Truth We Bear

by Danielle Rose

  The pastor explained that the wedding was scheduled for my sixteenth birthday, but I didn’t really listen. Instead, I was watching my parents. They were sitting beside me, smiling. They nodded when the pastor spoke and laughed when he said something funny, but they seemed…different. They didn’t look happy. Did they not want me to get married either?

  After the sermon ended, the pastor insisted I walk Abi back home. In silence, I led her to their house, with my parents just feet behind us. When I glanced back to make sure they were still there, I found them speaking quietly to our neighbor, Bobby’s mom. Mother’s skin was bright red as she frantically spoke. She looked angry, but her complaints were silenced by Abi’s voice and the wind.

  “I saw you sleeping,” Abi said, smiling.

  “I didn’t sleep,” I said, crossing my arms over my chest. I was defensive. What if she told the pastor? He would punish me. I didn’t want to be whipped by his belt.

  “Your eyes were closed,” she countered.

  “Only for a minute!”

  “Did you not like the service?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “It was too hot.”

  She nodded and grabbed her skirt, splaying it out around her. “I love that girls can wear dresses. It’s cooler.”

  “I think we should have sermon at the lake. Then we can all be cool because we’ll be in the water in our swimming suits!”

  Abi and I laughed as I backstroked the rest of the way home. Thankfully, it was a short walk, because my arms hurt by the time I reached her stoop.

  “Can you play later?” I asked.

  “Come on, James. We need to go home,” Father said before Abi could answer.

  I frowned. “Maybe tomorrow.” I skipped to my parents, waving over my shoulder to Abi.

  Abi’s house was only a short walk to my own, but it felt longer. My parents didn’t speak, even when I asked to play outside after dinner. By the time we returned home, the silence was so loud I could hear my heartbeat in my head.

  Before I took the stairs to my room, I asked, “Are you angry with me for marrying Abi?”

  Mother smiled. “Of course not, sweetheart.” She brushed my overlong hair from my eyes.

  “We’re proud of you, James, and we’re humbled by your devotion to God,” Father added.

  I smiled, but as I turned away, I noticed an odd exchange between my parents. There was something they weren’t telling me.

  Chapter Eleven

  Now

  I was sure the smell of fried bacon would wake Jezebel, but if it did, she pretended to be asleep. I was able to cook scrambled eggs, fry bacon, dice fruit, assemble a bed tray of flowers and freshly squeezed orange juice, and clean up the mess I’d made in the kitchen before she even opened her eyes. When I returned to the bedroom, tray in hand, I found her curled in a ball, the morning light shining on her face. I sat beside her, rested the tray on her bedside table, and tucked loose hair behind her ear. She shifted before our gazes met.

  “Morning, beautiful,” I said.

  She smiled and stretched. Her nose crinkled, and she followed the scent back to the tray beside her. “Did you make me breakfast in bed?”

  I nodded. “Eggs, bacon, OJ, and the paper on your tablet. What more could a girl ask for?” I winked.

  “Well, I can think of a few things…” She trapped her lower lip between her teeth. Its descent back to normality was torturously slow and oddly erotic.

  “You, my love, are insatiable.” I leaned down and brushed my lips against hers.

  “Only for you,” she whispered.

  She adjusted, sitting up and leaning against the gray, tufted headboard. The white sheets were crisp and tangled around her feet. As she smoothed her bed head, I maneuvered the tray to rest on her lap, and she wasted no time devouring what I’d placed before her. I chuckled and returned to my side of the bed.

  “Babe?” I said as Jezebel crunched on a piece of bacon—extra crispy, just the way she liked it.

  “Hmm?” She didn’t look at me as she busily ate her breakfast.

  “I’m sorry. I know I’ve been acting like a dick lately. I don’t mean to be,” I said.

  She nodded. “I know. I wouldn’t exactly say dick, but sometimes, things have seemed…different.” She swallowed a gulp of orange juice.

  “I’m not used to this. I’ve been alone all my life, and I haven’t had to answer to anyone since I left the military.”

