by M. J. Fields
He sighs.
“Lucas, if you talk about this, it will—”
“Hit the five stages of grieving on the plane. I’m good.” His hand captures mine, and he kisses it.
I ask a question to purposely push him to open up. “Just like that?”
He peeks at me again. “I’m good, Tessa. Just want everyone around me to be as well.”
“Including Ashley.”
He shakes his head, rolls his eyes, and looks up.
“And I want my husband, who has told me everything in his sometimes-twisted mind since I was seventeen years old, to stay open to me.”
“Ash,” he warns.
“Tessa,” I correct.
“Fuck.” He sits forward.
“No fucks.” He looks back, eyebrow cocked, and I know the part of Lucas I first fell in love with, the broken part, is still in there.
I pull my legs up and push one behind him, maneuvering myself closer, then wrap my arms around him and pull him back against me.
“Lucas Links, I fell in love with you because of the emotions you allowed to break free with me.”
“Probably not the best time to bring up the fact that I was a fucking train wreck back then, Tessa.”
I kiss the back of his neck and rub my hand up his still hard stomach. “Sorry, but the fact is, every girl at one time or another falls for a broken boy.”
“Baby, this is seriously—”
I interrupt him, “Because when they let you in, when they decide to love you, there’s no one who could possibly love you deeper, harder, better. Lucas.” I squeeze him tighter. “You gave her everything you could.”
“Tessa,” he starts and slowly sits forward, and I let go just as slowly. “I love you. You are the center of my fucking world, and I won’t do this with you… to you.”
“Well, I feel the same, so I won’t let you not.” I wrap my legs around him and pull him back. “Talk. To. Me.”
“Don’t try to Jade me.”
‘Jade me’ means shrink me.
“Lucas, I love you anyway.”
He leans back. “I know you do.”
“Then you know I need to be with you through this in some way, and I need to know what you need to get through this.”
“I have everything I need because I have you.”
I’ve always loved when he let his guard down, but I also knew it would take him being ready to do so. He’s not. “Okay then.”
He looks over his shoulder at me.
“I’m pretty fucking smart, but a little off my game today. So, tell me, is okay then, anything like fine?”
I lean forward and kiss him. When I lean back, he turns a bit, grabs the back of my head, and kisses me sweetly on the forehead. With all the hunger, yet more restraint, than he did when I was seventeen.
It’s a kiss that tells me he’s no longer that boy ruled by insecurities and false confidence that broke us. It’s a kiss that tells me I’ve no reason to doubt him. It’s a kiss that tells me he’s hurt, but he needs me. It’s a kiss that tells me he knows I need him too. I know who the man I said ‘I do’ to, is.
The man I said ‘I do’ to will open up, he will talk through everything he’s facing, but first, he desperately needs me.
He turns his body to face me, half off the couch, half on. He releases my head and reaches over his shoulder, and with one hand his white Henley is off and tossed aside.
Now kneeling in front of me, he unbuttons his jeans, and I see the tip of him already peeking out of his white boxer briefs.
“I love you, Tessa, always have, always will.”
I lean forward to touch him. “Love you too.”
He takes my hand and holds it in his, placing it on my thigh as he pushes my sweater dress up. “Let me love you.”
He leans forward, placing my hand beside me, then pushes my dress the rest of the way up.
He hooks his thumbs inside the waistband of my tights, and I lift, allowing him easy access.
He undresses me slowly, taking his time.
When he leans forward and pushes his hand under me to squeeze my ass and lift me, I close my eyes as my breath exits my lungs.
I see a cabin, in the woods, it’s familiar, too familiar… we’ve been there.
Senior year in New Jersey.
He carries me and sets me on what I assume is the kitchen island because it’s cold and hard.
I don’t want to open my eyes. It’s beautiful. It’s new, but old. It’s then, but now.
He grabs my hips and whispers, “If it gets to be too much, tell me, baby.”
He kisses me from neck to mouth, from mouth to breast. I hold my breath and then gasp when he bites down on my nipple while his hand moves up my neck and a finger caresses my lips. He pushes his finger in my mouth and pulls gently, opening it.
He sucks hard and releases one peak, then kisses across my chest and does the same to my other aching nipple.
When he releases it, he whispers as he kisses down my stomach, “I want to hear you, baby.”
His hand trails down my arm and his hip pushes against my leg, pushing them farther apart.
Kissing down my belly, his hand finally comes to rest between my legs, and he pushes a finger inside me.
“Baby.” His groan is reverent, and I want to see his face, but I can’t open my eyes without leaving that… moment.
His palm rubs against me as his finger—now two—move slowly in and out of me, deeper with each pass.
“Oh God, Lucas,” I moan.
His pace quickens, and then he stops abruptly, and his lips press against mine, fingers still inside of me.
“Lay down now, Tessa,” he groans against my mouth, guiding me to do so.
When my back is on the cool countertop, I hiss at the connection as he quickly, hungrily, kisses back down my body.
I hear what I think is a stool move across the floor, and before I give it another thought, his mouth is between my legs, and he devours me.
Just like he was back then, as I was spread across the picnic table.
