Torn

by Deborah Bladon

  Her eyes search mine. "It was a loss for you, wasn't it?"

  I nod. "I want kids. I wanted that boy. I was devastated when I found out he wasn't mine."

  "Don't you think that it's better that you found out before he was born?" she begins before she takes a metered step closer to me. "It would have been harder to accept if you found out later that he wasn't your son."

  I just stare at her. There's so much compassion in her eyes.

  "Think about him," she continues. "I can't imagine what it would be like to find out at some point in your life that your dad isn't your dad."

  I cover my mouth with my hand, tears welling in my eyes. "I know what that feels like, Falon. I know exactly what it feels like."

  ***

  Tears stream down her face as she listens to the voicemail. Her hand holds mine just as tightly as it has since we left her studio to come to my apartment. We didn't speak after I told her that I wanted her to come home with me. She'd called a client to reschedule a shoot and then locked her studio door before we hopped into a taxi.

  I brought her straight into my bedroom before I opened the safe and pulled the flash drive from the envelope. When I plugged it into my computer, her eyes locked with mine. She tilted her head towards the speaker once she heard my dad's voice.

  Her brows had risen and then she pressed play again, closing her eyes as my dad's voice filled the room a second time.

  "This is what you found out that day in my studio, isn't it?" She pauses. "I felt it. I didn't know you, yet I could feel your pain."

  "I got the call about it then." I tap my foot against the floor as I sit on the bed next to her. "I didn't hear it myself until later that day."

  "Then we kissed the next day." Her fingers trail over her lips. "You were dealing with this then. You had just heard this?"

  "Hours before that." I follow the path of her fingers with my own, running the pad of my thumb over her bottom lip. "I was so fucked up that day. I knew I wanted to see you but I didn't handle it well. I'm sorry about that."

  Her eyes drop to the laptop, she pushes it closed. "Did you ever suspect? I've seen articles online about you and your family. I didn't think any of them were real."

  My brows rise. "I've had suspicions for years. I'm a lot different than my brothers."

  "Do they know? Did you tell them about this?"

  I'm ashamed to admit that I haven't. I know it's going to pain Gabriel when he realizes that I've known for this long and I didn't tell him. He's always been upfront with me about everything. I wanted to deal with this by myself, by my own terms. I'm hoping he'll see merit in that. I want him to be proud of me, Caleb too.

  "I haven't told anyone else. You're the only one."

  She slides closer to me, wrapping her arm around my shoulder. "I'll do anything to help you, Asher. We can talk, or you can yell or we can ignore it all until you're ready to tell your family."

  I reach up to cup her chin in my hand. "I just want you. The only thing I want right now is to make love to you."

  CHAPTER 41

  Falon

  "It's been killing me, Falon," he says gruffly. "Not touching you, not tasting you. I've felt like a starved man since I went to Philly."

  "It felt like forever, Asher," I say softly as I watch him undress.

  He'd taken his time helping me out of my clothes. He knelt down as he pulled my shorts down, showering my legs with kisses before he touched me through the lace panties I'm wearing. They'd gotten wet not only from his finger on my clit, but from the way he was growling, telling me that he loved my body, that he wanted to be inside me.

  When he finally pulled my panties off, he licked my pussy, moaning the entire time. I didn't come. I wanted to but I wanted to touch him more. I'd tried to slow his movements by pulling on his hair. He chuckled, pushing me onto the bed before he moved his lips up my stomach.

  He unbuttoned the blue blouse I'm wearing slowly, telling me that my skin is so soft and that he dreams about touching me almost every night. By the time he unhooked my bra, my nipples were tight points, hard and aching.

  My hips bucked off the bed when he circled one nipple in his mouth before he bit down hard on it. I cried out and he silenced me with a lush kiss on my lips. I tried to help him undress then, but he'd pulled back. He's standing in front of me now, completely nude.

  "Your tattoos are beautiful." I lean forward to press my fingertips against his chest. "Tell me what they mean."

