by Liz Crowe
She woke with a snort, dislodging two of the dogs that had piled on top of her. Sweat beaded her face. The silence in the absence of insect noise made her realize how late it must be, the only sound the creaking overhead fan, its squeak-wheeze one that Diana sometimes heard in her dreams. The inside of her mouth tasted like it was coated in slime.
She cursed and swung her feet to the worn wooden treads, rubbing her face and trying to decide if it were worth the trouble to go inside for the rest of the night. Having to pee helped decide it. She rose and stretched.
“Hey,” a disembodied voice called from behind her.
She exhaled in relief as the dogs bounded toward the dark silhouette at the door.
“Well, at least somebody’s glad I’m here.” Dom emerged from the gloom.
Diana turned and took in the black eye, the dried blood under his nose, the horrific scrape along his left cheek that shone in the light from the open kitchen door. He blew out a breath and the distinct odor of bourbon enveloped her.
“What in the hell time is it,” she demanded, stepping away and smothering her compulsion to nurse-maid him.
He shrugged and stuck his fingers in his belt loops, looking so much like the teenage Dominic she’d fallen for, she had to catch her breath. When she saw the drops of blood at his feet, she frowned.
“Oh hell, Dom, you’re really bleeding.” She snagged his arm and pulled him into the kitchen. He dropped into a chair with a loud exhalation, spewing blood across its scrubbed surfaces. “I just cleaned in here,” she muttered, rooting through the stuff under sink for whatever first aid she could find. “Keep it contained, willya?”
“Sorry.” The fact that he had no rejoining quip was a real concern. Dominic never passed up the opportunity to be a smartass.
She squared her shoulders as she pulled him to his feet. Unsmiling and standing way up in his space, purposefully intimate, she unbuttoned and unzipped his jeans. He didn’t move. Didn’t even raise his arms or really blink.
“Well gee, honey cakes, if you want in my pants, just ask. Don’t gotta manhandle the merchandise.”
She frowned and dropped to her seat, focusing on his thigh.
“Ow.” He winced when she tugged the ragged denim away from what had to be the ugliest road rash she’d ever seen.
“Jesus. You’re a mess.” She reached for the antibiotic cream, keeping her gaze averted from his underwear-covered crotch—not an easy feat, as it was mere inches from her.
He yelped when she started smearing the stuff on the wide expanse of raw skin. “Shit! Goddamn it!”
She probably could have been gentler. But she didn’t feel like it. Fresh sweat beaded his brow, giving her a thrill of guilty satisfaction.
“Okay, there’s that.” She yanked his jeans up, leaving him to zip and button. “Sit.” She shoved him into a chair, knowing she shouldn’t like how much he winced, but liking it anyway.
Fifteen minutes later he sat with an ice pack over his face and a big cup of her mama’s secret-recipe mountain tea steaming away on the table. Diana stood still a minute, noting how his nose still dripped blood no matter how long he pinched it.
“Hang on.” She ducked into the small bathroom her father had added years ago to alleviate the stress of three females using a single second-floor shower. She emerged, unwrapping what she’d been seeking and holding it in front of him. “Here.”
“What the fuck am I supposed to do with that?”
“Stick it in your nose, dummy.” She waved the tampon at him. “It’s a super absorbent version. Very useful, these.”
He scoffed. She grabbed his chin, tilted his head and shoved it up his left nostril. He glowered at her but stayed still, then propped his feet on the seat next to her. She shoved them to the floor without comment.
“Bitch,” he muttered, leaning over the tea. She shot him a dirty look. His grin gave her pause. Diana forced her frown to remain fixed in place.
“Drink up. I’ll get you some pain killer. Jerk.” She moved away from him before she gave into the urge to yank him up and fold him into her arms for a hug. God knew she’d done it plenty of times before—saved him from himself. But those days were absolutely, undeniably over.
He heaved a huge sigh, but she stayed facing away from him. After shaking a couple of the tablets out of the bottle, she poured a glass of water. “Take these.” She plunked it all on the table in front of him.
