by H. J. Bellus
“Cupcakes,” Ridley squeals.
“Just a second, buddy,” I say as I pick up Sarah and help her back to her bedroom.
I lay her down in her bed, and start to cover her when she grabs my hand.
“You really love him, don’t you?”
I refuse to talk to her or even begin to engage in any conversation with her. Growing up, I was always afraid of the invisible monsters in my closet or under my bed. Little did I know, real monsters existed that terrorize their own children on a daily basis.
“Give me my bottle before you leave,” Sarah demands.
“Gladly,” I say as I toss her the bottle of vodka sitting on her dresser.
Closing the door to Sarah’s room, I lean back on it and cry. What kind of a sick world do we live in? We have two options, lay down and die, or fight back and build a life. In this dark hallway, I vow to Miles, Ridley, and Wynnie to fight back. Fight to show them a life worth living.
“Wynnie,” I call from the hallway. “Can we stay at your house tonight?”
“Yes, dear,” I hear.
I pack our bags and send Miles a quick text, letting him know that I’ll be at Wynnie’s. Phase one of my plan, complete.
Heading to Miles’ third and final fight, I realize just how much I hate it. Watching him fight was pure, refined torture at its finest. Part of me was so turned on by his long, lean torso exposed and his loose, low riding jeans exposing the top of his tighty whities while he bounced gingerly toe to toe warming up for his fight. That mental picture of him, exposed, raw, and ready to fight will forever be burned into my heart and soul. On the other hand, it truly tore my heart apart to know this is how Miles supported himself and his mom. He did it all for the money to buy the necessities they needed. It wasn’t like he was rolling in the dough and buying new a pair of Beats and designer clothes, no it was for food, electricity, his mom’s meds and freaking heating for the piece of shit trailer he called home. The glorious thought of having a hot backyard street fighter boyfriend doesn’t create butterflies in my tummy or dampen my panties, rather it has crushed me.
And tonight is no different. Lenny lined up a high attraction fight with a local rival. Miles promised me he could handle him, even though he had been playing grease monkey the last couple months and only fighting on the rare weekends he came home. This fight didn’t crack me, oh no, it nearly killed me. Miles lasted five rounds and finally knocked out his opponent.
“Crazy, you okay?”
I grab Miles’ hand and slide a little closer to him in the back seat of Lenny’s SUV and can only manage to shake my head no.
“Babe, it’s fine. I won. Just a little bloody and sore.”
Not wanting the whole car to hear, I whisper into his ear, “It’s not okay, but I understand.”
Miles reaches across his body and gently grabs my head and presses his lips down onto the top of my head. “I know, baby.”
I snuggle into his chest and am thankful it’s dark in the car so the debris covering his body is not visible. Miles winces in pain as I settle into him, and I instantly pull away from him.
Gripping onto my hair, Miles pulls me back down and groans even louder this time in pain.
“I need you. Stay.”
“I love you so much, Miles. I can’t watch you get hurt again, though.”
“I know, baby. Just gotta get Mom these last meds to help ease her pain while she passes.”
I grab his other free hand and start to kiss each one of his blood-crusted knuckles. He tries to pull away, so I tighten my grip and continue. Then I lace each one of my fingers into his strong, bruised fingers.
“I’m just going to hold your hand.”
“Hey, Mcpussy, you hungry? Want your victory sourdough jack?”
“Aye, aye, McFaggot Pants.”
“Miles,” I squeak out in horror, “Don’t use that word.”
“What? That’s his name—McFaggot Pants Lenny the Lion.”
I sock him in the gut for using that word again. Miles growls in pain, and then has the nuts to chuckle.
Lenny yells from the front, “I’ll take McFaggot pants over McPussy. You have no idea what he had to do to earn that title.”
“Really?” I question him with a naughty raised eyebrow.
“It’s not what you think, Willow. It was an eating challenge.”
