When we got to his place, I scanned the dirty back alley behind the shop and across from the pizza place. I would avoid it unless I had to. It was dark and dirty, the perfect place for monsters to hide.
“Go upstairs. I got it.”
I didn’t question him. I wanted inside his place so badly, the moment I was inside, I didn’t realize how much it already felt like home. I headed straight for his bedroom. I sat on his bed and pulled his pillow onto my lap, holding it to my face as he brought in my bags. They took over most of the floor. One bag in particular fell, spilling out the contents. Panties and bras. My heart dropped.
“You don’t like them?” he asked, his calm tone clearly forced. “I tried not to get anything too sexy.”
I cringed. I definitely didn’t want anything sexy.
When I didn’t say anything, he grabbed a pair and pulled it out. “This was the most conservative pair they had.” He held the panties out for me. They were gray and cotton, a cross between boy shorts and something like a bikini. “I got a few pairs just like it. White, black, and gray. There were other pairs that barely covered my pinky.” He held it up sideways. “Let alone you.”
Men, panties, and my body didn’t go together anymore. But Klayton didn’t appear to mean anything by it. He looked disappointed. He’d tried to help me. “It’s not the panties. I like them. Thank you.” When he handed me the gray panties, I took them, folding them on my lap.
“You didn’t say anything. I got what I got.” He ran a hand down his face. “Are you good for the rest of the day?”
My head bolted up. “Why?”
“I want to go out. Cat’s coming over.”
I stood up, my panties falling to the ground. He looked upset, maybe even aggravated. “I love them. I wasn’t thinking about that. I appreciate everything you’ve done for me tod—”
He cut me off with a dark look. “This isn’t about underwear, Mad. Stop. I gotta get out of here. Blow off some steam. I’ll be home tomorrow, probably. You and Cat hang out. Put your things away. We can start training you tomorrow.” He started to leave.
My stomach turned, and all I wanted was for him to stay. But I didn’t know how to ask that. I didn’t even know why I wanted him to stay. Just that when he left, any semblance of safety I’d tricked myself into feeling would leave with him. And that shocked me. I found comfort in a man? When did that happen? By the time I came to, Klayton was already fisting his keys in the living room, and moving toward the door.
He glanced at me in surprise. “What’s up?”
I didn’t know what to say. He wanted to get away from me. Wanting me here, and wanting to be around me, weren’t the same thing. And for all I knew, he was being nice. That wasn’t a bad thing—I’d take it—but I didn’t want to push him completely out of his house and home.
When I remained quiet, he sighed. “There’s food here. Eat, please. The place is yours. In fact.” He dug his wallet free and pulled some cash out, dropping it on the kitchen counter. “Order food when Cat gets here. Just don’t leave.” His gaze became intense and worried. “We talked, remember? Don’t let yourself talk you out of it. This is your house. Okay?”
I wanted to say things I didn’t understand, things I had no right asking for.
Before he closed the back door behind him, he pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. The moment he was gone, I didn’t know what to do with myself. But there were things to do. There was a faint humming from somewhere in the house. I searched for it, finding a tiny crook by his kitchen with a washer and dryer. The dryer ran.
I sank down in front of it and waited for my clothes to come out. I watched them turn on themselves, falling over and under. I was hypnotized. When they were done, I struggled to carry the clothes in my arms to his room. The amount of shopping bags only further added to my guilt. I set to emptying the bags. It took me so long, that by the time I was done putting the items in his bathroom, and folding my clothes and stacking them all on the floor in a neat line, I was genuinely hungry again.
I shoved the shopping bags into the trash, and then opened his fridge. I didn’t know what he’d mind sharing with me, so I only ate what had already been eaten. Bread, butter, and the cheese. I located a pan. I didn’t realize I was making my favorite food until the smell of grilled bread and melted cheese wafted around me. I was propelled back to my kitchen at home. My hair was clean and wavy, and I wore a pair of sleeping shorts and a camisole. The sun was shining into the room through the bay windows, and my six-year-old little brother, Georgy, was playing with his trucks by the kitchen table.