  “I know. I get it. Really. It’s okay.” She used her fork to play with her eggs, pushing them around until she scooped a bite into her mouth.

  I ran my hand over her bare arm. “Do you know how incredible you are?” I asked her.

  She snorted, and I continued.

  “Don’t believe for even a second that I don’t know how lucky I am to be with you.”

  She glanced at me, leaned over, and ran her thumb along my jawline. “I’m pretty lucky, too,” she whispered.

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” I said, turning my head to kiss her thumb.

  I knew what this would mean to her. When she was taken, she was hung by her arms. The restraints were so tight that her hands lost almost all blood. By the time I found her and we were taken to the hospital, the doctors needed to remove the skin that was beyond repair. Because of this, small chunks of her fingertip flesh were gone.

  While I’d argue it wasn’t noticeable unless it was something you looked for, Jezebel felt differently about it. For months after we returned home, I’d find her staring at herself in a mirror. She was gaunt from lying in a coma. She was scarred from the abuse she’d suffered. Her body was frail, limp. Every day I reminded her how beautiful she was, because even though her outer appearance had changed, she was still the most beautiful soul I’d ever seen.

  I stood and winked. “When you’re done, join me.”

  “Join you where?” she asked.

  I didn’t respond. Instead, I pulled my shirt over my head and yanked down my shorts. I chuckled as she gasped, and I could feel her gaze trailing the length of my nude frame, likely settling on my bare ass. I left my clothes in a pile on the floor and walked into the bathroom. Turning on the faucet, I adjusted the temperature so I wouldn’t scald us when we climbed in.

  The floor squeaked as she approached. Already nude, she smiled as she stood on her tiptoes to kiss me. She parted her lips, and our tongues met. She tasted like oranges. I smacked her ass while fucking her mouth with my tongue. She squeaked, and I grabbed her, lifting her so I could carry her into the shower. Her long legs wrapped around me, her heels lodging in the indent of my lower back.

  She closed the shower door behind us, laughing as the water dowsed her. She pushed her hair from her eyes as I grabbed her bottle of shampoo. Plopping a pea-sized amount onto my palm, I reached for her hair.

  “You’re kidding, right?” She looked from my eyes to my palm and back again.

  “This is all I use.”

  “Well, you don’t have all this,” she said, pointing to her head. She turned, offering me a perfect view of her ass.

  “You’re right. I don’t have nearly as tight of an ass as you do.” I spanked her again, and she spun around, giggling.

  “Not cool, and gimme that,” she said, grabbing the bottle of shampoo and dumping at least ten times the amount of shampoo I’d put on my palm.

  “Christ, Jez. No wonder you go through a bottle a week.”

  She laughed but turned toward the showerhead. I lathered the shampoo in my hands, careful not to drop any, and massaged her head. She moaned approvingly as I worked her temples.

  “Keep your eyes closed,” I said. She nodded. “And don’t move.” I laughed as I wiped the soap from her forehead before it slid too close to her eyes.

  I ran my fingers through her tresses, lathering each strand from root to tip. Bunching her length in my palms, I brought her hair to her scalp and massaged her again. She rested her palms against the shower wall, rubbing her ass against my erection.

  “That fee
ls amazing,” she said.

  “My dick in your ass or my fingers in your hair?” I asked, smiling.

  She thought for a moment. “Both.”

  I released her so she could rinse, smacking her ass once again. I left a bright-red handprint on her pale skin.

  “You’re making me wet,” she said as she rinsed.

  Suds dripped down her body until the water ran clear. Watching her rinse the soap from her hair was oddly erotic, and I couldn’t wait to see it again. I grabbed her body wash, squeezing a generous amount onto my hand before returning the bottle to the shelf. I lathered the vanilla-scented wash over her breasts before moving on to the rest of her body. She turned so I could wash her back. I did so quickly because I was more interested in other areas.

