by Kacey Shea
“I’m sure.” I kiss his lips.
Fuck! He pulls my hips down and at the same time thrusts his hips up.
“Yes.” I murmur and rock my hips. My clit hits his pelvic bone with each sway forward and it’s the perfect mix of sensations. Ash rubs his hands over my ass and gives one hard slap. My pussy tightens with arousal.
“Yes, ride me, Callie. I love this ass.” He slaps me again and it sends heat all the way from my center to my toes.
I pick up my pace, rock forward and back, up and down, and I’m so close. Ash’s hands return to my hips and his head slams back onto the couch cushion. He begins thrusting up with his hips at a punishing pace and it’s exactly what I need to push me over the edge.
“Yes, yes, yes,” I chant over and over until my orgasm rolls over me. My sex tightens and begs for his release. Ash’s movements become hurried, hard, and I watch him lose control.
“Fuck, Callie,” he groans and his fingers dig deeper into my hips. Hard enough I’ll have bruises tomorrow, and with that another wave of desire thrums through my body. His back arches and he holds me to him. I study his face as his eyes pinch shut. I can feel him inside me, pulsing as he fills me with his release.
“Fuck, Callie,” he says again, this time with reverence and a smile in his voice. His hands leave my hips to trace up my spine and tug my body down to him. Our lips find each other and we kiss, unhurried, full of passion as our heartbeats return to a steady rhythm.
“I’m going to use the bathroom,” I say because I don’t want his release to leak out of me and make a mess all over the couch. He nods and I take a quick trip to the restroom to clean up. My brain wants to overanalyze what just happened but I don’t give it the chance. I just wash my hands and rush back out to Ash.
He’s reclined on the couch where I left him, only he’s pulled his pants back on. I plan on retrieving my clothes but he holds out his hand to me, his brow furrowed, and I can’t help but go to him.
“What is it?” I stand between his outstretched legs and brush my fingers where his forehead crinkles in thought. His brow relaxes as he exhales deeply. As if my touch comforts him.
“This sounds so lame . . .” He shakes his head and his lips turn up in a ghost of a smile. “Never mind.” He releases my hand.
“You can’t say something like that and not tell me.” I cup his face with my hands and search his gaze. The hazel swims with so much emotion, his lips part, and my pulse quickens awaiting his words.
“Snuggle?” His smile is uncertain. I release my breath and nod with a soft smile.
“Of course.” His arm goes to my naked waist and he pulls me down on top of him, scooting back and rolling us so we’re on our sides, my back to the couch. It’s a snug fit, but he doesn’t seem to mind. Ash tucks one hand under his head and his bicep creates the perfect pillow for my head. It’s almost unnerving, the way his gaze locks with mine, but the intensity also solidifies the importance of what we just shared.
His hand brushes the hair from my forehead and he dips his chin to leave one soft kiss across my skin. I snuggle into him, inhaling the scent of sex, sweat, and something else that’s just us. Warmth encases my soul and peacefulness settles over my worries. As my eyes flutter shut his even breath and steady pulse beats to mine. My mind settles to sleep.
It’s only in the moments before I give in to the pull of rest that I remember the leftover food and mess strewn across the table. It doesn’t escape me that for the first time ever I don’t care if it sits there all day and night. Maybe it’s because of my utter exhaustion. Or maybe it’s just Ash.
I hate how much I miss my roommate.
The past twenty-four hours have been excruciating but at least I have Ash. The way we were together yesterday—it was so powerful, intimate, honest. Like nothing I’ve experienced before. Our pain, ever present, fueled the need to seek the other. To comfort, console, and love.
We slept together on the couch through the rest of the day. Sometime in the dead of night I felt him stir and I watched as he went into the kitchen. I wasn’t sure exactly what he was doing, maybe getting a drink, but through the shadowed moonlight it became perfectly clear. He was cleaning the kitchen. Shirtless, too, an added bonus for my entertainment.
