Page 57 of Dirty Like Brody
Never mind that the woman she’d grown into had caused me more pain than anyone else I’d ever known. Any way I tried to get around it, there was no denying it. Jessa Mayes was in my motherfuckingbones.
She alwayshadbeen.
Amanda wasn’t the reason I’d been walking around slamming doors, rattling windows and breaking shit that got inmyway.
And even Amandaknewit.
“It’s her, right?” she’d asked me, just as I was about to walk out of her life. “Jessa,” she said. “The rose onyourhand.”
It’d taken me kind of aback. I’d never told anyone the meaning behind thattattoo.
She’d just shrugged and said, “You stare at it a lot. And… you stare at heralot.”
I couldn’t arguewiththat.
And yeah, the rose wasforher.
I’d had it done nine years ago, at a time when things between us were getting really fucked up. It was on my right palm, at the base of my thumb. Just a small rose entangled in thorny vines, to mark the spot where, even though things between us were fucked up, she’d kissed me at my father’sfuneral.
It was the only way I could think of to somehow ink Jessa Mayes onto my body and not raise too many eyebrows. And Ihadto ink her onto my body. Had to have her with me, to remind myself that there was something between us, something real… or at least there had been, once, even if it was temporarilyfuckedup.
At the time, I’d really believed it wastemporary.
“Sheokay,man?”
Jesse was still eying me across the gym, and all I could think was:How the fuck wouldIknow?
Then I realized he wasn’t asking aboutJessa.
I took a break to guzzle some water before I sweat out my body weight and passed out. “Yeah,” I said, but I had no idea if thatwastrue.
I honestly hadn’t thoughtaboutit.
Since I’d walked away from Amanda after telling her it was over, I’d felt nothing in that direction but a sense of relief, of finality, the likes of which I’d never come close to feeling towardJessa.
I went back at the bag with a vengeance. Because what the fuck else was I gonna do to keep from losingmymind?
I hadn’t seen her for days. Not since I’d confronted her at the church and basically told her to leave. She hadn’t returned the phone call I’d made to her this morning and she wasn’t responding to mytexts.
Nothing fucking new,right?
And yet, it stillguttedme.
I wouldn’t have thought there was anything left for Jessa Mayes to take, since she’d already eviscerated my heart and soul so many years ago. But apparently there was still shit for her to carve outofme…
I could still feel her, damp and near-naked, her silky bra and panties clinging to her as she wrapped her goddess-like body around me, rubbing herself against me. Could still feel her heartbeat, her heat andherneed.
Could still taste her as she kissed me, like she’d been starving for my kisses allherlife.
Could still hear her, her helpless whimpers… gasping with anticipation… and singing by that fire in the night with a smile onherface.
I could still feel the long, smooth curve of her thigh as I slid that frilly garterup…up…
I’m not wearing anyunderwear.
Shit.
How the hell was I supposed to let her go again? When I’d glimpsed the pain and the regret in her eyes? When I’d held her, all drunk and vulnerable in my arms? Worse, I’d felt the hunger that was still there between us. A hunger that had never beensated.
