by Shey Stahl
“Tell me you feel the same way,” Ridge demands, his kisses never stopping. “Fuckin’ tell me.”
“I do.” I sniff, more tears falling, my words whispered against his lips. He needs to hear me say it while looking him in the eyes to understand the meaning behind me saying it. I pull away from his face, sucking in a breath. “I love you.”
Ridge shakes his head, a sad smile on his face. “Where does that leave us?”
“I don’t know. Where do you want it to leave us?” I ask, not wanting to assume anything.
He brings my hands to his lips, kissing my knuckles. “I’m not going anywhere. Not this time.”
He lays me back, hands cradling my head as he settles himself between my legs. “Is this what you want?”
I nod, my legs wrapping around him, refusing to let him go. “It’s what I want.”
This time I’m not telling him no.
Leaning forward, his mouth finds mine, deepening an already erotic kiss. He kisses me like I’ve never been kissed before. Like I should have been kissed all along. My breathing is harsh, heavy breaths I can’t control, trying to process the last twenty minutes when his mouth returns to mine.
When I meet his dark eyes, he reminds me of the fifteen-year-old boy that night in his mom’s car—nervous, intense, and well, kind of crazy, begging for me to have sex with him to mask the lies he’d been told. He’s still Ridge, so more than likely still crazy, but this time it’s different.
As the rest of our clothing falls away, I tell him how much I love him.
When he fills me, he tells me, and he doesn’t stop until I arch and fall apart beneath him. I don’t stop until he lets go, his harsh breathing softened in the curve of my neck.
The day has come. A week after the ball. A week after I told Aly how I felt.
It’s finally Friday, but the only downside is Mr. Burke is coming back on Monday, and that leaves me out of a job. But it’s okay; it’s time for me to focus on the track.
Today is also Aly’s birthday, so on our last day together, I haven’t made the class do a goddamn thing besides mess around. I also have them making her cards. I figured it’d be a nice gesture. I’ve missed ten birthdays, and this one I’m going to make special for her.
“Hey, Ridge, what has four wheels and flies?” Brennan asks, his brow furrowed, biting down on his lip as he concentrates on staying inside the lines on his card.
I look around the room, all twenty-some kids with their heads down working on cards for me. “A garbage truck.”
You’re wondering what cards they’re working on, aren’t you? It’s certainly not an apology to Austin. Actually, they’re birthday cards for Aly. It’s my grand gesture at love.
Brennan nudges my elbow. I mess up on my red A I’m trying to perfect. “Why did the math book look so sad?”
I scowl at him. “Because it had so many problems.”
“Why can’t Elsa have a balloon?”
“Because she’ll let it go.”
“What—”
He doesn’t get to finish. I stick a wadded-up piece of construction paper in his mouth. “Stop it. You’re wasting your time. I’m the king of jokes.”
He spits the paper out. “Why are we making these cards for Aly?”
“Because it’s her birthday.”
“Are you getting her a cake?” Arrow asks on the other side of me, a sour edge to her voice. She’s still upset about the vanilla cupcake incident. To be fair, we celebrated Arrow’s birthday in class last month with Twinkies.
“Yes, a chocolate one,” I tell her, winking at the white-haired little girl. And then I notice how sad she looks. “Why are you sad?”
She continues cutting out a heart for the front of her card, intently focused on it. “I don’t see why you like her so much.”
“Who?”
“Aly.” Oh, wow, did you notice the way she says Aly’s name? Christ, even at eight girls are jealous?
“Because she’s my girl.”
She stops cutting, her gray eyes finding mine. A chill shakes through me. She looks like she’s going to take the scissors in her hand and slit my throat. “But I like you.”
“You hate me.”
Arrow shakes her head. “That’s not true.”
I pause, then start cutting away at the L on my card. “Well, I’m too old for you.”
“My dad is fifteen years older than my mom.”
Again, I pause. “That. . . explains a lot.”
She regards me curiously. “What?”
