You Own Me

by Shiloh Walker

  Guilt lodged in her belly liked a stone and nausea churned, a brewing storm that was determined to break free.

  Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes. She had to tell him.

  Every time he’d tried to talk about that that night, she’d shied away. It was one of the things they never talked about. Oh, he would try. But she never would, pulled back every time he tried. Because she was afraid, and because the guilt still haunted her.

  She’d ruined his life, had cost him a scholarship, the chance to play ball, to find something better. And she’d done it for stupid, petty reasons.

  Sliding a hand out, she reached for him. One more touch, she thought. One more, before she told him…and probably lost even him.

  “Deck…?”

  She opened her eyes and sat up.

  She was alone in bed.

  It didn’t take long to find out that she was alone in her little house, too.

  He wasn’t there.

  Twenty minutes later, she sat alone on her front porch. Oleander and magnolia shaded the area in the sunlight, but just then, it was dark. She sipped at her coffee and brooded.

  He hadn’t come back.

  She’d hoped he’d just gone out for a run, but he hadn’t left a note.

  Hadn’t texted.

  Hadn’t done anything.

  She had to be at work in two hours.

  But she wasn’t going to wait around here.

  Tonight she had a date, one she was tempted to cancel.

  She’d debate on that later.

  For now, though, she had to get out of here, because even being in the house…hell, the porch reminded her of Decker. He’d helped her re-stain the floorboards.

  He’d planted a new oleander for her after a storm had destroyed the one she’d planted a few years before. He’d shaken his head at her when she told him she wanted a new one. Aren’t these dangerous? he’d asked. She’d just laughed. Dangerous things don’t bother me…not all the time anyway. Then she’d pulled his hair.

  He’d just rolled his eyes at her.

  The entire time, one of her neighbors had watched them from behind her curtains.

  Oleander…

  She groaned.

  That damned date.

  How could she go out on a date with anybody when she was so twisted up over everything that had played out with Decker? Over everything she’d refused to let herself feel…everything he’d made her feel.

  He wanted her.

  She loved him.

  “This is impossible,” she muttered.

  But one thing was clear.

  She needed to cancel the date.

  Cancel the date, remove her profile from Wanna Play, because she wasn’t in the right place to be dating—or playing—right now. She’d just dumped, or had been dumped, by her boyfriend. Then she’d slept with her best friend…yeah.

  Talk about a complicated mess.

  Chapter Eight

  “Lizzie…”

  She wouldn’t open the door.

  That didn’t matter.

  He knew how to get inside whether she opened the door or not. And she’d showed him the way, after her father had made it more than clear he didn’t want Decker around.

  Now, leaning against the door that opened onto the little balcony outside her room, he closed his eyes.

  Why had she been at his house?

  Why had he let Jeanette inside?

  He knew the answer to one of those and that answer was simple—he’d been living in a state of terminal horniness for the past two years, ever since he’d met, and befriended, one of the sweetest, smartest girls at school.

  But Lizzie wasn’t for the likes of him. He knew that.

  So he handled it in any other way possible.

  Still…he’d seen a look in her eyes.

  He’d almost thought it was hurt.

  He had to know.

  But she wouldn’t open the door.

  He knocked again.

  “Lizzie, c’mon…let me in.”

  He braced a hand on the wooden frame of the door, leaning forward. Maybe if he begged…

  Abruptly the door swung open and he almost ended up flat on his face.

  Then he was almost on his knees anyway as he caught sight of her. White sundress, skinny straps that went up over sunkissed shoulders. Her tits…his mouth watered every time he even thought about those tits and now he saw more of them than she ever let show.

  The dress flowed down over round hips and he wanted to pull her up against him and take big, greedy bites out of her.

  “What?” she asked, her voice snappish and cold.

  “Lizzie…” He blinked. “Wow. You look…” Beautiful. Sexy. Gorgeous. “Nice. Are you…”

  “I’ve got a date. Did you need something?”

