by Vivian Lux
"Case," I whispered across the room.
He snorted.
"Case!"
He sat bolt upright, immediately in alert. I threw up my hands, "It's okay. It's me, Emmy."
He sat back. "Everything okay, Em?"
"Yeah, you were snoring."
"Oh," he sounded sheepish. "Sorry. The guys always bust my balls for that."
"It's okay. Hey, you don't look very comfortable."
He hesitated. "I'm fine."
I thought for a second. Something was nagging at me. "How did you all know to come? First J. shows up out of the blue, then the rest of you right at the last moment." I blinked slowly in the darkness, trying to piece together the events in my mind. "I never even told J. where I had gone. It's like he just knew I needed him."
Case shifted in his chair. "He got a phone call."
"A phone call? How in the world...?"
"Yeah. He shouted your name, asked where you were, wrote down an address and bolted.
I tried to replay yesterday in my mind. My family had been stuck in the living room for hours. No one had left to make a phone call. No one except....
"Andy," I breathed. I felt a rush of warmth for my baby brother. Warmth that then subsided into guilt over what had happened to him.
"Your brother's a good man," Case said solemnly. "Loyal."
"He is," I said softly. We sat quietly for a while. I listened to J.'s even breathing and tried to quell the ache in my chest. "So Andy called J. and he came for me. But why did you all come?"
"I told them to. We came for him. One in, all in."
"What?"
"He's our sworn brother. I wasn't about to let him fight alone." Case shifted his big body in the chair again, grunting and sighing. "I'm just angry it took me so long to get everybody moving. That's the problem with having bigger numbers. We should have been right behind him."
There was a deep pain in his voice that brought tears unbidden to my eyes. He yawned hugely. "Case, you need to sleep."
He shifted again. "Trying to."
"You look so uncomfortable."
"I'm fine," he snapped.
"No, clearly you're not. You look like you're about to fall out."
"Small chair," he grumbled.
"Go upstairs to my room. First door you see. The bed is tiny, but it's a bed. Better than an easy chair."
"I'm fine," he repeated mechanically. He pushed himself upward, sliding back as far as he could go. "I don't need to go." He stifled a yawn.
He didn't want to leave his post. The tears that had been gathering spilled over from my eyes. "Go," I whispered gently. "You need to sleep."
I thought he would ignore me again. I was actually surprised when he groaned and shifted, hauling himself upright. I heard his joints popping as he stretched out the kinks.
"You yell," he said. "I'll be down in a heartbeat."
"I know you will."
He nodded and shuffled heavily up the stairs. I heard the creak of the door, then the protesting shriek of my overtaxed bedsprings.
The house was silent again. J. was fast asleep. But I was wide awake.
I stood up and stretched, wondering how much longer it was until dawn. I didn't want to be alone with my thoughts anymore. Everything kept playing over and over in my mind. I shook my head and forced myself to think about the future.
I needed to plan. I knew I wanted to leave before my parents woke. I would leave a note, I decided. There was too much to say to be trusted to conversation.
The list of sublets was still in Andy's printer. I would grab them when I went to his room to say goodbye. Andy deserved to see me face to face before I left.
Feeling marginally more under control, I gingerly reached for J's laces. His boots hung over the overstuffed arm of the couch. A glob of mud dangled threateningly over the pristine fabric. I pulled the lace slowly. When J. didn't move, I gave a slight tug to undo the knot, and then loosened each lace in turn. I stood up and tugged gently on the heavy sole, freeing one of J's feet, and then the other.
"Thank you," he murmured thickly.
"I'm sorry!" I whispered.
He rolled over and faced the ceiling, pointing and flexing his feet. "Don't be," he murmured. "That feels amazing."
I tugged at the toe of his sock. "Want this off too?"
He gave an appreciative moan and I rolled the sock down, freeing his ankle and then his foot. "Those are probably pretty disgusting," he observed.
I extended it out in front of me, pinched between thumb and forefinger. "When did you last wash these?"
