That’s what initially drew me to her. But it’s that damn soft spot she occasionally lets show, which reminds me of Ella and makes me want to protect it that keeps me coming back to her. Well… that and the things she lets me do to her body. My blood hasn’t heated that quickly for a woman in a long fucking time. Nor have I had a woman so eager to experience whatever my imagination can conjure up. It’s heady stuff.

  I’ll be damned if I’ll let another woman become wrapped up in me though. When Ella left, she took my heart with her. There’s no getting it back from where she went, and I’m not sure I’d want it back either. It belongs to her. No woman deserves to play second fiddle, no matter how badly they try to convince me and themselves otherwise.

  “You guys want to grab a beer?” Marty Fink asked as he joined Jacob and me at our desks. I glanced up from my paperwork to see him and his partner, John Katz, standing there.

  Motherfucker.

  I hadn’t had the privilege of speaking with the fucker since the night I saw him and Megan cozied up together and heading upstairs. She didn’t realize I was standing on the steps to her house getting ready to knock when she stood up and let him hug her and kiss her. And she certainly didn’t know I was still watching as he led her to the stairs and then put his hand to her back as she preceded him upstairs. Maybe I was out of line and presumptuous to think she’d be happy that I showed up unannounced in order to spend some time with her. God knew I wouldn’t see her for days if I didn’t with the way she spreads herself so thin.

  Of course none of that really mattered anymore, considering she and I had not spoken to each other since the morning after. Even though she told me she and John were just friends, it was best that we nip this thing in the bud. We’d been spending way too much time together, and I didn’t want her getting attached. I refused to believe it was myself getting attached that had me concerned. Definitely all her.

  “Sorry, man, can’t. I gotta pick up Kara at the Rape Crisis Center over on Lincoln. She and Megan are wai
ting for me.”

  At the mention of her name, my cock twitched. Fucking bastard. It should know who its master is, and that is definitely not Megan.

  “No worries.” Marty turned to leave, but John stayed rooted to his spot with his arms crossed. You know the saying “If looks could kill”? Well, if I was a weak, pansy ass bitch with a small dick, his angry glare might have given me a slight shake in my boots. Too bad for him, I’m none of those things.

  “What’s up?” Jacob asked him in a probable attempt to be a peacekeeper, but John’s focus was all on me.

  “Need a word with your partner.”

  Without saying a word, I stood up and walked passed him on my way to the interrogation room that I knew didn’t have a two-way mirror. Jacob was cool and all, but I wouldn’t put snooping past him. Sometimes he could be such a girl.

  The sound of the door shutting had me turning around and leaning causally on my hip against the table. I crossed my arms and waited for him to speak. Every muscle in my body was on edge waiting to hear what he had to say, but I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that he affected me. This was male posturing at its finest.

  “What’s the deal with you and Megan Huntley?” I shouldn’t have been surprised he would cut right to the chase. John was that type of guy. Most days I appreciated that quality in a man. Today, it just seemed to piss me off.

  When I said nothing, he went on, “Wow. Too good to answer my fucking question? That’s low, even for you.”

  “Fuck you. I don’t kiss and tell. You want someone to gossip with, go find the girl’s locker room.”

  He shook his head and took a step closer. I really hoped he didn’t think he was going to intimidate me. The thought almost made me laugh out loud.

  “What the fuck is your problem? I’m just looking out for Megan. I wanted to have this conversation with you weeks ago, but she insisted it wasn’t necessary. Now I find out you threw her away. I just want to know what the fuck is going on. I never thought you’d be that stupid.”