by Ella Fields
“I can’t answer that.” I sniffed. “It feels like it’s always been there.”
Mom blew out a breath, then reached over and grabbed my hand. “I’m talking physical here, Stevie. How long?”
“Not long, maybe a couple of months before he left.”
Mom was quiet for some minutes, her hand tense around mine. “I knew. You’ve been too sad, and the way you looked at him”—she smiled when I flung my head back to face her—“it was a little obvious.”
Fear spiked, and I opened my mouth to ask about Hendrix.
“No,” she said. “I mean obvious that you liked him. He was way too subtle with the way he looked at you for Hendrix to suspect anything. Hell”—she rolled her eyes—“your father and I didn’t think anything was happening.”
“I’m sorry,” I said, swiping beneath my nose.
Mom opened the glove compartment, plucking out a pocket-sized pack of tissues. I took one after she’d pulled it free.
“What are you sorry for?” She laughed, but it was a sad sound. “Falling in love for the first time? That’s not something you should ever need to apologize for.”
“But it’s Everett,” I said, thinking that was reason enough.
“Mmm.” Mom bobbed her head side to side. “That’s what you call shit-luck, honey.”
I bursted out laughing, and then she reached over, taking the tissue from me and dabbing at the mascara beneath my eyes. “Not Everett. He’s damaged goods, sure, but he’s still good. I’m talking about him being your brother’s best friend.”
I nodded. “I know.” I flipped down the visor, checking my eyes in case Dad was still awake, then closed it. “Guess it doesn’t matter now.”
Mom didn’t give that a response. She helped me inside and made me some peanut butter toast and tea before leaving me to finally remove her face mask.
I couldn’t sleep, wishing Everett hadn’t called me from a private number so I could at least call him back. But I couldn’t, and what was worse was that I knew, given how long it took him to call me, that I wouldn’t likely hear from him again for a long time.
It was hard to describe. The way my heart had adapted with his absence, however slowly, as though it knew the score and thought either way, we’d won.
But as I tossed and turned that night, my brain laced with doubt, repeating his words from our brief phone call over and over, I discovered any small victory in love would only make the loss even more unbearable.
Christmas and New Year’s passed, and my phone never rang.
Dealing with loss on your own was akin to tying a plastic bag around your head and being expected to breathe. Each breath was shallow, stilted, and I couldn’t help but wonder if maybe it was too much to bear, and it’d be my last.
My heart struggled to make peace with Everett cutting ties with me completely. All because I’d attended a party. I refused to believe it was that. I also refused to believe it was just easier for him, but I had to face the truth. And it rang clear and sharp, hardening my heart’s soft edges every time I stared at the silver potted cacti he’d left behind.
His parents didn’t seem to vacate their house, not that they usually did. Then again, I was busy with school and Adela, and anything I could do to take my mind someplace else. It wouldn’t surprise me if I’d missed a sighting of them. Though I did sometimes ponder how they got by on welfare alone without Everett’s help.
My mom’s phone sounded from her purse. I ignored it, trying to focus on my essay for the college applications spread before me.
I didn’t want to go to college, but the idea of staying here, hoping the boy who’d stolen my heart would return and give it back, wasn’t very appealing.
At the very least, I wanted to sign up for some business and accounting classes. Getting a degree that could help make my goals happen faster was boring, but necessary if I wanted to run my own business one day.
The phone rang again, and I chewed on the tip of my pen, eyeing Mom’s purse. She was in the shower. Dad was taking her out for dinner when he got home. It was a new thing, something they’d tried to make a habit of every Friday night since the band had left and emptiness invaded Mom’s nest.
I got up and answered it just before it went to voicemail. “Hey, Henny.”
He laughed. “Steve, Jesus. How goes ya? Long time, no talk.”
“That wouldn’t be the case if you actually decided to call me,” I quipped, taking my seat again.
“The phone works two ways. Ain’t that a funny thing?”
I smiled, not realizing how good it’d be to hear his voice. “How are you?”
“Fucking broke half the time, but rich on life.”