  A date? He almost asked who with but yanked it back in time. Maybe he’d imagined what he thought he saw. Yeah. He had. But even as he went to make up a lie, her lower lip trembled.

  Fuck it. He was going to try.

  Reaching up, he cupped her cheek. “Why are you mad at me?”

  “I’m not.” She went to back away and he followed her, crowding her up against the door.

  “Yeah, you are. Look, about earlier…”

  “I don’t want to hear it. You can have sex with whoever you want. Next time, I’ll call before I head over.”

  He heard the words. Really, he had. But she was so close. Pressing his thumb to her mouth, he lowered his head. Sweet….she smelled so sweet. “I didn’t want to have sex with her. She was just…there.”

  Lizzie blinked at him. Then she tried to wiggle out from between him and the door. “Yeah, you looked disinterested. Deck, I have to finish getting…”

  He caught her mouth.

  Once. He’d kiss her just that once and if she didn’t like it, if she didn’t want him, he’d never do it again.

  But she opened for him, her lips parting on a ragged sigh.

  “Sweet, sweet Lizzie,” he whispered, before taking the kiss deeper, harder.

  Her hands curled into his shirt and he hauled her up against him. Yeah, this was what he wanted. She was what he wanted. What he…

  “Elizabeth.”

  A hard, heavy knock at the door.

  “Elizabeth!”

  She wrenched away, staring at him. Without taking her eyes away, she said, “Yes, Dad?”

  “Your date is here. Are you ready?”

  “I…I need a few minutes, please,” she said, her voice trembling.

  A date. She had a date. Dazed, he reached for her. She couldn’t go.

  But she backed away.

  They listened as the footsteps receded and then she said softly, “You need to go.”

  “Lizzie, I need to talk to you.”

  “No.” She shook her head. “And don’t ever do that again. Unlike the other girls you want to screw, I’m not just there, Decker. I’m…”

  She turned around and all but ran to the door.

  Gritty-eyed, Decker sat in the middle of his little apartment, surrounded by letters…and memories.

  He’d asked her, once, when she’d come to see him in prison why she’d been with Hamilton Price.

  Hamilton Price—the so-called golden boy to Decker’s bad boy. Decker might have been the beast on the football field, but Hamilton was the team captain. He was the one who got all the pretty girls, who had the fawning eyes of the teachers, and if a few times a girl would whisper that he got too rough, or didn’t listen to no, it was brushed off.

  Because, yeah, boys will be boys.

  That was what they said.

  Decker hadn’t had much use for Hamilton off the field and he went out of his way to avoid him. Hamilton, though, had seemed to be everywhere Decker was. Invited him to parties, showed up at the Y.

  And he was there, at the wrong time, when Decker had sent Elizabeth running out of the house.

  He’d figured it out.

  There was a lot of time to think in prison and wh
en she’d closed up on him the one time he’d asked, he’d let himself puzzle it out.

  He knew from the trial how Elizabeth and Hamilton had met, and he knew just how long they’d dated, and details he really wished he hadn’t needed to know.

  She’d done it because he’d hurt her—that one time he’d thought he saw something in her eyes, he’d been right. He’d hurt her and Hamilton had seen a way to get at Decker. Lizzie might not have known how he felt, but plenty of others had seen it, and Hamilton had spent three weeks rubbing Decker’s face in it.

  You ever had your hands on her? She’s a little too big for me, but man, those tits…

  You think she’s the kind to go down? With that mouth, I bet she will.

  Don’t go expecting to see Lizzie tonight. There’s a party…and I’m taking her.

  Decker had tried to warn her about Hamilton, but for those three weeks, there had been a chasm between them.

  That chasm didn’t matter, though, not to him.

  He’d gone to the party.

  It had been all loud music and kids already boozed up. Shouts and laughter had flooded his ears…until the screams took over.

  It had ended in blood.