“Thanks.” He grunted, not moving. “This stuff is amazing. I forgot.” His palms cradled the mug, his nose stuck down in it. “It’s naturally fermented, you know?”
“Whatever.” Diana got busy tidying up. She knew how good the tea was and that it had a bit of alcohol content. But it remained the one recipe of her mother’s Diana wanted to keep for herself. If Jen and Dale figured out she had a nearly perfect Kombucha tea in her fridge, it would be one more thing to add to their menu of goodies from the boonies. Which would translate into one more thing she’d have to figure out how to make in massive quantities. “Finish up. Go to bed.”
As she reached across him to snag the first aid cream, he grabbed her wrist, turning it over slowly.
“Let go of me.”
“You still have it.” He ran his thumb over the entwined letter Ds surrounded by tiny stars.
“It’s too expensive to laser off.” Her skin tingled where he touched her, pissing her off to no end.
He held on tight, and put his arm next to it, wrist side up, exposing a matching one on his darker skin. “It’s one of my favorites.” His voice was soft, as if he actually possessed the capacity for real, grown up emotions as he kept his eyes on their arms, side by side across the table.
“One of the many you inked in honor of pussy, I’m sure.” Jen hated how her voice broke, betraying her. She tried to wrench out of his grip. He let go and dropped back in the chair, so completely pitiful she had to stifle the urge to laugh.
“How long do I gotta keep this in.” He gestured to the tampon string hanging out of his nostril. “And for your information, Miz Brantley, no one else’s pussy inspired me to ink their initials. So there.”
“At least five minutes. And believe me it makes zero difference who else’s initials are on your precious skin.” She curled her fingers into fists to keep from leaping at him, holding him, erasing that blank, lost expression on his face.
“Hmph.” He gave the string a tug. “These are pretty useful, I guess. In more ways than one.”
“Don’t touch it,” she said as she wiped blood off the floor. The silence formed a wall between them. Anxiety that she honestly believed she’d cast aside long ago filled every empty space in her body. Once she’d set the room to order, she crossed her arms. “All right, take it out slowly and put it here.” She held out a wad of paper towels in front of him, giggling when he seemed alarmed. “Jesus. Let me do it.” She pulled the string and tossed the tampon into the trash. He touched his nose.
“Whaddaya know?”
“I do know a few things.” She headed for the sink to wash up. “You could probably use a shower. Here, take these with you.” She plopped a bottle of aspirin in front of him.
“You’re a regular Florence Nightingale, aren’t ya, Di?” He smiled, which did its usual number on her gut. She gripped the counter behind her. “Thanks. Seriously.”
“I assume you were counting on that when you decided to drag your sorry ass out here after you wiped out.” She started cleaning off the spotless counter and bit her lip to keep from asking him about the Love family reunion. His messed-up face and shredded leg told her plenty.
“Busted.” He gulped more pills with a swallow of the tea. He smacked his lips and help up the empty cup. “We should make stuff this together.”
She burst out laughing, which sounded more than a little hysterical after a while. By the time she wiped her eyes, Diana realized to her horror that she’d been crying. “Oh, Lordy, Dominic. I can’t imagine a single activity I’d want to do together with you. You’re obviously
smoking again.”
“Just a thought.”
“Here’s another one—go get a shower.” She pointed to the downstairs bathroom. “You can sleep on the couch tonight. I’m going to bed.”
Stomping upstairs, she had to acknowledge that her skin was on fire with remorse over how much of her life she’d wasted on the man in her kitchen right now. The man she’d give almost anything to kiss again—right now. Halting halfway up the stairs, she fought the urge to tell him to get the hell out of her kitchen, her house and her life.
“I’m goin’ back up to the hay mow. It suits me better. Don’t ya think?”
Diana clenched her eyes shut, then opened them and turned to find him standing at the foot of the steps, gripping the banister. “Don’t come to me fishing for compliments, Love. It’s a dry pond.”