“You called Mom for money?” I asked.
“Nah, just to say hello. I forgot to call last month, and I thought I’d better do it before we jump states again.”
The temptation was there, heavy behind my teeth, to ask about Everett. “How’re you guys doing?”
“Eh, so-so. Can’t complain too much. People are willing to let us play, but going from a town where everyone knows you to big cities where no one gives a shit has been a bit of an adjustment.”
“I’ll bet,” I said, smirking as I clicked my pen.
“We’re opening for a band called The Weeds this weekend, though, so we’re hightailing it to Ohio.” I heard shouting in the background followed by a feminine laugh. My mouth dried.
“Sounds awesome,” I forced. “Tell everyone I said hello, yeah?”
“Everyone, Steve says hello!”
Jeers and hollers pounded my ear, and I laughed, pulling the phone away until they’d stopped. “Guess they miss me.”
“Maybe a smidgen. How’s that friend of yours?”
I paused. “Who, Adela?”
“Yeah, that one,” he said, trying to sound indifferent. “Figured she’s probably missing being able to ogle me and all.”
“Oh, my God. You’re despicable, and no, she’s got a boyfriend.”
She didn’t, but it wouldn’t kill him to tease.
“She does, does she?” he said, tone rougher.
“Uh-huh. Oh, look,” I said as Mom rounded the corner, towel drying her hair. “Mom’s out of the shower. Bye, Henny. Wrap before you tap.”
“Fuck. Don’t ever talk about penis-related shit with me again, Steve.”
“What?” I heard in the background, knowing that voice belonged to Everett.
“Nothing, man, she’s just being gross.”
“Okay, bye,” I sang over the feeling constricting my stomach and chest, then handed the phone to Mom.
“Baby boy, you didn’t call me last month…”
I ditched my applications and left the room.
“Come on, I’m pretty sure me going to prom with you instead of Gray Adams means I love you more than cake,” Adela said, spooning more mud cake into her mouth.
“I still don’t believe you,” I joked.
“Hey, graduates,” Dad said, dipping his finger into the middle of the cake Mom had baked me.
I picked up my cap, throwing it at him. “Mine. Back off.”
“Ours,” Adela corrected, grabbing the cake and moving it out of Dad’s reach.
He chuckled, then went to the fridge and popped open a beer.
A rumble, followed by the sound of screeching brakes, had my eyes bulging, cake trapped and clogging my throat.
I swallowed hard, then looked at Dad, who shrugged, seeming just as perplexed as I felt.
We all raced out front just as the bus hit the curb and bounced over the grass, parking half on the road and half on our lawn.
“Nice park job,” Adela said when the door clanged open, and Hendrix leaped down the steps.
“Nice chocolate faces, graduates,” he said, grinning from ear to ear as Adela and I both wiped furiously at our mouths.
My heart flapped, then grew wings with talons that pierced each breath.
Hendrix looked much the same, if not a bit broader and hairier in the fac
e. Dale looked like he’d lost ten pounds, his cheekbones harsh slashes and clothes hanging. They both approached to give us hugs.
Graham and Everett were last to get off the bus, the former wearing a hideous Hawaiian shirt, his hair almost reaching his shoulders.
And Everett, he was the same, only larger in every sense of the word. He seemed taller, broader, and more hardened than when he’d left. The cruel cut of his square jaw was rigid, his hair falling over his forehead and tickling his neck.
I hugged them all, squealing when Graham spun me in a circle, my graduation gown billowing in the air before he planted me on the ground.
Everett’s hand reached out, steadying me, and I couldn’t stop it if I tried. All the pain, anger, and frustration of missing him, of loving him, evaporated, and I threw my arms around his neck, hugging him for far longer than I probably should have as everyone went inside.
“You never called me again.” We both knew it, but I wanted to state it. To know why.
“I couldn’t,” he said, hands tangled up in my hair, and his nose stuck in my neck. “Fuck,” he spewed, pulling away.
“What?” I asked.
Those dark greens darted to the open front door, then back to me, his voice low as he said, “I missed you.”