"You gonna give me shit about my dirty socks now? " he teased.
"Only a little. I'm sure I don't smell that great right now either."
He lifted his head. I could see his cocked eyebrow even in the dark. "You smell amazing."
I felt suddenly shy. Backing up, I connected with the miraculously unbroken piano bench and sat down clumsily.
He waited a beat. "What are you doing all the way over there?"
"Making sure you can't smell me," I said halfheartedly. It didn't feel right to be teasing him. "J.," I whispered.
He rolled himself to face me, his long arm trailing to the floor. "I'm here."
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Aren't you going to ask me why I left?"
He shook his head slightly. "No."
"Why not!" I demanded. My guilt at seeing him lying there, broken, made me louder than I should have been in the quiet house.
"Because I know why you did it."
I was confused. "You do?"
"Yeah," he propped himself up in his elbow and winced slightly. "I'm a fucking asshole."
Guilt flooded my bloodstream. "Oh J. Oh no you're not. I'm an idiot. I'm a fucking stupid idiot for leaving. I was being a petulant child."
"Haven't I told you," his voice was low and warning, "that I don't want you talking about yourself like that?"
I was momentarily abashed. I cast about for what I could say next. I felt I owed him an explanation. But he didn't seem to expect one.
Maybe I needed to give one for myself
"Have you ever felt so changed by something that you can't believe the whole world hasn't changed too?"
"Yeah," he replied, lifting his dark T-shirt to reveal his battered, taped torso. He pointed a finger at one of the tattoos that dotted the rippled landscape of his chest. "That's why I get these. Change the outside to match the change on the inside."
My heart leapt at his understanding. "Well I couldn't believe that after all I went through, I still woke up in the morning dependent on someone else. A burden for someone else to care for."
"I fucking told you," he leaned out and grabbed my hand in his. "To not talk about yourself like that."
I let him pull me across the tired brown carpet. And when he kissed me gently in the dark, I yielded to him. "You're not a burden, Em. You're my girl. Let me take care of you."
The house was too quiet to hide my stifled moan when his fingers delved under my shirt. "You're hurt," I protested weakly.
"Not touching you hurts more," he murmured, his voice thick and choked with desire. He pulled me up from where I knelt before him. I carefully stretched out my body along the length of his, supporting my weight with my arms.
"Is this okay?" I asked.
"More than okay." He cupped his hands around the back of my head and pulled me down. I sighed into the kiss. It was slow, warm and melting, gentler than I thought he could be. I realized he was being as careful with me as I was being with him.
"Kiss me harder, J." I heard myself insist.
He opened his eyes and they gleamed at me in the dark. "Wasn't sure you'd want me to."
"Why the hell wouldn't I want you to?"
His green eyes snapped. "I'm sorry I was ignoring you, Em. Shit got too crazy."
I choked out a laugh and brushed a kiss across his lips. "Everything about us has been crazy so far. You think you'll still like me when things aren't crazy?"
"You're saying things might not be crazy some day?"
I pressed my head to his chest and sighed. "I have to hope."
"Me too. And besides..."
"What?"
"I don't like you Em. I fucking love you." His kiss was much more forceful this time, sealing the truth of his words with his tongue. "You're worth craziness."
I wanted to protest again. I wanted to tell him I was stupid and needy, a filthy golddigger just like Robert said. I wanted to say all these things, to give voice to the darkness that still reigned in my soul.
But J., tortured, complicated, furious J., wouldn't let me think these things. His lips on my skin and his hands on my body shut down the protests that I wasn't worth his love. With each kneading stroke of his fingers across my back, I came alive again. The flower of confidence bloomed in my chest and with a strangled cry of desire I sat up and ripped my shirt off of my body.
He sat up and eagerly plunged his hands into my bra, freeing my breasts. His tongue sought and found my nipple, sending little shocks down my spine. I closed my eyes and allowed him to caress and mold me with his hands and lips. My own hands were moving of their own accord, memorizing every hill and valley of the muscles under his skin. I felt the bandages and a momentary twinge of guilt flared to life in side of me.