When he came back to the couch I opened the blanket to let him into the warm cocoon and he made love to me. Softly. Sweetly. It wasn’t fucking but it was still as intense, still as hot. His eyes burned into mine with a passion and care I’ve never known.
It was scary as shit.
I don’t know if I’m ready for a real relationship with anyone. Not right now. Not while I’m so sad. Not when I’m still recovering from Chase. I don’t want to disappoint Ash, because he’s very much my friend and I know he has feelings for me. I can’t pretend I didn’t overhear him speaking with Kiki. He hasn’t said anything, and I haven’t mentioned it, but the words were spoken all the same.
And I don’t know where that leaves us. I want to love him, authentically without reservation, but I’m not in a place to do so while my heart is breaking with loss. Maybe he understands and is giving me the space to figure it out. Figure out myself.
He left early this morning with very few words. Just the promise that he’d come back in a few hours. I went back to sleep not ready to face a new day. Finally, I drag myself into the shower for a much needed rinse. My hair is such a mess that it takes longer than usual to wash and comb my wild curls. The day drags and all I want to do is go back to last night and that little bubble Ash and I created. Where everything felt safe, hopeful, healing.
Instead, I sit at the kitchen table in a pair of sweats with a cup of coffee while I stare blankly at a stack of sticky notes. I should make a list. Because I need something to do to feel productive. To feel as though my world will move forward.
But I’ve got nothing and the yellow pad mocks me.
Hell, even the coffee lacks flavor.
The scrape of the front door jolts me from my stupor and my chin lifts to find Ash walking through the doorway. His overnight bag is slung over one shoulder while the crutches support his weight. He’s showered and shaved, but the skin under his eyes puffs and the white of his eyes cloud with pink as if he’s been crying.
“Callie.” He says my name strangely and I tilt my head. Alarm and fear pulse through my veins and even my hands begin to shake from where they clutch my coffee mug.
“What’s going on, Ash?”
He shifts his weight to one of the crutches and doesn’t quite meet my stare. He’s scaring me.
“Ash? What happened? Where have you been?”
“Station. They put me on leave.” His jaw ticks and his voice is clipped.
“Oh, I’m sorry, but I guess that makes sense, what with your injury.” I search his eyes as they lock with mine.
“Not because of my leg.” He grates his jaw twice. “Callie, I came by because, well, I’m here to say good-bye.”
There must be something wrong with me because I don’t understand. “You don’t have to go back to your condo tonight. That is, if you don’t want to. You can stay here.” And I’d like him to but he shakes his head and his lips pinch into a frown.
“No. That’s not what I mean. I’m moving back to Fairfax. I just got off the phone. I’ve got a buddy who just made chief at one of the other stations. He wants me back.”
“Well, too damn bad.” The words fly from my mouth. I shut my eyes a moment and hold back the sob that threatens to escape. I’ve lost one friend and that’s more than I can take. But to lose Ash right now? “Tell him no.”
His brows rise and he straightens his stance with the help of his right crutch. “No?”
“No. You can’t leave. Don’t leave. Why are you leaving?” The pleas tumble from my lips and I stumble out of the chair. This time I let my tears fall freely. I inhale, an audible sob, and his face pinches with distress.
“Callie, don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he murmurs as if my pain affects him, too. “
I don’t want to go, but—”
“So, don’t. I can’t do this without you. I can’t lose you, Ash.” I swipe my arm across my face, taking with it tears and snot. I should care how gross it is, but I don’t. I don’t care if Ash sees me this way if it means he’ll change his mind.
“I’m sorry I let you down. I’m sorry I couldn’t save Kiki. I’m sorry I can’t stay.”
“Please don’t leave, not today. Ash, I . . . I lo—”
“No. Don’t say that.” His eyes snap to mine and grow hard. He steps back, putting more space between us. I want to say the words, to argue with him, for him to understand just how much I care. But with his jaw tense and gaze narrow I know he won’t believe a word I say. The space between us grows uncomfortable and is full of all the things I wish could change. “Don’t say that unless you mean it. Don’t say that unless you know for sure. You’re tired, we’ve been through a lot, but don’t say something just to make me stay.”
