by Anna Brooks
She clings tighter but doesn’t say anything. I want to pry but give her this instead and just wait. It’s my turn to be the strong one for her. I should have never been so weak around her in the first place, and I surely don’t plan to do it ever again. The man I know I am, the one who’s loyal to a fault and the one who prides himself on the lengths he’d go for someone he loves, is back. And he fucking loves this girl in his arms.
“Sorry,” she murmurs.
“It’s okay. I know I’m irresistible.”
She giggles and sits up, the most beautiful smile gracing her face. A smile I wasn’t sure I’d see so quickly after yesterday. A smile that I’ll work to the bone to make sure stays. “That you are.” She kisses my lips, hard and fast, before getting up. “I just wanted to see you before I started the day. Do you have a break at all?”
“At three for an hour. I never changed that, darlin’.” I stand up as well.
“Cool. I’ll bring you some food, okay?”
Holding my hands in surrender, I shake my head. “No argument from me.”
“See ya later.” She starts walking away, but I reach for her arm and pull her back.
“You’re pretty irresistible, too, ya know.” My hands span her waist, and I pull her close enough to caress her lips with mine. Enough to keep me satisfied but still leave me wanting more. Although I don’t think it’ll ever be enough.
I give her hips a little squeeze at the same time I nip at her bottom lip. “See you later.” My eyes zero in on her hardened nipples. She gives me a little shove and laughs. “That wasn’t fair.”
My next client walks in, and I can only shrug at Rayne. “Sorry, baby.”
She waves over her shoulder, and I watch her walk out before I shake hands with my eleven o’clock. “Hey, man.”
“Vaughn.” He gives me a chin lift.
“You ready? I think we’ll be able to finish up today.”
“Fuck, yeah.” He laughs. “I’m dying to be able to show it off.”
“Well then, let’s get started.” He follows me back and removes his shirt then lies on his stomach. The full back piece has taken a little longer to do than I initially anticipated, but I added more detail than was in the original drawing.
“You cool if I put my headphones on?”
As I’m putting my gloves on, I answer. “Of course. Just holler if you need me to stop.”
“Yeah, yeah.” He puts them over his ears. “I know the drill.”
My hand is sore by the time I take my break; four hours of straight tattooing will do that. I’m cleaning up when my girl walks in. I meet her up front and can tell something’s happened in the time since I’d seen her earlier. The light in her eyes is dim, and her smile is forced.
“You all right?”
She holds out a paper bag for me. “I brought you food, but I can’t stay. I have to go to the funeral home.”
“Okay.” I take the bag and set it on the counter.
“His parents want me to be there to help them with the arrangements. They say I’d know what he’d want.”
“Is that what you want?”
Her attempt at a shrug is pitiful. “It’s the right thing to do.”
“For who?”
“All of them, I guess.” She sighs and twirls her hair before tossing it over her shoulder.
“You don’t have to, Rayne. I get that he was a part of your life and you guys had something, but planning a funeral is not the job of a girlfriend.”
“A parent should never have to bury their child, Vaughn.”
I pause, not wanting my anger for his parents to project on her. “I know that. But it’s not fair for them to pass their grief over to you when you’re already feeling enough of it on your own.”
She nibbles on her lip for a moment. “I don’t think they are. I think they just want me to feel like I’m involved.”
“If that’s what you want.”
“It is.” She sighs. “I mean it’s hard, but I know if I don’t, I’ll regret it.”
“Don’t want you havin’ any regrets.”
“No.” She looks at the phone in her hand. “I’d better go. They’re waiting.”
“’Kay.” I walk with her to the door and open it for her. “I’ll walk you to your car.”
When she reaches for my hand, a relief instantly floods me that she’s not pulling away. We reach her car far too soon, and when she hits the key fob, I hold her door shut instead of opening it, waiting for her to look at me. “Call me later, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Rayne, look at me.”
Her head slowly rises. “I’ll call you.”
This isn’t what she wants to do. I desperately want to throw her over my shoulder and take her home with me until everything is over, but I know that can’t happen. Right now, I can only be here for her.
Nodding, I open the door and lean in to kiss her again after she sits.
“I love you, Vaughn.”
“Love you, too.” I kiss her cheek one more time. “Call me.”
“I will.”
Watching her drive away sucks so bad, but by the time I get back to the shop, she’s already out of sight. It’s not my place to tell her what she can or can’t do, as much as I’d like to.
Unlike this morning, the afternoon drags. I’m checking my phone constantly, and each time there’s no message from her, it worries me. By the time it reaches seven thirty, and I still haven’t heard from her, I send her a text and get no response.
My truck takes me straight to her place. I’m out and at her door before I can give it a second thought. I gently knock on her door and call her name. “You in there?”
When she answers, it fuckin’ hits me in the gut. “Hey,” she whispers.
I walk in and pull her into my arms then kick the door shut behind me. She grips my jacket and her breath hitches as I carry her to her living room. When I get there, another punch hits me, but this time it’s a little higher up than my gut . . . more like the area where my heart is located.
Sitting on the couch, I’m able to get a good view of Rayne’s life with Bryan. She has pictures scattered all over her coffee table. Movie stubs, dried flowers, jewelry.