“Nothing.” I hold up the heart. “Does it need glitter?”
“Yes. Always yes when it comes to glitter.”
After handing me the bottle of glitter, Arrow looks contemplative again, and I’m almost afraid to ask when she asks, “Will you come over for dinner?”
“No.”
And then she’s quiet. Fuck. Look at her. She’s about to fucking cry, and I feel like an even bigger jerk than I did before. “Um, well, it’s not you. I just don’t like going over to people’s houses for dinner.”
Arrow stops cutting out her heart she’s been working on and eyes me suspiciously. “Why?”
I don’t look at her. “I was poisoned once.”
“Really?” Brennan asks, his eyes as wide as Arrow’s for denying her date request.
“No. Keep cutting. It’s almost time for recess.”
The chair beside me pulls out and Cash sits down, along with Grady, who remains standing, his arm on my shoulder. “I’m finished with mine,” Cash says, sliding his across the table.
My eyes drift to the card, then him. “That’s cool. Wanna put it in your backpack so you don’t forget it?”
He shakes his head. “It’s not for her.”
“Is it for Arrow?” I whisper, teasing him by ribbing him.
I’m offered a glare. “No. Just read it.”
“It’s for me?”
Cash nods and I turn to Grady, who also nods.
So I open it and damn near cry. They’re asking me to date their mom. There’s even check yes or no boxes.
Didn’t that break your heart? If you don’t at least feel your heart tugging, you’re a heartless bastard. Look past the obvious spelling mistakes for what this is. They want me to date their mom. I mean, I already have been, but when you’re eight, that’s hard to understand. “Did your mom put you up to this?”
They both smile, and Cash shakes his head, the first grin I’ve seen from him in a long time. “Nope.”
I don’t even know what to say. Instead of saying anything, I take the red marker in my hand and check the yes box. Twisting in the chair that’s about five sizes too small, I pull them both into my arms. “You’re the coolest little dudes.”
“We know,” Grady mumbles against my shoulder.
Leaving this class is going to be hard. I had no idea I even liked these kids that much, but I do, and I like to think in the month and a half I was their teacher, they all learned something from me.
Brennan can finally spell his name. Arrow is actually nice to other kids. Cash smiles and has stopped punching people and, Grady, he actually spat in a kid’s face for taking his pencil sharper. I didn’t know whether to high-five him or send him to the principal’s office. The fact of the matter was he didn’t let anyone take what was Grady Pee Pants.
And Luna, well she watched the spitting unfold and didn’t say a word. You better believe she wanted to tell, but she didn’t.
I had no idea what I was walking into when I took this job, but I like to think these kids taught me more than I taught them.
It’s my birthday.
When I was little, my birthday was a big deal. My parents used to go all out with a cake and a party, all of it.
When I was nine, Ridge made me a chocolate cupcake and gave it to me. He licked all the frosting off, but it was a sweet gesture.
Birthdays are supposed to be fun, aren’t they? A day you look forward to with anticipation because it’s the one day you matter. You shouldn’t have to d
o anything you don’t want to or cook or clean. . . nothing.
You shouldn’t have to see people you don’t want to.
Sadly, when I thought of my birthday this year, I didn’t imagine the night like this, sitting on the couch across from Austin.
In fact, I made a wish this morning while blowing out my candle Grady put in my muffin that I wouldn’t see Austin today.
Guess when you’re twenty-seven wishes wished with muffins don’t come true. Who knew?
So there I sit on a Friday night, in the living room, with Austin, the boys in their bedroom.
I thought after signing the final papers last week I’d be done with these talks, but alas, I have to co-parent with this prick for another ten years. Lucky me.
“What do you want? I need to get the boys ready for bed.”
Austin stares at his hands, clasped in front of him as he leans forward on the couch. I wonder if I should tell him I fucked Ridge on that couch last night. I wonder if it’ll be satisfying to hurt him as bad as he’s hurt me over the years.
But I don’t because that’s not me.