I open my mouth to argue but he cuts me off. “I can’t. Okay? You don’t have to understand or agree. I just need you to respect my decision.” His eyes fill with tears. “I can’t stay in this town anymore.”
“When will you leave?” I choke out. I’m surprised the words even make it past my lips coherently, they’re so full of agony. He shrugs and shuffles to the door. His retreating back causes even more tears to fall from my face.
This isn’t happening.
“Good-bye, Callie.” He doesn’t look over his shoulder to say the words and when he pulls the front door open wide a gust of wind sends goosebumps across my skin. This isn’t real. He steps outside and I refuse to say good-bye to this man, to acknowledge he’s leaving me. He can’t leave, not at a time like this. “Good-bye.” He says the words again and shuts the door with a soft thud and click of the lock.
And just like that, he’s gone. All of my hurt escapes my lips in a wail. I fall onto the couch, the one we made love on all through the night and clutch one of the throw pillows to my chest as I give in to my tears, my cries, my pain.
I’ve never felt more alone.
My eyes burn and the skin just underneath them is swollen when I wake up on the couch hours later. I can’t read the clock on the wall because no sun or moon casts shadows in the room. I sit up and hug my legs to my chest as I remember how I ended up in this place.
The grumble of my stomach begs for sustenance, but before I lift myself off the couch my purse buzzes with an incoming call or message. I drag it closer and dig inside until I unearth my cell. The screen reads 5:44 PM. God, I slept the entire afternoon. I guess that’s understandable given the last forty-eight hours.
Unlocking the screen, I scroll through the messages. News has spread and the number of people who have reached out to offer support or condolences is overwhelming. I may have only lived in this community a short while, but the kindness I’m being shown is touching. I send replies to the important people, my dad, Jill, Alicia, and my boss, Jim. Mostly so they don’t worry or try to come over. I don’t want to see anyone. No one will get it, understand my loss, what I’ve been through. That is, no one except Ash. But he’s not here and he hasn’t texted. I can’t believe he would leave me. I drop my phone back in my bag.
The house is so quiet.
No shuffle of feet. No whiny meows.
Shit. The cat.
It’s then I recall the closet and boxes. The one marked for me.
Stepping down the hall, I flip on the switch in Kiki’s room and the pale yellow lampshade illuminates the space. I open the closet door and pull out the box labeled with my name. Sitting on the bed, I fold my legs under me and set the container on my lap to remove the lid. I’m startled at what I find. I don’t know what I was expecting, maybe something more colorful and reminiscent of my friend, but not this.
Inside lies one large manila envelope, thick, too. And one small white envelope with my name scrolled across the front. Since it’s labeled with my name, I open it first. Penned in her cursive is a letter addressed to me.
My dearest Callie,
If this letter finds you it means I have passed on from this earth. Do not be sad. Okay, be a little sad, but don’t wallow in your own tears on my behalf. I’ve had a good life, better than most—I’ve traveled the world, made love to men along the way, but most importantly, I experienced what it was to love and be loved. I pray I’m with him now, and if I am, you must not be sad, for my heart has always belonged with my Phil.
I don’t have many regrets in life, but one, if I’m being honest, was not having children of my own. By the time Phil and I got together it was too late for me, and though I always hoped his children would be like my own, that never happened. I’m sure you’ve discovered by now that Chase’s family is linked most intimately to my own. I wanted to tell you, considered it often, but I feared the information would only give you a reason to hate him. Or worse, me. I’m sorry for that.
You have come into my life so unexpectedly. And with that you’ve brought so much joy in a time I was struggling to find the goodness in life. You’ve brought my garden back, but more, you’ve restored my faith in humanity, family, and friendship. You have truly been the daughter I always longed for. You are so special. Never let anyone cause you to doubt this.