  And with a young man dead under him. A man he’d killed with his own hands while Lizzie huddled on the floor, her clothes half-ripped off, bruises blooming on her pale skin, her mouth busted and one eye blackened.

  He reached for one of the letters and opened the envelope.

  It was dated. A quick glance showed that it was a year and half after he’d gone inside.

  Please stay safe. You’re my best friend…I’m sorry I was so mad at you. Stay safe, Deck. I need you.

  She wrote him, one letter every week.

  He wrote her…two letters. But he only ever sent one.

  She’d needed him for a friend, so that was what he gave her. The other letter was the one that held all the bits and pieces of himself he’d never let out.

  Once, while he’d been writing the two letters, his cellmate, the tattoo artist, Luther, had given him a funny look and just shook his head. You ought to send her the letter you really want her to read, son. You never know when you’ll run out of chances.

  Nobody knew that better than him.

  His chance had slid by without him even realizing it. It had been too late then.

  Or so he’d thought.

  There was a beep from his phone and he shot it a cursory glance. Email. He hated email. Something he’d never gotten used to. If it wasn’t for the texts and calls he got from Lizzie, he’d give up the phone. Not like he had that much money to spare. But he wouldn’t sever any connection he had to her.

  There was another chime.

  Groaning, he grabbed it and punched the icon that brought up his email.

  When he saw the sender, his heart stopped.

  He’d gone back to Lizzie’s earlier—he’d come home to get these letters. It was high time he tell her the secrets, but she’d been gone. So he’d tell her later.

  Or maybe not.

  It was a message from Wanna Play—from Lizzie.

  I can’t come tonight. Actually not any night, O. My head is in a bad place and I don’t need to be dating right now.

  He swore and went to the next message.

  I’m sorry.

  He lurched upward, all but ran to the computer he’d bought used off eBay and fired it up. It took too long to load but finally he was on the website. She was online. Fuck, yes.

  Please reconsider. He sent the private message then shoved a hand through his hair.

  For a moment, there wasn’t a reply.

  I don’t think that’s a good idea. I can’t give you anything right now. I’m closing my profile here. I need to get myself together and figure things out, O.

  Closing her profile—hot damn, that was good.

  But…

  I can understand that. I’ve been a mess a few times myself. There’s just…look, I’d like to talk to you. Just once. Please.

  She had a hard time telling people no. He hated it when people took advantage, including himself.

  But right then, he needed a yes.

  Fine. But not dinner. There’s a bar, called Rush. Will that work? I’ll have a friend bring me. She hangs out there a lot.

  A friend. Selah. Selah…not him.

  Somehow, he didn’t think she’d be calling him for tonight.

  Didn’t matter, he’d be there anyway.

  “You look like shit,” Selah shouted over the music.

  “Gee. Thanks.”

  “What?”

  Elizabeth shook her head.

  “What’s going on with you anyway?” Selah leaned in closer this time. “I mean…you and Decker—”

  Elizabeth shot her a narrow look.

  Selah clamped her mouth shut. “Mierda. So no you and Decker?”

  “I…hell. I don’t know.”

  “That why you didn’t call him tonight?”

  The beat of the music was making her head pound. She also felt a little queasy from the potato skins she’d eaten. No food all day and then all that grease on an empty stomach. Perfect.

  “Selah? Can we just…not talk? I’m feeling lousy,” she said, raising her voice. She buried her face in her hands and tried to brace herself to get up and go find a two-top to wait for O.

  “You know, you should have…hey. Decker. Why are you here?”

  Tension slammed into her. Slowly, she lifted her head and looked up.

  She had a fleeting hope that Selah was playing with her, but…nope.

  Decker stood by the table, a backpack slung over his shoulder. He wore a button-down shirt instead of his normal T, one that opened up and revealed the tattoos. She had an image of the way she’d laid across him last night and kissed some of those tattoos.

  He wasn’t looking at her, though.

  “Selah, can you get lost?”