The radio was on as I cooked us lunch. I felt at peace. I didn’t know that at the time that was peace. Having what I needed, feeling safe, unharmed, and loved. I didn’t know those things could shatter. I looked down at Georgy. We were identical. Same dark blond hair and cool gray eyes, only he was beyond his years and aware of his emotions in a way most children weren’t.
He stopped playing with his trucks and frowned at me. “Why are you crying, sissy?”
The illusion shattered around me when I realized I was wearing a Guns & Ink shirt in a different kitchen, and my sense of self still lay twisted in the dingy hotel sheets I’d been forced into day and night for weeks. My grilled cheese had burned. I didn’t want to break down. I hadn’t since I’d run away, and I wouldn’t do it now. There was a part of me that was terrified of it. If I broke down, I might remember everything, and I might never forget.
I tossed the burnt sandwich in the trash and then restarted. I tried to force the image of Georgy’s face out of my mind. But my heart couldn’t do it. My heart missed him like it missed so much. He was so innocent and sweet. If he saw me now, I would shatter any chance he had at maintaining his innocence. It was precious. It wasn’t being good or bad, it was knowing you were safe in this world. And I wasn’t safe anymore.
“Mmm, smells good.”
I whirled around in the middle of sliding my grilled cheese on a plate. Luckily the sandwich made it on the plate before I dropped the pan. I looked at Cat, and then at the hot pan in aggravation.
She grinned. “Sorry, Madi.”
I couldn’t find my voice. I thought it was still in the past with my broken heart, yearning for my baby brother, but knowing that sometimes love was making hard choices. I stayed away so I couldn’t hurt him worse than I already had, even if I wanted him more than I wanted the old me.
I stooped to get the pan as she set her things down in the living room.
“Is Klayton still sleeping on the couch?” she asked.
“Yes,” I mumbled guiltily. I rinsed the pan out and set it in the rack to dry. I filled my coffee mug from this morning with water from the tap and then joined Cat on the couch. She’d made herself at home in seconds.
“Can we talk?” she asked, reaching over to grab a chunk of my sandwich.
I didn’t mind Cat touching me. I could relax around her … somewhat. “I don’t want to move out of here.”
She let out a huge annoyed breath. “Did Klay get in your head?”
“No.” If he hadn’t told me how he truly felt, I might have gone with her. But he was honest. He’d rather have his house to himself, but he didn’t mind me being here. And I was in no position to question him further. He didn’t seem to be pushing me away. I’d have to take his word for it. “I like it here with him.”
Her sharp gaze seemed to pick me apart. “You like it here, or you like it here because of him?”
“I like it here, and I like it here because of him.” I frowned at my plate. What’s the difference?
“Hmm,” she murmured, sitting back with her lips pursed. “Interesting. Well, I’m moving in tomorrow after work. It’s two bedrooms. You can always change your mind.”
“Thank you, Cat.” I grabbed her hand, glad that I could at least touch her. “For everything.” I didn’t know up from down when I ran into her all those weeks ago. But she knew, had known; she understood what it felt like to have your sense of self s
tolen. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. Or Klayton.” Shame overcame me. “He’s done so much for me. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to pay him back.”
She squeezed my hand. “He won’t want you to pay him back. Trust me,” she promised, when I cringed. “He doesn’t do things for a pat on the back, or even the acknowledgment. I mean, he gave me back my life, and to this day he doesn’t understand what he did for me.”
I wondered whether Klayton had done the same things for Cat, whether that was the real reason she brought me here. He saved her, and he’s done so much for me. I was so thankful for her at that moment, I wrapped my arms around her and hugged her to me.
“Ah,” she groaned, patting my arm awkwardly. “I … uh … enjoy your company too, Madi. Ah, okay. Off.” She shoved me away, rubbing her back where I’d pressed.
I smiled and started eating again, taking a huge bite of the melted cheese and butter.
“Where’s Klay?”
“He went out. I think he needed a break from me.”
“Asshat.” She sat back gruffly. “I love him, but he’s such a mean bastard sometimes. Where does he get off talking to me that way? I don’t throw his life into his face. If I did, he might actually have one.”