  She pulled her hair to the side, offering me access to her neck. As I wrapped my arms around her to wash her stomach, I kissed her neck. She moaned approvingly, arching her back to rub her ass against my hardened length. I bit her neck as I ran my hand over her mound. She gasped as I slid a finger between her lips.

  I rubbed her clit with one hand and her breasts with the other. I twisted her nipples between the pads of my fingers until they were hard peaks. She moaned approvingly, so I continued my assault. I sank my finger into her depths. I pumped into her—once, twice. I pulled out and then shoved two fingers in. I stretched her, reveling in the fact that my dick actually fit inside this tight pussy.

  “You’re going to make me come,” she said.

  “That’s the idea,” I said, grinning against her neck.

  I bit into the skin there, and she gasped. I dragged my teeth against her tenderness before sucking, licking, kissing away the sting of my mark.

  Angling my hips, I slid inside her. My ascent was slow as I took her inch by inch. I spread her cheeks, watching as I disappeared inside. Watching myself fuck Jezebel was the sexiest thing I’d ever seen. I loved seeing how her body reacted to mine. She was always ready, always so fucking wet for me.

  I slipped inside her easily, her pussy giving way to my girth. She was wet. Her cunt begged for more as I continued sinking deeply into her, inch by inch.

  Jezebel wasn’t known for her patience, and she quickly slammed her ass against me. My dick rubbed against her farthest depths as I entered her.

  “Christ,” I whispered.

  My cock ached to release, but I wasn’t ready yet. I curled my toes as I thrust into her, hard, fast, deep. I reached around and grabbed her breast. I squeezed her nipple and felt her pussy clench around my dick approvingly.

  “Harder,” she moaned.

  I lifted her hips so she had to stand on her tiptoes. The water showered down on us, turning the pale skin of her back a bright red. I hadn’t realized the water was so hot.

  “Yes, fuck. Right there,” she moaned.

  My abs ached, but I wouldn’t relent. Not until Jezebel reached her climax. I waited for her. Always. There was no feeling comparable to her orgasming because of how I made her feel.

  “Come with me,” I said, my voice deep, almost painful as I clung to my impending orgasm.

  “Now. Right now,” she said.

  She grasped my dick, her pussy clenching me so hard I nearly passed out. I leaned against her, shooting my essence inside her until the final twitches of my cock were almost painful.

  Pulling out, I watched as my come leaked down her leg and pooled between her feet.

  “At least we don’t have to clean up,” she said, laughing.

  Chapter Twelve

  Now

  Jezebel was scrolling through her phone, looking for a new takeout restaurant we hadn’t tried for tonight’s dinner, when a sudden, sharp knock erupted in the apartment. She jolted upright, gaze darting to the front door. She swallowed hard, her knuckles whitening as she gripped her phone.

  My hand was on her knee, and I squeezed it reassuringly, offering a small smile before I rose to answer the door. I peeked through the hole, and saw two men, one young and one older, both in suits, standing outside the door. Every nerve ending in my body was aflame. These guys were definitely cops. Undoubtedly they were here because of something Abigail had done. Why else would the cops be here? I didn’t believe in coincidences. My days of lying to Jezebel and covering up the truth were over. How was I going to explain that I’d been lying to her for days now?

  “James? Who is it?” Jezebel asked.

  “Cops,” I said as I opened the door against my better judgment.

  I nodded at the two men, watching as the younger assessed me. I was taller and more muscular than most men. I knew my appearance could be intimidating. Maybe that would work to my advantage here. I was skilled in interrogation techniques. Surely I could counter anything Abigail had said.

  “Can I help you?” I asked.

  “I’m Detective Montemurro. This is my partner, Detective Price. Are you Mr. James Blakely?” the older of the two asked. He was shorter than me but still tall, with tanned skin and short-cropped salt-and-pepper hair. His partner, on the other hand, was frail in comparison. He was short, maybe only a few inches taller than Jezebel, his slender frame juxtaposed against his cocky grin and buzzed hair. Clearly he was trying much too hard to look like a badass.

  I arched a brow. “Yes. I’m James Blakely.”

