by Gina Kincade
I stare at my tall, muscular brother. His eyes redden and there’s a tic in his jaw.
My eyes fill with tears as I ask, “You did that…for me?”
He still won’t look at me but says to the carpet, “I missed you. Every day. So I shaved it. Every day. Until this morning when Lona called, told me she broke into your place and found out where you were.” He glances up, smiling, the smile I know from when we were kids. “I’m never leaving again, Ash. I thought what I was doing was for your good, but not now, not after we talked, not after I talked to Ryder.”
“You talked to Ryder?”
“The man basically asked me to move in with him when we couldn’t find you.”
I smile. “That shouldn’t make me so happy.”
Hon shakes his head with his wide grin. “I understand why. And you have to know he misses you. I missed you. I get it why you’d want to run. I do. We, our family, has a really fucked up way of dealing with things. Poor Lona all alone when we were born, having to fend for herself.”
“It’s not like Mom gave me to a wolf pack.”
“I’m making a point, Over-Corrector.” Hon and Lona frown at each other, but then my brother shakes his head and smiles at me. “It’s taken some time to understand how our family deals with things isn’t good. They sweep things under the rug. I mean, Mom and Pop knew Lona was a lesbian for how long now?”
“I’m not fond of that term.”
“Yeah, she’s not fond of that term.” I reiterate, the way only a little sister can. “She’s not fond of Two-Spirit, either.”
“Fuckin’ a, can a man make a point here?”
Lona sucks in a breath. “I came out to Pop when I was fifteen and had a crush on the neighbor girl. Do you remember Susan Little? I thought I was in love with her. So I told Dad and he told me to never tell anyone.”
“Yeah.” Hon nods. “Jesus, really? That’s horrible. But that’s helping my point. They sweep things under the rug. And I’m not blaming them. I’m just saying that’s how they cope. But I don’t. No more sweeping for me.” He looks at Lona. “I’m proud that you’re my Two-Spirit, total lesbian sister.”
Lona playfully smacks him on his shoulder, giggling.
He’s smiling when he looks at me. “And I’m proud of you, Ash. My twin sister who, thank god, looks nothing like me, who followed her childhood dreams and is the strongest person I know, besides Lona, of course.”
I glance at my sister. “I’m so sorry.”
“For what?” Her voice is soft and sweet, but I know she’s going to be screaming soon with what I’m about to do.
“I can’t help it any longer.” I reach my arms around her and Hon. “I’m going to hug the crap out of the both of you.”
She tries to duck away but Hon and I have her in a firm strangle-hold, while she groans like we’re torturing her.
Whispering in her ear, I say, “I’m proud of you too, Lona. You’re the first to fall in love and be that brave. You’re always fighting for justice, and…oh my god. I just figured it out. You’re going to be working for Hon, aren’t you? That’s the job you’re going to do.”
She turns in our hold. Her face red. She’s trying to frown, but she’s also smiling. A little bit. “Yes. But I’m working with Hon.”
Hon laughs. “No, you’re working for me.”
I glance at him, touching his shaved head. “You found a different path than what we’d planned when we were kids, and I’m scared you won’t be happy doing it because you’re doing it only for me.”
He shakes his head, his face somber. “No. I mean, at first, yeah, it was all about you. But now—this is what I want to do, Ash. It’s really for me. This is just for me.”
I smile at him. “You selfish bastard. You’ll be working just for yourself while saving hundreds of people.”
He laughs at my teasing. “Yeah, I’m a lot like you that way.” He squeezes Lona and me until we grunt but he doesn’t let up. Instead, he says, “Now, how are we going to get Asha and Ryder back together? I think it should be something really sticky-sweet romantic that makes us throw up afterwards.”
I try to smack my brother, but he’s pinned my arms as well as my sister’s. However, he does ask a great question: Can I get back together with Ryder? Will he want me?
Ryder
Another day without Asha. She was supposed to work today. I thought.
