“Claudia will tend to me. Have a good night. Invite that young man and his sister to dinner next week.”
“I’ll see.”
As soon as I’m out the door I call him. He picks up after a few rings, his voice gruff and deep. I feel the warmth down in the deepest parts of my body.
“Hey. How’s Della?”
“She’s still passed out. She probably won’t wake until morning.” I’m assuming he’s right next to her, and that’s why he’s speaking so low.
“I want to come see you. Have you had dinner?”
He doesn’t answer right away. The silence is deafening. When he does speak, his answer is painful.
“I’ll see you in the morning when I drop her off.”
“Did you eat?”
“No,” he grunts.
“Let me come over. I can cook for the two of you, in case she wakes up. She’s got to be starving. We never made it to lunch.”
“Now’s not a good time,” he shoots back.
“Okay,” I whisper, my mind going in a thousand different directions. How can it be a bad time? Della’s asleep.
Oh God, does he have someone else there with him? Is that why he’s being so quiet?
“Eleanor, it’s not what you think,” he tells me, reading my thoughts through the silence.
“I’m thinking some not so pleasant things right now.” I’m thinking I was way off the mark and Rafe wants nothing to do with me.
“I don’t want you to see where I live.”
“If you think I give two shits about-” I start, but he cuts me off, his voice louder.
“I lied on the paperwork. I don’t live anywhere near the zoning for Magnolia Lakes Primary.” He lets out a heavy breath. “That’s why I put the shop’s address. I had to get her out of that other school, Eleanor. It was fucking awful. They treated her like an animal.”
Based on the conversation I had with the secretary, I know he’s not exaggerating. Plus, I’ve seen that school on the news several times, whether it’s an irate parent complaining about the staff, or threats to have the state take over. Even though he lied, he did it for the right reasons.
“I don’t care about your address. Do you think it matters, especially when I’m considering…” I stop myself, covering my mouth, in shock that I almost let the rest of that sentence slip.
“Especially when you’re considering what?”
“Nothing.”
“Eleanor,” he coaxes.
“When I’m considering this.”
“This?” he asks. He’s pushing my buttons. He wants me to say it, even though he knows exactly what I’m talking about.
“This,” I sigh. “Us.” I can barely manage to get my next sentence out. “When I’m considering us.”
“And what about your douchebag boyfriend?”
“That wasn’t going anywhere anyway.”
I can hear his sigh loud and clear over the line and I can only assume it’s accompanied by a pinch of the bridge of his nose. It’s a move I’ve seen many times. “Are you gonna get in trouble for this?”
It’s my turn to sigh. “Honestly, I don’t know. I think we just have to keep it quiet.”
“So I can’t maul you when I drop Dells off in the morning?”
I laugh for the first time since before she dropped in the hallway and started screaming. “Definitely no mauling.”
“I guess I can deal with that.”
“Are you going to let me come over and cook for you, Rafe?”
“Is this a date, Eleanor?” He sounds like my old Rafe. His voice sends chills down my spine.
“Do you want it to be?”
He chuckles, and it does all sorts of delicious things to my insides. “Not ideal, considering my little sister is passed out in my bed, but yeah, I want it to be.”
“Text me your address and I’ll be over soon.”
He’s waiting just outside the front door when I pull up in the driveway. My knees buckle when he takes the shopping bags from my hands, wraps his other arm around my waist, and plants a kiss just at the corner of my mouth. I close my eyes and breathe him in, and he lets out a small laugh, the sound vibrating through my body.
“Hey,” he says, “let’s get inside.”
I follow him through the front door and step into the kitchen. It’s sparse, but neat and clean. I expected nothing less.
“Spaghetti?” he asks.
I nod. “I know Della’s picky, but everyone likes spaghetti.”
“You need help?” he asks. What I need is for him to back up. He’s close… so close that I can’t think. I can’t breathe. I can’t speak.
“Eleanor?” he prompts.
“Hmm?”
“You seem a little preoccupied. What’s on your mind?” he asks, stepping even closer. I can see each light brown and golden fleck in his dark eyes, can count each black eyelash surrounding them. My eyes drift down to his mouth. His full, pouty mouth that’s too beautiful to be on a man’s face. That mouth curls up slightly in the left corner. “I think you want me to kiss you.”
“What?” I breathe out.
“You’re staring at my mouth.”
Words like ‘kissing’ and ‘mouth’ coming from him make me weak. They make me dizzy. My own mouth is suddenly very dry. The tip of my tongue darts out to moisten my lips and it pulls a grunt from Rafe. His hands find their way into my hair and he pulls us closer, closing the fraction of space between our faces. We are so close. I only have to tilt my chin up a tiny bit and we’ll be connected.
“Do you want me to kiss you?” he asks, his warm, peppermint scented breath wafting across my face.
“Yes,” I exhale. I want it more than I want anything else in the world right now.
“Thank God.”
He lowers his head and he’s kissing me. Soft, timid, slow kisses, not at all what I was expecting. My arms wrap around his neck and tug at his hair. His teeth tug at my bottom lip. It’s so natural and easy, being back in his arms. I feel like myself again.
I feel whole.