  He glances down, his eyes raking over his own muscular frame. His body is remarkable. It's a testament to hard work and dedication. He gestures towards his right arm. "I had a design in mind for this arm but it all went to hell."

  I laugh as I study it. It's an intricate blend of symbols and images, all woven together in a design that is as unique as he is.

  "I went to a different tattoo artist in each city I've played in. During some of those sessions I knew what I wanted, other times I didn't. This is the result so far."

  "Is there one from Philadelphia?"

  "No." He kneels on the floor in front of me, pushing my thighs apart. "We'll go back together one day and you'll help me decide what to get."

  I nod softly, studying his handsome face. His beard is almost full now. It's dark, unkempt. He looks beautiful and dangerous, desirable and tortured.

  "What about this?" I rest my hand on his chest over the Roman numerals. "It's the number twenty-six, isn't it?"

  "I got that one the day of my twenty-sixth birthday." His hand leaps to cover mine as he holds my gaze. "Someone once told me that I wouldn't live to see my twenty-sixth birthday. They told me that I'd die before then from an overdose. That person told me they'd die if I did."

  I stare at the definition of the tattoo. It's faded some but it's bold, strong, a testament to the man whose body it adorns. "Who said that?"

  "My dad did." He exhales audibly. "I was twenty-one at the time."

  "You were young."

  "Young and stupid," he whispers. "He dropped by my dorm room one afternoon. It was a Wednesday, in the spring. I was so high I fell over. He didn't help me up. He just stood there telling me that I needed to clean up before I died."

  "You did clean up." I stroke his cheek with my hand. "Look at you now. You're a rock star."

  He smiles softly. "I'm clean now. I'll stay clean forever."

  ***

  "You're everything I've ever wanted." His lips find mine again in a heated, wet kiss. I lick through the kiss, pushing his mouth open, claiming his tongue. He pushes me back onto the bed, rising above me.

  My hands are all over him; grabbing his shoulders, sliding down to his pectorals, gliding over his rock hard stomach. "You're so perfect, Asher."

  He smiles against my lips. "I love that you think that."

  "I do," I whisper as I move my hand lower, circling his cock with my hand. It's wide, heavy and hot in my palm. I move my hand, stroking him slowly, the motion pulling a series of groans from within him.

  "Your hands do something to me," he growls. "Your lips too."

  I take that as a suggestion, moving quickly. I push him onto his back, taking the tip of his cock between my lips. His body tenses immediately.

  "You can't do that to me." His warm hand strokes my hair. "I'll come from your lips."

  "I won't complain if you do." I lick the side of his erection, lapping my tongue against it. "I want to give this to you."

  He quiets, his hand falls to his side. "I won't deprive you of anything you want."

  I smile and giggle before I grip the root and lower my mouth over the shaft. I go slowly, taking as much as I can before I slide it out, almost completely. I repeat the motion, over and over, faster, then slower. I pump with my hand, cup his balls with my other hand, use his body as leverage when I finally take him quickly, hot, fast plunges into my mouth.

  "Stop, please." His voice pleads." Let me fuck you now."

  I still. I want to taste his release. I crave it. I have since that day in my shower wh
en he came all over my face, his face twisted with pleasure.

  "Fuck me," I whisper against the length of him.

  He's on his feet in an instant, his hard-on bobbing heavily between his legs. He opens a drawer, pushes his hand in and then he starts yanking things out, tossing them behind him. I move slightly so I can get a better look.

  "Those are boxer briefs." I point at all the pairs he's thrown from the drawer. "You have more underwear than I do."

  He laughs as he pulls a condom package from the depth of the drawer. "I knew there was one here somewhere."

  I watch in silence as he sheaths his thickness, pulling the condom over, carefully, precisely.

  He's not gentle when he lowers himself over me, his hand cupping my ass, positioning me just right before he buries himself in me in one deliciously, long and thick stroke.

  "Asher," I moan.

  "Tell me it's good, Falon." He tilts his hips, the drives harder and deeper. "Tell me."

