I Knead You Tonight

by Hunter, Teagan

His eyes are burning red, pleading with me to forgive him.

  “I know that, Winston. I know you didn’t hurt him on purpose, but it doesn’t change the fact that you did hurt him.” I blink away the hot tears that are threatening to spill. “You know your body isn’t supposed to make noises like that and yet you’ve done nothing about it, despite me asking you to go see someone. You—”

  “Want to know what I find funny, Drew?” He laughs harshly, shaking his head. “You keep bringing up how you’ve asked me to go see someone, like that’s supposed to matter to me in this big way, but you won’t even make this thing between us official. How am I supposed to act like I mean something to you when you act like I mean nothing? Like we’re just playing house and I’m cute, fun Uncle Jesse while you’re Bob fucking Saget with your shit all together.”

  “I—”

  “Mr. and Mrs. Woods? Riker’s ready to head home,” a nurse interrupts, pulling the curtain back. “Though we don’t believe there is anything to worry about, we recommend you keep a watch on the little guy throughout the night, checking on him every few hours, okay?”

  I nod. “Understood.”

  “I’ll meet you at the front desk whenever you’re ready.”

  She walks away, leaving the curtain open.

  I peek at Winston, who’s staring at me with a brokenness in his eyes as I breeze past him and follow the nurse from the room.

  He’s hurting right now, and I’m hurting too.

  But right now, I need to focus all my energy on my son.

  We check out from the hospital and I buckle Riker into my car.

  “What are you doing?” I ask when Winston tries to pop open the passenger door.

  “Riding home with you.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  His brows slam together. “Yes, I am.”

  “It’s really cute that you think that, Winston, but it’s not happening. I’d rather not be around you right now. Drive yourself.”

  I care about Winston, but the last thing I want to do is ride home with him. I’m too angry, too afraid I’ll say something I can’t take back later. I need time to cool off.

  “I don’t have my car, and even if I did, if you haven’t noticed, my arm is in a sling. I can’t drive.”

  “If you haven’t noticed, I don’t give two shits. Take the fucking bus.”

  I climb into my car, crank it, and drive away, leaving him standing there staring after me.

  * * *

  Sully springs from the couch when I push the front door open.

  “How is he?”

  “He’s good,” I say, setting the car seat down. “Sleeping.”

  “Good. That’s good. I left as soon as Winston called you. I didn’t want to crowd the room and figured it would be best if I left.”

  “Thank you for taking them in,” I say.

  “How, uh, how is he?”

  He doesn’t have to say his name, and I’m a little thankful he doesn’t.

  “I don’t know,” I answer honestly.

  Sully nods, lips turned down. “Look, I know you’re upset, and you have every reason to be. You probably don’t want to hear it right now, but just know the first thing Winston did was tend to Riker. He didn’t give a shit about his shoulder or the pain. He pushed through it and made sure your son was okay. There wasn’t a second where he wasn’t completely focused on him, so don’t think he wasn’t taking care of him, okay?”

  “He let him roll off the bed, Sully.”

  “His shoulder gave out.”

  “Because he refused to acknowledge he was in bad shape. That is completely on him. He knew he was hurting. He should have said something before I left my son in his care.”

  “You’re right. He should have, but he was just trying to help you, Drew. He knows how hard you work, how much you sacrifice for your son. It wasn’t done out of malicious intent. He did it out of love.”

  Love.

  The word sends my heart hammering and I try to push the thoughts of romance away.

  I’m mad. I’m supposed to be mad. I can’t be thinking about love right now, especially not with Winston.

  “When they put Riker in the bed…I’ve never seen Winston break like that. He…” He shakes his head. “It was hard to watch. He wouldn’t even leave to get his shoulder looked at. The doctors came to him. Winston loves Riker, Drew. He loves that baby so much. Just remember that, okay? Remember the love he has for you both.”

  I don’t say anything.

  I can’t.

  “I’m going to head out for the night, give you guys some space.”

  Another nod.

  Before I realize what’s happening, Sully wraps me in his arms, hugging me close.

  “It’s okay to be mad, Drew, but it’s also okay to forgive him.” He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Then he’s gone, leaving just me and Riker to ourselves.

  Hours pass before Winston comes creeping into the house.

  I don’t know if he took the bus or walked. Either way, I’m glad for the few hours’ reprieve we’ve been provided.

  It’s quiet enough that I hear the key in the front door, bracing myself to face him again.

  I hear his shoes hit the floor and the loud sigh he lets out when he leans against the front door.

  He taps his head against the wood twice before pushing away and ambling down the hall.

  “Fuck,” he mutters, running into the living room table. “Stupid fucking table.”

  The door to the back patio slides open, then closed.

  He stays out there for half an hour, and I lie here, eyes slammed closed, trying to talk myself out of going to him.

  Finally, the door is slid open again.

  Now all I want is for him to stay away.

  I smell him before I see him: the faint scent of cigarettes and regret.

  They both make me feel sick.

  Then, he’s standing in the doorway, eyes locked on the crib in the corner.

  The one he bought for Riker, built for him.

