by Riley Scott
Trent shook his head. There was no time for niceties. There was no time for anything right now.
“I’m going to ask you the same question he did, though,” Joe said, standing at the edge of the table. “We came in here wanting to know how you knew about some of the more personal details of Chloe’s life, about the company she kept. But now, we have new questions. We get that you don’t like gay people…” He let out a long, slow breath. “Why is that?”
Trent saw the piercing blue of his mother’s eyes flash in his mind. Closing his eyes, he whispered, “I have to go.” Anger and resentment rising within him, he felt his heart rate increase. His hands shook and his voice trembled. “Get out,” he said again, although he knew this was their show. They’d do whatever the fuck they pleased. They always did.
“Why?” Joe pressured.
“Go!” Trent screamed.
When the door shut behind Joe, Trent grasped for breath. It wouldn’t come. Over and over, he heard his mother’s words, saw her face as she bid him goodnight—the last time he’d ever see it.
“I have to go,” he repeated. “I have to go!” He screamed the words, tears falling from his cheeks. Westwick men didn’t cry. Stifling his emotions, he pounded his fists against the table.
Leaning back as far as he could, he brought his forehead crashing down against the metal of the table. “Fuck!” he shouted and leaned back to do it again. It felt good to feel something other than rejection. Slamming his head into the table for the third time, he looked down at the blood pooling on the table and frowned. If only it could be Clayton’s blood or the blood of the officers who felt the need to keep him behind bars instead of his own.
He closed his eyes, and smashed his head into the cool metal one more time. On the way back up, he thought back to his own stupidity that had landed him here. He should have never mentioned Amelia’s name.
“You’re so fucking stupid,” he whispered. “Say her fucking name and now everyone knows you were there. You heard it. You saw it. You did it.”
He looked over to the wall and watched as the gray paint swirled. At the sound of the open door, he looked to find his father. “Dad,” he whispered, shaking his head. “Why can’t you get me out of here?”
From the doorway, his father shook his head. Trent smashed his head into the table one more time and looked up, only to find the doorway empty. He scanned the room, but his head was spinning too much to make sense of it.
From somewhere in the background he heard the words, “I’m not your father,” but he couldn’t place where they came from. Frantically he looked from side to side, but it only made his dizziness increase. The ringing in his ears made it impossible to hear anything other than his heart pounding.
“Yes, you are,” he said. “You don’t get to leave me, too. I’d understand if you wanted to. Everyone else has. This is my fuck up,” he dropped his voice lower. “It’s not yours. I was the one who ran my big mouth. You were right. If I kept myself quiet, I could have skated through this, but I told them something. I knew who she was sleeping with, just like you knew who Mom was sleeping with.” The thoughts came back violently and he slammed his head against the table again.
“Fucking lesbians.” His voice gurgled. He felt himself slipping in and out of consciousness, but fought to stay awake. He needed to tell his father, so he’d understand. Maybe if he understood, he would actually help him in the fight. Maybe he wouldn’t leave. Forcing his eyes open, he stared at the ceiling and watched the dots of paint circle each other. “She said the name that night, and all I could think about was how sick she was to bring Amelia down into that pit of sin with her, so I drove the knife right into her. She deserved it.” He was drooling and tears mixed with blood ran down his face, but he couldn’t stop. His father shouldn’t have to see him like this. No one should. Words his dad had spoken to him from the time he was young repeated in his mind. Be strong. Put on a good face. You’re mine, and people will judge us by what they see. Don’t let anyone see you weak.
He covered his head, putting it on the table. “She deserved it, and if I had the chance, I’d do this to all of those damn gays. They ruin lives. They ruin people. They deserve this.”
His eyelids were heavy and his head felt like it weighed a ton. Blood ran into his eye, but try as he might, he couldn’t lift his cuffed hand enough to wipe it away. Giving into the urge to sleep, he closed his eyes.
