by W Winters
I get nothing, but at the same time, it’s everything. He holds me for the longest time and it’s the safest I’ve felt in God knows how long. Until he speaks.
“None of this should have happened,” he tells me and I hear him swallow, my cheek pressed against his chest. “You and I will work. We will be okay, but I need to punish you for running.”
My arm yanks back in an attempt to rip my hand away, but Seth’s grip is unyielding. So firm it nearly hurts. Seething, I aim to bite back some response that involves the phrase fuck you or maybe you’re out of your damn mind, but the heat and intensity coming off of Seth in waves silences me.
He means it. He’s dead set on whatever it is he’s concocted in his head. My heart flips and pauses like it does when he’s around. As if the medicine has run its course and I need another dose.
The whirlwind of what my life is pauses when I look back into Seth’s gaze.
Did they tell him about my heart? I find myself staring at the small tinted window as if it has answers for me. Did they tell him everything? Or just about Jean?
He would have said something. He would have. I know he would have brought it up if he knew.
He goes on about how I run. I can barely focus on his words, because all I can think about is my heart and how Seth will react when he finds out.
I can only stare into his beautiful eyes, listening to his voice, knowing he’s here in front of me, here to keep me safe. I don’t think they told him. I don’t think he knows. I don’t want him to. I’d rather he not have that to weigh him down like it does me. I hate this, the uncertainty. The pressure. Everything is falling to pieces but I need to be strong for the time I have left.
“Babygirl, you’re mine. You know that, don’t you?”
I’m nodding my head before I’m even aware of it.
“We’re going to be fine, but you need to have your ass blistered red for running.”
How can he bring it up so easily? I ran because of what he confessed and here he is, talking about it in this way. As if all of this is my fault. My heart ticks erratically again and I find it hard to care about it. I need him. I need Seth to hold me right now.
“Don’t cry.” Seth’s voice is gentle but firm. He takes a half step closer to me so there’s no space between us. “I can’t let this happen again,” he tells me.
I didn’t even know I was crying. I hate how easily I cry now. Am I broken entirely? This is what it’s like to be ruined.
“It won’t happen again,” I tell him in a whisper.
Finally releasing my hand, he wraps both of his arms around me and I let myself fall forward. None of it matters. He rocks me and I pretend not to feel the weight of my reality.
“I won’t let anything happen to you,” Seth promises me, kissing my hair. “You’ll be out of here soon and then you’ll stay with me. You’re not allowed to leave me again.”
His voice is what brings back tears to my eyes. These fucking tears. All I’ve done is cry. I should be through with them by now. But he’s so sure, so certain of himself that I’ll never leave him again. I can hear it in his tone and how much determination and hope are present there. If only he keeps me by his side, everything will be fine. As if he’s capable of that. He doesn’t know my heart is withered and frail. He doesn’t know it can’t last.
I wish I’d never loved him, so he’d never know the loss.
My hot tears soak into his shirt and I ignore them. He hushes me and rocks me, and finally he bends down to kiss me.
His kiss is everything I need; comforting but demanding, strong and yet loving. I pour everything I have into it, deepening it, parting my lips and feeling my body mold to his.
A deep, rough groan rumbles his chest and that only makes me crave more. More of him while I can have it. More of this while I’m able.
But Seth denies me, grabbing my small hands in his and lifting his head to breathe with his eyes closed.
“I have to punish you. Whether you hate me or not.” I can’t answer and the silence forces him to look at me. “You can hate me while I punish you, but you’re not leaving me. Ever.”
Ever.
A younger version of me, an unknowing one, would fall in love with that word. We don’t get to decide how long our forever lasts, though. It’s naïve to think we can.
“Seth, I’m not okay,” I whisper and wish I could take it back. He can’t know. I don’t know why I said it.
A small bit of relief overcomes me when he answers, “I know.”
“I’m losing myself,” I say and grant him a small truth and rewind again. Rewind to a moment I felt the distance between who I thought I was and who I really am.
“I know,” he repeats with nothing but sympathy.
“I… killed someone.” I whisper the rugged confession as if he’s not already aware.
“But you’re here, with me. I won’t let them take you away.” I’m torn and twisted.
“They’re going to come for me and they’re going—”
“To either put you back in a cell with me, or to release us both. I made sure of it.”
Seth
She’s always looked this beautiful but the thought of losing her makes her skin look softer, more delicate. She’s fragile beneath me.
Breathing in deep, the smell of her hair lingers in my lungs. She’s okay. She’s here in my arms. She’s letting me hold her. I have to remind myself of the three bits of my reality. They’re the only things that matter right now. Her skin touching mine, her trusting me, relying on me.
Thank fuck. I can fix this. I can make it all better.
I can’t believe she killed that woman, though. Shock doesn’t describe my reaction at all when I was informed.
I fucking hate myself for not being there. Walters said they didn’t want to let on that they knew about the hit on Laura and they knew that Jean was in there to kill her. Whoever hired Jean Cinders would have known if they’d switched Laura’s cell. So instead Jase and Carter waited for the note that was supposed to be coming. The men I trusted most gave that order. To wait and watch.