“Why so greedy? Let me enjoy you, Eleanor,” he says into my mouth. “We have eight years of kisses to make up for.” He goes a little deeper, exploring and discovering, but pulls back too soon. His hands leave my hair and travel down to my neck. “I want slow and sweet, then I want wild and needy. I want them all. You gonna give me what I want?”
I swallow and nod, my ability to speak gone.
“Good,” he says, going back to his task.
We never make it past the tiny kitchen. We never have spaghetti for dinner. We do, however, experience quite a variety of kisses. It’s not eight years’ worth, but it’s a good start.
9. Rafe
She throws her arms around my neck and starts crying as soon as she sees me. I don’t say a word, just revel in the fact that I’m surrounded by her goodness again. The last two months have been hell.
“Where have you been?” she whispers into my flesh. She never gets mad when I disappear; she knows it’s not by choice. And she always asks, even though she knows that she won’t get any answers from me.
I shake my head, never loosening my grip on her tiny waist. I don’t ever want to let her go.
“Are you alright?” she asks, unwinding her arms from around my neck so she can take my face in her hands, her big doe eyes searching for evidence of where I’ve been or if I’ve been hurt.
She won’t find anything. I can hold my own in the juvenile correctional facility I was sent to. The scars a place like that leaves are on the inside. Each time I go, each time I’m forced back there because I’m caught doing things for my mother, the scars add up. I’m just glad Claire caught wind of it this time and hired a damn good lawyer to get my sentence reduced.
“I’m good… much better now. I’m back with Claire.”
“I hate your mother,” she seethes.
I don’t give her specifics, but she knows that every horrible action I’m forced to do is because of the woman that gave birth
to me. I make sure that everyone knows it’s because of her. I hate to sound like a whiny bitch, blaming others for my problems, but Eleanor’s dad is a judge. If he ever finds out about us, he’s got enough dirt on me to make her hate me. I always get it on record that I run drugs for my mother. She forces me to do it or she beats the hell out of me. Well, she can’t lay a hand on me anymore, but she has people that can do it for her. They about killed me this last time I refused… I had no choice but to deliver the heroin for her. And I got busted, landing me in juvie for two of the longest months of my life.
“I don’t want to talk about her. I want to hear what you’ve been up to.”
We walk past the playground equipment, past the lingering children playing and laughing and soaking up the last rays of sunshine, and head to the path that will take us to our spot. Our little slice of perfection, carved out of the woods buried behind the park. I might not have much, but I have this place, I have Eleanor, and I have our old, battered blanket under my arm.
I’ve got everything I need.
“Tell me everything, Eleanor.” We’re settled on our blanket, she’s in my arms, and I feel like I can take my first full breath in over sixty days.
“I missed you. That’s honestly the only thing I can remember over the last two months.”
I kiss her forehead but move away before I’m tempted to do more. If I put my mouth on hers I’ll never stop. I want to talk to her first. We can get to everything else later.
“What’s been going on at home?”
She may have the perfect life on paper, but her dad is a grade-A asshole. He’s more concerned about his career than he is about his daughter. Her mom finally got sick of coming in second place to a courtroom and left. Life since that happened hasn’t been easy. Eleanor is a daily reminder that Judge Benson failed at something- marriage. It doesn’t help that Eleanor is a replica of her mother.
“Dad’s been drinking a lot. I try to steer clear, but I have to see him sometimes.” Her voice drops and she casts her eyes to the ground. “It’s getting bad, Rafe.”
I push off the blanket and stand, a red haze blurring my vision. If he lays one hand on her, I’ll kill him. “Has he hurt you?”
She jumps up and places her tiny hand on my forearm, her touch calming me a little. “No. He hasn’t touched me, if that’s what you mean. But sometimes, when it’s late at night and he’s been drinking all day, he’ll pick fights with me.” Her voice drops to a pained whisper. “He calls me my mother’s name. He gets so drunk that he thinks I’m her.”
“I don’t like you being there.”
She laughs, but there’s no humor involved. “I don’t really have a choice.”
Pacing in the clearing, I decide to let her in on my solution. It may be next to impossible, but it’s the only end I see to all of this- to everything that the two of us have to endure.
“Do you love me, Eleanor?”
“Yes,” she answers, with not a second of hesitation.
“What’s keeping you here? Your mom’s gone, and your dad’s a drunk asshole.”
“You keep me here. Well, you and Gigi.”
“So, what if I wasn’t here anymore?”
Her bottom lip starts to shake, and I see that she doesn’t get where I’m going with this.
“What if we left?” I clarify, getting her settled into my body. “We don’t have any ties to this place. After we graduate, we could leave this town and never look back.”
She’s staring at me, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “Leave? Where would we go?”
“Anywhere we fucking want. I can’t stay here. As soon as I can, I’m gone. But I want you with me. I’ll never leave without you. It would kill me to leave you.”
Her eyes soften with my words, but I notice the moment worry takes over. “How would we live? What would we do for money?”
While I was away, I came up with a half-cocked plan to get us out of here, but I don’t give her the specifics. A lot can happen in a year. In my life, a lot can happen in just a day. “We’ll get jobs when we get where we’re going. We don’t have to go far, just out of reach of my mom and your dad.”