My stomach jumped, and I smiled, ducking my head when he grinned that megawatt, perfectly imperfect grin of his. “Congrats, Clover.”
“Welcome home,” I said, gesturing to the door and leading the way.
Everyone congregated in the living room, and Dad’s eyes were bright as the band regaled us with tales from the road. Mom ordered in, and I kept quiet in the corner on Hendrix’s old bean bag, my eyes trained on whoever was talking to avoid staring at Everett.
“… thought it was a fucking kangaroo,” Dale said, hands in the air.
“In Dallas?” Everett asked, nursing a beer.
If Mom and Dad were bothered by the underage drinking going down right before their eyes, they didn’t show it. Graham even handed my dad another beer, and since Dad was distracted by the storytelling, he just gestured his thanks before popping the top.
I guess most of them were nearing twenty, but still. I doubted I could get away with taking one for myself, and I desperately needed something to curb the fizzing in my veins whenever I felt his eyes land on me.
“Dallas fucking shmallas, it looked like a kangaroo,” Dale said, next to Graham on the couch, his ankle crossed over his leg.
“You couldn’t tell what it was when it was splattered all over the road like that,” Hendrix said, tapping away on his phone, probably updating his Facebook.
He was the only one who kept up with that. The rest of them faded from the social media grid after the bus rolled out of our driveway. And I only knew because I’d spent an embarrassing amount of time stalking for any sign of Everett. Most pictures were of them playing, of Hendrix and his flavor of the night, or stupid GIFs used to describe how hungover he felt.
“The damage to the bus?” Dad asked.
“Big ass dent, but otherwise okay,” Everett said.
The conversation veered to the gigs they’d played, the small numbers that showed up, and Dale made a comment that made my parents and me cringe. “Didn’t hinder finding sweet tail, though.”
“Shut up, asshole.” Hendrix reached over Graham to slug him.
Dale dodged it, laughing. “It’s true, though. Especially mister serious lead singer.”
Unable to stop them, my eyes flicked up to Everett, whose jaw shifted as he looked away from me and to the window, and drained the rest of his beer.
Jealousy suffocated me, and the fissures inside my chest cracked wider.
“Parents, dude,” Graham said. “Respect.”
Dale smiled apologetically at Mom, who shook her head and began collecting the empty pizza boxes. “I just hope you boys don’t find yourselves in too much trouble.”
Sick to my stomach, I took my chance to leave and did it fast. “I’ll see you guys tomorrow.”
“Little sis,” Graham called. “Congrats on not being so little anymore.”
I waved over my head, then all but ran down the hallway to my room and locked the door.
Falling back into it, I covered my mouth with my hand and slid down to the floor, where I stayed until my ass grew numb and the noise outside faded as everyone headed out or to bed.
My face was sticky, my throat dry and scraped raw with the effort it took to keep the sobs silent.
I’d never thought myself all that naïve, but apparently, I was. He was in a fucking band, and here I’d hoped he’d do the impossible and wait, while knowing all along he wouldn’t.
Knowing was one thing, but hearing it confirmed was a whole different kind of hell.
The window opened, and the familiar, heart-stopping clomp of his boots hitting the floor penetrated the fog.
Strong hands wrapped around my arms, hoisting me up off the floor, and then he was carrying me to the bed. On his lap, I sat defeated, my head on his shoulder as he crooned, gentle and desperate in my ear, “Don’t cry. Not over me, Clover. Never because of me.”
“It hurts,” I croaked, wheezing. “It fucking hurts.”
“Fuck.” He squeezed me to him. “I’m sorry.”
“Why?” I straightened and crawled off his lap to the bed. “I don’t understand. You said… wait…” My eyelids felt like they were filled with cement. “Oh my God, was it after I went out for my birthday?”
His non-answer and the twist in my gut told me yes, it was.
Rage bit at every muscle, every aching part of me. “What happened to one day, Ever? Huh?” I sniffed, rasping out, “What happened to eventually?”