I pray you don’t open this letter for many, many years, but no matter the time, I want you to know that I love you, my sweet Callie, dear. Thank you for everything you’ve done for this old woman. I know you didn’t do it expecting something in return, but I have a surprise for you all the same.
My love,
Mary Katherine Callahan
I carefully fold the letter away from my body as to not blot the ink with my tears. Damn it. I don’t want to cry anymore, but these tears, they’re more than just pain, they’re full of love for my friend. She couldn’t have known how much that one letter would mean to me, but right now it’s given me the ability to breathe deeply again. Her words are something I will cherish always. Tucking the note back inside the box, I pull out the larger package. This must be the surprise. I have no clue what it is, but since it’s from Kiki I can’t wait another minute to find out.
Tearing the flap, I remove the stack of paper inside.
Oh. My.
A red stamped font marks the document as a copy, but it’s the words beneath that catch me off guard and completely tilt my world.
I, Mary Katherine Callahan, being of sound mind and body, do bequeath all monies, insurance policies, real estate, and other property to Callie Gordon, my sole beneficiary.
It’s too much, and yet not enough because I don’t want it. I just want Kiki. I shove the papers back into the box and fish out her letter to me, clutching it close. Maybe it’s because it’s her room, or because of what I just read but my racing pulse settles and a calm peace washes over me. I pull her afghan, the one folded at the foot of the bed, over my body and I flip the switch off to her bedside lamp. The comfort of her bed and the words of her letter wrap me in warmth as I give in to the lull of sleep. An escape from this day, no less, but her words offer comfort all through the night.
I want you to know that I love you, my sweet Callie, dear.
I know, Kiki. I know. I love you, too.
I hate life sometimes.
I know I’m supposed to be positive and think things like this too shall pass, or what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger, but fucking hell. Sometimes, on days like today everything seems hopeless, and lost, and there doesn’t seem to be a point to the pain.
And I know others have it harder than I do. At least I have a job, a place to live, breath to take, but knowing and feeling are two different experiences. I know it will get better. However, in this moment I feel as though I’d rather die.
Everything has been like this since Kiki died. Since Ash left. And every day I debate with myself about moving back to my house. Where I belong. It’s down the street and it’s the house I bought for myself. Except when I go inside Kiki’s home, it feels as if she’s still wi
th me. I can’t help but feel if I move away that I’ll be giving up on her. Besides, she left it to me, and after everything moves through the probate process, this place will be legally mine.
I’m also looking for Silas.
I check in with the local shelters daily. After two weeks I’m certain they’re completely sick of me, but I’m determined to find him and bring him home. And with last week’s snow storm dropping another ten inches I realize the chances of finding him alive are diminished. But I’m not giving up hope.
Jill and Alicia have been amazing. Sticking by my side and making sure I don’t fall into a sadness I can’t escape. They bring me food. They bring me wine. We laugh. But I still miss Kiki. I long for Ash.
Jim has been more than helpful, and I’m thankful to have a boss like him. And with the nature of my job I really can work from anywhere. It’s nice to not have to go in to an office and pretend things are fine when they aren’t. It’s also great to have an income while I figure out my next move.
That’s something I’ve been giving lots of consideration these past two weeks. There was a card in the manila envelope along with Kiki’s will, and I contacted the lawyer right away. Her will has to be probated and he’s invited me to the reading of it next week. It’ll take a few months for everything to move through probate before disbursements will be made but the estimated sum of my inheritance renders me speechless. Bottom line, I have a few months to decide what I want to do. To sell the house. Quit my job. Travel the world. Buy an Aston Martin DB9 and drive into the sunset never to return.
So many possibilities and yet none seem right.
My dad doesn’t know about the will. I haven’t told anyone, and I honestly can’t wait to visit him for Christmas. The next three weeks are bound to drag but I trust he will give me the guidance I need before I make any major decisions.
