“Let it out. Let all of it out.”
I do. I don’t have a choice. It’s like a tidal wave, a fucking tsunami of pain and anguish and fear and its coming out of me and I couldn’t stop it if I wanted to. And all I can do is cling to him. Cling like he is the only thing keeping me afloat, because right now, he is. If it weren’t for him, for his arms around me, I’d drown.
28
Kill
I’m holding her. She’s still, finally. I haven’t slept but she’s been sleeping, knocked out, for hours. She hasn’t moved since I stripped off her dress and laid her in my bed. And, I decided, I’m not letting her out of it again. What happened between us tonight, it’s bound us. But we were bound before that. We were bound from day one. I knew her darkness. Her damage. It’s what drew me. I just didn’t realize it would turn into this.
Cilla’s curled into me, her face buried against my chest. Her breath is warm against my skin and I think she’s peaceful for the first time since I’ve known her. Maybe for the first time since leaving Callahan’s house. His protection.
I look down at the top of Cilla’s head. Move my hand a little to brush the hair from her face. She doesn’t move. Her lips are slightly parted, the last remnant of makeup a shadow on her temple. The skin around her eyes is puffy and pink, and yet she is the most beautiful creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.
Maybe it’s because I’ve seen her bared. Seen her pain. Slain her dragon.
I don’t know how long it is that I watch her but sun is filtering in around the curtains covering the windows when she stirs. She stretches a little, makes a sound almost like a cat purring, feels me beside her, stops. Blinks. Her hand moves to her hip and she sucks in a breath. She’ll feel that for a few days, but she needed it. Needed to be forced to release. She was no longer capable of doing it herself.
Jade eyes finally meet mine. I’m curious what I’ll find. What she’ll say or do. She closes one hand over my shoulder and draws herself up. Her face is an inch from mine, her naked chest pressing against mine.
She doesn’t speak, neither does she smile. She only watches me, touches her cheek to the scruff on my face before bringing her mouth to mine. Her lips are tender when she kisses me. I wrap my arms around her waist when she slides closer, then climbs on top of me. She deepens the kiss, and her legs open and my dick is hard for her, but it’s not release I seek, and I have a feeling that’s the same for her. This is something else. It’s a need to seal what happened between us last night. A need to couple. To be joined and fused together, at least for a moment.
“Cilla.” I roll her onto her back. Her legs wrap around me, drawing me to her. I kiss her again, cup the back of her head, weave my fingers through her hair. Keeping my eyes on her, I slide into her. This isn’t a fucking. It’s not hard. It’s not me or her taking. It’s too tender for that. This is love making, something foreign to me and, I have a feeling, for her.
“Cilla,” I say again. I move slowly and she clings to me, our gazes locked on one another, and this feeling, this tenderness, it’s strange. I feel everything more acutely than ever before. Feel her body absorb me like I’m a part of her. Like she’s a part of me. We’re so close, I don’t think I’ve ever been so close to anyone before, not even to her, not even when I was fucking her.
“I love you,” she whispers, a tear sliding down the side of her face.
I just stare at her as she lies beneath me, hold her in my arms, possess her.
“I love you,” she says again, like she’s making sense of it herself. “I love you.”
Her eyes glisten, shine like emeralds, and her pink mouth opens and her breathing becomes more shallow as the urge to come dictates my rhythm and it’s like I can’t slow down, can’t drag this out even though it’s all I want, to make this last hours. Days. To stay inside her like this forever. But I can’t because I need to fill her up, need to feel her contract around me. Need to finish this. And when I do, it’s with a human sound, no animal mounting its mate, not fucking with the purpose to impregnate, but making slow love. I come for what feels like an eternity and feel her come and watch her like she watches me, and I know something has changed now. It’s not the same between us but I don’t have a word to put to this thought, this feeling. I just know it’s different, that it will never go back to what it was.
That this, last night and now, this, it’s a line of demarcation. Tonight, everything has changed. Every single thing.
“I love you, Cilla.”
* * *
“How did you do it?” Cilla asks once we’re showered. She’s pulling a sweater over her head and I’m buttoning my shirt.
I know what she’s asking but does she really want to know? Callahan’s become crocodile food by now. Crocodile shit.
“I took pound for pound of flesh. Like you wanted.”
“How long until he died?”
“Long.”
“Not long enough.”
“No, probably not, but it’s finished now. You have to let it be now.”
“Have you let it be? With Ginny?”
The question catches me off guard. I button the last button, look at her, see only curiosity in her eyes.
“I think I did the night I went out there.”
“When you came back without your shoes?”
I nod, look off in the distance. “It’s the first time I’ve been back since everything happened. Finding her shoe out there—she always wore ballerina slippers—I didn’t expect to find that. I thought they’d cleaned it all up when they took her away. But seeing it, I don’t know, in a way, it showed me that it was in the past or something. Like somehow, some way, my own feelings about that night, my rage about what happened to her, they didn’t rule me anymore.”
Cilla’s watching me when I turn to her.
