by Rose Hudson
I pull back the covers to my bed and start shedding clothes, tossing them in the direction of my hamper, not one of them making it. Bruno sniffs at each of the pieces thoroughly as I climb in the bed. I know he smells her on my clothes because I still smell her all around me.
“I know she smells good, dude.” His big floppy ears swing toward me as he turns to look at me. “Bed, Bruno.” As if to drive his point home, he takes two more sniffs before coming to lie in his bed on the floor beside me. “Night, boy.”
I roll over on my side, dread getting up before I even close my eyes. Three hours sleep.
But when I bring my hand up to the pillow by my head I smell her still on my fingers and it makes me smile as I drift off to sleep.
THERE IS NO DENYING CHEMISTRY, it’s either there or it’s not. And considering I woke up wishing she were there for round two, I’d say it’s there. It’s a living, breathing thing just like fighting. When the need to do it is there, you do it. This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen.
My muscles ache with tension as my temper tries to rise and ruin everything good from last night. And God, it was so good. I had to put myself in check at one point because I was getting way too wrapped in the feel of her.
She got in my head.
I sit in Jerry’s driveway waiting for Rush to come out and Thorn slaps the window of my truck, scaring the fuck out of me. I glare at him and roll the window down.
“Where the hell did you park? I didn’t know you were here.”
“Just got dropped off. Let me in, motherfucker. It’s cold as a well-digger’s ass out here.”
I show the motherfucker when I make him wait another minute in today’s twenty-degree weather. I lock the door and roll up the window. The look on his face reminds me of when we were kids and I used to lock his ass outside for hours until Celia got home from work.
“Dick,” he says, jumping in as quickly as he can and jerking the door closed. “Did you talk to Jerry or Celia? They know about Rush?”
“I was trying to avoid it, but I’ve been sitting out here for twenty minutes, so I may have to go inside whether I want to or not.” Thorn takes out his phone, pushes some buttons and puts it to his ear.
“His phone goes straight to voicemail.”
“Fuck. I guess we’re going in.”
We walk up to the side door that leads to the kitchen, hoping Celia’s cooking breakfast or at the very least, we avoid confrontation with Jerry by ditching the front door. When I peek through the window, Celia looks up from the table where she and Rush are sitting. I push open the door.
“Morning, Mom. You coming to the gym or not, Rush?” My voice switches from warm to cold when directed at Rush and I’m certain neither of them miss it.
“Rush and I were just catching up on the events of last night.”
Shit.
“Before you say anything, just know that I was going to get it all cleared up. I plan on going to talk to someone this week that way you don’t have to worry about it.”
She gives us a look. The look.
She starts out of the room, pausing in the doorway. “Rush, you be sure and tell your big brothers just how much needs clearing up now in the light of day.” She leaves and I expect Rush to turn around, say something, but he doesn’t.
I take the seat Celia just vacated.
“What’s changed since last night? I thought this was just a simple misdemeanor?”
He shakes his head, eyes empty, his voice numb when he answers me.
“The guy I was fighting is the senator’s son and he’s decided to file assault charges and get his son off on self-defense because he can.”
“How do you know this?” I ask, leaning closer.
“Ryann called me about an hour ago, said Senator Cameron was having coffee with her father and she overheard their conversation.” He finally looks at me, and I see that his eyes aren’t empty, they’re heavy with guilt. “It’s about her, so the senator’s going to be out for blood. They’re going to motion to have juvenile charges dropped and pursue adult charges, which means jail time.”
I let his words sink in and I feel sick to my stomach. I’m usually the glue that holds shit together, that’s just always been my job. But right now, I’m fucking failing if I don’t come up with something quick. I exhale heavily, running a hand down my face and thinking—hard.
“Dude, it’s Saturday. It’s not like we could go talk to a lawyer or change anything until Monday anyway. Let’s go to the gym and train. Then next week, we’ll get it sorted out,” Thorn says. I look from him to Rush, slowly nodding my head.
