Take Heart (17 page)

That’s a lie.

I do want that—but I want to be inside her more.

I place one hand around her wrist to halt her movements and I bring the other one underneath to cup her chin. She pauses for a moment, then pulls back, releasing my cock from her mouth. She looks up at me with confusion in her eyes.

“You’ve got me so worked up that I’m about to come in your mouth,” I explain. “Get your sexy ass up on that counter. I’ll grab the condom out of my wallet.”

Relief washes over her. She stands up and moves Hadley’s stuff out of the way. I fish my wallet out of my jeans. She turns around to face me and boosts herself up onto the counter. I tear the foil and roll the condom on. I know Hadley is in the next room, and I don’t want to disrespect her space, but I can’t deny that the risk of getting caught is making this more thrilling. I’m pretty sure Mia feels the same way since she’s the one who initiated it. It’s wrong, but it feels so fucking right. It’s like when you steal porno magazines from your dad or older brother and hope they don’t find out.

“Get rid of those panties, lean back against the mirror, and spread your legs.”

She follows my instructions. I step forward to grab her hips and align us. She uses her forearms to prop herself up. Her head rests back against the mirror.

I check to make sure she’s ready before entering. When I feel how wet she is, I slowly start to sink into her. “Don’t. Make. A. Sound,” I whisper fiercely, as I slide the rest of the way in. Her eyes roll back in bliss. I lazily pull out and thrust into her again. This time a small sound escapes her throat and her head meets the mirror with a thud.

She sits up and repositions herself. She clutches onto the end of the counter while I lift her hips and start to move. She locks her elbows and pushes up off the heels of her hands, giving it back to me. Her legs are bent at the knees and pulled up along my sides. The majority of her weight is being held by me as I give to her again and again.

I reach out and flip both of her bra cups upside-down. The wiring underneath pushes her breasts up in a seductive invitation. I squeeze one in the palm of my hand and use the pad of my thumb to circle her hard nipple. Her head tilts back in pleasure and I move to the other breast and give it the same attention. She begins to pant and noises spill out of her mouth—I love those noises.

But right now, I need her to reel it in so we don’t get caught. I cover her mouth with mine in order to muffle the sounds. Tangling my tongue with hers, I continue my movements below the waist. Her breaths are coming faster and faster through her nose. I can tell this is her peak. I start to feel her contract around me and I explode. My kisses are no longer able to contain her sounds of ecstasy, so I clamp my hand over her mouth until she settles down. It drives me wild that she’s so hot for me. If I have my way, she’ll always be this uninhibited.

Both our bodies are trembling with aftershocks. I lean in and kiss a path from her breasts up to her neck, worshipping her with my mouth. The intense emotion I have for this woman can’t be measured in any way. Love is love. It doesn’t matter what form it’s in, or whether or not it makes sense to everyone else. It’s ours. It’s not meant to be analyzed and dissected; it’s meant to be experienced.

So what do I do?

I live in the moment, and make it last.

“Tell me about your dad,” I coax. We’re laying down on the   futon, face to face, in our pajamas. We spent the last ounce of energy we had satisfying each other’s needs with the hot bathroom sex, and now we’re exhausted. I leisurely run my fingers through her hair, knowing how much she likes it. She sighs contentedly and scoots in closer so I can reach the back of her scalp.

“What do you want to know?” she asks.

“What was he like?”

“He was the best. Everyone always wanted to be near him because he was so much fun to be around. He had this energy about him, I can’t really explain it, but people gravitated toward that. He was just an all around good guy, and a wonderful dad. He was so protective of me, especially in my early teens. He wouldn’t let any boys get near me,” she says nostalgically. “He was extremely sarcastic, too.”

“Just like his daughter,” I observe. She smiles and kisses my lips softly before she continues.

“He was really into old cars and music. He
loved
music. He’d always say that no matter what you’re going through in life, there’s a song out there that suits your circumstances. Something you can relate to so you don’t feel as alone in the world.”