  “We’d like to speak with you. Do you have a few minutes now? If not, we can schedule something at our precinct for later.”

  I grinned. Of course he was hoping I’d ask to speak later. He was counting on me not to be prepared for such a visit, but I’d expected Abigail to do something reckless. Even so, I wasn’t sure Jezebel was prepared for this moment.

  I glanced back to find her rising from the couch to meet me at the door. I exhaled slowly. It was now or never. If they took me to the precinct, she’d have questions. I couldn’t lie to her about their intentions. But if we were to do this at home, I could spend the next several hours—or maybe the rest of my remaining years—begging her to forgive me for lying to her about Abigail.

  “Now is fine,” I said.

  I stepped aside, and the two men walked into the apartment. I watched as they scanned their new surroundings, ensuring the area was safe for them both. Price’s gaze lingered far too long on Jezebel, traveling the length of her. Though it irked me, I couldn’t blame him. She was gorgeous. With pale skin, dark hair, pouty lips, and a curvy body, she was both exotic and erotic. My two favorite things.

  “Hi. Jezebel Tate.” She offered her hand, and both men returned her handshakes. “Would you like something to drink?”

  “No, ma’am. Thank you,” Montemurro answered. Price had yet to speak. I wondered if that was his thing. After all, he was trying to act tough.

  She nodded and crossed her arms over her chest, visibly uncomfortable that Price had yet to look away from her.

  “So, what’s this about?” I asked, annoyed. I walked to Jezebel’s side, half blocking Price’s view. He was close enough for me to look down at him, and I was sure he got the message.

  “Mr. Blakely, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you this, but your parents’ remains were found in upstate New York.”

  My breath caught. My heart was pounding so hard, I could feel it in my head, the rushing noise almost unbearable. Anger boiled in the pit of my gut. Were they seriously talking about this in front of Jezebel? They didn’t think this might be too personal of an announcement? They couldn’t ask me to speak with them alone? What the fuck was I going to say now? She knew I’d been acting strangely ever since the news report. She’d know I’ve been keeping this from her. When she learned I’d also been lying about a certain redhead, she’d never forgive me.

  Jezebel gasped beside me. Her delicate hands covered the shock on her face, but I was sure her jaw was smacking the ground just as mine was—though for different reasons.

  “We’re so very sorry for your loss, Mr. Blakely,” Montemurro said.

  “Oh my God, James,” Jezebel whispered beside me. She closed the short distance between us, slingi
ng her arm around my waist. She pulled me close to her, and I could feel everyone’s eyes on me. It was an odd feeling, a sense I’d developed while overseas.

  The military put me in dangerous situations, and it was my job to watch my back and the backs of my brothers. Honing this skill was something I used to be proud of. Now, I hated the feeling. It was like shards of glass slicing my eyelids open. I could feel their stares, judging me, pitying me, waiting for me to respond.

  Again, what the fuck was I supposed to say?

  Yeah, my parents are dead. I know that. I killed them.

  Jezebel sucked in a sharp breath.

  Had I just said that aloud?

  “Mr. Blakely? Are you okay?” Montemurro asked.

  He took a small step toward me, and I wanted to push him away. I wanted to push him out the door and toss Price out right behind him. I couldn’t handle this right now. I had to keep Jezebel in the dark until I knew it was safe to bring her into the light. I had to find Abigail before she told the world what really happened. I had to keep the identity of my parents under wraps, which I was already failing at miserably. I didn’t have time to be scrutinized over my reaction to the death of my parents. I’d swallowed that sword long ago. I didn’t want to relive it now.

  I nodded but said nothing. Jezebel’s grip on my arm was painful. She was trying to be comforting, but this entire situation was smothering me.

  “There was evidence of a…community living there. We’re here as a courtesy to our friends up north. It’s not our jurisdiction, but they wanted us to assure you that they are doing everything they can to scout the area and find out what happened to your parents.”

  I groaned internally. A high-scale investigation into my past was exactly what I didn’t need right now.

  “How do you know they’re my parents?” I asked, finally speaking.