“Mmmm. Even better,” I purr as I sit and waggle my eyebrows at him.
Miles grabs me by the waist and whirls me around so I’m not facing him, and then he snakes his arm around my waist so his hand is spanning across my zipper.
“Hey,” I squeal.
Miles bends down and softly whispers in my ear, “Let’s play a game.”
“What game?”
“The silent game. Ready? Go!”
Miles unzips my pants and slides his hand down the front of my panties.
“Miles.” I instinctively giggle.
“Shhh, that’s one. Quiet game, remember?”
Miles continues to rub his hand over me, just barely missing my heated core. My hips thrust up to force his hand deeper in my pants. At my actions, he leans down and whispers in my ear, “Patience, baby.”
I lean back and wrap my hand around his neck, sandwiching us closer together. At this movement, he slips his hand all the way down, causing just the right amount of friction on the top of my panties. My hips go into overdrive and pump up in sync with his hand, and my fingers tighten around his neck, pulling down hard. Just a couple more thrusts until I blow.
“The next J in the B is about twenty minutes out. Are you two good with that?” Lenny yells over M.
“Take your time, Lenny,” I yell over the music, and if possible, melt further into Miles.
My fingers snake down his arm and trail into my shorts, and I interlock my fingers with his, and then pull both of our hands together out of my shorts. I feel Miles start to shake his head no against my shoulder, when I put both of our hands back in but underneath my panties this time.
The sensation of his hands gliding over my skin is delicious and causes me to moan.
“That’s two,” he whispers.
I release his fingers and try to pull out. Miles grips onto my fingers. “Hold my hand,” he whispers.
I obey and hold on. Miles slides his fingers down very slowly and massages me slowly.
“Can we?” I ask.
“That’s three,” he replies.
I hear the sound of his zipper and then the rip of my clothes. Miles is inside me, filling me and taunting me to enjoy his invasion. Moments later, the other men climb back in with their food. Fuck! They either didn’t take long at all, or I’m enjoying myself way too much.
Miles slows his hips, leans up and whispers in my ear, “You don’t want me to get to four. Quiet while I finish.”
Any other time his threat would piss me off, but in a car full of other men while he fucks me, I find it quite hot.
“Lance, can you turn up the music again?” I ask, trying like hell to mask all pleasure from my voice.
Lance listens. Miles begins his relentless torture and I lose myself for the next twenty minutes.
Chapter 14
A Hard Goodbye
Willow
I fell asleep on the couch with Ridley watching a cartoon last night, and woke up in Miles’ arms on the same couch. I immediately flipped out, looking for Ridley. Miles had to calm me down and reassure me that he was safely tucked in his bedroom. I had to peek on him myself. Ridley was sound asleep in his little toddler bed, buried deep down in his Cars blankets. Only the top of his wild dark brown hair is visible.
I spent the day with Wynnie and Ridley while Miles took his mom to the doctor, and then hung out with Lance. I can only assume that he had another fight or possibly more mechanic work. I don’t understand or condone the way he handles stress, but in our current situation, I don’t have another option for him.
Wynnie convinces us to go out for the night. I have a long talk with her while Ridley too
k his afternoon nap about his safety. She promises me that she won’t give him back to Carly or the state, and this shouldn’t be a problem since Carly leaves for days at a time. I swear to Wynnie that I can fix this whole situation if she can keep Ridley safe for the time being.
“Once the heart decides, there is no going back,” is all she has to say.
***
Later that night
I head back over to Miles’ trailer to wait for him. He texted me twenty minutes ago, telling me he was on his way home. I snuggle down in his bed that smells of us and write in my notebook. I keep my promise and don’t read what he wrote the other morning. I’m pretty sure my heart couldn’t handle it right now, anyway.
I finally drift off to sleep, and startle awake when I hear Miles.
“I’m gonna jump in the shower to wash up and try to get hold of this raging boner,” he puffs out as he enters the room.
“Good. You smell like ass,” I mumble, half awake.