  Slowly, he peels his gaze away, moving his eyes to mine. His mouth opens like he wants to say something, but he closes it, thinking better of it.

  He walks into the room, closing the door behind him.

  I watch as he struggles to strip from his clothes, wincing at the pain in his shoulder.

  Exhausted and out of breath, he climbs into the bed, sliding under the blankets. He’s close enough for me to feel his warmth, but not his touch.

  I miss it already.

  “I’m sorry, Drew.”

  “I know, Winston.”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt him. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen. I should have listened to you. I should have gotten my shoulder looked at sooner. I should have been the person you wanted me to be.”

  “You should be that person for you, not for me.”

  His tongue darts out to wet his lips. “I know.”

  We don’t say anything for a while, just lie here, not looking away.

  He reaches up, his hand slipping under my pillow. He pulls mine out, locking our fingers together.

  “Listen, Drew, I—”

  “I love you, Winston. Okay?”

  His eyes are wide, full of surprise.

  “I fucking love you, but I am so, so incredibly angry at you that I can’t even look at you right now. I just want to go to sleep and forget this night ever happened. Do you understand that?”

  He nods. “Okay, but—”

  “What did I just say? I don’t want to talk. Just sleep.”

  Another nod. “Fine.”

  I close my eyes, unable to keep staring at him if I don’t want to break.

  I love Winston, and a part of me thinks he could love me too.

  But I don’t know if that’s enough anymore.

  * * *

  The light filters through the blinds of Winston’s way-too-bright room.

  Winston.

  Just the thought o
f him makes my heart ache.

  Though my anger has died down since I first got the phone call, I’m still upset.

  I could hardly sleep last night between getting up to check on Riker and all the thoughts flying through my mind.

  I know Winston didn’t do it on purpose. His shoulder gave out. It’s not like he threw him off the bed. It was an accident and could have happened at any time, not just when he was taking care of Riker.

  It was just unfortunate timing, and thankfully Riker is okay.

  Still, I’m so pissed at Winston for his pigheadedness. Sure, I’m known to be stubborn myself, but I’d never put my son in harm’s way.

  Winston did.

  Knowingly.

  I’m having a hard time letting that go.

  I take a deep breath, knowing I have to face him at some point, and roll over.

  The bed is empty.

  I listen, straining to hear if he’s in the house.

  Silence.

  I pull myself from the bed, padding out to the living room, looking out at the deck.

  Vacant.

  I go back to the bedroom, looking and searching for a note, anything that will tell me where he’s gone, if he’s coming back.

  Nothing.

  Winston is gone.

  The overwhelming feeling that I need to leave rushes over me like a raging river.

  I can’t be here. I can’t do this. Not now.

  I reach under the bed for the bag I stuffed there and begin to fill it.

  Slice Twenty

  Winston

  I gaze up at my house, one foot on the steps, heart hammering like mad.

  I loathed leaving our bed—it hasn’t been my bed for weeks—this morning, detested leaving Drew to wake up without me there, but I had something I needed to take care of.

  Now that I’m back, I’m scared to face her, scared she’s going to want to leave because of what happened.

  And I really, really don’t want her to leave.

  I don’t know if I’d survive it.

  Pushing the front door open as quietly as I can, I don’t bother stopping to toe off my shoes, wanting to get back to Drew before she makes a decision I don’t want her to make.

  My worst fear comes true as I watch her shovel things into a bag.

  “What the fuck are you doing?”

  I don’t mean to yell it, but it comes out that way anyway.

  She startles, hand flying to her chest in fright.

  I reach for my own heart, making sure it’s still in my chest, because right now I feel like it’s being stuffed into those bags right along with her clothes.

  “Holy…” She huffs and puffs heavily. “Christ, Winston, you scared the shit out of me.”

  “What are you doing?” I repeat. “Are you packing?”

  “What? No, I’m just getting a beach bag ready. I wanted some time out on the sand to clear my head. Did you think I was leaving you?”

  “I…” I blow out a relieved breath, running a hand through my hair. “Fuck. I don’t know. I mean, after last night, I wouldn’t blame you.”

  She side-eyes me. “Please. That’s not my style. Unlike you, I don’t run from my problems.”

  “I was gone.”

  “Yeah, I noticed. So what?” She shrugs, going back to tossing things into her bag. “You disappearing or giving up when shit gets rough is nothing new.”

  As much as I wish she were, she’s not wrong.

  “I’m a shitbag, okay? I get it. I’m trying to be better.”

  She doesn’t say anything, just continues to throw things into the bag.

  I gnash my teeth together, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Can you stop packing for a minute so we can talk?”

  She sighs, wrapping the shirt she’s holding around her hands and taking a seat on the end of the bed.

  In the same spot Riker fell from last night.

  The bile that seems to just live at the back of my throat now tries to work its way up, and this time I barely swallow it back down in time.

  “Fine. I’ll start.” She sits up straight. “I don’t know if I can do this anymore, Winston.”

  “I thought you weren’t leaving me,” I say.

  “I’m not. I told you, I don’t run.”