A sharp smell hit his nostrils. Trent’s eyes fluttered open and he jerked his head upright. He looked down at the table covered in blood, and his heart raced, hammering inside his chest. As his breathing accelerated, he looked around the room. Joe was sitting in the chair again, and nodded at Trent’s wide-eyed stare.
“Glad to see you’re okay,” he said. The smile he had worn during questioning was now a look of concern. Joe shook his head, scowling. “You gave yourself quite the beating there. We’re going to get you stitched up in the infirmary, and they’ll take you to your cell.”
“What happened?” Trent’s words were labored. “My dad was here.”
“No.” Joe shook his head. His stare was almost sad. “I told you several times I wasn’t your dad. You thought he was here.”
As the dots connected in his head, Trent’s eyes widened. He turned his attention back to Joe and then to the center of the table. The red blinking dot on the recorder sent alarms through his body. His stomach lurched and, without warning, he vomited on the table.
Casting his eyes downward, his mind raced. What had he done? “I need a lawyer,” he croaked.
“Yes. You do,” Joe said.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Dominique’s distant humming, accompanied by the sound and scent of bacon sizzling in the kitchen, made Amelia smile. She wanted to join the breakfast-making party, but she couldn’t pull herself from the comfort of Dominique’s exquisite bed. She nestled deeper into the luxurious pillows, wondering why they even bothered to ever stay at her house.
Images of her family and her business popped into her head, but she shook her head, clearing her thoughts. None of that mattered right now. Nothing mattered aside from doing exactly what Dominique had asked her to do this weekend. Unplug. Disconnect. Relax. And fuck, she mentally added to the list. Her smile grew and she let out a quiet moan, thinking of how incredible it was every single time. She moved her body against the soft sheets, longing for Dominique to come back in and join her.
Closing her eyes, she silenced everything but Dominique’s sweet hums. As she listened, her smile grew. She began to make out the notes of “Sunday Kind of Love.”
Quietly she sang along to the beat, letting the words resonate within her. Dominique’s brown eyes, her sweet smile, her gentle reassuring touches and encouragement. She tossed the concept of a “Sunday kind of love” into the mix and mulled it around. She had never been certain of much when it came to love, and she wasn’t sure enough in her judgment to call this “love.” But it definitely was something. What she had, she would fight for, and there was no pleasure in the world she had ever unearthed greater than sharing just a moment in Dominique’s presence. Maybe this was love. She shook her head and opened her eyes, staring up at the ceiling and then looking around the room with a smile.
Everything was so intricately decorated, and somehow both urban and rustic at the same time. She stared at the bookshelves Dominique said she built from scratch, the wood-burned, intricate art piece that hung on the wall, and the stylish furniture. Amelia breathed in deeply, taking in Dominique’s scent that still lingered on the pillows. She wanted to know everything there was to know about this woman, and she was pretty sure she understood exactly the feeling Etta James sang of.
“Rise and shine,” Dominique cooed from the entryway, breaking into Amelia’s thoughts.
Amelia looked and her breath hung in her throat. She dropped her jaw. Dressed in nothing but black lace stockings, black underwear and a black, lacy bra, Dominique held out a tray of bacon, pancakes, and orange juice. Amelia opene
d her mouth to speak, but words failed her. Nodding, she smiled wider and brought her hand up to motion Dominique over to the bed.
“Are you hungry?” Dominique winked. No doubt she knew exactly which buttons she was pushing and was delighting in watching Amelia come undone.
Amelia nodded. “For so many things,” she said, finally finding her voice. “You’re like a walking fantasy right now.”
Dominique laughed and set the tray on the bedside table.
“And you brought pancakes?” Amelia asked, shaking her head. “You’re almost too good to be true.”
“What do you mean almost?” Dominique laughed. “There’s a mimosa there, too.”
“That does actually put you over the top to the too good to be true category.” They shared a laugh while Dominique raised her own mimosa glass in the air.