“What kind of music did he listen to?”

“Mainly older stuff—usually records from the sixties and seventies,” she explains. “He was kind of a hippy.”

“Is that why you listen to so much older music?” I ask. I’ve noticed her song selections on her phone and the various band tees she wears.

“Yeah. I’ve just grown accustomed to it, I guess. What are your parents like?”

“My mom is extremely patient, and very kind. She’s had to be in order to raise Meg and me. We pushed her limits growing up, especially me,” I cave.

“You? A boundary tester? I never would have guessed,” she feigns shock.

“Funny coming from you, Miss Independent. You and Hadley—a couple of rebels, living the dream.”

“Hey, that’s different,” she defends. “I didn’t have any boundaries to push. My mom didn’t care. She only gave a shit about two things: the whereabouts of her booze, and whether I paid the bills on time. So you can’t really argue that I was breaking any rules,” she says with good humor.

I’m glad the mentioning of her mom didn’t take this conversation to a darker place.

“Fair enough. So, my mom’s a teacher, and she loves children, and learning. She’ll read anything and everything she can get her hands on. If she isn’t reading, she’s watching HGTV for ideas to remodel the house. I’m sure you can imagine how happy that makes my dad, since he and I end up doing most of the work,” I say sarcastically. “He’s been trying to wean her off that channel for years, but Mom loves her projects, and he can’t say no.” I shake my head, smirking at the irony. For the first time in my life, I can relate to not being able to say no to a woman.

“What about your dad?”

“My dad and I are a lot alike. We both love to stay busy and are very hard workers. We’re pretty family oriented, too, but that’s more my mom’s influence. We do family dinner once a week now to keep up with each other. But back when Meg and I were in school, we had family dinners almost every night.”

“Weren’t you or Meg in any sports? How did that even work?”

“Meg was in volleyball and soccer, and I played football and baseball. On the nights we had practice, we would eat late. If we had a game, there wasn’t usually a family dinner that night, but my mom always tried. It was important to her, so we made a point to make it important to us.”

A slow smile creeps across her face.

“What?” I ask, unable to stop my own smile from forming.

“I’m just picturing you in a baseball uniform. Kinda sexy.”

“Is that so? Does that dirty little thought make you oh-so-happy?” My index finger taps the end of her nose.

“Immensely so. You know, I’m starting to wonder if you’re too good to be true. I don’t even think you have any major flaws that I’ve seen yet. It’s really not fair since you’ve seen all of mine,” she pouts.

With a wave of my hand, I proceed to break it down for her. “I assure you, I’m far more flawed than you. You’re absolutely perfect in my eyes. I’m just being on my best behavior because I don’t want to give you any reason to break up with me,” I admit.

Her face falls. “Chase, why would you say that? I’m not going to break up with you. Your flaws won’t scare me away. I’m not a hypocrite like that. No one is perfect and I don’t expect you to be. Everyone has baggage and I can handle yours.” She leans up on her elbow and gives me a serious look. “I’m here for you,” she stresses softly, repeating the same words of comfort that I gave her earlier.

I give her a tight smile and pull her into me. She curls up against my chest, and I wrap my arms around her frame protectively. I get back to running my fingers through her hair until she falls asleep.

My mind continues to wander for hours.

a     m     e     l     i     a

“Get in the car, slut! It’s freezing out!” Hadley yells through the window.

“Hold onto your panties, wench! I’m coming!”

We’re on our way to my mom’s house to meet the guy who's fixing the window. Since Hadley’s cupboards were bare this morning, we stopped at the gas station so Chase and I could get some breakfast burritos and cappuccinos. Hadley has never been much of a breakfast eater, so she stayed in the car to keep warm. Chase was already in the backseat digging into his food by the time I even made it out of the store.