I ate, letting her vent. I found his life safe and comfortable. It was a small bubble with no one coming in and no one coming out. It made it so he never hurt. Who had hurt him? Who made Klayton willing to live like this? That he might have ever suffered, made it hard to breathe.
“He’s probably with some money grubby tattoo slut right now.” She growled in disgust. “Those women don’t love him. They want what he gives them. Free drinks, free tattoos, free whatever.”
I finished my sandwich and licked the grease from my fingers.
“It’s like he doesn’t care about himself at all.” She kicked at the table, glaring at the TV mindlessly. “He does it on purpose. He wants to be alone on purpose.”
I didn’t know what to do, so I started pushing around the crumbs on my plate.
“It’s like he wants to push every single person away so he can never feel anything. Bastard. Doesn’t that sound lonely? Doesn’t a man like Klay deserve to be loved?”
I raised my eyebrows, creating the word Mad in my plate with my crumbs.
“He’s twenty-seven. He’ll be twenty-eight in a couple months. Then he’ll be thirty. Then forty. Then fifty. And then what? He’s going to be a bitter old man like his dad. He can’t become his parents, Madi. He can’t.” Her voice wobbled.
“What were his parents like?” I destroyed the word Mad and looked at her.
“Evil. Mean. Disgusting people.” She looked at me. “He told me about them one night when he was drunk. Everything. He’s going to become what he despises just to keep himself from feeling anything.”
I looked back down at my plate. “Do you love him?”
She surprised me by laughing. A genuine, yeah right kind of laugh. “I love him, but I’m not in love with him. I thought about it when we first met, but I think it was a hero thing. Plus, he’s gorgeous. Like really, really, gorgeous. Right, Madi?” She nudged me conspiratorially.
I transformed the crumbs into the word No.
She leaned over to catch my gaze. “Answer me. Don’t let the bastard who took you take your right to be a woman too.”
I refused to look at her.
“Madi,” she said, like she knew what I was feeling. “You are a woman. Don’t let him define what sex is, or what you feel, or your sexuality. You don’t have to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. But you can’t live your life like a shell because of what happened. You have a right to be a woman.”
I tensed, desperate for her to shut up.
“Eventually,” she added, rubbing my back. “It took me a year to finally have sex again. But I did. You will too. Eventually.”
I moved from her touch.
“I go to group therapy once a month. You want to come with me sometime?”
I swallowed down my panic.
“There’s no men there. It’s all women. They all understand. They’ve all been there. They’re supportive. You can’t live this way forever. It’s not fair to you. Think about it, okay?” She got to her feet and left me for the kitchen. “What’s this money for?”
“Klayton—” Saying his name helped calm me down. I pictured his large body and deep voice, finding relief in remembering his presence. “—left it for us to buy takeout.”
“Oh, how nice of him.” She sounded surprised. “Usually, I have to steal his shit. What are you in the mood for? Chinese and beer?” I heard her open the fridge. “Jackpot.” She pulled out two bottles and set them on the counter. After a minute, she came away with two beers, and a menu. “Read this over and tell me what you want.”
I stared uneasily at the beer she placed in front of me. “I’ve never had one before.”
“What?” Pausing in the middle of her sip, she gawked at me. “You’re twenty. Come on.”
“Technically, I’m not supposed to.” I ignored her and looked over the Chinese menu. “Stop staring at me.”
“You were at college, right?”
“Mhm.”
“And you didn’t drink?”
“No.”
“At all?”
“At all.”
“What did you do there?”
I smiled at the menu. “Study and do my homework.”
She stuck her finger in her throat and gagged. “Oh, give me a break. You’re telling me you were in college, for what, two years?”
“I was in my second year,” I explained.
“Okay, so two years and you never went to a frat party? The college kids in Denver are crazy.” I shook my head. “Did you see anyone at least? Date?”
I set my menu down and rubbed my temples. When really, it was my heart that hurt. “Cat, please. I don’t want to talk about any of this.”
“Well, you’re going to. That’s all still your life. You had one, didn’t you, Madi?” Her gentleness made my eyes sting. “I didn’t have one. Klay gave me one, so I know how much they must mean.”