“To you, the joy you bring into my life, and to us as we start this journey together,” she said, gently clinking her glass against Amelia’s.
“To all of that, and to the way you keep me on my toes with so many good surprises,” Amelia added, taking a sip. Dominique set her glass down and leaned over to kiss Amelia. The kiss was far more decadent than any she had ever tasted, completely disarming her. Blissfully entranced, she set her glass on the bedside table, and pulled Dominique on top of her.
“For the past two months, I’ve been saying I could get used to this,” she said between kisses. “And the thing is, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to how you make me feel.”
“Yeah?” Dominique leaned back and raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah,” Amelia bit her lip. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m definitely getting spoiled with every breathtaking aspect of this.” She waved her hand to incorporate the bed, the breakfast and Dominique in front of her.
Dominique raised an eyebrow. “You mean waking up next to me and having breakfast?”
“That. And being here in your home, in Austin. I think I like it here.”
Dominique straightened her shoulders before sliding off and sitting on the bed beside Amelia. “I thought you said Knell was always going to be your home.” The creases in her forehead intensified and her eyes darkened with concern.
Amelia laughed, holding her hands up in the air. “I’m not talking about running away. I’m just saying I wouldn’t mind spending some of my weekends here. We could go back and forth, you know?”
“We could make something like that work,” Dominique whispered. She gently ran her fingers across Amelia’s forehead, sweeping the hair out of her eyes. “It’s a journey, and I’m excited to take it with you, wherever we decide to spend our time.”
Propping herself up on one elbow, Amelia reached for her mimosa, took a sip, and then set it back on the table. She let out a sigh, half in contentment, half knowing she was about to break the bubble of bliss that had covered the morning.
“I want to wait to see what happens before I decide anything concrete,” she said after a moment. Dominique cocked her head to the side. “Not about us,” she added quickly. “I already made up my mind about us a while back. I don’t say things I don’t mean, so you can rest assured I’ve already decided about us. But there are factors that will play into where I want to go or what I want to do.” She looked up to the ceiling and forced a deep breath. “I need to see what remains of my home once this horror story comes to a close.” Dominique squeezed her hand, giving her the confidence she needed to continue. “After the trial is over, I feel like I’ll have some closure and I’ll know more of what remains of the place I’ve always called home. It was a safe haven. It was quaint. It was full of good people. And I don’t know how much of that still exists.”
Quietly, Dominique moved over to the other side of the bed, laying close to Amelia and wrapping her arms around her. With the tender touch and the reassurance that Dominique was by her side, Amelia’s heartbeat settled back into a normal rhythm. “I just want to figure out what’s left of the good people I once knew.” She kissed Dominique on the top of the head and moved closer into the embrace, needing to be held. “With Trent’s confession last month, it seems like it should be an open and shut case. He should be sentenced with the maximum punishment. It should be tried as a hate crime, but it’s all still so up in the air, and I’m scared. They’ve gone completely silent. The police station won’t give updates, the news stories just relive the rest of the bullshit we already know, and the mayor’s office keeps issuing vague non-statements. I am terrified that the evil that was exposed will prevail, he’ll be given a slap on the wrist, and nothing will ever change. The fact of the matter is that, as awful a situation as this is, our town has the opportunity to rebuild. But I’m scared that’s not going to happen.”
“I know,” Dominique said quietly. “There is still the hope for justice. I know it doesn’t change what happened and nothing will ever make that better. The home you knew is forever changed. I know that’s a difficult concept to grasp and I know you’ve struggled with it. I’m here with you while you figure it out, and I’ll be there by your side every step of the way to make sure they remember us, they know why this should be a hate crime. They may think they can intimidate us, but they won’t.”
“Thank you,” Amelia said. “Thank you for everything.” She turned and let Dominique be her big spoon. Dominique tightened her hold and kissed Amelia’s neck softly.