  "It's only this good with you," I say into the skin of his neck. "Only you."

  CHAPTER 42

  Asher

  I fucked Falon Shaw and then I fell in love with her. It may have happened before that. Who the fuck am I kidding? I fell in love with her that first day in her studio. Back then it wasn’t real love. It was more, I want a taste of that sweet pussy love, but now, this is different.

  She's been sitting at the foot of my bed, in nothing but her white lace panties, reading everything in the envelope Daniel dropped off. That same envelope that I'm now, more than ever, determined to show my dad.

  I have to put this part of my life to rest. I don't want it hanging over my head. I'm not a Foster. That's the brutal reality of it all. I'd like to know who my biological dad is, but I'm not going to let that curiosity chart the course of my life for the next two, three or even ten years.

  If my dad doesn't know, I'll go to my mom. If she refuses to tell me, I'll let it rest. The time I would spend seeking out the truth is time I could be spending with Falon. She makes me like who I am, regardless of who played a part in my birth. I see the future when I look at her.

  "This woman is a real bitch."

  "Don't I know it," I say with a grin. "She was almost my step-mother."

  "You're wicked step-mother." She raises some of the papers in her hand. "Have you read all of these? They are mostly her asking your dad for money."

  I adjust the sheet around my waist. I'm semi-hard again. It's from looking at her sitting there, relaxed and happy. Her nipples might have something to do with it too.

  "She fell in love with my dad's money."

  "Didn't she have a job?" She trails her fingers over the toes of my left foot. "I can't imagine marrying someone just because they buy you things."

  "You're nothing like Caterina." I wiggle my toes. "I'm ticklish."

  "Really?" Her top teeth catch her bottom lip. "I'm going to remember that. I can use that to my advantage sometime."

  My hands fly into the air in mock surrender. "Whatever you want, I'll give it to you, just promise you won't tickle me when I'm asleep."

  "So you're saying I should tickle you when you are asleep?" she asks teasingly. "I'll get the best response then, is that it? Will you scream?"

  I shake my head. "I'm not telling. You'll have to figure that out yourself."

  "I'm game." She shrugs and looks back at the papers. "I'd like to meet your family."

  "I can make that happen." I don't add that I've wanted her to meet my brothers since I first saw her. They're both going to adore her. She's everything that's good in the world and she likes me. I'm not sold on the idea of her meeting my mom and dad right now. That's going to have to wait. "I'd like to meet your family too. The rest of them, that is, since I've already met Elijah."

  She bends her knees, resting her chin on them. "It's Brooklyn family dinner night tomorrow. Do you want to come?"

  My stomach tenses at the thought. That's a lot of people to meet, a hell of a lot. "I want to come."

  "You want to come?" Her eyes light up before she stands, pushes her panties off and then slides her luscious body over mine. "I want to come too."

  ***

  You'd think that my concerts would prepare me for a room full of loud people, all trying to get the attention of one person. Nothing in my entire life could have prepared me for this.

  I'm in a small house in Brooklyn. A house less than a block away from Dobb's Bakery. Dobb is the name that Falon's oldest brother affectionately called her grandfather when he was a kid. Her parents named the bakery after him. She told me that on our way here. We rode the subway, me nervous as fuck, her laughing about how much fun I was going to have trying to remember the names of all of her siblings.

  There's Shirley, Mike, Elijah, of course, Bobby, Raymond, George, he's the oldest. There's Clara, who Falon hugged tightly when we arrived. That leaves Ida, Joseph, who isn’t here today, Carlos, who is Clara's twin brother, Gary, and Trina.

  The grandson, Trevor, a two-year-old hellion is the center of attention. I can see why. He's showing off for the gathered crowd, falling against a table, pretending to hurt his head. Falon laughed, as did the rest of the Shaw brood, when her dad, Herbert, ran up to scoop Trevor into his arms. Her mom, Hermina, kissed her husband's cheek before she stroked her hand over her grandson's hair. It was a simple thing, but it held so much history and promise.