“Yeah, guess so. Listen, is it all right if I hang for a few more days? Until I….” He ran a hand around the back of his neck. She remained quiet. “You know, I gotta find a new job now, I guess.” He flopped down onto the bottom tread.
“A new job?” She got a few steps closer to him, then backed away, cursing her Dominic-shaped weakness. “I mean, why?”
“I would call me ‘fired.’ Permanently.”
“Oh.” She dropped onto the step next to him in spite of her better instincts, keeping about a foot of air between them. “But it’s your family.”
“Not anymore.” He kept his gaze trained on his shoes. “I’ve been disowned, stricken from the Love family record books.”
“Oh,” she repeated, cursing internally for sounding like an unhelpful dolt.
“Yeah. That.”
“So, um…you told him?”
“Didn’t have to. Anton is pretty quick on the uptake. I guess Kent….” He glanced over at her, a strange expression on his face. “That’s his name, the guy I was…with for a while. Anyway, my father figured it out, kinda in front of a church full of people there for a wedding. Remember Cara Cooper? Kieran’s ex-girlfriend from high school? She was supposed to marry him, Kent, that is. It was Love family drama at its highest and best, I assure you.” Dom threaded his fingers together, elbows on his knees. “So, that went over about as well as you might think. My daddy is nothing if not a hide-bound, dyed-in-the-wool heterosexual—the homophobic kind who believes that anyone who isn’t is a freak of nature. Hence, the final, Dominic-disowning scene yesterday.”
“Oh, surely he just has to cool down, you know? Y’all never did get along, at least until recently.”
“Not sure that’s gonna happen.”
She reached out to touch his clenched jaw, like she used to, when he’d show up after the latest Dom and Anton blow out, red-faced furious and eager to work his frustration off between her legs. She hesitated, but he caught her with her arm dangling in the air between them. Before she could blink he had grabbed it, tossed it over his shoulder and had her close, his lips hovering over hers.
“Quit it,” she ground out, shoving him away and nearly coming apart at the seams at the familiar heft and contours of his body.
“I can’t,” he said so softly she barely heard him. “I’m an idiot, I know it. I should never have left you.”
She struggled, but admittedly not with her full strength. He felt too good to her and now that temptation hovered, her resistance was toppling in slow motion, like so many dominoes one by one by one.
“Which time?” she ground out, using everything she had to rally, to shove him to the floor, step on his busted nose, kick him out. “Oh,” she gasped before he kissed her, blotting out everything else in her mind.
She opened her lips to him, gripped his hair, and let him enter her soul, a place he’d never truly exited. As he started to sneak his fingers up under her shirt, she gasped and jerked away from him, still gripping his biceps. Mesmerized for a split second by the tattoo stretching up one side of his neck, she blinked.
“No,” she said, quietly at first. “No,” she repeated, stronger as she stood, clutching her elbows. “You don’t get to have me anymore.”
He sat, propped up in the space she’d just vacated, using the same puppy-dog eyes she’d seen way too many times. It steeled her resolve. She helped him to his feet without another word. When he leaned into her as she knew he would—Dom was nothing if not predictable when he wanted to get laid—she slapped him so hard her shoulder ached.
He yelped and glowered at her. “Hey, whatever happened to not smacking a man when he’s down?”
Diana shoved the small tendril of guilt under a huge pile of righteous indignation. “Get the fuck out. Bunk in the barn if you must. You can stay a couple more nights. After that, Jen and Dale are gonna boot you out. Lord knows there are a blue million breweries now. Go find a new one.”
He opened his mouth. But she spoke, because if he did, Diana honestly did not know what she might do. She pressed his chest with her fingertip.
“Two nights, Love. Then you move along. The barn’s getting some kind of stupid remake anyway. My brother-in-law’s determined to make my Daddy’s farm into some kinda come see the hillbillies in their natural habitat freakshow. Or something.” She propped on the wall opposite him, so exhausted she could hardly move. “Besides.” She glowered at him. “Aren’t you gay now?”