I hop in the car and unwrap my burrito. Here’s to hoping food will take my mind off of my nerves. I don’t want to go back into that house again, but I know I have to. After a few bites, I take a sip of my coffee to help warm me up. It’s scalding hot, and burns my tongue immediately. Rookie mistake for a coffee drinker, but my mind is too preoccupied with other things. Damn, I won’t be able to taste the burrito now. I stick out my bottom lip, pouting like a petulant child.

When we turn onto my street, I see my mom’s car in the driveway. I knew she’d be out of there by now. I haven’t talked to her since I hung up on our last conversation. I don’t even know what to say at this point. I take a few moments to mentally prepare myself before I have to get out of the car. My heart feels heavy. I’ve dealt with this so many times before, but this time, there’s an ominous feeling in the air. Something’s different. Is it Chase being here? Probably, but I trust him.

I swallow past the large knot in my throat and open the car door. We’re supposed to be meeting the window guy here in ten minutes, so we’re a little early. After we left last night, I called the utility company and paid a good portion of my mom’s bill to get the power turned back on. They said it could take up to twenty-four hours, so we may be walking into a dim, cold house again.

Hyper cautious, I walk up the porch steps. My legs feel like they have weights strapped to them. It’s taking every ounce of strength I have to keep moving forward. When I approach the door, a feeling of complete dread flows through me. It’s unlocked. I make myself open it and take a step inside.

“Hello?” I call out, anxiously awaiting an answer. A few seconds go by, but there’s no response.

“Mom?” I try again.

Silence.

She must be passed out drunk. I’m sure after spending a night in jail, which would have sobered her up; she couldn’t wait to hit the bottle again. I reluctantly walk further inside as Chase and Hadley follow. I notice a pack of cigarettes sitting on the coffee table in the living room. Those weren’t there last night. My mom isn’t on the couch, so I’m assuming she’s still in bed. I gingerly walk upstairs, taking the steps one by one. It’s so cold—both inside and outside—but I’m sweating underneath my coat.

I manage the few steps down the hallway without too much inner drama and plant my feet in front of my mom’s bedroom door. I give two quick courtesy raps and anxiously peer inside. She’s not on the bed. I push my way in past all the clutter on the ground and look around.
Where is she?
The only two places she goes to are the liquor store and the grocery store, but she would need her car for those.

I turn around and head back out into the hallway. Chase and Hadley are standing at the bottom of the stairs talking to each other.

“I’m going to get a few things out of my room real quick,” I let them know.

“Sounds good, baby,” Chase responds.

I’m glad he doesn’t seem as uncomfortable as he did last night.

I maneuver around all of the junk in the hallway, and clutch onto my doorframe to hold myself steady. I carefully leap into my bedroom, jumping over a pile of her laundry. Looking up from the floor, I come to an abrupt halt when I see my mom lying down on my bed. My heart plummets. She’s lying on her side, staring up at me. Only, she’s not. She’s off somewhere in the distance. Her face is an ashy gray, and her eyes are frozen wide open with dark hues shadowing underneath. I stare at her, bewildered, and completely unable to move. I feel like I’ve just had the wind knocked out of me. I know what I’m looking at, but I’m not
seeing
it—I’m not processing it. My mind’s not letting me.

I can’t move.

I can’t breathe.

I think I’m in some kind of shock.

I can’t look away. I know that once I look away and break the trance, then this will all become real. I won’t be able to
not
process it anymore, and I’m not ready for that. So, I just stand here and stare, dumbfounded and numb. I don’t care if I have to stand in this very spot for the rest of eternity. I’m not moving.

I’m not.

Only, I am.

My legs begin to sway as a broken sob escapes from deep in my chest. “Mom?” I whisper in disbelief, my eyes welling over. A lone tear rolls down my cheek. “Mom, please wake up,” I beg, desperate.