“I have money, Rafe. Gigi and Pop made sure that I’m set.”
I don’t want to touch that money. “We don’t need that. I can take care of us for a while. We just have to finish school first.”
She rubs her hand up and down my arm, an apology evident in her eyes. “It’s there if we need something to fall back on. But we can both get jobs.”
I lead her back to the blanket. We lay in the quiet darkness, hashing out plans for the future. For the first time in my life, I have something to look forward to… something besides meeting Eleanor in our park. I have a reason to count down the days. In less than a year the two of us can leave here and be together, never having to worry about the parts of my shitty life tearing us apart.
When we decide where we want to go, when we finish with the plans, when we have no more words left to give each other, we make up for the months’ worth of longing with our mouths, hands, and bodies. We make love several times that night, wrapped in our blanket, the sounds and smells of our clearing all around us.
___
“Here’s your cut,” he says, slapping the bills into my palm. “I still don’t like this thirty percent bullshit. You haven’t even given me anything on these guys yet.”
I count the money, knowing exactly how much Ford should be handing over. “You think they’re just gonna start givin’ me names after a few meetings? These things take time. They’ve gotta learn they can trust me.”
Truth is, I haven’t even pushed the issue. I’ve sold to these new guys a few times, but I couldn’t give a shit who they have connections with. “Besides,” I continue, “if they have such big connections, why are they comin’ to you gettin’ shit? Why not get it from their people?”
“Different products, Rafe. What you’re givin’ them is nothin’ compared to what they can get for us, if my sources are right.”
“This is bullshit,” I murmur, running my hands up and down my face. Della was up all night, and standing in my kitchen with Ford is the last thing I feel like doing right now.
“What’s bullshit is that you’re not movin’ fast enough on this. You need to push harder. I want you up their asses, Rafe. Get me some dirt.”
“I’ll do what I can. Now get the fuck out of here. I gotta get to work.”
After a quick shower, I head over to Ink Addiction. I’m booked all day, which is great for my wallet, but not so great for my mental state. Della’s episodes seem to be coming more frequent. She’s not giving any hint as to what’s triggering them. With her permission, I go through her numerous journals and sketch pads she keeps at home and at school, looking for clues, but I come up empty handed. Claire’s been begging for a sleep-over, which I would love, but I don’t want to do that to her.
Maggie’s at the front desk of the shop when I walk into the lobby. It amazes me that after all these years, she and Finn are still so in love. She’s in scrubs, so I guess she’s either coming or going from a shift at the hospital.
“Get over here, Rafe Matthews, and give me some love. I haven’t seen you in forever.”
I hug her, rolling my eyes. It’s really only been about a week, but Maggie’s always been a bit on the dramatic side.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“Just missing Irish,” she tells me, a dreamy look in her eyes. It’s the same look she always gets when she talks about Finn. “When are you bringing my Della Doo over?” she asks, changing the subject. “I’ve been dying to babysit again.”
I shrug. “Now’s not a good time. Her nightmares are coming like crazy. I don’t want you to have to deal with that.”
She shoots me with a look that I’ve seen many times over the years. “I raised two sets of twins that were hell on wheels, plus had you thrown into the mix half the time. You think I can’t handle a nightmare?”
“There’s my feisty Magp
ie,” Finn calls, coming out of the office. He pulls her into his arms and lays one on her like it’s been months since they’ve seen last each other.
“Hey, Irish,” she exhales, when he finally pulls his mouth away from hers.
“I’m going set up for my first client,” I call to them.
“Landon came by looking for you,” Finn says, never taking his eyes off his wife. “Call him when you get a minute.”
“Will do.” A call from Landon can only mean one thing… money. He’s been pushing my work, and I put away every cent I make from his gallery. I need that money to get me and Dells a new place to live. I need it to have an out from all the bullshit I have to do for Ford.
After everything for my first appointment is set up, I give Landon a call.
“Fifth Street Gallery,” he answers.
“Hey Landon, it’s Rafe.”
“Rafe. I’m so glad you called. I sold two more of your paintings.”
I refrain from jumping up and down and squealing like a girl. “That’s awesome, man.”
“Absolutely. I think it’s time for a show. How do you feel about that? Do you have enough ready for a show?”
“How much are we talking?”
“Well, I would showcase you with a few other local artists. Once we get your name out there, then we can see about a solo show. I’m thinking twenty pieces, and I’ll pick twelve to fifteen to feature.”
I do a quick mental scan of my living room, surveying the pieces I have finished. Twenty is doable, if I have some more time. “When are we doing this?”
“I want to do it soon. How’s next month?”
“I can do that.”
“Great. Come by today when you get a break at the shop, and we’ll settle up on the two paintings I sold.”
“Perfect. Thanks, Landon.”
“No, Rafe, thank you. You’re creating a buzz around here. This is going to be really good… for both of us.”
I hang up my phone in a state of disbelief. This is insane. This could put an end to the mess I’m in with Ford. Well, one part of it. Before I can think too much about the other pieces that have to fall into place, Thomas sticks his head into my room and lets me know that my client is here.
Breathe Her In Page 7