I moan and lift my hips, closing my legs enough to feel his stubble against my thighs. He pushes them apart and sucks hard on my clit.
“Lucas… oh Lucas, oh God.”
I open my eyes and look down as his tongue dips inside me over and over again.
I cry out his name, and he growls looking up at me, mouth still on me as I wither and pant, squirm and cry out his name.
“Please, Lucas, God, please.”
He stops and quickly makes his way around the counter, his hard length in his hand. “You want this, Tessa?” he asks slowly stroking down and then up his cock.
“Yes,” I moan, as my body’s ache worsens from no connection at all. “Please, Lucas.”
“Beg me, baby.”
“Please Lucas.”
“Head back.”
I push myself closer to him, my head hangs off the counter enough that I can take him this way.
He steps forward. “Suck my dick, baby.”
And I do. I lick every bulging vein and suck exactly how he likes it as he thrusts in and out of my mouth.
His hands move down my body, and his fingers push into me. I gasp and moan with my mouth full of him.
He pulls away, holding himself in his hand and drags his tip across my swollen lips. I tongue his tip, and he grabs the back of my head and pushes forcefully into my mouth.
He pulls out quickly as he groans, then he moves around the counter again hissing, “I need to be inside of you.”
He lifts my legs to his shoulders, grips my hips, and slams into me harder than I think intended. His jaw clenches, his nostrils flare, and he stalls.
“Don’t stop, Lucas,” I beg.
He pulls out slowly and slams into me hard again.
“More.”
And again.
“Yes.”
And again.
“Oh God.”
When my body contracts, I know I’m on the verge of an orgasm
.
I close my eyes and search for that moment, the one back in time, as he moves faster, harder than he has since then.
When I cry out, he pulls out completely.
He takes my hand and pulls me up. “Come, baby.”
When my feet are on the floor, he turns me and bends me over.
I grab the counter and look over my shoulder as he squeezes my ass, spreads me wider, and slowly enters me.
“Stay that way as long as you can.”
He moves fast and hard. I cry out and nearly lose my balance. He grabs my waist and continues pounding into me. I arch my back when one of his hands runs up the front of me, and squeezes my tit as he fucks me.
I come, and I come, he’s relentless.
“Fuck yes. That’s my girl. Fuck yes!”
He leans forward and bends me over the counter.
“Hang on, baby.” He squeezes my ass and changes his pace to a bit slower and much harder until he finally finishes, growling my name.
“I love you, baby,” he whispers as he leans over kissing my back. “So fucking much.”
After a few minutes he stands, still panting. “Tessa, you good?”
I stretch my arms out and sigh as I grip the other side of the counter. “Uh huh.”
“You sure?” He nips my ass then cools the sting with his tongue.
“Positive.”
“You wanna get dressed?”
“No,” I sigh.
“Perfect. Give me two and we’ll go again.”
I don’t say anything, I’m still quaking on the inside.
“You okay?”
“Just give me a minute, Links,” I moan.
“Baby?”
“Yeah?”
“Jell-O legs?”
I sigh. “Definitely.”
His hands are at my ankles. “Step up.” I do, and he slowly pulls my panties up. “This is wrong.”
“Huh?”
“Lift again,” he says, and I hear a smile in his voice. “Dressing you, I want you naked all the damn time.”
“Same goes for me.”
As he pulls up my tights, he sighs, “These are a pain in the ass.”
“I can—”
“No, baby, no, I need to take care of you.”
And here he is, my man, who let the broken parts of the boy he once was emerge for a short time, metamorphosing back to… good.
I stand and turn around.
“Lift,” he says, eyes burning into mine. I lift my arms and wish I could do the same with all the worries he now carries.
Once my dress is over my head, he hugs me tight.
“You know how much I love you.”
I hug him tighter. “Of course I do.”
He buries his head in my neck but doesn’t say what I know he needs to.
“Lucas. What do you need to do?” I kiss his cheek.
“I think I need...” He stops.
“Lucas,” I sigh and hold him tighter. “If I could have said goodbye—”
“Baby,” he sighs, holding me tighter.
“I would have. I think you’ll regret it if you don’t.”
“Fuck,” he sniffs.
Strength
Ava
When Robert answers the door, he smiles at Logan, and his face falls as soon as he sees me.
It hurts, but it’s probably the same way Mom’s going to greet me.
I don’t care though, I push past him en route to her room.
“Ava, wait.” Logan’s pleading doesn’t slow me down, and when the two men who are in the foyer stand, trying to look intimidating, I glare at them and they back right down.
It’s empowering until I feel Luke’s grip tighten, slowing me down.
I look back, and he’s giving them a bone-chilling look. I know that’s what stopped them, him not me, no, fuck that, us.
I hear Logan tell Robert, “She’s strong, determined, and I’m thinking unstoppable.”
“But is your mother ready for this, Logan?” The break in Robert’s voice stops my movement completely.
I look back at old Moon Face and see less politician, more… loving husband, one who is terrified of what’s to come. My heart sinks, taking with it all the strength and attitude I had.
