Unbearable (Undescribable) (8 page)

It doesn’t take more than a few minutes for his
body to relax and his breathing to even out.

I crawl my way under the dark covers. I place my
hand on his ripped abs, travelling over his defined V, until I grasp his cock.
His body jerks a little as he starts to harden.

I lean up and run my tongue along his length. I
feel like I haven’t tasted him in ages. Just as I wrap my lips around the tip,
I feel his hand make its way into my hair, and I smile around him.
That’s
right baby. Tell me what you want.
I love when he takes control, how he
tells me what he wants without saying the words.

I pull away from him and lick my lips. I bend down
and suck him into my mouth. His hips come up off the bed a bit as he pushes
himself deeper down my throat. I moan and I feel the shiver that runs through
his body.

His hand tightens in my hair, almost untangling my
messy bun. I frown as he pulls me off of him.

Then the covers are pushed back to reveal his face
looking down at me. I smile. He sits up a bit and puts his hands under my arms,
pulling me up to lay on top of him.

“Why did you stop me?”

He ignores my question as his baby blue eyes roam
my face. His features are expressionless like he’s in deep thought.

“God, you are so gorgeous.” He reaches up and pulls
my bun out, letting my hair fan over my back and fall over onto his chest. “You
know that? I have never seen someone as perfect as you,” he whispers, running
his knuckles down my cheek.

I just stare at him because I don’t know what to
say. That’s the way I see him, too. Perfect.

“Your beautiful skin, soft lips.” He then takes his
thumb and runs it over my bottom lip. “Mesmerizing green eyes.” His baby blues land
on mine and I feel lightheaded. Those eyes have always had the power to see
into my soul. “So perfect,” he whispers as he pushes a strand of hair behind my
ear. “My Angel.”

I can’t speak. He still has the power to render me
speechless when he talks to me as if I’m the only woman he’s ever seen.

I place my hand on his muscular chest and shut my
eyes. I love to close my eyes and touch his body, just
feel
as my hands
rolls over each muscular curve. I let my fingers trail down his sides. I reach
in between our bodies and take his still hard dick in my hand once again.

“Angel,” he breathes out.

“Slade.” I sigh as I bite back a smile.

I want to drive him wild. He’s been standoffish for
the last couple of days. I love how gentle he can be, but I’m at my breaking
point
.
I want him to take me, to show me that I am still his. I want him
to dominate me, letting my body know where it stands, under his control.

“Angel,” he murmurs again as I feel his fingers in
my hair. He pulls me closer into his chest as he slowly pumps his hips into my
hand.

I flick my tongue out, letting it run along his
collarbone until I come to his neck. I lightly nibble on him.

He tugs on my hair, lifting my face away from his
chest. “Open your eyes, Angel,” he commands softly.

I obey and look down at this gorgeous man that I
call mine. He releases my hair and places both hands on either side of my face,
holding my hair back.

“How did I ever get you?” he whispers in awe.

“Just lucky, I guess,” I tease playfully.

“I must be very lucky.”

“You’re about to get lucky.” I wiggle my hips, rubbing
my most sensitive part against his erection.

“I don’t think—”

“Why not?”

He moves and places me on my side, facing him. “I
want to just lay here with you. I want to hold you while you fall asleep in my
arms.” He reaches up and runs his hand up my side. “Nothing in this world
compares to holding you in my arms, Angel.”

I give him a small smile.

“You know the first night I met you?” I nod my
head. “I drove you home in your car and placed you in your bed. I hated leaving
you.” He grins. “I wanted to crawl in bed next to you and hold you all night
long.”

“You did?” I question, somewhat shocked.

“Yes.” He removes his hand from my arm and places it
in my hair. “I couldn’t wait to hold you like this.” He wraps his arms around
me, pulling me as close as we can get. “I knew then, that you belonged in my
arms.” He gives me a gentle kiss. I close my eyes as I kiss him back. When he
pulls away, I keep my eyes closed and I think of how right he is. Nothing
compares to being in his arms.

I groan as I wake to my alarm
going off. I had set it for six-thirty again.

I shower, dry my hair, and put a little bit of
makeup on. I want to look as good as I feel. Because other than a small
headache, I feel okay. One of the hardest parts is over, going through all of
her belongings. Today is a new day, a day to start fresh, and one more day
closer to going home.