Miles pulls off his white T-shirt and flings it at me. I jump back as if avoiding a bag full of dog shit, and giggle when he sees my reaction. He marches across the room, picks up the shirt and then forces me to smell it. I fly back, giggling hard, trying to avoid his shirt.
“You will smell this shirt, and you will like it. Then, woman, you’re gonna make me chicken pot pie,” Miles says as he straddles my lap.
Between giggles, I manage to get out, “You’re in a good mood.”
The shrilling sound of his cell phone saves my ass.
“You better get that,” I plead with him.
“You will rub this shirt on your crotch, woman. One day you will, I promise you that,” he says with a devilish little wink.
Miles hops up off the bed, grabs his phone, and heads for the shower. His blue jeans hang dangerously low on his hips. The top of his butt crack is peeking out as if to taunt me. I just giggle to myself and mindlessly grab his shirt that lies in my lap and bury my face in it. That smell. Miles. The man who saved me from me. He has dried up all my hidden tears, put my nightmares to rest, and made me feel again with his love. With one last inhale of his shirt, I realize that I am home and truly happy. Just as my tears of unabashed joy threaten to fall, I hear Miles coming back down the hall.
It’s something in his eyes that makes me feel completely lost in his heart and soul. He took the chance of his life by bringing me home. It’s his personal hell, but it’s all he has, and I know deep down he’s proud of the little bits of his childhood he has left to share with me, like Wynnie.
“Smell good, baby? Did I miss the crotch action?” he questions with the biggest grin on his face.
“Miles,” I yell, pretending to be utterly horrified.
I don’t throw the shirt at him this time. I take it from my face and hold it to my heart, and whisper the word “Mine” to him.
“Crazy girl,” he says, and heads for that damn shower finally.
A rusty old lunch box catches my attention as I daydream about playing with a wet and slippery Miles. Without thinking, I walk across the room and plop down right in front of it. I sit cross-legged on the floor and place the beaten up Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle lunchbox in my lap. This has Miles written all over it. I pop open the cold latch to find a box of rusty cars, old fortunes, and notes. The papers are filled with little Miles’ handwriting, and the poor cars are beyond battered. These must be the cars he told me about collecting. It brings a sad smile to my face, just picturing kid Miles searching sandlots for endless hours in the hopes of finding a buried Matchbox car.
I mindlessly reach for one of his notes, and unfold the delicate piece of paper.
I AM TANKFUL FER
-my mumma
-my kars
-my stumuch
-my hous
Tears start to pour down my cheeks as I read Miles’ list of thanks. He had nothing growing up, but it didn’t stop him from growing into the most beautiful, loving man I have ever met. Even as a child, he was thankful for his pathetic excuse of a mother. I reach into the rusting little box for the letter. This gem was written for Santa.
Dear Santa
Mumma said you won’t get this because you are not real. I’m in the 3rd grade now, and I still believe in you. I only want two things this xmas. I want my mumma to stay away from Steve and I want Miss Bella’s shugar cookies.
Miles
PS—Santa keep my mumma safe.
My heart hurts for the little boy who wrote these letters. It aches for the little boy that I have watched down orange juice from the carton in his tighty whities, and eat Cap’n Crunch in bed. And my heart is definitely and absolutely shattered for the little boy who still collects fortunes and beat up Matchbox cars. I have never fully been able to understand his infatuation with living his childhood dream until now. I also never understood his obsession with fortunes and Matchbox cars. I get it all now. They were his lifeline. His little pieces of hope to fight for a safe and happy life. He was fighting to become the man he is today. He was fighting to come save me.
My fingers snag one lone fortune in the corner of the box. The front reads, “All your dreams will come true.” On the back of the paper, Miles wrote,
My dreams will come true. Miles
Miles’ voice breaks into my trance. “Hey, crazy, will you bring me the soap? I think it’s in the bag on the bed.”