“The one thing that nearly destroyed me was the fact that I’d let her down. That I hadn’t protected her like a brother should. Not that she hadn’t come to me, but that I’d been too blind to see. Impotence for a man is a cruel sort of death. That helplessness, powerlessness, I felt even when I killed the man responsible, it stayed with me for a long time. Too long. I don’t know when it left me, actually, but it has. And that night, I was drunk.” I shake my head. “I was so fucking drunk but maybe I needed to be because it felt like she had left her shoe for me to find. Touching it again, putting it between my own, bigger ones, it finished something.”
I walk to the window, look outside. Cilla comes up beside me, slips her hand into mine.
“What I did to my uncle, maybe back then I thought I could bring her back by taking his life. I don’t know. But she’s gone and I think she’s at peace. Maybe more so than she could ever be here.”
“I’m sorry for what happened to you. To both of you,” Cilla says, taking both hands now.
I look down at her. “I’m sorry for what happened to you. To both of you.”
She gives me a weak smile and I have a feeling she’s also let go of at least some part of the past. That now, she can start to heal.
Epilogue 1
Cilla
It’s three months to the day that Jones tried to hang himself. I can finally say those words without breaking down, without it breaking me. It’s a cold, clear day and snow blankets the fields, outlines the bare branches of the trees. It’s so beautiful. White as far as the eye can see. Clean and new and filled with promise.
“I’m freezing my ass off, Cilla.”
I smile.
Kill and I are standing outside the entrance of the Dover Recovery Village. He’s holding my hand and I can feel him watching me as I stare at the double doors. I take a deep breath in and nod. Kill pushes one of the doors open and we step inside, the gust of wind that sneaks in around us ruffling the papers on the desk in the lobby.
Today will be the first time I see Jones in three months, although I’ve been talking to him in brief conversations over the phone for a few weeks now. He’s doing so well, remarkably well. And so am I. At Kill’s ur
ging, I’ve been talking to someone too, talking about everything.
I underestimated the power of spoken words. I didn’t realize they can heal as surely as silence can destroy.
“Good morning, Mr. Black. Ms. Hawking.” The same nurse who’s always here stands to greet us, the smile on her face easier than I’ve ever seen it before.
“Good morning. Dr. Moore is expecting us,” Kill says.
“Yes, he is.” She turns to me and gives me a smile. “And so is your brother.”
I’m reassured by this. I don’t want to push Jones but it’s taken all I have to let things play out like this. I know it was the right thing to do, though. For both of us.
Kill squeezes my hand as we follow the nurse to Dr. Moore’s office instead of directly to Jones’s room. “Is something wrong?” I ask, confused by this.
“No, the doctor just wanted to talk to you for a few minutes first.”
“Okay.”
Once we’re seated in Dr. Moore’s office, he opens a folder and arranges some papers.
“Did he change his mind?” I ask, my heart racing. I’ve been looking forward to this for more than a week and I don’t want him to have changed his mind.
“No,” Dr. Moore says, looking up at me as he turns the papers around so Kill and I can read them. I’m surprised at the glimpse I get. They’re release papers. “He’s looking forward to seeing you.”
Kill picks up the pages, shuffles through them.
“I wanted to meet with you to discuss Jones’s departure from Dover Recovery Center.”
I’m both elated and terrified by this. “Is he ready?”
“I think so. I don’t think there’s more we can do for him. But I do think he’s scared, which is natural.”
“He can live with us,” Kill says, setting the papers back on the desk.
I’m taken aback by this and shift my gaze to him.
Although I’ve kept my apartment, I only go back once or twice a week and never sleep there. We spend most of our time at Rockcliffe House these days, but I guess I hadn’t thought of it as living together, not until Kill says it that way.
He glances at me, then back at the doctor.
“No, I think he wants to go back to his own apartment and I think it’s important for him to do so,” Dr. Moore says. “He’ll still be coming in twice weekly to meet with me, his suggestion, I thought once a week would suffice.”
“That’s great,” I say. “He must trust you.” I push away the thought that my brother trusted his secrets, his pain, to this stranger and not me, but I also know it’s easier sometimes to tell a stranger. Easier than having to look someone closer to you in the eye while you give voice to your shame.
“I think he’s found a safe place here. You’ll see what I mean when you see Jones.”
“When—”
“I just wanted you to know about his release. We’ll finish out the month here, but after that, he’ll be able to resume his life.”
“And you’re sure he’s ready?”
“I am. It won’t be without difficulties, the demons are in no way banished, but he is better able to cope.”
“He’ll need a job,” I say, turning to Kill.
“I have an idea,” Kill says.
“And my apartment is only a short drive from his,” I say, unsure where this leaves us.
“So is the penthouse,” Kill says.
“Maybe it’s better if I—” I start.
“You’ll be at the penthouse,” Kill finishes, rising. “I think we’re ready.”
Dr. Moore clears his throat. “Of course.” He steps out into the hallway.
I’m still staring up at Kill. “What was that?” I ask, standing.
He looks at me. “What was what?”
“You’ll be at the penthouse,” I mimic him.
He raises his eyebrows. “Poor imitation, Cilla. Let’s go.”