After I finish getting ready, I tiptoe downstairs
to make a pot of coffee. I am going to need it. Once again, I didn’t sleep well
last night.

I make my way into the kitchen and start the machine.

“Good morning.”

I look up to see Holly standing there. “Do you
always wake up this early?” The last two days she has been up before me.

“Yeah, I’m a light sleeper. So every morning when
Micah gets up for work, he wakes me up.” She shrugs, sitting down at the table.
“So I’m used to getting up early.”

I pour her and myself a cup of coffee before joining
her at the table. We sit there quietly for a few minutes before Holly speaks.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” I say, taking a sip.

“What are you going to do with your dad’s house and
the vehicles he left you?”

“The house, I don’t know.” I set my cup down. “There
are two trucks there as well and I haven’t even thought about what I’m going to
do with them.”

She nods before taking another sip of coffee.

I sit back in my chair and sigh. “I don’t know
about anything.” I run my fingers through my freshly washed hair. “On one hand,
I feel it’s all sentimental and I should keep everything. On the other, I also
feel like it’s a part of my past, just weighing me down. Something that I need
to come to terms with and move on.”

“But?”

“But I’m moving in with Slade.” I peer up at her.
“If Slade ever chose to leave me, I wouldn’t stay in St. Louis. I would come
back to Tulsa. It would be too hard to be that close to him,” I whisper. “If I
keep the houses here, I’ll have a place to come back to. To start over
fresh…again.”

“Well, that makes sense.” She’s silent for a few
seconds until I look up at her. “But he’s not going to ever let you leave.” She
smiles, bringing her cup to her lips.

I laugh at her while shaking my head, and finish
drinking my coffee. “Guess I will start loading the truck with the boxes.”

“Oh, Slade and Micah did that last night after they
ate dinner.”

“Oh.” I stand there, thinking, before I feel my
phone start to vibrate.

“Hello?”

“Miss Hall, this is Mr. Hopkins at the funeral
home. Your mother is ready for viewing,” he says as nicely as possible, but it
still breaks my heart.

“Oh, um, okay.” I take in a shaky breath. “When may
I come by?”

“Sometime today is fine. You’re having the service
tomorrow at your house, correct?”

“Yes.”

“Then anytime today is fine.”

“Okay, I’m already up and around. I will head on
over.”

I hang up and stare at my phone for a few seconds.

“I’ll go with you.”

I look up to see Holly’s sad face, and I just nod.
I don’t want to wake Slade and this time I don’t want to go alone.

I stand up from the table and follow her out of the
house. I get in the driver’s seat of my rental car and we head to the funeral
home.

 The drive is silent as I replay the good memories
of my mother from when I was younger. She used to bake for me and Tate.
Sometimes several different things a day. She would sit on the back porch and
watch as Tate and I jumped on the trampoline or swam in the pool. There were
times that Tate would stay with us for days. My mom would even buy him clothes
when she would take me shopping. As a kid, I didn’t understand much about that
at the time. Tate was like an older brother to me. I never asked any questions
about his family or why he had his own room at our house. I would only overhear
phone conversations every now and then when my mom was talking to his. My mother
would usually say, ‘it’s okay. You know he can stay here as long as he needs
to’.

I never understood how my mother could go from
being so caring and nice to treating me like I didn’t exist. I guess now I have
a few ideas about why she treated me that way. She wanted to push me away, and
I’m sure it killed her just as much as it did me.

I frown as I think of all the fun Tate and I once
had. How could he do what he did? How could he keep such a major secret from me
knowing the pain it would eventually cause?

I quiet my rambling thoughts as we pull into the
parking lot of the funeral home and get out of the car.

“Hello, Miss Hall,” Shirley greets us as we walk
in. “Follow me.”

She leads us down the hallway and through a set of
double doors.

“Take all the time you need dear,” Shirley says
politely before she leaves us alone.

The tears start to form before I can even take my
next breath. I walk up to my mother’s body with sweaty palms and trembling legs
as tears roll down my face. I feel a heaviness in my chest when my eyes lock on
her. She looks nothing like my mother, she looks lifeless and cold. The good
memories of her flood my mind. When I wasn’t in trouble, she was so much fun.
We would play games and laugh, she would let me have sleepovers, and she would
spend most of her time baking cookies for me and all my friends.