I gave in with a sigh. “I was dating someone. I spent a lot of time with him when I wasn’t in class or studying.”
She clapped excitedly. “Tell me about him.”
“I don’t want to think about him,” I snapped, glaring at her meanly. “Don’t ask me any more questions.”
She was unfazed. If anything, she looked even more excited. “Did you love him?” I refused to answer. “What was his name?”
“Leigh. His name was Leigh. Happy?”
“Was he a dweeb like you?”
I gasped at her audacity, but the serious look on her face tickled my funny bone; I surprised myself by laughing breathlessly. “I was not a dweeb.”
“You were so a dweeb. I bet you only did missionary and washed your white clothes separately.” She tisk’d under her breath. “I bet you don’t even swear.”
I ignored the missionary comment and instead focused on the safe topics. “Swearing is reserved for serious situations.”
“Like what? When you spill tea on your cardigan?”
I laughed again. “You’re a jerk.”
“You really had a cardigan?” She smirked. “White or pink?”
“And gray,” I muttered, making her guffaw.
“We’re going to need to take you to my favorite store, Craze & Denim. De-nerd you.”
“Klayton already did.”
She paused once again in the middle of taking a sip of her beer to gape at me. “He took you shopping? Like clothes shopping?”
I figured her surprise was disgust. I hung my head. “I know. I’m going to pay him back.”
“No, Madi. I’m not judging you. Moron,” she grumbled, shoving my thigh. “I’m surprised that he’s being nice-nice, and not his usual nice-mean. I’m proud of him. Has he been that nice?”
“More than nice.” I felt a pang in my chest. I missed him. He hardly ever lef
t. When he did, he was only downstairs working. He was far from me right now, and I had a feeling that’s the way he wanted things.
“Hmm. Interesting.” She nudged my beer over with her foot. “Just have one. It might calm you down. We’re safe here. And Klay will be home tonight.”
“He said tomorrow.”
She snorted. “He never sleeps at the houses of the women he screws. It’ll give them the wrong idea. He’ll be home tonight.”
I grabbed my beer hesitantly, sniffing it. It smelled musky and bitter. Cat drank it easily as she dialed the Chinese place’s number on her cell. I took a taste, finding it muskier than I anticipated. But it was cold and it chased away the taste of grilled cheese still in my mouth. After she was done ordering a frightening amount of food, I set my beer down and got up.
“Where you goin’?” she asked.
“To the bathroom. I need to change my pad.”
She stared at me for a second, and then she was shocked again. “I don’t have pads here.”
“Klay bought them for me.”
Her mouth formed the word, “Wow,” slowly. “Get me another beer please, my sweet Madi.”
I rolled my eyes and gave her one before I went to the bathroom. When I returned, she was scrolling through the pay-per-view. I settled beside her and picked some crumbs from my black sweats—Klayton’s black sweats. They were so comfy and large, hiding my body from the world. He’d bought jeans that would be undoubtedly form-fitting, which was how the old Madi wanted them. But Mad wanted to hide, and his clothes did that. I looked at the door and then at the TV, fighting the strange longing for him in my heart.
When the delivery man got there, she tapped my thigh. “Go get a blanket off Klay’s bed please?”
I ran out of the room, knowing she’d given me the task because it was a man at the door. I came into the hall and listened to his deep voice. She sounded like she was familiar with him, but I wasn’t letting my guard down. When the door closed and the lock slid into place, I came out, trailing the comforter after me.
She and I opened the cartons, letting the steam out of the stir-fried noodles, sweet and sour chicken, and pot stickers. There was fried rice and eggrolls too. She pulled out the chopsticks and then turned a movie on after handing me a pair. I had to admit this was the most fun I’d had in a long, long time. It wasn’t scary. There was so much good food. There were no threats. It was Cat, me, and a funny movie that made her laugh so hard she spewed rice onto the floor. It didn’t make me laugh once, but sometimes that wasn’t the point. Carving out a second of peace meant more to me than laughing.
Mad Love (Guns & Ink Book 1) Page 7