She isn’t bait, though. My girl isn’t bait and he should’ve known better than to let her sit there with that hitman. I might hate myself but I hate Jase and Carter too. They risked her life by allowing her to stay in that cell. They knew she was there and in danger, and they just let her sit there. How could they do that? If it’d been Bethany or Aria, that woman never would have been in that cell. Not for a second.
Walters said they were told to wait, to sit on it and wait for the next move.
In the meantime, Jase wanted to show Laura that she was protected and safe. But by giving her a fucking weapon? None of these people know Laura. She doesn’t trust easily and when she’s scared, she’ll do anything to survive. He’s a fucking idiot and I’ll never trust him again with her. Never.
Kissing her temple, I smooth down her hair. She’s sweet and loving, but my God if you try to hurt her, she’ll hurt you first swift and severe. I should be grateful though, because she hasn’t turned that venom on me yet. Even though I deserve it.
“Everything will be fine,” I promise her and I mean every bit of it. “I’ll make damn sure of it.”
“I love you,” she tells me and presses her forehead into my chest when she starts to cry again, turning her head down as if I won’t be able to see. God, to hear her tell me that again. I’m not worthy. I kiss her hair again and again, wanting to say it back but refusing to give her those words for the first time in this room.
She has to know I love her more than anything. And I’ll tell her just that, the moment we’re back home where we belong.
Clinging to me, she rocks her body and I can feel how heavy she becomes as sleep attempts to pull her under.
I glance at the room for the first time. It’s meant for conjugal visits. She shouldn’t have to be in this position at all, let alone here. Looking at the bed, I hate myself for fucking up so badly that she’s in this room at all.
&n
bsp; “I hate these clothes on you.” The subconscious thought leaves me before I realize I’ve spoken the words aloud.
“Orange isn’t my color.” She whispers the small joke back to me. Sleep drenches it but the hint of the girl I knew long ago is still there.
I can’t close my eyes without seeing her alone in a cell, ready to kill in order to survive. Even as I stare at the back wall, the cinder blocks play the scene for me as I imagine how it went down. I know hate and I know love.
I hate myself but I love her.
It’s as simple as that.
“You should lie down and sleep,” I say, deciding not to tell her we may be here, in this room, until tomorrow. I don’t know how long it’ll take for my men to do my bidding and push the issue of keeping Laura in here when she has a solid self-defense argument. No judge should have allowed it and the lawyers are working on having it overruled. My one call went to Jase and he filled me in. It could be hours to have the initial ruling overturned. Or it could be days, depending on how easily the judge can be convinced. He isn’t one we have in our back pocket.
“Come with me.” With her lips grazing my shirt, Laura peers up at me, begging me, “Please.”
It doesn’t escape my notice that she hasn’t let go of me since I’ve walked in here. She tried once at the thought of being punished for running away.
I should tell her what it does to me to have her want me like she does. Just as I should carry out the punishment. If I’m harder with her, more stern, she’ll be safe. She’ll see; it’ll be for the good of us both. It’s what we need.
“We just need to get out of here,” I speak without thinking, a tired sigh escaping with it. With my hand tangled in her hair, I kiss her forehead at the same time that she kisses the dip in my throat.
A spike of want runs rampant inside of me. I don’t know what I anticipated from her, probably another punch to the face, but I sure as hell didn’t expect her affection.
“Please come lie down with me,” she begs again in a whisper and with her doe eyes looking up at me, I can’t say no.
“All right.” Giving in, I walk her hand in hand to the small bed. The bed creaks and shifts as I lie down, keeping my upper half propped up and my eyes on the door. She crawls in just how she used to, and lays her head on my chest, searching for a comfortable position. Years of this and she always settles on my bicep, but starts on my chest.
“This takes me back,” I comment.
“What?” she questions sleepily and looks at me through her thick lashes. I have to smile down at her, even if it is a sad one because comparing what we had before to what we have now only makes me feel regret.
“Nothing, just this bed is so small… like the one at your grandmother’s house.”
Her wide eyes go soft blue for a moment, and she gives me the same smile in return before she sinks back down. The kind of smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. I take my time pulling the blanket around her, tucking her in and then settle back against the wall.
“Sleep.” I give her the command when her small fingers trace every little cut on my hand rather than being still.
“Did they tell you what happened in the holding cell?”
“Your panic attack?”
She stares up at me, her lips parted slightly like a word is caught there. “Were you faking it?” I tease her, downplaying it so she doesn’t freak out. I can’t blame her. Out of all the things to be, she shouldn’t be embarrassed about it, and that’s a bit how she looks. I nudge my shoulder, forcing her to roll toward me and her small hand splays against my chest to catch herself. “I was going to tell the guys there’s no way you were faking it, you’ve never been good at faking it.”
My crude joke gets the smallest hint of a laugh from her. It’s short but it brings a genuine smile to her lips. “You’ll be all right,” I promise her. “We’ll get out of here and I’ll keep you safe.”
She doesn’t protest what I say and I pray that it means she’s let go of what I told her about her father. At least for the moment. I’ll tell her everything if she wants. If she wants to ignore it, forget it, deny it, I’ll let that happen too. Whatever I have to do to keep her.
