by JA Huss
He erased my scars that night. Replaced them with promises.
I will kiss you here…
And he did. He kissed them all away.
Well, that’s the past and it can’t be changed. The rules of the game state that you get one chance for every moment. Make the wrong choice and it stays wrong forever.
Did I make the wrong choice?
I have to believe I didn’t. I have to keep telling myself that all my choices and all my lies had a purpose that led me right to this moment in time.
Right where I’m supposed to be.
I might not like the circumstances and I know I won’t like the outcome—at least as it pertains to Oliver. Once he finds out why I’m back he will make his own choice in his own moment and I already know how fast he will walk away.
But I made my choice a long time ago and I’m right where I’m supposed to be.
The next time that disposable phone rings all the pieces will fall into place.
I turn away from the window and walk to my front closet, pulling my light green coat from the hanger and slipping it on over my jeans and sweater. I cinch the belt tight at my waist, grab my keys and everyday phone off the little table near the entrance, and slip them in my coat pocket as I pull open the front door.
It’s an eight-minute walk to the church where we will meet up, but I can’t find a reason not to go a little early. Maybe peek into the tattoo shop as I walk past. Catch a glimpse of Oliver’s family members as they work this evening.
No one is in the elevator as I take it down to the ground floor. The doorman smiles at me as I enter the lobby, and greets me by name as he opens the door and I pass through.
I like that about this building. That they know my name. I’ve been hiding for so long it’s nice to be out in the open for once.
I don’t peek into the tattoo shop as I walk by. I don’t even cross the street to be on the same side. I just put my head down into the biting wind and mind my business.
I guess some habits die hard.
The light is in my favor when I get to the intersection of College and Mountain, so I cross quickly, hands in my coat pockets, and then slow down as the church comes into view two blocks up.
I listen for the sound of his bike, anxious, and fearful, and filled with longing. I am minutes away from experiencing him again. His hard body and strong arms. Will he kiss me? Will he wrap his arms around me? Will he be angry that I never got back in touch? Or will he be indifferent?
Hey, what’s up? instead of, God, I missed you.
I can’t know until it happens. Until he makes his choice in his moment. Only then can I make mine—to go through with this or turn back before it starts.
The front entrance to St. Joseph’s has three Gothic arches that form an outside vestibule and lead to the tall double doors. That’s where I waited for him four years ago and it’s where I’ll wait for him now.
I walk up the four steps and hide in the shadows, ears straining to hear the sound of his bike. I know he’s at Ariel’s house, only two blocks away. But there’s only the sound of people on College Avenue mixed in with the wind.
My legs feel weak and I lean further into the darkness, my back pressing against the hard stone. My mind racing with the possibilities before me tonight.
He did say meet me. That’s a good sign. At least he’s interested.
But I know what’s going on in his world. My timing here isn’t coincidental. I didn’t just happen to post that video to that site. I posted myself to his site.
The roar of a custom Shrike Bikes motorcycle erupts down the street.
That’s him. He’s coming. He’s seconds away. My heart is out of control. Galloping like a horse as I breathe faster to supply it with oxygen.
I have to swallow. I have to clasp my hands together to stop them from shaking. I have to turn away from the street and lean my head against the church to keep my legs from buckling underneath me.
I count to ten as the engine noise builds, gets closer, and then… and then he’s there. His engine revving once, twice, until everything around me goes silent.
Look at him. Turn around and look at him.
But I can’t.
I want to keep hiding as the deep thud of his boots walking up the stairs fills my head. I want to disappear and pretend none of this is happening. I want to go away, come back, and try again. Making different choices, creating new moments.
“Kat,” he says, just a few feet away from me.
I am breathing so hard, he must surely hear it.
A hand on my shoulder, trying to pry me away from the building. Trying to force me to turn… to see him.
“It’s you?” he asks. “Why can’t you look at me?”
“It’s a good question,” I whisper back.
His grip tightens on my shoulder, forcing me to make a decision. I turn, lifting my chin so I can see those blue-gray eyes first.
“Kat.” He laughs, a huge smile on his face.
“It’s me,” I say.
“You came back.”
“I said I would. Didn’t you believe me?”
His fingertips are tugging on the collar of my coat, pulling it away from my shoulder, then slipping it down, along with the collar of my sweater, so he can see the mark he left on me four years ago.
One arm gathers me close as he leans in and kisses the scar hiding behind his inked words. “And here,” he says, lips lightly brushing against my skin.
“And here,” I say, tilting my head away to give him free access.
I hug him then. The way I used to, before I was sad. Before I was lost. Before… back when I was happy, but didn’t realize it.
He hugs me back. “Come on,” he says, pulling away but grabbing tightly to my hand as he does it. “I’ve been waiting four years for this second chance.”
So there is it.
Our choices made in the moment.
They will seal our fates forever, I think. And one day, years from now, I will look back on this night as the start of something and not the end. And I will feel nostalgic and sad, wondering how I could’ve missed the fact that things were perfect.