For a moment, I can’t place the change, but there’s something off about Austin tonight. It’s still him, but different.
“I’m. . . moving to San Francisco,” he finally admits, lifting his eyes to mine, assessing my reaction. “My dad’s opening up a branch there.”
With wide eyes, I twist my head to look at him. I’m shocked, if that’s possible by anything Austin says anymore. I take a deep breath and clasp my hands in my lap, unsure how to respond. His eyes flick to mine, and I’m not sure he does either.
So he tells me he wants a divorce on the boy’s birthday. . . and he tells me he’s moving on my birthday.
Do I jump for joy? I want to, but I can’t because what about the boys?
“And the boys?”
His jaw tightens, his gaze holds steady. He doesn’t say anything right away, just continues to stare, his breaths slightly louder. “I’ll see them every other weekend.”
I’m quiet, for longer than I anticipate because I can’t believe he’d do this to them. It’s not like it’s far away, but still, he’s leaving them.
I lift my eyes. “I can’t believe you.”
A flash of anger clouds his face. “Not this again,” he groans, standing. “I thought this is what you’d want. Not having me in town to disrupt you and your fucking boyfriend.”
“You don’t even know why I’m saying that.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Why are you?”
“Because I would never be happy only seeing them every other weekend.”
He shakes his head and looks down the hall. “Where are they? I need to go. Brie’s waiting.”
Of course he throws her name out. I bite the inside of my cheek and fight the urge to turn away, exhaling through my nose. Finding my voice, I ask, “Is she moving with you?”
His head remains down avoiding my gaze, but I can see the frozen mask of uncertainty. He knows where I’m going with this. There’s a pause, and then he speaks slowly. “She is.” And then he hits me with it. “She’s. . . pregnant. I just. . .” He stops, shaking his head. “I don’t know how to tell the boys, but I’m leaving in the morning.”
The bitterness, the betrayal, it surfaces and rears its ugly face, still heavily present in my heart.
He’d planned this for a while. Maybe even since they had gotten together. And what, he just thought, I’ll tell the boys, and everything will be fine? They’ll be happy to pick up their lives every other weekend and move to a different town with people they don’t know and a house they’ve never seen?
For a brief instant, I contemplate how to reply because my heart hurts. Not because I still love him. Not because I care that they’re having a baby. My heart hurts for the changes he’s making to the boys’ life without even considering them.
I inhale a deep breath, letting the air fill my lungs. And that’s when I hear, “You’re moving?”
Austin and I turn to see the boys standing in the hallway, both with entirely different expressions. It’s Grady’s expression that catches me off guard. My usually quiet son is scowling at his father, his arms crossed over his chest.
I need air, something other than these four walls and the nervous feeling in the pit of my stomach. My feet are soundless as I stand, taking a step toward Grady.
Grady’s standing there, tiny fists balled up. His jaw is tense, and his lips press into a thin line. My heart pounds, breaths tight and constricted. He looks at me, then Austin, a jerky movement. “What did you say?”
Austin’s chest expands with his breath, and his words are gentler than he uses with me. “I’m moving to San Francisco.”
I look to Cash. He always reacts first. What feels like a thousand scenarios rush through my head, my legs feel shaky.
Cash rolls his eyes. He’s holding his anger back and sighs, walking down the hall to his bedroom with no reaction at all.
Grady, he has an entirely different reaction. “We matter!” he screams in Austin’s face, his face red, pushing him away from him. “I hate you! You’re so mean!”
Austin glares at Grady running down the hall and then whirls to face me. “He’s not going to talk to me like that.”
I stop and step in front of him, my hands on his heaving chest. “Just go.”
He catches my blazing eyes. “You baby them. They’re going to turn into little pussies just like your fucking boyfriend.”
Don’t react, Aly. Don’t. You need to get him out of the house and deal with the kids.