The room starts to spin—not like a drunk spin—but a chaotic, discombobulated, my-entire-world-has-just-been-flipped-upside-down, spin. My breath is coming in short, shallow pants. A wave of nausea and grief roils my stomach. I try to swallow the bile down, but I can’t fight it. I bend over and grasp my knees for support as I vomit. It falls in a slow motion and splatters onto the floor, decorating my shoes. I don’t dare look back up yet. Coughing and panting, my stomach muscles lock up again. My chest heaves as another mouthful comes up and spills out. I wipe the sweat from my forehead using the back of my arm. Half of me is burning up, the other half is freezing cold.

“This isn’t happening. Not again,” I whisper to myself, shaking my head in denial.

I take a deep breath and boldly look back up. Her eyes are as cold and lifeless as the rest of her body. When my mind finally allows me to look at something other than her, or the floor, I notice an empty bottle of prescription pills tipped over on the nightstand.
She doesn’t have any prescriptions....

I feel sick again.

Oh, God...she did this on purpose.

She killed herself.

“No,” I sob. “No, no, no, no, noooo!”

Somewhere far off in my mind, I hear the distant sound of footsteps frantically rushing up the stairs. “Mia, what’s wrong?!” Chase yells, panicked.

I can’t form an answer through the tears. Hadley and Chase bump into each other as they both try to get through the doorway.

“Oh, my God,” Hadley gasps in horror. She slowly walks into the room but Chase holds out his arm to prevent her from entering any further, from stepping in my vomit. She looks down in confusion, but then it all registers. I know how disgusting this must look, but I’m so glad she doesn’t say anything about it.

Chase’s hands wrap around my torso. He pulls me up and roughly turns me around to face him. His hands come up to tightly grip my cold, pale face. I don’t even flinch. “Mia, we need to get you out of here,” he says very slowly, as if he were talking to a child. I can tell he’s scared.

“This is all my fault,” I say inconsolably.

“Mia, look at me,” he commands.

I can hardly see him through all the tears, so I zone out. Anything is better than being trapped in this moment. It’s like I’m stuck in a freeze frame. I’d give anything to be able to press rewind or fast forward.

“Mia!” He roughly shakes me, trying to get me to snap out of it.

My neck snaps back and forth; it felt like whiplash. Good. At least I feel
something.
My eyes find his. He uses the pads of his thumbs to try and brush my tears away, but they keep coming. It’s a never-ending flow of heartache.

“This is not your fault. Do you understand? This is not your fault,” he repeats.

I don’t answer him. I can’t. I have absolutely nothing left to give.

“Hadley?” She doesn’t answer him either. “Hadley!” he calls out forcefully. Her gaze snaps up from my mother’s body.

“I need you to keep it together for a little while longer and take Mia downstairs, okay?” he asks, softer.

She nods, but it comes off more routine than response. It’s like she’s saying yes, but she doesn’t know what she’s saying yes to. She’s just as out of it as I am.

Realizing this, Chase grabs my upper arm and gently brings his other hand around my lower back. He carefully walks me out into the hall and back down the stairs. I can’t feel my body anymore. I know I’m walking, but it feels like someone else is doing all the movements. Once we reach the living room, he gently sits me down on the couch. He crouches down in front of me and looks up, his hands covering mine.

“I’ll be right back, baby. I love you. Whatever you need, I’m here for you. Let me take care of this,” he pleads.

“The window guy,” I whisper. I don’t know what makes me think of that, but I don’t want him in the house.

“Shit,” Chase mutters, forgetting all about that. He runs both hands through his hair. “I’ll deal with it. Just stay here, okay?”

I barely manage a nod. He gives me a swift kiss on my forehead and heads back upstairs. I’m left sitting alone on the couch, trying to block out the images of what I just saw. I’ve been through more in twenty-two years than most people have been through in fifty. My struggles have made me resilient, but I’m not so sure I can bounce back from this one. At the end of the day, there’s only so much one person can take, and I’m pretty sure I just reached my limit.