But then I’ve thought that for a couple weeks now.
I didn’t have the nerve to ask Tina or Tanya what had happened to her. Fuck, I was looking forward to seeing her so much. And when I realized I wouldn’t, I almost vomited.
Yeah, me.
Lovesick. I guess.
Stupid. I know.
I fell for a girl who I didn’t have a chance with. I knew that walking into the deal. Somehow, though, I thought…I don’t know what the fuck I thought.
I know she ran away from me because she didn’t want me privy to her secret. And, shit, if it wasn’t worse than anything I could have imagined. Hon told me that the guy who gave her a roofie and had sexually assaulted her was serving eight years. He could get out soon. He’s already had two probation hearings, both of which several from the Cheyenne tribe in Montana attended and protested. There’s another probation hearing in November, and I asked Hon if I could go, help in any way I could, even if Asha doesn’t want me anymore.
Hon’s a good guy. I could tell he felt like complete shit when I let him know Asha hadn’t told me about her secret. Trying to make the guy feel better, I said I had guessed as much about her. The man already has a serious problem in that he feels guilty about what had happened to Asha because the fucker who hurt her was his roommate, his best friend, and hers. Apparently, Asha and Hon used to share everything, including friends. Hon’s struggling with self-condemnation every day.
I told him I doubted Asha blamed him for anything. She doesn’t think that way, I said. In the small amount of time Asha let me in, I found she was so much better than I’d imagined. So much sweeter, so much kinder, so much funnier…so much more beautiful, inside and out.
We talked a lot about Asha, but I never asked him if he thought I ever had a chance with his sister. I was too afraid to know the truth.
I’m driving home from the hospital. Tired as shit. Frustrated. Wondering if I should have another workout. Hon took me to his gym. We sparred a little. He’s a fighter all right. Just like Asha. I think he was pulling punches. I think he was taking it easy because he worries about my broken heart. Oh, I never told him I have a broken heart. But he’s not dumb.
The thing is, I needed him to beat the shit out of me. I need to feel some sort of pain other than what’s going on inside of me. I miss Asha so much. I opened my fucking mouth, told her how I felt, exposed my heart, and she ran away.
Even if part of me understands why, there’s a part of me that’s truly pissed. At this point, why the fuck doesn’t she know I’d do anything for her? Anything she fucking wants.
I park my bike and think about smoking. It will just make me jittery. But maybe I need jittery to fight Hon.
I’m thinking of calling him when I get inside, see if he’ll spar. Stomping up the stairs, I worry what to do if he’s busy. I could go back to my gym, lift weights again. See if I can tear a muscle. Something to get my fucking mind off the fact that—now I smell her. Goddamn it. I’m thinking about her so much, missing her so much, that now I’m smelling her.
I clomp the last stair to my place and turn to my apartment. Then I see her, standing in front of my door, in a pretty little dress, her hair up in one of her messy buns, and she’s wearing her red glasses. I love those little glasses.
I almost run to her, thinking of scooping her up and clinging to her until my heart stops hurting.
But I stand there and stare.
“Hi, Ryder.” She’s nervous. Her voice is small. “I—I was hoping I could talk to you.”
Talking.
Shit.
That can’t be good.
<
br /> I take out my keys from my black leather jacket, unlock the door and let her in without a word. I don’t know what the fuck to say. Baby, don’t you ever fucking leave me again. Sound possessive and insane? You bet. So I won’t say that.
I set my backpack and helmet on the kitchen table, then open the fridge, grabbing two beers. After opening one, I hand it to her then open the other.
She’s daintily sipping, looking so feminine and gorgeous. I’m wondering if I’ll accidentally crush the bottle in my grasp, because gripping the fucker seems to be the only thing that’s reining in my need to grab her and throw her in my room, locking the door and telling her I never want her to leave again. I’m kind of crazy right now, and I don’t want her to know that. I wouldn’t really do those things. Not in a million years. It’s just…I missed her. When she left, she took a part of me, a part of me I didn’t know was alive any longer. But she made me that way. Alive again.