“Leave. Get out of here before I call the police, and I will go back to the court for full custody.” I keep my voice calm, but insistent and shove him away from their room. Anger bubbles inside of me as I try to pull it back, try to stop him from controlling me. He catches himself against the wall, his eyes wide, his reaction somewhat enclosed. But he doesn’t move, and I need him to. “If you do not leave this house right now, I’m going to rip your ball sack off. Right off and feed it to the cats.”
He’s close enough I can feel his breath on my skin, feel the burn of his gaze everywhere. He licks his lips, narrowing his eyes. “Fine.” He holds up his palms, his retreat. “Go baby them some more.”
And then he leaves.
Finally.
Now what? I have to go talk to them, but what am I going to say that’s going to make this any better. I think about calling Ridge. He’d know, but then again, this is something I have to talk to them about. This is something Austin should have talked to them about. When we told them we were getting a divorce, Austin’s way of telling them was saying, “Your mom asked me to move out and I think it’s time. I don’t love her anymore.”
I picture him in my mind, that day, him sitting at the dinner table, telling our sons he doesn’t love their mother anymore. I can’t imagine what they had been thinking that day.
I creep down the hall, tears burning my eyes at what to say to them. Grady’s reaction flashes in my head, his anger, something he rarely displays.
The truth is, I ignore Grady. I do. And it’s not that I intend to. It’s because he’s the easy child. He’s nothing like Cash in the way that you have to pay attention to Cash or he might possibly blow up the house. Literally. Do you know how many fires that boy has started?
Grady, he’s different. He’s compassionate and wants to please you. He doesn’t want to upset anyone and goes with the flow of everything. Unless you ask him to put socks on. Then it’s like the world has ended.
There are days when I’m so angry with Cash and his behavior that Grady senses it and helps me. He tries to get his brother to lay off, and that shouldn’t be his job.
But he does it, and I’m grateful for it because I think he was brought into this world to help me with his brother.
Carefully, I crack their bedroom door open. Cash is on the bed with Grady, rubbing his back, but he’s not crying like I thought he would be. He’s sad, yes, but his tears are silently falling lik
e he’s been let down too many times.
I want to tell them how sorry I am that we, both Austin and I, failed them. I will forever feel guilty that we broke their home and world apart because we couldn’t make it work.
Carefully, unsure, and quite frankly, broken, I sit down on the bed and cry with them. I’m angry, I’m sad, I’m confused, and I know they’re feeling the same way. Maybe even worse.
Pushing out a breath, it does nothing but make my chest feel heavier. “I’m sorry you have to move back and forth between two homes. I really am.” My voice remains gentle, the expression on their faces anything but that. Though they look like their father, they hold none of his harshness. Well, Cash does, but with each word I say to him, it eases, lifts, but doesn’t fade. I touch his cheek, brushing my fingertips over his warmth. “You’re forced to move several times a week, and you don’t complain.” I watch Grady, his face painted with the sadness he’s kept hidden from everyone in fear they didn’t need more to deal with. He didn’t ask for this. Neither of them did. “All of this, the back and forth and the unknown, it’s exhausting for me, and I am sure it is for you.”
There’s a lump in my throat, one that gets bigger and bigger the more I talk, their faces the picture perfect of the frustration I feel. I can’t believe how much pressure I’ve put on them at such a young age.
I reach for their hands, both of them and they let me hold them. Even Cash. “I created this, and I am sorry. I’m sorry that without meaning to, your dad and I put you in the middle of our arguments. I’m mostly sorry that my parents never divorced because and I don’t know how you feel. I can’t help you through this because I don’t know.” Tears fall from my eyes, released because I can’t hold them back any longer and I don’t want to.
“Why doesn’t he want us anymore?” Grady asks through slow falling tears, his eyes the color of the sky when he cries.
“I don’t know what he’s thinking, guys. Sometimes adults do things and we don’t realize what they’re doing to others.”
Grady sighs, brushing away his tears and then reaching for his blanket he’s had since he was a baby. “Why is he starting a family with her?”