His voice was hard but quiet, eyes blazing as he glared. “That was before I left, before I realized you still have a life to live. And before I remembered that no matter what, you’ll always be Hendrix’s sister, and I’ll always be no fucking good for someone like you.”
Tears arrived anew, and seeing them, his voice softened, sounding pained. “Things don’t change just because we want them to, Clover. Why can’t you see that?”
I sniffed, leaning forward to growl at him. “Because all I see is you.”
His chest heaved, and so did mine, and then our lips collided, refusing to part even as our clothes were torn off.
His fingers found me, and he cursed, discovering I was already drenched, fucking me with one as he rolled over me and kissed his way down my throat to my breasts. “Want you so bad,” he mumbled to my heated skin, licking and sucking at my hardened nipples while his fingers sent my body rocking.
“Take me,” I pleaded, out of my mind, desperate enough to ignore the hangover for the high.
He licked his wet fingers, then wrapped one of my legs behind his back, aligning himself and pushing forward.
I winced at the tight fit, and he groaned, low and deep, sinking all the way inside in one slow thrust.
Lowering his head, he rolled his hips, and his teeth sank into my neck. My head fell back, the burn subsiding and my hands raking through his longer hair as he slowly tortured me.
I could feel it building when he tucked an arm beneath my back, then sat up, taking me with him. My nails sliced into his biceps, my breathing heavier, and a moan escaped as I adjusted to the depth of the new position.
He licked my chin, trailing to my bottom lip. “That’s it, move your hips. Do whatever makes you feel good, Clover.”
He had one hand tangled in my hair, and the other held me over him as I closed my eyes and circled my hips. Feeling his hot chest pressed against mine, his attention fixed wholly on me, and his cock rubbing all those perfect places brought me to brand new heights, and when I fell, I exploded.
He cupped a hand over my mouth to smother my noisy breaths and used the one around my hips to move me, fuck me harder, deeper, and then he came.
His mouth found mine, and he mumbled his pleasure inside it, cussing and groaning words like, “Beautiful, so fucking good,” and
then we sat in a sweaty tangled heap, kissing and touching and not talking until he was ready to do it all over again.
“On your knees,” he said, voice strained. Climbing off him, I felt him leak out of me. “Yeah, like that. Holy fuck.” He paused, and I knew why when his fingers started toying with all the wet between my legs. “I’m taking a mental picture so hard right now.”
“Put more in me.” I didn’t recognize the woman who’d said those words, didn’t want to acknowledge how careless she became around this man, but nothing else mattered. I needed all of him all over me, imbedded inside me, with a desperation that had my thighs and arms trembling.
“You’re not on the pill,” he said, knowing somehow.
“No, but I’ll get the morning after pill.”
He paused. “You haven’t fucked anyone else?”
“No.” I sighed and sat up, my libido fading and fading fast. “But I suppose I should probably make an appointment at the clinic and get tested, too.”
“Clover,” he said, hurt piercing the name. “I’m only bare with you. Now get back on your knees.”
Swallowing at how fast he’d rekindled the fire, I did as I was told.
Not even a second later, a slap sounded through the room, and pain mingled with pleasure as I felt his handprint bloom on my ass while he slid inside.
Bending over me, he turned my chin to his face as he began to move, slow and deep. His eyes were hooded but alert and wild. “I know I’m an asshole,” he panted, “we both do. But don’t ever think for one fucking second I’d put you in harm’s way like that again.”
Feeling bold, I nipped his finger when it brushed over my bottom lip. “So it’s just my heart that gets harmed then?”
He stopped, then sat back, taking me with him with an arm around my waist. Using his other hand, he turned my head to face him. “No more talking.”
His lips pried mine apart, his teeth scraping over my tongue as his hand lowered, sinking down to where we joined. He circled and teased until he had to hold me still while he rocked from underneath, and I almost screamed, coming harder than I ever had before.
I didn’t know if his plan was to fuck me into oblivion. To ruin me until I was a useless pile of beating, simmering flesh unable to do anything but take what he gave until I passed out sated and limp on top of him. If it was, it worked, and I had no energy to find it within myself to care.