“I—I’m so sorry, Ian.”
Well, I’m glad she’s using my first name. It gives me hope when I probably shouldn’t have any.
“I’m sorry I ran away like that.”
“I understand.”
She glances up, looking at me for a long time, but then back at her beer. “I couldn’t stand the fact that you’d look at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you feel sorry for me.”
I slam my beer down, foam splattering everywhere, but I don’t fucking care. I’m so pissed. “I’m not feeling sorry for you.”
She’s looking at me like I’ve turned into a werewolf or something, complete with a snarling muzzle.
I try to tame my temper, but I’m so fucking angry. And hurt.
“As much as I understand why you did what you did. I don’t understand why you ran for two fucking weeks. Not a fucking word.”
“I was scared.” She slams her beer down and steps closer to me. Her chin raised. Her eyes flashing. This is the woman I know and love.
“Scared of what? What have I ever done to scare you, out of everybody on this earth? You have to know I’d do anything for you. I’d never hurt you—”
“No, you’d never hurt me. I know that. But people don’t mean to hurt others and it still happens.”
“Yeah, I’m an idiot. A big one sometimes. I’ll make mistakes. But what could I have possibly done in that moment to make you that scared of me? Of me?” I slam a fist against my chest.
Her face twists. Clear-cut pain slashes her pretty features. Tears surface. But she juts her chin further out. “That you would never look at me the same. That you would pity me. Do you have any fucking clue what it’s like to be pitied?”
“Yeah,” I whisper. “I grew up dirt poor with a grandmother who would lock my sister and me in a cellar to starve us. Try telling that to people and have them look at you the same. Look at you like you’re the one who fucked up, not my sick grandmother.” I take a big breath. “There’s only been two people who I told my story to who looked at me like I was just a person afterwards: Adam and you. So why the fuck do you think I would do anything but look at you like the person I already know? You handled my past with care and concern. No pity. Why wouldn’t you let me do the same?”
“Because what happened to me is different,” she yells.
I nod. “Yeah, it is. But you never gave me the chance to show you that I wouldn’t pity you. That all I wanted to do is show you the same care and concern you showed me.”
“But—but—men don’t—don’t you think of me as different now? Dirty?” Her voice cracks and I’m there, right in front of her, cupping her cheek, making her look straight at me.
“Never, baby. I know you. I know your heart. It’s pure. Like you. Nothing can change that. No one can change that. Not anything that anyone’s done to you will ever change that. I will never look at you with anything other than…God, you’re perfect, Asha. I thought that before and I’ll always think that.”
A tear escapes her dark eye, but I catch it and wipe it away.
She sniffs. “Really? You think of me like that?” She takes off her glasses and sets them on the table. “But I wear glasses. I’m—I’m curvy. I’m a total geek.”
I shake my head. “Love those things about you. Why else would I have fallen for you so hard, so fast? Baby, your light, or whatever you want to call it, it shines. When people meet you, they see how you shine. When you’re at work, you shine. You just shine and everyone wants to be close to you because you make them warm. You make them secure. Not a lot of people can do that. But you do it with ease. With grace. The way you shine made it so all I could do was think about you. I had a massive crush on you before we kissed in that janitor’s closet. And I’ve never had a crush before.”
“I had a massive crush on you. But I did have a crush before. It was fifth grade and Brock LeSabre moved to our town. Oh, he was so cute for a little fifth-grader.”
I laugh. “I’m jealous as fuck about a fifth-grader.”
She smiles. “I missed your swearing. And I stopped having the crush when he talked.”
“Not as smart as you?”
She bites her lip. “I didn’t know it then, but now I do. I didn’t like him because he wasn’t you.”
I chuckle. “Ah, good line. That’s like movie good.”
“I’m pretty sure I stole it from some chick-flick.”
“That’s my girl.”