He frowned and crossed his arms. “I think the term you’re reaching for is bi. I won’t ever stop loving these.” His hand shot across the space between them and cupped her breast, bare under the tank top she’d fallen asleep in earlier. “I was just messing with….” he gulped, telling her another story entirely, one that did not square with his words. “Him.”
“Get your fuckin’ paws off me.”
“With pleasure.” He gave her nipple a quick pinch then stomped away, turning when he got to the bathroom door. “I was a real bad guy to you, Diana, more than once. I want you to know that I’m truly sorry. I appreciate you letting me hide out. I’ll be gone tomorrow.” The sound of shower water hitting the tiles filled her ears.
Diana dropped to the step, willing him back, willing him gone, willing her own weak self to get a life so she didn’t want him back in it so badly. “Bastard,” she muttered. “Motherfucking, cheating jerk!” She screamed before running upstairs and falling face-down onto her bed.
Chapter Eight
Then
“Dom!” Diana called from the open car window, waving him over. He barreled up and down the outdoor basketball court, getting harder and harder to see in the growing twilight. “Hey! Let’s go!” She slapped the car door, trying to get his attention.
“Hang on,” he shouted after a few minutes. “Almost done.” He took the pass and headed the other way, maneuvering through the opposing team and executing a perfect lay-up.
She glanced down at her arm, which still stung like crazy. She’d been having a devil of a time hiding the strip-mall tattoo from her parents. Jen had agreed to help her keep it a secret, but only after a serious blackmailing guilt trip about the young man in question.
Diana slid down in the seat with her book for English class. Dom’s almost done with a basketball game always translated to thirty minutes minimum. She grabbed a hard candy from the container between the seats and popped it into her mouth, getting lost in To Kill A Mockingbird. When it got too dark to see, she switched on the dome light and grabbed another candy, content to wait him out. Her chores were done for the day. She and Dom were supposed to go to a movie. After glancing at the car’s clock and figuring that unless he got in the car in two seconds they’d never make it, she sighed and resumed reading.
“Hey, isn’t that Dominic Love?” A female voice floated in her passenger’s side open window.
“Sure is,” another girl answered. “Let’s go watch. He is so fine.”
Diana scrunched farther down in her seat, straining to hear them.
“You don’t know the half of it.” The first girl giggled.
Diana willed them away from her, but wanted to hear more somehow, to confirm how stupid she’d been to
trust him when he claimed they were, together, you know ‘like’ boyfriend and girlfriend.
“I thought he was dating that what’s-her-name, from the tobacco farm? The skinny one with those ridiculous braids?”
“Huh. Well, maybe she thinks so. But she’s just a kid. Dom told me so last night.”
“Renee Reese, you lying slut,” the second girl squealed. “What happened? You told me you were staying home ’cause you had cramps.”
“Well, I could hardly tell him ‘no,’ now could I?”
The girls tittered again. Rage expanded in Diana’s chest. She tugged on her braids before realizing she was doing that and sat on her hands, heart in her throat.
“He slipped me a note in chemistry class. Asked if we could meet up. So you know my mama was gone all weekend….”
“Oh, my Lord. You didn’t!”
“I surely did. Twice. And I am here to tell you that he’s all you think he is…and a bag of chips.”
“So, you….”
“Well, he brought over some of his daddy’s beer and we got all stupid-drunk, at least I did. I think he made me drink most of it. But I didn’t care.”
Diana put a palm over her pounding heart, recalling that Dom had claimed he’d been camping with his brothers the night before. She’d actually enjoyed the time alone, contemplating her happiness and the soreness due to the UTI from Dom’s near-constant enthusiasm for screwing since she’d opened that particular door. Apparently he’d not been satisfied with it, however.
“Did it…hurt?”
“Well, no actually. Probably because I was stupid-drunk, but Dom was pretty good…with his mouth, if you know what I mean.”
“Oh my God, ewwww.”
“Oh, you’d be surprised. I know I was.” The girls tittered again. “He is fine, indeed.”
“But what about, you know, that girl. His girlfriend?”
“Oh, her.”
Diana ground her teeth so hard her jaw ached.
