Page 60 of Expressionate
My mind blanks. Is it? I ask myself. The answer is, “I don’tknow.”
“Lovely,” he prods. I realize I’ve drifted off after mystatement.
I suck in a quick breath and then blow it out, sending a strand of my hair floating up. “It’s not an easy story to tell.” He rubs my back, waiting. Patient, Tax isn’t. So, the fact that he’s waiting now…it means something. Isigh.
“I left home when I was sixteen,” I say, my eyes focusing on the typewriter on my desk. I stare at it and remember that it was a gift – something given without conditions. Even if I find myself unable to finish my story or his lyrics, Tax isn’t going to take it away – Tax isn’t going to go away. He’ll wait, I assure myself. He’ll bepatient.
I let the words tumble out of my lips. I tell him about Anne, about Danny, about Todd and what he said – about the things that I did. On several occasions I feel his fists ball up against my back, but he remains quiet. He doesn’t rush me, he doesn’t pressure me. He simply strokes my back, tightens his hands in my hair and then breathes through his nose when I get to some of the sticky parts. Maybe I should be scared by his silence, but for a change, it feels good to actually be the one whoisn’t.
21
Tax
Now Anne’s here in Charlotte and I guess Danny is texting me again,too.”
I can’t explain the sheer amount of rage festering in my chest right now. It should be impossible for one human body to contain so much anger – I can practically smell blood on the air, that’s how violent I’mfeeling.
An itchy and unsettling numbness is burrowing into my limbs. My arms are around Love and after listening to her story, I don’t know whether I want to crush her to me and erase every bad thing that’s happened to her or shake her. I need a good fight. I’m itching for it, but I can’t leave her here likethis.
“Are you going to say anything?” sheasks.
I think about it, stroking my fingers along the ridges of her spine. Love is no small, petite little girl; she’s curvy and thick, but I can still feel the bumps that run the length of her back. “My dad made me fight when I was akid.”
The words fall like cracking open a can of expired worms that slide out onto the floor and squish, disgustingly, beneath my feet. She doesn’t look at me, but her hand grips mine a little tighter and I press a quick kiss into her hair. “He convinced me that he was too sick to work. I was young and foolish, and I didn’t realize that all of the ‘illnesses’ he had were made up. I just knew that when I did it, he magically felt better, like the whole world he supposedly had on his shoulders was gone. That fake world wasn’t gone, though.” I laugh without humor. “He just dumped it on me. He was too lazy to just get a fucking job. So, he made me fight and told me if I did and won – which I almost always did – then we wouldn’t have to live like we did.” Her fingers are stroking my skin and I feel it tamping down my need to shove my fist through a wall, to make myself or someone elsebleed.
“I fought a lot, broke my nose a couple of times, but mostly, I won. I beat the shit out of a lot of kids. Kids bigger than me, kids smaller and skinnier than me, it didn’t matter. I broke arms, legs, noses. I didn’t care what I did as long as I won,” I take another breath. “Then I realized that no matter how many times I won, we didn’t leave. We never movedaway.”
Her breath is warm against the skin of my throat, and she shivers when I sigh and press a kiss to her temple. I hum out a breath, wishing I had a guitar in my hands if not a face under my fist. I squeeze Love’s arms and tuck her into my side as I slide over, turning and curling around her, spooning up against her lusciousbackside.
“What did you do?” she finally asks. “How did you end up moving away? Why did you comeback?”
I tangle my finger in one of the strands of her hair and bring it up to my face. She smells like something clean and chest clenching, coconut and the sea breeze maybe, her shampoo probably. I want to bury my face in her hair and hold her close. I shift her upwards and, when she doesn’t protest, I do just that – bury my face in her hair as Ispeak.