“None of us are ready for any of this, Robert. But my wife needs to see her mother.” I look at Luke as his eyes narrow. “And she will. Trying to stop her is going to cause more of an issue, yet have the same outcome. She’s going in there, either go with her or stay the hell out of it.”
London steps toward Luke, “Okay, everyone needs to just, relax for one minute.”
He looks at her. “I love you, kid, but—”
“I’m not a kid, I’m his wife,” she states and points to Logan. Then points between herself and Luke. “We are their support, just like you are Ashley’s.”
“She has us too.” I try to sound stronger, but fail.
“She does.” London hurries toward me and hugs me. “She does, Ava. And she loves you so much.”
I hug her back. “I love her, too.”
When I hear a familiar clearing of a throat, I freeze, not knowing if I’m prepared for this or not.
“Ava,” Mom says softly from behind me.
I have no idea what to expect. I haven’t even asked how she looks. But she sounds weak, and Mom never sounds weak.
“You should be resting,” Robert says walking to her quickly. I’m still hanging onto London like she’s a lifeboat, an anchor, the only thing holding me up and keeping me from falling apart.
“Look at them, Robert,” Mom says quietly. “Just look at my girls.”
Tears cloud my eyes and vision as I turn to her. I look down because she’s in a wheelchair and she stretches one arm out to me. “I’m so sorry, Ava.”
I close the distance between us and wrap my arms around her.
For days, I’ve been preparing for her to be totally different. Her look, her voice, her smell, everything, but as I hug her, she still smells like love.
“I’m sorry I’m sick.”
A sob bursts out as I say, “Fuck cancer.”
“Fuck cancer, indeed.”
I feel her tears against mine, her hand rubbing my back, her heart beating and her breath against my cheek.
I know the answer to the question before I ask, yet I can’t stop from asking, “Can we beat it?”
“Very few things we go up against in life are unstoppable. I’ve gone toe to toe with it so many times I’ve lost count. But in the form it took in my body, well, this demon is unstoppable.”
“What can I do, Mom?” I sniff.
I lean back, ready to see her, prepared to face death, yet that’s not what I see, I see her.
I smile. “Even in the face of death, you look beautiful.”
She smiles back. “And even though the men in my life tell me that every time they see me, hearing you say it, my beautiful girl, makes me believe it.”
“I’m serious,” I sniff, and she smiles. “I mean, you’re supposed to look like a hairless cat or something.”
“Jesus, Ava,” Logan huffs and Mom laughs.
“Pfft, Jesus Ava nothing, she has better brows than me.”
“Microblading,” she whispers, then bats her eyelashes. “And lash extension mascara.”
“Really? They look real. If I weren’t worried about giving you germs I may have caught in the Uber, I’d lick my thumb and try to rub them off.”
She scowls, “Please tell me you don’t do that to my grandbabies. I never even did that to you or Logan. There were always wipes in my bag.”
She’s right, there were.
“Ava?”
“You told me not to tell you, so I’m not.” I force myself to look at her eyes. She’s lost weight, and I know her skin color has changed a bit, but her eyes, they seem untouched by the demon, they’re still my mother’s eyes.
Her arm wraps around mine, and I notice the other hasn’t moved from her lap. She whispers, “Dignity and grace, Ava…
Lane. One thing I always tried to hold on to, no matter how hard things got. Dignity and grace.”
“And style,” I whisper.
“And that.”
“Ashley,” an unfamiliar voice causes us both to let go and look towards it. “It’s time for your meds.”
“I’d like to hold off for a while.”
“Ashley,” Robert sighs.
“I can manage a little pain, Robert. My daughter is here.” She smiles at me.
“Mom,” Logan says as he walks toward us and squats down. “I think you should take the pills.”
She sighs, “Just a little more time.”
“Then at least let’s get you back into your room where you’ll be comfortable.” Robert moves behind her, and the other nurse, the one who was pushing her chair, steps away.
Inside Mom’s room there are room dividers I assume shield medical equipment, but to look around, you’d not think this was a room of a woman who was dying. Crazy maybe, dying no.
There are pictures of Logan, her, and I everywhere. On the walls, on the fireplace mantel, on easels. Pictures of my babies and her, and a huge one of Luke and I at our… not so classy nuptials.
When I see a picture of Logan, London, Mom, and Robert under the Central Park Bridge, my heart expands.
I look at Logan. Concern passes over them, and then he looks down.
“You all look amazing.” I smile. And they do.
London walks over and points to another picture. It’s Mom holding…
“Is that Faith?” I ask.
“I photoshopped it.”
I turn and see Mom smile. “After I found out you were pregnant, Robert talked me into another trip to Mexico.”
My heart sinks because if she could go there, she could have come to us. But it doesn’t matter, nothing matters anymore. The past is gone, the present is here, and the future is undetermined.
“A holistic clinic that was said to cure even the incurable.”
“Sorry, Ashley,” Robert whispers as his arm wraps around her right side, the side that seems terribly weak.
Mom smiles at him as he helps her up. Helping is not actually what he’s doing, he’s lifting her because she can’t do it alone.
“Never be sorry because you want me to live. I want to live.”
“I know you do.”
She looks at me and smiles, I notice her teeth are not the brilliant white they once were.