“For once, this motherfucker’s right. Come on, get your bag.”
I walk into Peet’s Coffee shop and look around for him, and what do you know, he’s sitting in the corner, using his rock star charm on two chicks at a nearby table. I pull my hood off, shaking my head at him when he catches sight of me. Without even as much as an ‘excuse me’, he stands mid-sentence and claps me on the back, pulling me in for a bro hug.
“Long time no see, man,” Johnny’s voice is deep and raspy from the two-pack a day habit he’s had since we were teenagers, but you can almost hear the panties fucking melt off the two beside us when he speaks. It’s amplified by a million when he sings.
“I was about to say the same. I thought you were doing a tour overseas?”
“Just finished up our U.S. tour and did a few European stops. Now we’re home for a couple months before we’re back at it. What’s your sorry ass been up to?”
We walk toward the front, both understanding we’ll never have a private conversation at this table.
“Well, some of us have to work for a living, you know? I’m doing the grunt work and you’re strutting around on stage with your guitar. I’d say you won that bet we made in high school.”
“Fuck you, man. I drove through Humboldt when I went to visit my mom’s and holy shit. That place was a dump when we were growing up. Now I don’t even recognize it. My sister was actually bragging about you the other day for being featured in the Tribune.” He slaps me on the back as we grab our coffees and make our way outside. “I’d say it’s more of a draw,” he says, and I laugh. We walk to the corner and sip our coffees.
“Are you guys playing while you’re here?”
“Yeah, man. We’re doing a surprise show at Bottom Lounge tonight. You should come, bring a date.” When he says the word date, Lydia comes to mind.
“Hell, it’s probably been a year since I’ve gotten to hear you guys play live.”
“Then I’ll expect you to be there. Text me and I’ll make sure you guys get backstage.”
“We’ll be there.”
I’m walking to my truck when I spot a dark ponytail swaying with every bounce of the long legs its attached to. I stand, eyes slightly squinted and peer down the street to see if it’s her.
It is.
Lydia hasn’t seen me yet, but I’ve seen her. Visions of her beneath me, of her words and sounds, play out in my head as she comes closer. And finally, she spots me and pauses, jogging in place.
“Hey. What are you doing here?” Her words come out between puffs of heavy breaths. I nod across the street to Peet’s and lift my cup.
“Met a friend for coffee.”
She stops jogging in place and I see her eyes narrow fractionally. I drink the last of my coffee and toss the cup in a nearby trashcan.
“Where’d you run from? The hotel?”
She nods.
“Yeah, I uh, ran a couple, now I’m headed back.” She doesn’t have a hundred percent control of her breathing, but I can still tell her answer is clipped. Wait. Is she jealous? It’s been a while since I’ve had a girl get jealous.
“Here, let me give you a lift. It’s pretty windy today.” I can tell we’re both thinking about last night and the fact that I just said I met a friend for coffee, and she thinks I’m not the type of guy who meets “friends” for coffee. It kind of pisses me off. I think I’ll wait to tell h
er it was Johnny.
“It’s only about half a mile. I’ll be fine. Really,” she says, reaching above her head to adjust her ponytail which forces her chest out, her nipples pushing hard against her shirt. I want to bend and suck them into my mouth through the fucking fabric.
“I’m parked just around the corner. Come on, I think I left my cuff links on the desk in the room anyway,” I lie.
Now, I’m not usually a liar, and if I do lie there’s a good reason behind it. Right now, that good reason is getting back in that hotel room.
After a run, most people wouldn’t look edible, but she does. I want to run my tongue across the dip in her throat where I see the slightest moisture collecting from her exertion.
I place my hand on the small of her back and usher her around some oncoming foot traffic and I see her almost scowl over at me in my peripheral. I click the remote and the lights on my truck flash.