I don’t hold back the sob that comes from my
throat. “I’m so sorry,” I whisper, “so sorry I wasn’t there for you. That I was
so selfish. I’m sorry for thinking that you didn’t love me.”

I feel a soft hand on my back and turn to see
Holly, silently crying. I wrap my arms around her as we cry together.

“I’m so sorry, Sam,” she croaks out, gripping me
tighter.

I just nod my head because I can’t speak right now.
What have I done? How could I have thought my mother didn’t want me? She must
have been so scared. She must have thought I was the most horrible person on
earth. How could a daughter abandon her mother? How could I have said the
things that I did and then run away? I have always run from things that
frighten me. I don’t know why. Growing up, I was loved as a child. I mean,
yeah, my parents were divorced but so what? I’m not the only child to come from
a divorced home. They both loved me very much and were both affectionate toward
me. I just changed when my father died. I guess my mom had, too, just for a
different reason. I had lost my father. She had lost the only man she would
ever truly love and she knew she was losing her life as well. She knew that
their only daughter was going to be left alone to face the world. And so that’s
exactly what I’m going to do, I’m going to be the daughter that they raised. I
don’t want them to be ashamed of me. For all the wrong things I have done, I’m
going to face them with everything I have.

“Thank you,” I say as I pull away. I turn back
around one last time to my mother. “I love you,” I whisper as I bend over and
place a gentle kiss on her cheek. “I will always love you, Momma.” Then I turn
around and walk out of the funeral home with my best friend by my side.

 My newfound strength starts to fade with every
passing mile on the way back to the house. I could never be someone that they
could be proud of. I am a selfish person who did not deserve to be their
daughter. After Holly pulls into the driveway, I get out of the car, and walk
in the house.

“Where have you been?” Slade demands as he stands
up from the couch. I had left my cell in my purse on silent. I figured he knew
where I had gone since I was with Holly. Guess I was wrong.

“I went to view my mother,” I whisper.

“I’m sorry, Angel,” he says as he inches towards
me.

I raise my hand to stop him. “I just need some time
alone.”

He stops a few feet away from me and nods his head.
I walk past everyone as the tears start to fall once again. I don’t want to be
around anyone. Sometimes a girl just needs to be left with her thoughts, no
matter how terrifying they might be.

CHAPTER SIX

“Is she going to be okay?”
I ask as I walk back over to the couch and sit down.

“Yeah.”

I look up at Holly. Her voice had cracked and I
couldn’t help but stare at her.

She shakes her head as Micah scoots closer to her
and gently wraps her up in his arms. “Are you okay, baby?”

 “It was horrible,” she cries. “She was so
heartbroken, and the stuff she said to her mother.” Her shoulders shake as she
places her head in her hands. “I can’t imagine what she is going through.”

Micah leans back against the couch as he pulls her
close to him and kisses her hair. He looks up at me and exhales a sigh.

If she is this upset, I know Angel is probably up
there having a panic attack. I jump off the couch and run up the stairs, taking
two at a time.

I hate that I let her push me away. I just don’t
know when to let her be and when to reassure her that I’m there for her.

I lean up against her door and listen. I don’t hear
anything, so I open it slowly. Searching the room, I don’t see her, but then I
hear soft cries coming from the bathroom.

I open the door and walk in. My heart drops when I
see her soaking in the bathtub with her knees to her chest, her head resting
atop them.

I pull my shirt over my head roughly and strip off my
shoes, socks, jeans, and boxers. This is one of those times that I need her in
my arms. I need to comfort her and try to help her.

I step in the hot bath behind her and slowly lower
myself into it, gritting my teeth. Fuck, the water is so hot. I don’t know how
she can stand it.

“Angel.” She hasn’t even looked up, just continues
to cry into her knees.

I run my hands up her back and over her shoulders.
I pull her back to my front. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here for you.” I wrap my arms
around her as she tries to quiet her sobs.

She tenses and attempts to pull away from me.

I squeeze tighter. “You shouldn’t be alone,” I say
softly. I don’t want to make it worse, but it can’t be good for her to be by
herself either. Last time she was alone she destroyed a room and had a
breakdown. If that’s what she needs to do, that’s fine with me, I just want her
to know she can do it in front of me.