Chapter Fifteen - OLIVER
We walk down the steps and I have to stop and look at her—just for a second, to make sure it’s all real. Kat’s body is shaking when I pull her tight to my chest. She seems so much smaller than she was four years ago. “I told you,” I say, “that when you came back I’d kiss you everywhere. That I’d still love everything about you. That your scars are my scars. We can own them together.”
She was already breathing heavy when I first approached, but now there’s a hitch when she inhales.
I push her away, just enough so I can see her face. “Are you crying?” She tries to turn away, but my hands automatically come up to hold her cheeks. “Don’t,” I say. “Don’t hide.” Her eyes flutter briefly, then she looks up at me. Tears stuck in her lashes making her eyes glisten with sadness.
We stare at each other for a few moments. Find the familiar and the new there in the shadows of the church. “I knew this day would come,” she says, trying to catch her breath. “But I was never sure which way it might go.”
“Katya,” I say, smiling. “I said I’d wait and I did. I said leave. Do what you need to do. But when you’re done, come back. And you did. It’s over now. You’re here and I don’t care what happens, this moment right now is enough to make me happy for the rest of my life.”
She inhales sharply, shaking her head. But I see a small smile appearing. “How do you know there’s something to be happy about, Oliver? What if everything is just as bad as it was, and worse?”
“I’m a big guy, Kat. I can deal with just about anything life wants to throw at me.”
“I know,” she says, leaning into my chest and burying her head in my leather jacket. “You have always been that way. I just wish I was more like you and less like me.”
“Fuck, no.” I laugh. “No. You’re perfect just the way you are. An
d I have so much to tell you. Four goddamn lonely years to make up for.”
“Me too,” she says. “But not tonight. Can we play catch-up tomorrow? I just need to make things stop so I can enjoy it a little before it all passes me by.”
“Come on,” I say, leading her towards the bike. “Let’s just get started and we can figure it out as we go. Here. I even have a helmet for you. That’s why I’m a few minutes late. I had to go back inside and grab Ariel’s helmet on the sly. Fucking everyone is over there right now and none of them are too happy with me at the moment.”
“What’s happening?” Katya says as I push the helmet on her head and mess with the chinstrap.
“Nothing you need to worry about. Just old business coming back to haunt us.”
“You say it like it’s nothing,” she says, her fingertips brushing the tears from her eyes.
“Tonight it is nothing. I don’t give a single fuck about anyone but you and me right now.” I swing my leg over the bike, then scoot forward so she has enough room to get on behind me.
The heat of her body pressed next to mine is almost enough to make me sigh. I reach behind and grab her hand. Place it flat on my stomach. “Hold tight,” I say.
“Gonna do tricks on this bike? Afraid I’ll fall off?” she asks, a hint of happiness in her voice.
“Nah,” I say, standing up to kickstart the engine. I look over my shoulder and shoot her a smile. “I just want your hands all over me. Because God knows, my hands will be all over you once we get to my place.”
If she responds, I don’t hear it. Because I rev the engine and take off. She leans into me when we take a corner and I find myself wishing we were about to take a long journey together, just so I can feel the heat of her body.
Sadly, my garage house is two minutes away and I’m pressing the gate remote on my keychain far sooner than I’d like. I wait for it to open, drive though and press it again, sealing us up inside my little fortress.
I press another button on the remote and the last car bay at the far end of the building begins to roll up. I ease the bike into the garage and close it.
When I turn the engine off I sit for a few seconds in silence, not quite sure this is real.
Four fucking years.
The first year I told myself she’d come for holidays. Or maybe summer break. I was so fucking sure of it. Even if it was just to see her sister. But she didn’t. The second year I almost went looking for her address. I dreamed of a road trip. Waiting for her outside an apartment or house. How it would feel to see her as someone other than the person I knew.
But I stopped myself. I know that too much information can be a bad thing. I could imagine an Oliver who was obsessed. An Oliver who wore out his welcome. An Oliver she might come to hate.
So I left her alone. Bided my time. Worked on the business, finished turning this garage into a home. Let my sister become my closest friend and put Kat behind me.
Last year I didn’t think about her much. Or I tried not to. It was hard not to follow her career as an artist. So of course I’d see things. A photograph. Or a painting. Or I’d look at my little buckeye tree in the middle of my living room and suddenly realize it had grown a few feet taller and she’d missed it.
This year I haven’t had time to think about her at all. Too much Mister bullshit going on. She’s always there in the background, but I ignored it. Almost half the year was spent jetting from one crisis to another with Nolan, and West, and Pax.
I never forgot about her though.
“Is this all you got?” Kat asks, breaking the silence. “After years of renovation all you have to show for it is an oversized garage?”
“Nah,” I say, recalling my question to her when she was trying to convince me she was badass that first day we met. I swing my leg over the bike and she follows. I take my helmet off and hang it from the handlebars, then take hers and do the same. “I got so much more for you, Kat. Your head will spin by the time we’re done.”
“God,” she says with a smile, morphing into the younger version of her I remember. “Why are you talking about being done? We haven’t even started yet.”