“This is me.” I open the passenger door and hold out my hand to help her up the side step. She takes it but looks at me skeptically as she gets inside. I try not to, but I grin at her anyway and she reaches out to grab the door and shut it before I have a chance to.
It feels like I’m playing with fire. Yes, she said she didn’t think the Elite was for her, but she didn’t say she was looking for a relationship either.
I toy with her emotions by staying silent all the way back to the hotel, because one, I’m loving jealous Lydia too much. And two, because it’s making me on fire for this girl and I’m going to fuck the jealousy right out of her when I get her to that room. We pull up to the valet.
“Just stay here, I’ll run up and bring them down to you,” Lydia says.
Oh, no you don’t.
I open my door and hand the keys to the valet, Lydia rolls her eyes and gets out to head inside without me. I try to keep up but she’s hell bent on staying ahead of me. Is she trying to outrun me? She slides onto an elevator with a few other guests and tries to hide a smile as the doors close in my face.
The little goddess has tricks.
I bolt across the lobby to the stairwell and run my ass off, busting through the doors just as she steps off the elevator. She spots me and bolts for the room. A couple walking down the hall stops as I run after her, concerned looks, but no action.
That’s okay, I’ll protect her. Even though I’m the predator.
“Lydia…” my voice is low and lethal. I turn the corner and she’s stopped at her room unlocking the door and I run—full on sprint, making it just as she’s about to close the door. But I wedge my foot between it and the frame.
“Stone, wait in the hallway.” She finally makes eye contact with me through the crack and I can see the glimmer in her eye, us both panting. She likes this shit. The goddess gets off on a little danger, does she?
“I need to tell you something.”
“You can tell me from there.”
“No I can’t. What I need to say can’t be heard.”
She scrunches her brows. “What does that even mean?”
I lean in closer like I’m going to respond, but when I see the door slack up I put pressure on it and ease my wide frame through the opening.
“Shit, that isn’t fair. And you didn’t even answer my question.” She takes a step back and I match her step.
“What I was going to say I need to speak in a language only your pussy will understand.”
“Oh, no. Nope.” She shakes her head and slides over to the bathroom door, but I’m right with her and it’s closed so she only manages to back herself into a corner. “I’ve run like three miles this morning and I’m taking a shower. So, your native tongue will have to wait.”
I bend, inhaling the skin at her neck, my hand slipping under her jacket until I meet skin. My hand drags across the small of her back, around to the front where I reach for the band of her joggers and slip my fingers just underneath. Her head falls against the door as she looks up at me and I know she wants me to.
I slide my hand further down until I reach the lips of her pussy and I run my middle finger through the wetness, circling over her clit as I remove my hand. Holding it up between us, she doesn’t shy away like I expect her to but looks from my glistening finger to me. Her chest rises and falls at a quicker pace as I slowly bring the finger to my lips and lick her from my skin. Running or not, she tastes like she wants to fuck—my favorite flavor.
“I knew you’d be soaked. You like playing games, don’t you?” I pull down the zipper of her sweatshirt, revealing her covered by only a sports bra underneath. The tips of my fingers dance across the soft skin of her stomach and the quietest gasp escapes her lips. “Maybe I’ll join you in the shower, teach you a little bit of my native language.”
I pull her to me and turn the door handle, pushing us inside the bathroom, my lips on hers. I set her on the counter and quickly turn the shower on. She shrugs out of her jacket and I remember what I wanted to do to her on the sidewalk, so I bend down and lick her nipple through the fabric of her bra before biting gently. She reaches for my shirt and yanks it over my head, hands skimming down my chest as she runs her hand down, fingers finding me under my sweats, gripping around my dick.
“So, you get demanding when you’re jealous? Noted,” I say and she glares at me, hopping off the counter and pulling the rest of her clothes off. Fucking hell.
“Jealous? It’s really more of an inconvenience that I would have to share when I’d rather you be fucking me.” She lowers herself, looking up at me as she licks the head of my dick. I grip the edge of the counter behind me when she takes me in her mouth. Thoughts, vision, everything blurs together.