Her body lightly shakes. “Let it out, Angel,” I
whisper.

She reaches up and shoves my arms away. She stands
and water splashes out of the bathtub and onto the floor. She turns to me, sniffling,
and I hold in a sigh as I see tears run down her face.

“I want to be alone. Why can’t you understand
that?” she cries.

I stand up and grab a hold of her arms. “I’m not
going to let you go. I’m not going to let you keep things bottled up inside.
It’s not good for you!”

“You can’t fix it, Slade.” She raises her voice.
“It’s over, she’s dead,” she sobs out.

“Talk to me,” I plead, reaching up and brushing
away the tears streaming down her face. “Please, Angel. Let me be here for
you.”

She crashes her body into mine as her arms wrap
around me. “I don’t know what to say,” she replies honestly. “One minute I feel
great and want to live the way they wanted me to. Then the next I—” Her sobbing
restarts, cutting off her words.

I run my hand down her smooth back, and bend down
to kiss her hair. I know that was a huge step for her just to admit that much.
I won’t push her anymore. “Come on, let’s sit back down.”

She allows me to guide us back down into the tub.
Once situated, I reach over and grab her soap. I lather up my hands before I
start to run them over her back and shoulders.

“I’m trying,” she says quietly.

I stay silent as I continue to rub her back. I
don’t want to say anything that will stop her from telling me how she feels.

She pulls away and angles her body so she can face
me. “I want you to stop asking me about my feelings, Slade. I honestly don’t
know what I’m feeling. It can change within minutes. I know I’m a tad crazy
right now and that’s why I wanted to be alone.”

“Angel, you’re not crazy.”

“I feel like I’m going crazy.” She looks down,
running her hand through the bath water. “And I don’t want you to see me this
way. I don’t want you to think differently of me,” she whispers.

“There is nothing you could do to make me see you
any differently,” I say, gently placing my hand on her back.

She keeps her head down and nods before she turns around
and leans back against my chest. I know she thinks I’m lying. And she can think
that all she wants. I know how I feel about her and, once again, I’ll just have
to show her.

I stand in my old closet,
looking at the black lace dress that hangs at the very back all by itself. It
haunts me.

The ironic thing is that my dad bought it for me. I
can’t even remember why I wanted it. I didn’t go on dates and this dress was
one to be worn to a fancy restaurant.

He got it for me during my sophomore year. He had
taken me and Courtney shopping at the mall. She had spotted it and thought it
would look great on me. I tried it on because it was very beautiful. Once I
stepped out of the dressing room, Courtney started telling me how pretty it
looked. My dad insisted on buying it for me. I told him that I didn’t have
anywhere to wear it, and he informed me that I would someday.

The even more ironic part; he was right. I ended up
wearing it for his funeral. My father’s funeral was different. I didn’t get to
say goodbye to him, he was unrecognizable from his accident. He died instantly
due to the head trauma, and his spinal cord had been severed. Even though they
were divorced, my mother was listed as his next of kin. My mom had seen him but
didn’t feel that I should. I took her advice and stayed in my room, bawling my
eyes out. I now know why she reacted the way she did when he passed. I should
have seen the signs. She was gone a lot. She must have been going to doctors’
appointments all that time.

We didn’t have a memorial service for him. Mom just
had him cremated. All of his workers had stopped by the house to bring us
things and offer their condolences. That was about it.

I approach the garment and take it off its hanger,
knowing that I’m going to wear this dress for the second time in my life.
However, one thing I’m certain of is that it will be the last time. I slip it
on over my black lace bra and panties.

I walk out of my closet and look at myself in the full-length
mirror. It may be a tad inappropriate for a funeral, but it just feels right.
It’s a black, silk dress with a high, scoop neckline. It’s fitted, and the
length hits about mid-thigh. It has a black lace overlay and lace three-quarter
length sleeves.

I brace myself on the edge of the bed and slide on a
pair of red high-heels. I sit there and take in a few deep breaths. I turn to
look at the bed as Slade begins to stir. He must be exhausted because he never
sleeps in at home. He is always having to get up so early for work.