I lean in and kiss her. I close my eyes, thread my fingers into her long hair, pulling her into me. Like I can form her into a part of me if I fit our puzzle pieces together in just the right way. It’s a small kiss at first. Then my mouth parts, my tongue urging her to do the same. And I whisper, “Did you watch me jerk off in that video?”
She smiles into our kiss. “I didn’t just watch you, Mr. Shrike. I joined you.”
“Mmm,” I hum against her mouth. I kiss her again and pull back. Staring at her. “You have such a sweet face for such a dirty girl.”
“You always did like that part of me.”
“I like all parts of you, Katya Kalashova.”
I turn away, keeping her hand in mine as I walk us towards the door that leads to the other garages. We pass through two more bays and then I punch the security code for the lock the main door and open it for her.
I have the lights on an automatic timer—Ariel’s professional security suggestion, plus it’s good for my little tree—so the whole place is lit with a soft yellow-orange glow. I wave her forward and follow her in.
She looks up at my buckeye—which has grown six feet taller in her absence—and beams. “It’s so big.”
I take her hand and rub it against the hard bulge in my pants. “You never complained before.”
She laughs, but she doesn’t pull her hand away. Her fingers tighten around my cock and she squeezes just enough to let me know we will definitely be picking right up where we left off. “Are we still on a pleasure-first, business-later schedule?”
“Pleasure comes from many things. And the very first thing I want to do with you tonight is listen.”
“What?” Kat laughs. “You’re going to make me beg for sex? Will I have to whine? Lavish you with personal compliments about your manhood?”
“Shit,” I say, smiling bigger than I have in years. “No, I just want to look at you for a little. And that might get awkward if one of us doesn’t talk. So that’s you, Kat. I hope you’re ready to confess everything. Because I want all the details starting from the minute you walked out on me at the tattoo shop.”
She sighs and pulls away to walk around the living room. “Well, all I want to do is look at you. And this place.” She looks all the way up at the ceiling and then I recognize the moment she spots the bedroom. Her eyes track the steel railing to the top of the stairs. “I’d like a tour of the new upstairs.”
“You mean my bedroom? You dirty whore.”
Any other girl would slap me for that remark. But not Katya. It’s a joke. She knows it’s a joke.
“If I’m a dirty whore you’re a disgusting pervert. The way you seduced me as teenager.”
“I’d do it again in a second.”
She comes back towards me and places both hands on my chest. “I’ll tell you anything you want, Oliver. But at the end of the conversation there better be a consolation prize.”
I grab her breasts with both hands and squeeze. Our lips crash together, tongues taking the lead this time, and we make out like the teenage lovers we never had the chance to be.
There were no date nights in our pasts. No trips to the movies with friends. No proms or homecoming dances.
I grew up the day my sister went missing and I’m convinced that Katya Kalashova was never a child, even when she was.
I know many things about her. Some she told willingly, some not. But there are too many gaps in her story for it to be anything other than tragic.
“Where did you go? Tell me,” I ask.
“Take me upstairs and get me naked,” she breathes into my mouth. “I’ll talk as long as you can keep your hands off me. So I guess you have to decide, Mr. Shrike. Do you want conversation? Or do you want to do all the things you’ve been missing?”
“Depends,” I say. “Will you leave out the bad parts?”
“Jes
us, Oliver,” she says, pulling back.
“Hey,” I say, grabbing her arm. “I deserve the full story. I gave you time. I let you walk out and now you’ve come back. You knew the deal, Kat. You made me a promise.”
“Is that all you want from me?” she says, scowling. “Details?”
I’m guessing from her reaction she thought this might be easy. She thought she might talk her way out of it. Maybe I’d forget. But there’s nothing easy about what tore us apart. Instead of fighting with her, I kiss her again. And then I look her in the eyes and say, “I’m dying, Kat. I’m dying for the details. You have to know that.”
“It won’t change anything.” She bites her lip. “I’ll tell you and nothing will change.”
“I’m betting it will.”
“You want to kill him? Still? After all these years? Maybe he’s already dead?”
“It would be easy enough to find out, Katya. All you gotta do is give me a name.”
“Tomorrow,” she says. “Tonight I’ll tell you what I’ve been doing since I left. But I don’t want to talk about him until tomorrow. Just make me happy for one night, Oliver. Just one night where there’s nothing between us. No agenda, no revenge, no past, no future. Just now. I need to be in the now.”
If I wasn’t so damn horny, I might have more fight in me. Think up some add-on conditions or make her give me one detail right now, just to make sure she knows I’m serious.
But I am dying for this girl. Dying. My dick was hard the second I saw her at the church.
She reaches for the hem of her sweater and pulls it up over her head, dropping the soft cashmere to the floor. Her breasts are round, like ripe melons. And they push against her lacy black bra like they might burst through.
“Do you want to know what I was saying in that video I sent you this morning?”
I have to force my eyes from her breasts to find her face. “There was no talking in that video.”
“I didn’t record it. But I was telling you about my life. I’ll tell you what. I’m gonna throw you a bone tonight, Mr. Shrike.”