Pulling out of her mouth with a pop, I push back in, hand in her hair, relishing the feel of her mouth around me and wanting to come down her throat so bad my teeth grind. But I feel wild, untamed, and I don’t want to hurt her or my chances of having this opportunity again, so instead I pull her up around my waist, carrying her to the shower.
“Your wish is my command, goddess.”
THE SMELL ALWAYS HITS ME first. That sterile emptiness that makes me aware I’m far from home. The sounds of machines and the somber faces of passerby’s that I’ve become numb to. It all combines into this nightmare of watching Madison lose and create life by the time I reach her room. We aren’t supposed to touch her much beyond a hand hold or a forehead kiss, but there are some days when I can’t help but break the rules. I wrap my arms around her and hug her and tell her that I will never forgive her if she doesn’t recover in one breath, and tell her in another that I’m sorry.
The guilt never leaves me, though. And I won’t let it.
I’d like to think she’d be happy I ran this morning. Going for a morning run was something we started in junior high school and continued religiously until a year ago. Then our runs became my runs when her leash of freedom started getting shorter and shorter.
Today is the first morning I felt like running in months. In fact, I hadn’t even thought about it or remembered how good it feels to experience Chicago through the lens of a run. I’ve never been one to give myself over to something completely, but with running I can.
So, this morning, after I got over the initial shock of last night and saw my sneakers poking out of my gym bag, I decided to scratch the car service and run the two miles to the hospital. I’m sure my body will fight me a little tomorrow since it’s been a while, but it’s worth it. The sun is shining today and the only thing that could make this any better is if she were by my side, matching me stride for stride.
I’m prepared to have a regular day of reading to her when I walk through the door of her room and meet the eyes of her mother and brother, Liz and Kason.
“Oh, hi. Didn’t expect to see you here,” my words fumble out. This is the first time Kason has been here in about a month. With the length of Madi’s coma and the amount of work he was missing at the studio back in California, he’s been catching last minute flights when he can between clients.
Unease settles
over me as Liz struggles to stand, reaching out to hug me. Liz doesn’t come to the hospital. Ever. Something must be wrong. She came initially, but after the first week, she couldn’t take it. Had a breakdown, had to be sedated by doctors, the whole nine yards. With the medications she takes for her epilepsy, and the consistent additions of new medications for a slew of other things, she’s hardly in the shape to trek back and forth. Aston told her he would get a daily report from the doctors and nurses, and that unless change occurred, there was no reason for her to come.
Change.
“Did something happen last night? What did they say?” The words fly from my lips without pause and I’m moving toward her bed to look over the machines attached to her.
“Lydia, calm down and come sit.”
I turn and try my best not to glare at her. I love her, but I don’t want to hear her tell me to calm down when she couldn’t be bothered with any of this over the last six months. But of course, I just move to sit in the chair beside her and wait expectantly for whatever she needs to say.
“Aston just left about thirty minutes ago, but we’ve been here since three this morning. Apparently, a little after two, she had a series of contractions and a spike in brain activity.”
“So, what does that mean? What doctor came in? Spinelli or Harris? Which weekend nurse is here? Joan? I need to find them and get them to explain.” Liz puts her hand on my shoulder and attempts to calm me, but I shrug her off. “What did they say, Liz? Quit fucking around and shoot it straight to me here.”
Her eyes widen.
“Lydia Selene, the attitude and language isn’t necessary.” She takes a deep breath and stands, walking over to the bed and staring down at Madi’s face. “Madison has given us a flicker of hope, and you believed she would even when we didn’t. This is more than we could ask for.”
Hope.
I’ve waited for months for her to give us something. A sign that she was still in that body on that bed, and now that she has, I don’t know what to do. I want to throw up and laugh and scream all at once, but not because I’m happy. Because I’m fucking terrified to be happy, to hope. I know as soon as I do…