“Wait.”
“What?” He seems oddly, mildly irritated.
“Why did you say it like that?”
“You’ll be staying with me, Cilla. At the penthouse or Rockcliffe, but it’s time you gave up that apartment.”
I stare at him, dumbfounded. This changes things. Officially living together changes everything.
For the first time since I’ve known Kill, there’s a single moment of uncertainty in his eyes. Just the briefest flash of it.
“Kill?”
“I’m not doing this here.” He hasn’t quite met my eyes. “Your brother’s waiting.”
I smile at his uncharacteristic behavior, put my hands on his face, make him look at me. “Are you asking me to move in with you?”
“You already live with me,” he tries.
“Kill?”
“Let’s go see your brother,” he says, taking my wrists to pull my hands away, walking me out of the office.
Dr. Moore is waiting for us outside. We walk toward Jones’s old room where he’s been moved back to, and my heart is racing. I don’t know what to expect. But when we get there and he pushes the door open after a brief knock and I see my brother for the first time in too long, a wide smile spreads across my face as tears slide down my cheeks.
“Jones!”
He smiles back and it’s just as big as mine. When I run to him, he opens his arms and for the first time in more than eight years, we hug. We actually hug.
Kill and Dr. Moore leave us alone at some point, and after a long time, Jones and I sit at the window of his room again, like that last time, except this time, we’re holding hands and smiling and not looking at the beautiful scene out the window but each other. And for the first time in too long, I see a spark in Jones’s eyes that I remember from home. Our real home with our parents.
“Stop with the tears already, Cilla.” He wipes my face.
“They’re happy tears.”
“I don’t care. We’ve both cried enough for two lifetimes.”
“You look really great, Jones. Better than in a long time.” He’s put on weight again and his color is alive. It’s like he’s alive again.
“I feel better than I have in a long time. We should have done this sooner, huh?”
“I’m glad we’re doing it now.”
“You were holding hands with him when you came in.”
I smile. “He saved my life. Both of our lives.”
“I told you so,” he teases. “He’s in love with you.”
I feel myself blush. “You were right. And you were wrong. He is a beast. But he’s also my dark knight. I love him.”
Epilogue 2
Kill
Summer
Cilla’s a pain in the ass. But I guess I knew that going in.
Jones is back at his apartment and thriving. He still goes to see Dr. Moore weekly, although it’s down to once a week rather than two now. That’s progress. I also got him a job with someone I know working construction. Figured a guy like Jones needs the physical work. It keeps the mind healthy and it exhausts him so he can’t get himself into trouble.
Cilla is living with me although she refuses to give up her apartment. I don’t know what she’s waiting for but it’s a waste of money to pay rent on a place you don’t use. And, if I’m honest, I don’t like the fact that she has it. That she has a place to go that doesn’t include me. She’s writing again too, but it’s a book she’s working on now. A children’s book.
I park the car at Rockcliffe House and climb out. I see through the sliding glass door that she’s out back by the pool. Stripping off my suit jacket, I head toward the back. She doesn’t see me. She’s floating on her back in the center of the pool, eyes closed, arms and legs stretched so she’s the shape of a star. Her dark hair is fanned out and she looks so peaceful, so relaxed. I smile at the sight of her like this. Mine. All mine.
She opens her eyes a moment later and when she sees me, she smiles, submerges, swims to the edge of the pool.
“You’re going to get tan lines,” I say, grabbing her towel as she climbs out of the p
ool.
I hold the towel out to her as she approaches, a wicked look in her eyes. “You’d like me to swim naked, wouldn’t you?” she says, ignoring the towel and wrapping her dripping wet body around mine.
“This is an expensive suit,” I say, holding her to me. I close my eyes and kiss her, savoring the cool, wet slickness of her mouth, tasting chlorine and her.
“Then you shouldn’t be wearing it,” she whispers.
“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” I tease with a wink.
I release her, and she picks up the towel, pats herself dry before sitting on the edge of a chair. She’s wearing a tiny little yellow bikini. Her little tits press against it, the nipples hard even though it’s warm out. I sit down beside her and we look out into the woods.
“How’s Jones?” she asks. I went to the construction site to see him today.
“He looks good. Mentioned a date tonight.”
“A date?” she turns to me, eyebrows high. “He didn’t say a word to me.”
“Because you’ll nag him.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“You would.” I wrap my arm around her shoulders and draw her to me. “Your lease is up in another month,” I say.
“You and my lease. It’s my apartment, so what’s it to you?”
“You spend all your time here. What’s the point of keeping it?”
“I don’t know. If you piss me off, I can go there?”
“I’ve pissed you off plenty and you haven’t left yet. What are you waiting for?”
She shrugs a shoulder, her face getting serious. “I like what we have,” she says, shifting her gaze to me. “I don’t want it to change.”
“You’re scared.”
She bites the inside of her cheek and looks back out into the woods.
“If anything changes, it’s going to be for the better,” I say.
Her smile is non-committal. “I don’t want to mess it up. Jinx it. Things are really good right now. I can’t really afford to lose that.”
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