“Not feeling too generous lately? Got it covered. I’ll untuck those cheeks and nibble your buns ‘til wealth’s pouring outta that rear! And if I’m real careful…, and take my time…, I won’t have to eat any shit!
“And when I’m finally done with you, I can slip away and make it all seem like it’s your fault that I’m leaving. I’ll raise a ruckus so emotionally adept that you’d put yourself in the doghouse just for treating me that way!
“Yep, I got this kissing thing down. ‘Sept when it comes to for real… The dead can’t kiss for real. Their lips are too numb. And there’s no Prince Charming in the world with enough heat to melt that kinda permafrost.
“I’ve been dead for years. Truth is it’s been so long, that I can’t really remember living. That’s why I said that sometimes the kissing gets confusing. I’ve been giving people what they want, and sucking face for what I need for so long now, that I can’t remember what it is just to be kissed.
“Hell, maybe I never really was just kissed. Maybe it’s only ever been for something that would get me somewhere. I don’t really know…
“Every now and then though, the glimmers of a dream kiss filters into my brain. A kiss that’s warm and sweet, full of love and respect. Full of the want of me. Not the me that makes people feel good physically, or makes ‘em feel attractive, or young, or happy, but the me that I keep locked away. Yeah… that me dreams of being kissed for real…” The woman heaved a big sigh, “…but it’s been so long since I let that girl out, I can’t even find the key.” Her brows knit together as she looked at me sideways.
What was I to say to this woman sitting next to me? Had life really been that hard on her that she had simply stopped living? What could have caused her to go through the motions of living without the warmth and comfort of actually being alive?
Tears welled up in my eyes as I looked at her. I watched her mouth move with her ramblings. I began to notice the fine lined groves cut deeply into her skin. Each heartache, each disappointment, was etched on her face. There were lines around her eyes too, set with the dark blue-grey color of lost sleep. She looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place her. I was sure I’d seen her before, maybe even here on this train.
I felt guilty. I’d just received a wonderful kiss. There hadn’t been a lot of tongue action or even any heavy breathing during it, but it carried the kind of want, the kind of love, that this woman spoke about. At least it did for me.
She’d seen it. My fiancé had given it to me just before I’d boarded the train. We’d stood on that platform and said our goodbyes without paying attention to anyone else who might be near. She was one of the others. Then she’d followed me into the passenger car, and had sat next to me. She started to talk about kissing as if we were old friends.
I’ve taken this same train every Monday after my weekends with him. Maybe she’d watched us before, and that’s where I’d seen her…
“Now don’t you start cryin’ for me! I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.” She reached in her handbag and took out a tissue, handing it to me. “It’s just, when I seen you and your man out there, I thought ‘Now there’s a Kick-Ass Kiss!’ How long you two been married?”
“We’re not married yet, but we will be. This November in fact… if everything goes okay.” I tried to smile pleasantly as I took the tissue from her, but turned my gaze away in embarrassment.
“He’s already married, ain’t he?”
My head snapped up and I looked at the woman nervously. The look of recognition mirrored back on her face frightened me.
“Yes. But he’s getting a divorce…” My words sounded ridiculous even to me. How many times had I heard that argument before, with other people?
The woman shook her head and sighed. “They all say that darlin’, and we stupidly believe ‘em. Dry your eyes baby. You know you don’t believe it deep down. I can tell by the way you’re lookin’ at me now.
“He’s been stringin’ you along like them Christmas lights I got hanging on my porch. I ain’t took them things down in years, ‘cause I’m too lazy to have to hang ‘em back up again. I just keep changing the bulbs that blow every year with others that I pull from a second old string. It’s easier than buyin’ new.”
I wiped my nose and eyes with the tissue. “How did you know he was already married?”
“’Cause I was you once. ‘Bout thirty years ago. I believed then too. Think that’s when I first learned to kiss the way I do now. Oh I get by, but it ain’t the same as for real.” She closed her handbag, as the train lurched to a halt.