He felt my hesitation. "Stop," he ordered. His deft fingers found the zipper of my jeans, moving skillfully in the dark. I lifted my hips.
"Get these off," he rasped.
My desire was stronger than my sense of propriety. I stood quickly in the center of my mother's living room and shimmied my dirty jeans to the floor. The cool air hit my skin and I was suddenly aware of the air on my exposed body. It felt like welcome rebellion.
He sat up, propping himself painfully on his arm. His eyes raked over my body and I looked down to see what he saw. My pale body shone in the dark, lit with the cool moonlight that spilled in through the darkened windows.
"Shit," he hissed. "You're beautiful." He slid his legs onto the floor and stood slowly before me. I pressed my hand onto his chest and felt his heart beating under my hand.
"Shit," I echoed him. And then I wrapped my arms around his neck. He kissed me as he carefully lowered us both to the floor. I pressed up against him, wanting to feel the whole of his body against mine. His fingers danced downward, and I began to feel the slow hum of desire. The ache started deep within me, fueled by the feel of him. I moved my own hands down from his neck and slid them down under his waistband.
"Why are these still on?" I questioned, fumbling blindly with his belt buckle. My clumsy fingers finally managed to undo the buckle and I yanked impatiently at his zipper. "Now J. I need you now."
Chapter 36
J.
He needed no more encouragement. Ignoring the stab of pain in his side, J. pushed himself up on his arms. Her eager hands grabbed for him, guiding him to slide up inside of her.
The warm wetness enclosed him, so eager and welcoming that he almost lost it then. That would have been a disaster. He wanted to stay here forever, moving inside of her gently, watching her wide blue eyes stare up at him, her raspberry lips parted in ecstasy.
"I love you." He meant what he said. A man's word was his bond and as he moved inside of her, feeling the mounting intensity rise inside of him, he knew that he was forever bound to what he said.
"I love you too." She kissed him so fervently that he couldn't help but push inside of her harder. She squeezed her eyes shut and clung to him. He felt her soft thighs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, pushing him higher. He was going to explode if he kept this up.
"Baby girl, I want to see you." He pulled away, shivering slightly in the sudden cold of the room. She watched him, panting, as he carefully stretched himself out on the floor. He winced a little, but hoped she didn't see his pain in the dark. He turned upright, facing the ceiling, and beckoned to her.
She hesitated. "I'm not....I'll hurt you."
"I guarantee you that you won't."
"I'm too heavy."
"Ain't you always telling me how big my muscles are? You think I can't hold you?"
She opened her mouth to protest again, then shut it. He felt her small hand circle his bicep and he grinned in the dark. "Yeah, that," he murmured. "That's for you, honey."
Her other hand moved down his torso. He grunted as her fist closed around his erect member. "Is this for me too?" she whispered. The little teasing lilt in her voice almost drove him out of his mind.
"All for you."
"What should I do with it?" Her hand was moving along his shaft.
"Whatever the fuck you want," he groaned, thrusting his hips in time with her strokes.
Her mouth on him caught him by surprise. When she flicked her tongue across, he lost control. Grabbing her by her arms he hauled her up across his body so her pale white body was above his own. He pushed up with his hips and found the hot wetness of her center and drove himself home. She cried out and reared backward, meeting his thrust halfway. With a long shuddery moan, he forced himself to slow down and let her take her pleasure. Her hips ground into his, rocking back and forth. Her generous breasts swayed tantalizingly out of reach of his yearning mouth.
"Fuck," he gritted. Holding back was about to kill him.
He pressed his thumb directly onto her buzzing nub. Her eyes, which had been squeezed shut in concentration, flew open wide. She gasped and pressed her hands into his chest, heedlessly grinding herself against him. When he felt her body tighten and shudder, he pressed harder, kneading the soft skin of her buttocks in his other hand. She threw her head back and arched her back. J. saw her bite her lip, stifling a long, low moan that increased in frequency until it built into a scream. Desperately she cast herself forward, pressing her face into his neck to stifle her wild cries.