  Falon's never told me much about her family other than the fact that there were so many of them. I didn't know that one of her brothers is deaf. Falon introduced me to him, via sign language. I felt inadequate until she told me that he was an expert at lip reading. She discovered that when she was twelve-years-old and she spilled the beans on his birthday present by talking about it to her sister while he stood right in front of her.

  "Your music is incredible, Asher." I turn towards a woman's voice. It's deeper than Falon's. It carries something hers doesn't. I recognize it. Desperation, a hint of fear, it's edging on surrender. Surrender to the peace that comes when your life is ruled by drugs.

  "Shirley, right?" I reach to grab her hand. "Falon's told me about you. You work at the bakery."

  Her sunken grey eyes drift from my face to Falon's. "I'd like to follow in Falon's footsteps one day. I like photography a lot too."

  Those words are akin to a magnet for Falon. They draw her from across the room. "I didn’t know that."

  "I saw the pictures you took of him on your site, Fal." She studies her younger sister's face. "They were intense. I think it was your best work."

  When Falon sent me the images she took of me after I got that call in her studio from Daniel, I told her that she had my permission to post one to her site. She hadn't included it in the image gallery. Instead, she wrote a blog post about the man behind the music. It was a complimentary article about my talent. It's been up for almost a week now and this morning she told me she's considering taking it down now that she knows the reason why I looked the way I did.

  I told her to leave it up. I like it there. It's a reminder of what my soul looks like when it's shredded into a million pieces. It's also a reminder of the woman who helped repair it, piece-by-piece.

  "I hired a new assistant yesterday." Falon turns towards Shirley." She's fresh out of photo school but she's part-time. I could use some help the other days. Do you want to come down and help out? Clara can get you on payroll."

  Shirley's blank expression shifts instantly. "You'd do that for me, Fal?"

  "I'd do anything for you." She tugs on her sister's frail shoulders. "Would you consider doing something for me?"

  "What?" Shirley's chin jumps in an act of defiance. "It's the meetings, isn't it? You want me to go to those meetings again. I don't know anyone there, Fal. I feel alone."

  "We're talking about Narcotic's Anonymous?" I interject because I see promise in her. I see what my brother, Gabriel, saw in me when I was drowning in my addictions. "I go three times a week. You want to tag along with me?"

  "You'd go with
me?" Shirley asks hesitantly. "You really go to meetings?"

  "I always go to meetings." I wrap my arm around Falon's waist. "It doesn’t matter what city I'm in, I find a meeting. Whenever I'm here in New York, we'll go together. Shirley. I'll be right beside you."

  CHAPTER 43

  Falon

  "I think you are my newest celebrity crush." I brush my lips across his cheek. "What you're doing for my sister is unbelievable, Asher. I don't know how to thank you."

  He turns to look at me. We're sitting at the long, narrow dining room table that my entire family just gathered around to enjoy our Sunday dinner. Tonight's menu was Italian and as Asher dug in to the lasagna that my mom and sisters worked so hard to prepare, he told them how wonderful it was. He complimented my mom on the bread and spoke to each of my siblings individually. I was proud, proud to be with him, proud to know him.

  "Your parents call you Girlie," he whispers as he leans in close to me. "They call all of your sisters that and your brothers…"

  "Lads," I interrupt him. "It's been that way for a very long time."

  He kisses me softly. "You work so hard because of that, don't you?"

  I draw in a shallow breath. "I work hard because I'm trying to build my business."

  "No one has ever cherished you, Falon." His voice cracks. "You never stood out here."

  I bow my head. My family has assembled in the next room to talk about the birthday cakes and special orders that they need to focus on this week. "I love my family, Asher."

  "They love you too." He rests his head against mine. "I love you too."

  My heart constricts at the words. There are so many things I want to say back. Words that mirror his and others about feeling lost in Philadelphia and being unsure about my work and his and what our schedules would mean for a future together.

  I look up and into his eyes. They reflect his words. I see so much there. I move forward, cupping my hands over his face, pulling his lips onto mine.