“This is my stop darlin’, and I gotta get off. You might want to think about that too. There is such a thing as a Kiss-Ass Kiss, but it ain’t attached to a third pair of lips.” She placed a leathery hand on my cheek and lifted my face. “Don’t end up like me sugar. It ain’t no fun bein’ dead.”
I watched her leave the car and I moved to the window so that I could follow her movements through the crowd of people exiting the train. She turned and waved at me as the train started to move again.
Then she did something that surprised me. She blew me a kiss. A Kick-Ass Kiss. One that knocked the wind right out of me. I was looking at a picture of myself in about thirty years. I decided then and there that this would be my last time riding this train.
* * *
Shirley Bourget is the Author of epic paranormal fantasy and romance titles. Her books carry unusual themes like her tattoo series, Living Ink. She lives in East Texas with her husband and is learning how to be 100% Redneck Lake Trash and loving it. When not writing, Shirley likes taking long walks around the lake, reading, painting, and photography. To read more of her writing, and to follow a listing of her books, please visit her website:
www.shirleybourget.com
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A Father’s Kiss
(A Slammed Series Epilogue)
Colleen Hoover
Prologue
I pull the collar of my shirt up to my eyes and wipe them again. I know how much Mrs. Katie hates it when I do that. She says it stretches the collars of my tops and ruins the shirts. I don’t want to ruin all the nice shirts she bought me, so I’ve been trying not to cry as much as I used to. I quickly glance up at her, hoping she didn’t notice, but she just smiles and squeezes my hand.
“Now Olivia, you knew when you came to stay with me that this was only temporary. I’m getting too old to keep foster children and I hadn’t planned on taking any more children at all before you came.“ She bends down and puts her arms around me. I automatically tense up at the gesture, like I do every time. I’ve been here three months and, although I’m still not used to it, I’ve been hugged more in these three months than I have in my entire ten years of life.
“I knew it was only until they could find me somewhere else to live again, Mrs. Katie. I was just…I was hoping you would change your mind.” I plop down onto the bed behind me and fold my hands in my lap. The fingernail polish on my thumb is already starting to chip. When Mrs. Katie painted them last weekend, I couldn’t decide which color to choose, there were so many. She told me that sometimes the best choice is when you choose all the choices. So that’s what I chose. All of them. Each one of my nails is painted a different color, like a rainbow.
Except now that rainbow is chipping.
“Olivia,” she says, lowering her voice. She sits beside me on the bed and lifts her hand to my chin, pulling my focus to hers. “You knew when you came that this wasn’t an option. Not with my age and my health. I’ve been completely honest with you since the moment we met, haven’t I? I’m moving in with my daughter now so she can help take care of me. I’m getting too old to take care of myself, much less you.“
I nod and try to appear understanding. She has been honest with me, I just didn’t expect to…to love her. I try to turn away from her but she places her palm against my cheek and refocuses my attention back in her direction.
“Remember, Olivia, you need to be strong.” She taps the area over my heart, looking me
in the eyes and says, “You need to be strong in here.” She moves her hand up to my temple and taps it. “And especially in here. Your happiness isn’t determined by where or who you live with. Happiness comes from within, and only you can control that. No one else.”
I squeeze my eyes shut as soon as I feel the tears building. Her arms go around me again, and I melt into her this time. “I’m scared,” I cry into her shirt. “I’m so scared. What if they don’t like me? What if they don’t want to keep me? What if I just keep getting moved from family to family like I have been all year?”
She continues to hug me and strokes my hair. The feel of her hands against my head instantly comforts me. I’ve never felt as secure in my whole life as I do when she strokes her hand across my hair. I wish my mother had been a mother that would do that. I don’t ever remember her touching my hair. If I ever have kids, I’m going to make sure I stroke their hair every single day of their life.