  The woman laughed. “If I didn’t know you loved me, I’d be insulted.” She bumped her hip against Elizabeth’s. “Let me up.”

  Numb, Elizabeth got up, grabbing her bag. She needed to find a place to wait for O. He’d said he’d be wearing a black button-down.

  Her gaze skipped to Decker.

  A black button-down—

  Jerking her eyes away, she looked around. “I need to go,” she said, not looking at either of the people standing at the end of the table. “I’ve got to find—”

  Decker just talked right over her. “Thanks, Selah.”

  And then he caught her hand. “Can you come outside, Lizzie?”

  “I’m meeting somebody.”

  His blue eyes met hers. “Do you see him?”

  Helplessly, she looked around. I’m a big guy. I’ll be wearing a black button-down. I’ll find you if you don’t find me.

  The only big guy with a black button-down was Decker.

  “No, but…”

  “Then come on. You can keep looking.”

  Selah waggled her fingers at her before disappearing into the crowd. Helpless, she let Decker lead her through the crowd. They didn’t head out the side door, though.

  They went to the front.

  Not a bad idea. Easier to see who was coming in. Right?

  Out in the parking lot, she tugged on her arm and Decker let go.

  She decided to get a jump on things. Better than way. “Decker, look, about last night—”

  “Lizzie…”

  “No, just let me finish,” she said, linking her hands behind her back as she started to pace. Finish…finish? I don’t even know how to start. She spun back around and started toward him.

  Only to come to a dead stop.

  Decker had his hand up.

  His right palm.

  It faced her and she saw, then, something she’d never seen.

  “It’s a promise,” he said, his voice hoarse. “And a fact. It’s been a fact pretty much from that first day when you refused to let me chase you off.”

  Stunned, she just stared at the tatt
oo.

  You own me.

  His hand curled into a fist and he slowly lowered it to his side and now, with nothing between them, she found herself staring into his eyes. Her heart thudded so hard, it was a miracle he couldn’t hear it.

  “Lizzie.”

  Shaking her head, she backed away.

  He caught her, his hands closing around her upper arms. “Don’t,” he whispered, pressing his lips to her forehead. “You ran away from me once—twice. I get it, I understand it. But don’t run away from me now.”

  “You lied to me. You made a fool of me,” she said, her voice thick. “What…what is this? Am I too stupid to take care of myself on that site and you thought it would go better if you were on there, too?”

  “No.” He kissed her, brushing his lips over her eyes, her cheeks, her mouth. She went to bite him—hard—and he let her. “No,” he said again, sliding one arm around her. “I did it for the same reason I came to your house that night when you saw me with Jeannette. I did it because I love you. I always have…I told you hundreds, thousands of times.”

  She stiffened in his arms.

  “You’ve never told me,” she said, shaking her head.

  He let her arms go, then. It was, he realized, now or never.

  “I did.” He slid the backpack of his shoulder and went to his knees on the long, rambling deck that wrapped around most of Rush. People were looking at them oddly, but he didn’t care. Unzipping the backpack, he emptied it and envelopes spilled out around her feet.

  He grabbed one at random. It didn’t matter which one it was because they all told the same story.

  He held it out to her.

  For the longest time she didn’t move—she barely even seemed to breathe. Then she reached out and closed her fingers around the letter.

  As she started to read, he just stayed where he was.

  She hadn’t realized it, but he would have gone to his knees for her at any time in the past twelve years. It didn’t faze him at all to be there now.

  Her eyes raced over the sheet of paper and it seemed that tears gleamed in the depths of that warm brown gaze.

  “What is this?” she whispered.

  “The letters,” he said. “Every week, you wrote. I always wrote back. The letters you got were the ones that had what you needed to hear…you wanted a friend, so I said what a friend would say.” He lifted a letter, eyed the date on the envelope. He’d dated each one, on the back. This one was just a few weeks before he was released. Without opening it, he held it out.