“I wasn’t going to look at it all, but they couldn’t find a picture from their anniversary party, and they asked me to look.”
Just the thought of her with him is enough to drive me mad. I don’t care if he’s dead or alive, nobody wants to imagine the person they’re in love with being with someone else, let alone see photographic evidence. It’s not about me. It’s not about me. “This must be really hard for you to see.”
Her head bobs against my shoulder. “I didn’t mean for you to see this. That’s why I didn’t call you.”
“It’s okay.”
“It’s really not, but I appreciate you being so understanding about it.” She crawls off my lap and sits next to me.
I don’t know what else to say to her, but the longer I sit here, the longer I stare at pictures of her and him. Laughing, being happy. Young and in love. At a carnival, eating ice cream, bowling. A few school dances for good measure. Not only a reminder I didn’t get that with her, but also that I didn’t get any of those things at all.
When I was supposed to be in high school, I was getting my GED from the county juvenile detention center. When the carnival was in town, I was taping my broken fingers together. When kids were eating ice cream, I was sneaking out of my window to dig through the neighbor’s trash.
“Let me clean this up.” She sits on the floor and begins to gather everything up.
“Don’t do that on my account.”
“It’s okay. I’m done. I found what they needed.”
She sets the remote on my leg, and I welcome the distraction of flipping through the channels. I settle on an old Rocky movie; watching people get punched in the face is just what I need right now.
“Are you hungry?”
I didn’t realize she’d finished, but thankful
ly, not one memento remained. “I’m always hungry.”
“I am too. What sounds good? I’ll make something real quick.”
“Let’s just order something; you don’t need to cook.”
“I want to,” she insists. “Really. Cooking is therapeutic for me.”
That’s right. Cooking to her is like tattooing to me. “What do you have? I’m really not picky.”
“I can whip up a pasta dish pretty quick.”
“Sounds good.”
“Okay. Want something to drink?”
“Got any beer?”
She rolls her eyes. “We’re in Wisconsin; does anybody ever not have beer?”
“True. Then I’ll take a beer.”
“I’ll just get the water boiling then I’ll bring it to you.”
I start to get up. “I’ll just get it; you don’t have to serve me.”
“I want to, Vaughn.”
Chapter 17
Rayne
After setting the water to boil and bringing Vaughn a beer, I take out some chicken, spinach, and tomatoes. As I prep the ingredients, I begin to get lost in my love of cooking. My mother always told me, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I may not be the best at this whole relationship thing, but if I can win Vaughn over with carbs, I won’t be mad about it.
He came over at the exact right time because I was just about to go crazy. All I needed was one picture. Just one. And when Kristen asked me, I almost said no. But this afternoon was difficult for her, and I didn’t want to disappoint her.
The few hours I was with her and Aaron were awkward. The couple I’d seen just days prior—insistent that everyone needed to move on with their lives—were nothing but a wreck today. It was as if being inside a funeral home transformed them to different people. It reminded me of how they used to treat me when Bryan was alive.
Aaron sat in a chair, not speaking a word much of the time. When he did talk, it was short and mean. Kristen just cried and told me to make the decisions because she couldn’t bear to do it.
While I understood their sorrow, I didn’t think it was my place. I loved Bryan, I did. He was a good boyfriend and a great son. But truth be told, we were together the same amount of time he was missing.
If I’m discovering anything about myself through being with Vaughn, it’s that I was truly in love with the idea of what I wanted Bryan and me to have. My guilt for wanting to move on was a shackle. But the chain breaks away more every day, and eventually, I’ll be free of the hold it once had on me.
The water almost boils over, but I quickly blow on the bubbles before they spill over the edge. I time it perfectly so everything finishes at the same time, and begin plating the food.
“Can you set up the TV trays?” I walk into the living room with a plate in each hand but come to a halt when I see Vaughn sleeping.
I backtrack, set the dishes on the countertop in the kitchen, and then tiptoe to the hallway closet to get a blanket. I look down at him and smile. He looks so peaceful. I take in the faint wrinkles around his eyes and the tattoo on his forearm. Holy shit, he got a new tattoo.
Leaning over to get a closer view, I realize how fresh it must be. I study the characters and wonder what they mean. My feet slip on a magazine sticking out, and I try to catch myself but end up landing on top of Vaughn. He grunts and cages me in with his quick reflexes.
“Sorry,” I whisper and try to push up.
He bands his arms tighter. “Best way to wake up ever.”
Unable to resist anymore, I lower my head and kiss him. His mouth works against mine, and I twine my hands through his thick head of hair, holding him where I want him. I slide my tongue down his neck and suck on it before gently nipping and then sitting up.
He looks so damn good, and his rumpled hair reminds me of what he looked like after we had sex. Phenomenal sex. “I’m sorry. It’s just . . .” I trail off and glance over at the box I packed up less than an hour ago.
His focus shifts from me to the box then back to me, and his lips, his soft, kissable lips, flatten in a hard line before he sits up. “It’s all good.”
“Food’s ready.” I get up and grab two TV trays. While he sets them up, I bring the food in.