“Oh, Olivia,” she says, squeezing me tighter. Her voice cracks when she says my name, so I instinctively pull back and look up at her. She’s crying, too. I’ve never seen her cry before. Her expression softens and she smiles at me, then pulls out the collar of her own shirt and wipes her tears away. It makes me giggle, seeing her do the very thing that she tells me not to do. When she realizes what she just did, she laughs, too.
“You see?” she says, smiling. “That right there is why I don’t worry about you. You always find the positive in every situation. That right there is why you shouldn’t worry about you, either.” Her eyes narrow and her smile fades. She takes my hands in hers and brings her face down until it’s level with mine. “You have been dealt a very tough hand in life, Ms. Olivia King. A very tough hand. But you know what? Instead of spending the rest of your life complaining about the hand you were dealt, you are the type of person who will spend the rest of your life feeling lucky that you were even dealt a hand. And that, my dear, is what will make you rather than break you.”
Sometimes the things Mrs. Katie says don’t make a whole lot of sense to me, but I try to remember them anyway. For some reason, everything she says seems important, so I always try to repeat her words in the back of my mind.
“I’m going to miss you so much, Olivia. So, so much. But as much as I’ll miss you, I’m not going to worry about you. I know for a fact that you’ll be just fine.” She stands and picks up my suitcase. She holds out her hand, gesturing her head toward the bedroom door, indicating it’s time to leave.
I don’t know why I believe her, but I do. No matter what happens or where I go from here, I’m going to be just fine. I know I will, because Mrs. Katie said so.
Chapter One
Names mean a lot to me, which is strange, considering I don’t even go by my own birth name. No one calls me Olivia anymore, and I’m perfectly okay with that. I’ve been going by Eddie since shortly after I left Mrs. Katie’s, thanks to an early-life crisis. I tried to find Mrs. Katie a couple of years ago to let her know what an impact she’d had on my life, but sadly, she passed away just a few years after I moved out. I’ll never forget the wisdom Mrs. Katie instilled in me, though, which is why I named my own daughter after her.
And now that Layken and Will have had their first child, they’ve done the same by naming her something that means something to both of them. They agreed on Julia, after Layken’s mother. Julia was an incredible woman, so their baby is lucky to be named after her.
She’s two weeks old, but I’ve only seen her twice since they came home from the hospital. Katie has been sick, and Gavin and I didn’t want to pass it on to Layken and Will, so we’ve kept our distance. Tonight is the first night we’ll actually get to spend time with the gang again, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t miss it. I insisted they come over here for a change and let me and Gavin cook for them, but Layken has something to prove, I guess. She said she wants to cook because it’s been weeks since their kitchen has been used, so I conceded. She’s stubborn and I’ve learned not to argue with her once she gets something in her head.
I open the front door to Will and Layken’s house, but as soon as I step inside, I do a quick double take. This house doesn’t seem like the same house from before two weeks ago. This house looks like a hurricane tore through it.
There’s laundry piled on both couches, there are unopened gift boxes piled in the corner, and the worst part is, both Kel and Caulder are in the kitchen, looking like they’re about to lose their minds. Kel is running a pot from the stove to the sink and Caulder is staring down at his hands in disgust, which are covered in what looks like a thick paste.
“Eddie!” Caulder yells with relief when he sees me. “Help us!”
I hesitantly step inside the living room and walk toward the kitchen, afraid of what I’m about to get myself into. “What happened over here?”
Kel is at the stove again, turning on a burner and pouring something into a pan. He glances at me, then returns his attention to the stove. “We told Layken and Will we’d cook dinner tonight so they could sleep, because that baby never sleeps and they’ve been walking around like zombies. But then she started crying, so we picked her up before she could wake them up and we couldn’t get her to stop crying because all she does is cry. Now we’re trying to cook but…we don’t really know what we’re doing.”
I look around the kitchen and assess the situation. There are measuring cups and bowls spread out on the counter, along with what looks like an entire bag of spilled flour. I glance into the living room, but there’s no sign of an infant anywhere. “Where’s baby Julia?”