My eyes instantly flip up to the bag of miscellaneous stuff we bought at the store earlier. I’ll never understand the love he holds for his mom. The thing is I don’t need to. He never tried to understand my love, hurt, and anger towards the world and myself. He was just there. He held my hand and healed me. It’s now that I realize my Miles needs more happy memories in this trailer.
I strip down naked and take one look into the cracked mirror. And I smile. I smile for the first time in a long time at myself. The smile makes me laugh and the beautiful sound of my laughter makes me once again love myself. It’s simple. He has made me beautiful again.
“Willow, are you dead?” Miles hollers from the bathroom.
Then I really laugh. I give myself one more long look, and smile. Scooping up the bag from the bed and Miles’ nasty shirt, I head for the bathroom. I manage to slide it on over my head as I walk to the end of my rainbow. My pot of gold named Miles.
Miles is standing at the sink trimming up his scruff when I walk in with the bag. I set the bag on the counter and then jump up on it.
“Willow, are you okay?” he asks with clear concern covering his face.
“No,” I reply.
Miles starts to further question the situation when I place my fingers over his lips. The feeling of his soft lips on my fingers makes me audibly moan. I grab both sides of his face and smile again.
“I’m smiling. I’m beautiful. And I’m in fucking love with you, Miles.”
I let go of his face and reach for the hem of his shirt I am wearing. Miles instantly reaches down and covers his hand with mine, and then starts to slowly shake his head no. I only reply with moving my head in an up and down motion. Miles lets his hand fall away, and I pull off his shirt with a smile.
Staring into his eyes, I speak the words that started us, “Just hold my hand, Miles.”
Miles grabs both sides of my face, rests his forehead on mine, and lets his tears fall.
Chapter 15
Scars
Willow
Cree and Milly finally arrive at The Shop after what seems an eternity of waiting. I had made my decision to stand by Miles. He was my future and had every right to be in my life. Miles suffered just as Milly did at the hand of their mother and doesn’t deserve to be abandoned because of it. In fact, he suffered worse because he didn’t have anyone rescue him. He had to fight for everything tooth and nail. And he still has the decency to be there for his dying mother.
We all sit down at a small table in the corner and I set the ground rules for this conversation.
“Cree, listen up. Miles has something to share with us, and you will sit t
here and listen. You WILL NOT say a word or throw a punch. Do you understand me? And if you choose to do so, I’ll be walking out of your life forever and will never look back.”
The whole time I have my eyes locked on my brother’s while standing hunched over the table. My voice never wavers or cracks with fear because this time I mean it. Nothing will stop me from being with Miles, not even my brother.
“Wils, what the hell is going on? I’m not gonna promise anything like that, especially when it has to do with my family. Get real.”
“I’m not fucking around, Cree. You better be careful because you’ll lose me,” I seethe and then take a seat next to Miles.
My hand finds his and clutches it in reassurance. I know what he’s about to tell Milly and it’s bound to get ugly real fast. The only thing I have to offer is my hand in a show of support. His large, calloused hand clutches mine right back. In his grip, I can feel all of his pain and hurt surge through as he is about to reveal a huge bombshell. I find myself staring at his Willow infinity tattoo on his wrist that he got on the way home from our trip yesterday. I then remember my matching Miles infinity tattoo, the ink that will bond us together forever though all of our scars and fears.
“Miles, go ahead and say what you need to,” Milly offers.
Miles draws in a deep breath.
“Milly, I came here for a reason, and it was you. In the process, I fell in love with Willow, but I never forgot why I came here. I’m your brother.”
All the air is immediately sucked out of The Shop as Miles’ words nail Milly in the heart. Cree tenses up and is ready to kill. My eyes plead with him to sit the fuck down and listen to Miles. Cree sits back and only tends to Milly, who is now a shade of pale green.
“What? You can’t be. Poppy never said…”
“I’m your brother. My mom is Sarah,” Miles whispers.