“It’s all going to happen,” Dominique said between kisses. “That’s all I can promise. It’ll happen. Good or bad, we don’t know yet. We have no way of seeing how this will go, so I can’t tell you it’ll all be okay. I can only tell you that we have been anything but passive. We have worked hard to open up the minds of everyone in that community. I have been in the community almost non-stop, just to make sure we have a voice. You have taken a bold stand and demanded justice at every turn. We’ve made sure they know the weight of this trial. But we can’t be sure what they will do with what they’ve been given. All I will promise—all I can promise is that we will be okay, we will keep fighting, and we will be together while it happens. Once it does, we’ll figure out how to make it good. Because we will make it good again.”
Amelia nodded and took a deep breath. Rolling over to face Dominique, she shook her head. “I’m the worst,” she said, letting out a sad laugh. “I’m sorry I ruined your sweet breakfast surprise with my moody morning thoughts.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Dominique shook her head. “Your breakfast is still here, and so am I. I never want you to feel like you can’t talk to me.”
“I know.” She smiled and ran her fingers up and down Dominique’s soft skin. “I think I’m done talking for a while. You’re right. At the end of it all, what will happen is going to happen. We can only do our part and encourage others to do the same. For now, I want to get back to why you had me visit in the first place.”
“And why was that?” Dominique winked and the corners of her mouth turned up into a sexy smile.
“To get closer to you, to get away from it all, to have breakfast in bed.” She shimmied her body seductively and moved in for a deep kiss. “And for sex,” she added, biting Dominique’s bottom lip.
“Yes to all of that,” Dominique said with a giggle. “And so you can meet my friends after we take our time this morning just for us.”
Amelia nodded, her heartbeat increasing again. “Do you think they’ll like me?” she asked.
“I think they’ll love you,” Dominique said, “just like I do.”
Amelia’s breath caught in her throat and her eyes widened. She replayed Dominique’s words in her mind. She opened her mouth to speak but words didn’t come out. She saw the intensity in Dominique’s soft brown eyes. She smiled, thinking about everything they’d been through, the ways she had seen Dominique fight for what she believed in, the tender way she broke through the walls of Amelia’s fear and doubt, the ways she inspired Amelia to be the best person, and the simplicity with which they were able to share joy, laughter, and passion. Amelia swallowed hard. “You do?”<
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Dominique nodded and kissed Amelia’s forehead. “I do. You don’t have to say it back, but I wanted you to know. I’ve tried to keep it to myself and I can’t anymore. I’m bad at lying and about keeping things to myself, and you should know that I love you.”
“It’s not that I don’t feel it, too,” Amelia said, carefully choosing her words as her heart jackhammered. “I’m just in shock. I love so many things about you, and I love being with you.”
With a wink, Dominique slid closer, pulling Amelia into a sensual kiss. “Let’s get dressed and ready, so you can meet my friends. We have a fun day planned to show you how the other side lives.”
“Other side?” Amelia wrinkled her nose.
“Yeah,” Dominique laughed. “The other side, those of us who have places to go that don’t care if we’re gay, places I can hold your hand in public. We’ll show you the ropes.”
Dominique kissed her once more and hopped out of bed, grabbing a piece of bacon to pop in her mouth, before turning on the speaker in her bathroom. Bubbly music filled the air, and Dominique sang along. Amelia listened to Dominique’s melodious voice and contemplated what she had said. Hugging the pillow tightly to her chest, Amelia knew she too had fallen.
With a smile, she rose from the bed, feeling like a new, free woman.
* * *
The morning had been a blur of happiness and now the streets buzzed with excitement. There was nothing extraordinary happening in Austin, but it was a lively place—especially on a Saturday evening. Street performers played guitars and drunken partiers bar-hopped. Dominique glanced to her side. Amy seemed to come to life here, with her green eyes blazing and her soft smile never wavering. When Amy reached for her hand, Dominique’s heart leapt with joy. She wanted Amy to feel happy and safe here.