Caulder and Kel both look at each other, then look back at me. I don’t like the looks on their faces. They look guilty, and guilt is never good when it involves an infant.
“Where is she?” I say again, scared to hear their answer.
Caulder nudges his head in the direction behind me. “She’s asleep. On the dryer.”
My eyes grow wide. Surely I didn’t hear that right. “The dryer?!”
Kel shrugs. “She’s in her car seat. And don’t worry, we put the dryer on the cool setting and strapped it down so it wouldn’t fall off. It’s the only way she’ll stop crying,” he says defensively. “I think she really likes the sound of the dryer.”
I roll my eyes and rush to the laundry room. Sure enough, her car seat is strapped to the top of the dryer with bungee cords. I start to reach over and undo them, but then I notice Julia is actually passed out. It’s only the third time I’ve seen her since they brought her home, but it’s the first time I’ve actually seen her not crying.
I decide to leave her there and I walk back into the kitchen to help Kel and Caulder finish whatever meal they’ve started.
“Where’s Gavin?” Caulder asks.
“He’s changing Katie’s clothes. She found the ketchup bottle again.”
Caulder laughs. “You guys are gonna have to get rid of all your condiments.”
I nod in agreement. If it’s something that squirts, Katie will find it, no doubt.
I look at the mess laid out across the counter and stove. “What is this supposed to be?” I ask.
“We were trying to make a casserole,” Kel says. “But it’s not working out too well.”
I try to figure out a way to salvage it, but it’s impossible. It’s turned into some sort of paste. “We could just order pizza,” I say.
Caulder doesn’t even hesitate. He grabs the phone from the bar and starts dialing the number from memory as Kel switches off the oven and the burner on the stove.
I hear the shuffling of feet and look up to see Will slowly making his way out of the hallway, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He looks up at me and I try to stifle my laugh, but he reminds me of how Gavin looked for the first few weeks after Katie was born. Scruff on his face, unkempt hair and stains all over his t-shirt.
Will looks at the three of us preparing dinner in the kitchen, then spins around, looking for Julia. “Where is she?” he mumbles.
Caulder stands up str
aight as if he’s about to give a speech. “You know how she’s never slept for more than five minutes straight?” Will arches an eyebrow, suspicious of what Caulder is getting at. “Well, we think we figured out the answer. She’s been asleep for over an hour.”
“Where is she, Caulder?” he asks, almost threateningly.
Caulder nudges his head again toward the laundry room. Will’s head slowly turns in that direction.
“She likes the dryer,” Caulder says.
“Don’t worry, Will,” I tell him. “I checked on her. She’s fine.”
Will ignores my reassurance and heads into the laundry room. I watch him as he stares down on her. A slow grin spreads across his face and he leans forward and gives her a kiss on her forehead. I smile, because there’s nothing like watching a man kiss his baby girl. It’s my favorite thing to see Gavin do.
Will walks out of the laundry room. “Who would have thought she’d love the laundry room?” he says. “She’s just like her mom.” He smiles to himself, then turns his attention toward the front door when it opens.
Gavin walks in with Katie on his hip. As soon as she sees Kel and Caulder, she’s struggling to break free from Gavin’s arms. “Want down, Gabin,” she says.
He rolls his eyes and sets her down. “It’s Daddy,” he says to her.
She’s been on a first-name kick with him for about a month now. I think it’s funny, but Gavin hates that she hasn’t been calling him Daddy. I think it’s even cuter that she can’t pronounce Gavin, so she calls him Gabin. I’ve caught myself doing it on more than one occasion.
Katie runs right past me and into the kitchen, where Kel scoops her up and tickles her. “Want to help us clean up this mess, Katie-bear?” he asks her. She nods and he walks her to the counter and plops her down on top of it. He gives her a rag and tells her to start wiping the counter, so she does, even though she’s making more of a mess than she’s cleaning.
The Kiss: An Anthology About Love and Other Close Encounters Page 5