He mumbles a few things that I can’t quite
understand as he pulls the covers up over his head, making me smile. I remember
us in the bath last night and frown. He washed me from head to toe. Once again,
I wanted to beg him to take me, make me feel something other than my loss, but I
was not in the mood to be turned down. He didn’t spend any extra time on my
breasts or touch me as if he were desperate to have me. So I knew he did not
want me sexually and I hate that it made me feel even more alone.

I stand up and walk to the bathroom, needing to do
something with my hair. Ten minutes later, I give up on trying to do anything
fancy with it. I just pull my bangs up and pin them back, before taking out the
curling iron and fixing the rest into loose curls.

I add some makeup, which I keep very light, just some
foundation, powder, and mascara, finishing it off with some nude lip-gloss. Then
I head downstairs, I need to start cooking.

I don’t know how many friends my mother had or how
many are going to show up. But I want them to have something to eat.

Just as I put some cookies in the oven, Holly
enters the kitchen. “Do you need any help?”

I look up at her and smile. “Yes, thank you.”

I help her get the ingredients ready to make
lasagna and French bread. I’m not sure what you’re supposed to offer at
funerals, but I have to do something.

We have our backs turned as we wash our hands in
the sink, and I hear hushed voices. I turn off the water and we turn around to
see Slade and Micah both filling up the kitchen entryway. Slade is wearing a
pair of gray sweatpants with a black wife beater and it makes me smile.

He walks over to me and wraps me in his arms. He
looks down at me as he pushes a piece of hair away from my face. His eyes
search mine and he seems apprehensive about something.

“Are you okay?”

He gives me a sad smile, shaking his head. “I’m
fine, Angel.” He sighs. “It’s just—”

The doorbell ringing interrupts him. “One second,”
I say as I move to answer the door.

“Delivery for Miss Hall,” a man says, standing
there with a bouquet of flowers.

“Please come in.” I step aside for him to enter.
Yesterday I had ordered five bouquets of pink lilies. They were my mom’s
favorite. She bought herself flowers every Sunday and set them on the kitchen
table.

I lead him into the living room and start pushing
the couch out of the way.

“Angel,” Slade admonishes as he enters the room,
“let Micah and I do that.” He takes my hand from the back of the couch. “What
are you wanting to move and where do you want it?” he asks softly.

“I just want them moved back a bit.”

I bend over and start dragging the coffee table.

“Stop, Angel.” Slade puts his hands on my arms. “We
will do it okay?”

I take in a deep breath, I know he’s trying to be
nice, but I’m perfectly capable of doing shit.

“I want it over there by the fireplace,” I call
out, heading back into the kitchen, where I finish preparing the food with
Holly.

Around noon, the funeral
home shows up and I let Slade handle it. I stay in the kitchen. I don’t know
how I’m going to feel once I see the urn. I just keep telling myself to stay
busy. Maybe if I stay preoccupied the day will fly by and I won’t have to
endure any more.

It’s not much longer before people begin filtering
into the house. I hear Slade greeting them and directing them to the living
room. I just don’t want to face them. I’m afraid of what they might think of
me. I know this isn’t about me, but I’m afraid they will know how horrible I
was.

That they will ask questions like:

“Where the hell were you?”

“How come we never saw you?”

“Why weren’t you there for her?”

Those are all questions that I don’t have answers
for. I hear the doorbell ring once again, as I pull the cookies out of the oven,
and then I hear Slade’s voice.

“You need to leave.”

The way he growled that has me rushing out of the
kitchen and to the front door.

“I don’t want to fight you,” I hear a man say.

Slade lets out a little laugh like he would gladly
take on the guy. “Then fucking leave.”

I come to the hallway and look toward the door. I
can’t see much because Slade is standing in the doorway taking up all the
space.

“Slade?” I question nervously.

“No need to worry, Angel,” he answers, keeping his
back to me.

I come up behind him and push my way past him to
see Tate standing outside with his hands in his pockets.

 What the hell is he doing here?

His eyes look me up and down, and he seems to be
considering what to say as he rocks back on his heels. “I saw the obituary in
the paper,” he states sadly.

I release a sigh, not wanting to be a bitch and
turn him away. My mom had done a lot for him, practically raised him. I don’t
have the right to tell him he can’t say goodbye.

“I told you to leave,” Slade demands.