When he heard her take the last shuddery breath of her orgasm, he let himself go. Thrusting powerfully upward, he took his pleasure finally. His pain-wracked body spasmed and stiffened and he pulled her down roughly so that he could press himself ever further upward. She bathed his neck and face in kisses as he grunted then groaned deeply.
He didn't want it to end. His pleasure was tainted with disappointment that it was over. He would have been content to stay inside of her forever, hidden away from the pain that reawakened the minute she pulled herself free. J. inhaled sharply, suppressing the moan again, this time for a different reason.
"Are you okay?" Her hand was on his forehead. The tenderness in her touch was something he was still getting used to.
He wanted to lie. He wanted to hide the truth of how much pain he was in. She must have sensed it. "Never mind, don't try to make me feel better."
"Why should you feel bad?" He was genuinely curious.
"Because you got hurt coming to rescue me."
He closed his eyes. Exhaustion was creeping in and he looked forward to the oblivion of sleep. The only problem was that it would rob him of her presence for a short time. He wrapped his arms around her tightly and pulled her down to nestle into the crook of his shoulder.
"I would do it again," he sighed into her hair. "And again and again and again."
He knew she didn't quite believe him. As he drifted into sleep, he vowed to prove it to her over and over until she finally did.
Chapter 37
Emmy
The windows in the living room faced east. Of course they did.
My eyes flew open when the first shaft of light pierced my eyeballs. "Shit!" I hissed, scrambling out from under J.'s arm. "J. wake up, we need to put some clothes on."
He rolled on to his back and grunted. "Why?"
I rolled my eyes at him. "Because we're naked in my parents' living room."
"Yeah," he looked me up and down. "I don't mind that."
I grabbed his jeans and threw them at him. "Get dressed." He blinked lazily at me, a slow sarcastic smile that would have melted my resolve at any other time. "Please, J. I want to get the fuck out of here."
I
pulled on my clothes hastily, my mind going a million miles a minute. My parents could wake at any moment. We needed to be gone before they did. I pulled on my socks and tiptoed carefully up the stairs, my memory of the floorboards that squeaked helping me move silently across the hall to Andy's room.
I knocked softly and pushed at the door with my toe. My brother was flopped face up on the bed, so there was no shying away from the injuries on his face. His split lip was still fat and puffy, dragging his mouth down into a sordid leer. His swollen eye was covered in a radiating bruise, yellowed at the edges and darkening to a vicious purple over his nose.
Though ever instinct I had shrieked at me to stay there and watch over him, I knew that I couldn't. He was depending on me to get out and get on my feet. "Andy?" I whispered gently.
His eyelids fluttered open. "Em," he croaked.
"Andy, I'm leaving now."
"Mmm." He rolled onto his side and looked at me and for a moment I saw the lost little boy who needed me to protect him from our father. "Okay," he said, but his voice wavered and caught in his throat.
"Andy, thank you."
"Don't thank me."
"Yes, I'm going to thank you. And as soon as you're eighteen, if you want to you can come live with me, okay?"
"Really?"
"I promise."
He rolled over and looked at the ceiling. "You have six months to get your shit together, Em," he croaked.
I stifled a laugh that ended in a sob. "Plenty of time," I winked.
There was no place on his face that I could kiss him without fear of causing him pain. So I lifted his battered knuckles to my face instead. I kissed the back of his hand, all scraped and raw, then pressed it to my face. "I love you."
"Love you too, Em," he whispered. "Now get the fuck out of here."
I grabbed the list of sublets that still sat in the tray of his printer and waved them encouragingly at him. Then I blew him a kiss and turned quickly to hide my tears. As I stepped out into the hall, I thought I heard my mother stirring and was hit with another wave of guilt. I couldn't face her today. Not after all that had happened. I would call today, I promised myself. Just as soon as I had a chance.