  “Then what are you saying, Drew?”

  “I’m saying…” She licks her lips, exhaling sharply. “I’m saying I don’t know if this…us…is a good idea.”

  “Why not? Because of last night?”

  “Kind of. I just…” She abruptly pushes up from the bed, like she can’t sit still. “Last night was awful—for me, for Riker—and I know it was an accident. Accidents happen, but, Winston…if you can’t commit to our most basic instinct as humans to cover our own asses, how can I depend on you to commit to us? To take care of Riker with me? Because if we do this, if we give in to this thing between us, it’s not just me anymore. It’s not just sex. It’s a real, honest commitment to a whole new life, and I’m not sure you’re ready for it.”

  “I am.”

  “I don’t know that I can believe you.”

  Her voice is calm.

  I hate how it makes me feel, like I want to puke and scream at the same time.

  She’s not wrong. I’ve spent so much time over the last few years running and hiding from all my responsibilities. I haven’t been committed to anything. Hell, even photography, the thing I find the most joy in, isn’t something I can commit to fully.

  I give up on everything too easily.

  Life, living, moving forward—I just let myself stall and stall and never actually go anywhere.

  I can’t keep giving up.

  I can’t keep living like I have been, so angry and closed off. I have to take charge of my life and do something, not just coast.

  “You can. I’ve been doing things, settings things up.”

  She crosses her arms over her chest in the way that drives me crazy. “What does that even mean, Winston?”

  “Photoshoots.”

  “What?” Her eyes flash with surprise.

  “I’ve been doing photoshoots, working on a client list, building a legitimate portfolio. I’m turning my photography into a business.”

  “But you don’t want to do that…”

  “That’s not entirely true. I’ve always wanted to. I just never had the gumption to do it. Now I do. It’s what I should be doing. I’m doing it because it’ll create something stable for our future. I’m doing it for you.”

  “No, Winston.” She shakes her head. “I told you, I don’t want you doing things for me. I want you doing them for you.”

  “I am. I’m doing it because I love you, and loving you…it makes me feel whole. I want to keeping feeling whole.”

  Her arms drop slowly, and she stands there, mouth falling open and closed.

  She gulps.

  “You…love me?”

  I cross the room to her, unable to stay away for another second.

  She lets me wrap my good arm around her, pulling her tightly against me as I can with the limited movement I have. There’s no hesitation as she clings to me like we’ve been apart for years and not hours.

  “Of course I love you. I have loved you, for a long damn time now, probably since I forced you to come home with me. Actually, no,” I say, leaning back to look at her. “It was probably before that, way back when I asked you to deflower me and you just laughed in my face.”

  She chuckles softly. “You like it when I’m mean to you.”

  I shake my head, cupping her face with my hand. “No. I like it when you’re real to me. You’re the only one who doesn’t let me just sit around and waste away. You push me.”

  “I annoy you.”

  “Well, yeah, but I let you get away with that because of the sex.” I smirk, running my thumb along her pouty bottom lip. “In all seriousness, Drew, I’m glad you annoy me. It means whatever you’re saying to me is the thing I need to hear the most. I don’t want to drift along and never amount to anythi
ng. I’ve never wanted that. I’ve just always been too fucking scared to do anything until you came along and gave me a reason.”

  “You need to do this for you, though, Winston, not me,” she maintains, eyes hard.

  “You’re missing the point—I can’t do this on my own. Some people need to chase the gold stars in life, and you’re mine.”

  “You don’t need me as incentive. You can do this. You just choose not to.”

  “Fine then, whatever. It’s however you want to spin it. The end is still the same, Drew.”

  “It is?”

  I nod. “I choose this.”

  I drop my mouth to hers, capturing her sigh between my lips.

  I pull away.

  “I choose you.”

  Kiss.

  “I choose Riker.”

  Another kiss.

  “I choose a future.”

  Kiss.

  “I choose us.”

  This time, I don’t stop kissing her.

  It’s soft and chaste and full of promises I intend to keep.

  I pull away eventually. “I want this, Drew. Okay? I’m not just saying that to pacify you. I want us. I know it’s not going to be easy. I’m going to have to work relentlessly at it. I’m going to have to push my fears aside often, wade through everything with cautious feet, but you’re worth it. Riker is worth it. We’re worth it.”

  “Winston…” Her voice is breathless, and she squeezes her eyes shut for a moment. “I…I’m scared. What happens if you stall out again? What happens if you stop choosing this? If you stop choosing me?”

  “I’ll never stop choosing you, but just in case I do, you’ll be there to annoy me back to life.”

  One corner of her mouth tilts up. “You have to get your shoulder checked out. You have to take care of yourself. It’s nonnegotiable.”

  “It’s already done.”

  “What?”

  “That’s where I was this morning—the doctor. I made the appointment last night. After I explained the gravity of my situation, how my girl was probably going to leave me if I didn’t get my shit together, he took pity and fit me in immediately.”

  “What did he say?”

  “That I’m an idiot.”

  She laughs. “We already knew that. What else did he say?”