As we eat dinner together, I find myself stupidly excited that this is what my future might look like.
* * *
We’ve decided to have a memorial service for Bryan. I picked out the urn, the flowers, and the music. I made the menu for the buffet where everyone would go after the service. Much to the disappointment of Aaron and Kristen, I didn’t make the food on my own. But after I explained several times that I didn’t have the time, they finally just told me to do whatever the hell I wanted.
I didn’t ask Vaughn to come. Not only would it have been awkward for me, but it would have also been uncomfortable for him. When I told that to Vaughn, he said, “I don’t give a shit how uncomfortable it would make me. If you wanted me there, I’d be there.”
I sat next to Kristen and stared at the floor the entire time. Friends from high school I hadn’t seen in years hugged me and acted as if they gave a shit. My parents sat next to Kennedy and Brad two rows behind me. His parents each got up and spoke a few words about him, and when they finished, I felt eyes on me. As much as I wanted to get up and talk about him, I couldn’t.
What was I supposed to say? I couldn’t think of anything that wasn’t already said or everyone didn’t know about him.
When everyone begins walking out of the funeral home, I head in the opposite direction and make my way to the back. The red EXIT sign shines like a beacon of light, and I push the door open. Cold November air hits me in the face and burns when it hits my lungs.
I just need a minute. I lean against the wall and close my eyes. I’ve been dreading this day for two years, but I’ve been looking forward to it as well. The unknown is what tore me up so badly, but now, I know. And now, I can finally move on. I can breathe.
My hair snags against the brick wall, but it doesn’t even hurt. I send a text to my mom and to Kristen telling them I’m not going to eat. I’m done. This part of my life is over, and I can’t anymore . . . I just can’t.
Since I was here early, my car is parked right by the front door. I walk around the building and see a bunch of people still standing around. Even though I’m outside in the fresh air, the need to get out of this place is suffocating. I get my keys in my hand, put my head down, and hurry to my car. As I’m unlocking it, someone calls my name, but I ignore them as I get in and slam my door shut. I start the engine and reverse out of my spot
I park on the street and am out and walking to Vaughn’s door in a matter of seconds. Just as I’m about to close the door leading to the sidewalk, yelling makes me pause. Vaughn is arguing with someone, and he sounds really, really pissed off.
Not sure if I should be listening but also worried about him, I decide to stay still. I can’t make out the words, but he’s definitely pissed.
The sound of glass breaking makes me jump, and without thinking, I rush up the stairs. His door is cracked open, and I stand outside of it listening.
“What the hell do you want me to do with this shit?” Vaughn asks.
“I’m just puttin’ you on notice, brother. I ain’t got a dog in this fight, but since you’re back in town, I thought I’d share.”
“Fuck. Fuck!”
I step fully inside. The floorboard creaks and an arm wraps around my neck.
“Jesus.” Vaughn rushes toward me. “That’s my girl. Let her go.”
I’ve never been so scared that I actually stopped breathing, but much like when I had the wind knocked out of me as a kid on the playground, when I suck in a breath, it burns my chest. The arm releases me, and I put a hand to my heart as if it’ll stop the pounding.
“Habit, sorry,” the voice says behind me.
Vaughn takes my hand and tugs me toward him. “Sorry, babe. Bad time to show up.” Sorry, babe? That’s all he has to say?
�
�I’ll be out of your way,” the voice I heard from the hallway says.
I turn around and am met with a very large, very intimidating man. His gold tooth shines against his darker skin and tattoos decorate him up to his chin. Then it hits me that I’ve seen him before at the tattoo shop. The other man who is now to my left has long dreadlocks that are tucked under a baseball hat. He has tattoos on his face, as well.
“I wish I could say I appreciate you stopping by.” Vaughn’s voice drips with sarcasm.
The man with dreadlocks walks out and the other one, Lenny, stops in front of us. He tilts his head and eyes me up and down before he directs his attention to Vaughn again. “Collateral.”
“I fuckin’ know that, Dirt.”
“Get a lock on it.”
When he walks out and closes the door behind him, I sag against Vaughn.
He steps away from me and punches the wall. “God-fuckin’-dammit!” He hits it again so hard a hole forms, and when he pulls his hand away, blood trickles down his arm.
“Stop. Oh, my God, Vaughn. Stop.” I grab his arm, and he rips it out of my hold.
With his fists clenched and defeat written all over his face, he shakes his head. “Now’s not a good time, Rayne. You should probably go.”
“No.” He thinks he’s loyal? He’s met his match with me.
He walks through the hallway and enters the bathroom. The faucet turns on for a second, and I go to the open doorway to see if he needs help. He applies a square bandage to the top of his hand, and when he looks up, he catches my reflection in the mirror.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
“Aren’t you supposed to be at a funeral?”
I know what he’s doing. It’s what I’ve been doing for years. He’s trying to push me away, but I won’t let him. “No, I’m supposed to be here.”
“You don’t want to be here right now.”
“Why?”
His body becomes a blur when he moves so fast and pushes me against the wall. He pants through his nose and inches closer. “Because if you stay, I’m either going to say something I’ll regret or do something you’ll regret.” The rumble of his voice glides through me like a knife through butter.