Her smile crumbles. “Am I? Even after everything you know—”
“Doesn’t change a fucking thing, Asha. I mean, I wish you had been the one to tell me and not your brother, and I wish I had said something to stop him, and I wish I hadn’t made that deal with you to make you talk to him, and—”
She places her fingers over my mouth. “Shut up.” She smiles. “Did you really want me to talk to him because you—”
I talk around her long digits. “Every time you brought him up, I saw such sadness in you. Such…longing. Like you missed him. A lot. But I was an idiot for interfering.”
She shakes her head, gliding her fingers to my cheek. “You pushed me before I was ready, but I think it was good for me to be pushed. I didn’t know that Hon had been told not talk to me. I thought it was all him. And thanks to you, we’re now talking.” She smiles. “I guess you and my brother have gotten really close while I was gone? He’s living here now?”
I smile and shrug. “I missed you. He kind of talks like you do.”
“You were substituting me for my brother?”
“I’m not proud of that and don’t you dare tell him.”
She chuckles. “He’s not coming over, is he? If he is, can we kick him out? Have the place just for us?”
My heart is beating so loud I’m sure she can hear it. God, she’s making me so fucking happy.
“Did you have something in mind for just the two of us?” I ask, hoping. “In the apartment? Alone?”
She seductively saunters close, her hand running through my hair. “Ryder—”
“So we’re back to Ryder?”
“For this, yes.”
“Okay.”
“Ryder…it’s time I lost my virginity.”
“Oh, baby.”
Asha
We’re in his bedroom. I’m not even sure how we got here, but we’re kissing and touching and laughing. I take off his black scrub shirt, my hands hungrily roaming over his tattoos, his scars, his muscles.
“Ryder.”
“I missed you so much,” he says between our kisses.
“I missed you.”
“Don’t leave me again, baby.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it. I’m tying you up.”
I laugh but then stop. “For our first time, you’re tying me up?”
He gives me a wicked grin. “Nah. But afterwards…”
“As long as I still get to tie you up.”
He leans down and kisses me, so hard, needy and pushy. His tongue in my mouth. His body pressed against mine. He reaches down and insid
e my skirt. Before I even catch on to what he’s doing, he’s lowering my panties.
And I love it. My heart beats faster, my pussy is crying out for this. I’m already liquid for him.
He’s pushing my underwear down, and I kick them off along with my ballet slippers. Then his hand cups my sex.
“Oh.”
He moans, his fingers soft against my folds as he explores me. “You’re wet.”
“You’re hard.”
“I’m glad you noticed.” He presses right on my clit, making me whimper. “I want you so much.” Then he jerks his head away, his hands back at his sides. “But we need to take this slow.”
“Do we?”
He licks his lips, looking at mine. “I—I forget.”
I laugh.
“Jesus, Asha, I need to think, but I can’t as soon as I touch you.”
I smile and bite my lip as I, as sexily as possible, take off the lavender cardigan I’m wearing. I like the camisole my sister bought me for this. She and Bit took me shopping, trying to figure out the perfect outfit that would say “I’m sorry I ran away for two weeks to get my shit together” and “I’m going to jump your bones.” I’m so glad Lona talked me into this black satin and lace contraption. Ian’s looking at it like he thinks it’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. Or maybe he’s looking at my breasts like that. At Bit’s suggestion, I’m not wearing a bra. I feel a bit naked, but with Ian, I love this feeling.
His nostrils are flaring, his chest is rising and falling fast. God, I love watching him get turned on.
I unzip the flared skirt. It’s so pretty and I wasn’t sure if it was really me or not, until I tried it on. I like how girly it makes me look. Since it’s all black with horizontal panels of black, sheer organza, it’s also sexy. But I’m happy to take it off and watch Ian’s warm eyes darken while looking at my pussy.
Before I came over to his apartment, I shaved everything I could, put pretty-smelling lotion on and perfume, and prayed Ryder would think I’m still sexy.