It takes me a long moment as I’m staring at the knob of the door, trying not to replay that scene from all those years ago, to realize she’s crying.
“So many tears,” I tease her gently, but lean down to wipe the tears from her left eye. The tears from her right are stolen by my shirt.
“I just want to be safe with you,” she whispers and then sniffs. She always looks pissed off rather than hurt when she cries. She doesn’t now, though.
“You are safe with me,” I say and I can’t hide the despair in my tone at the thought that she doesn’t feel safe with me. “You want to go when we get out of here?” I search for anything, grasping for a thread to hold on to and all I can think is that she never wanted this life. If I’d left eight years ago, given it all up, none of this would have happened. “We can go wherever you want. We can leave. As long as we’re together.”
Her sobs turn harder and she crawls onto my lap, no longer satisfied with only having her cheek on my chest. Her small form curls up as she rests her head in the crook of my neck. Wrapping both of my arms around her, I hold her tighter, not remembering a time she’s been like this. She’s so broken. My poor girl.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper into her hair, stroking her back, doing everything I can to love her. “We’re going to be fine.” My throat is tight with emotion when I promise her, “If you want to get out of here and leave, I promise I’ll leave. I’ll do it for you.”
She doesn’t respond, other than to cry harder. I shush her, I kiss her, I don’t know what else to do. I wish I’d just left with her eight years ago. I wish we had a different life together.
“Let it out, Babygirl.” Still rocking her, I watch the door and let her fall apart. I’ll be here for her always. She’ll see. I mean it and when she sees that, she’ll stay with me. I just can’t lose her again.
She doesn’t respond to the idea of us leaving and part of me thinks it’s because she doubts I’ll do it. “I’ll do anything to keep you,” I whisper when her sobs quiet.
She doesn’t respond to that either. She sits up all on her own, her ass still in my lap and avoids eye contact. It’s not uncommon for her to do that after a cry. With her nose red and her cheeks only slightly less so, she picks up the sheet and wipes her eyes.
“I’m sorry.” That’s the first thing she says.
“Nothing to be sorry about,” I say, pressing my hand to her cheek and she leans into my touch. It’s the first bit of hope I have when she closes her eyes and puts both her hands over mine. Her bottom lip trembles again and she asks, “Can I ask you, please, to hold me until the end?”
“To the very end,” I promise her and she tries her damnedest not to cry again. Her eyes stay closed and I have to pull her in close because she sits there, not moving, not saying anything. “I promise you, it’s going to be all right. Better than. I promise, I’ll fix it all.”
Time passes, a lot of it, before she tells me, “I know you will.” It’s only a gentle whisper until sleep takes her away from me.
I can’t breathe. I know I’m able to, but I can’t breathe. Clinging to Seth, I can’t do anything but hold him closer and try to get rid of the vision in front of my eyes. It was a nightmare but then I woke up here. It really happened.
I killed her.
My eyes burn and I heave in a breath.
“Laura, it’s okay. It’s okay.” Seth’s trying to soothe me. He’s doing everything he can, but the nightmare felt so real. I woke up only to remember it happened. It happened.
Slowly, I can move, although I’m trembling. “I need it to go away,” I speak into his chest. Seth smells like home. He doesn’t smell like here. If only I’d been sleeping closer...
I inch myself onto his lap. I don’t want to touch any of the bed, only him.
Make it go away. Erase all of i
t. I want it all gone.
“Hey, hey, you okay?” he says. His voice is a balm, but his touch is salvation.
“Just hold me,” I beg him, finally coming down from the terror. With his arms wrapped around me as I’m cradled in his lap, I lift up my head and tell him, “No, no, just kiss me.”
Crashing my lips to him, I refuse to feel anything but him. He’ll take me away from here. He’ll save me. I know he will. His lips are hot, my kiss hungry.
At first he tries to pull back, although his lips have already softened and molded to mine, teasing me.
“Laura—” he starts, in almost a warning tone.
“Please,” I say, cutting him off. “Please, Seth. Please kiss me.” I am as desperate and pathetic as I sound. I’m so very aware of it.
The room isn’t dark or small but either way, it feels like it’s closing in on me. “I need you,” I breathe with my eyes closed. He can take me away from here. He can make me feel like it’s all going to be all right. He’s done it so many times before.
All of my darkest moments are only blips, only small dips in a timeline because he was there showing me where to go, leading me away. He can do it all with a kiss.
“Kiss me,” I tell him, although it comes out as if I’m begging. “I’ll do anything for you to kiss me right now.” I’m slow to open my eyes, my heart steady as my hands move up to his neck. His muscles ripple under my touch as he leans in with me, nipping my bottom lip then sucking it before finally kissing me.
Gratitude swarms with desire, the two swirling deep in my belly. His smell, his touch, his kiss. I want it all surrounding me, protecting me and making it all go away.
Neither of us breathe as we kiss and in the moment of passion, we break away, gasping for air as his hands roam down my body. “Please,” I beg him.
My legs part for him, straddling him already although we’re both clothed. “Laura.” My name is both a warning and the only word Seth speaks.
I say please, with longing.