“I left. I left my mom, who was an alcoholic, and I left my dad. I even left Ally.” That part really gets to me and I clutch her harder, but she doesn’t complain. She doesn’t judge me either like most would. “It took a long time for me to come back. I hated myself for leaving Ally there, I still hate myself. I was a kid without any idea of what to do. Once I found a half way decent job and a small roach infested, hole-in-the-wall apartment, I came back. I knew that what I had, Ally probably wouldn’t want. I knew it wasn’t good enough for her. What I had was shit, but it was better than what Mom and Dad had. When I came back, Mom was passed out on the floor and Ally was locked up in her room.” I blow out a breath, holding her tighter. I’m positive I’m hurting her, but she doesn’t complain. Love merely flips over and stares up at me, waiting for the rest. “I don’t know what happened to my dad,” I admit. “He wasn’t there, and he didn’t show up when I let Ally out and then told her to pack hershit.”
I recall stepping over my mom’s body in the living room. There was a shiny purple bruise on her cheek and spittle pooling under the opening of her mouth. The rage I hadn’t experienced since I stopped fighting had descended upon me then. I didn’t stop or even look back as I pulled a skinny and shaking Ally out of the shithole trailer and took her to my car. I didn’t even bother closing the front door as I walkedout.
It had taken weeks for me to fill out all of the appropriate papers to make sure there was no way either of them could walk back into my life and demand Ally back. The bitch and bastard hadn’t even shown up to court and Ally was mine – mine to take care of, mine toprotect.
I look down at Love and her powerful green eyes are watching me. I want her to be mine, too. When our gazes connect, she leans forward and her scent envelopes me. I grip her upper arms harder than I should, but either she doesn’t care or she doesn’t notice. Her lips connect with mine, and she is the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. I roll and push her beneath me and her breathing kicks up a notch. She’s as into this as I am. I know she is because with every breath we take, we reach for each other. Her hands on my skin, nails digging into my flesh. I want her to draw blood, a reminder that I’ll bleed for her if she needs me to. I’ll fucking kill the prick who sent that fucking picture if she needs meto.
I kiss the hollow of her throat and run my hands slowly down her sides. I slip my palms beneath her back and feel the softness of her skin. Her breasts are amazing, pale and creamy, topped with little ripe, rosy tips. I skim my fingertips across her stomach, loving the way she shivers under my touch. I can feel her heart pounding. I replace my fingertips with my mouth and I run my tongue across the section of her abdomen that meets with the edge of her pelvicbone.
“I’m writing a song,” she gasps out. I pull back and those eyes of hers – eyes wider than the damn universe – look up at me. Her small pink tongue comes out and dips across her lower lip. Little Tax waves like a fucking boy scout flag, ready and raring togo.
Love pushes against my chest until I’m sitting back on my heels – Little Tax standing at attention. I try to will my fucking prick down, but all it sees is Love’s tight fucking ass and hips made for grabbing. She gets off the bed and then walks over to her computer, which is sitting on her desk next to the typewriter I got her. She flips open the lid of the laptop and then scrolls through herdocuments.
“I’ve been trying to get it right for ages,” she says, “it’s driving mecrazy.”
“And you’re telling me about it now?” I ask, gesturing down to mycock.
She glances over her shoulder at me, an honest to goodness smile on her lips. “It finally hit me – if I’m writing a song for you, the reason why it’s not coming together is probably because I don’t have anyinput.”
I slap a hand to my forehead and then rub it directly down the rest of my face. Fuck if I won’t fucking do anything for that fucking smile of hers. I get off the bed and snag my pants from the night before – pulling them up and tucking Little Tax into the waistband before grabbing my shirt as well and sliding it over myhead.
Striding to the desk, I lift her out of her chair, sit down and then plop her onto my lap. It’s a strange thing, being fully clothed with a naked Love on my lap and it doesn’t exactly help the Little Tax issue, but as I lean in to smell her hair, I wouldn’t change this moment for theworld.
“Here it is,” she says, turning my attention to the computer screen. I have to rip my eyes away from her naked curves in my lap to do so – but if it will make her happy. I turn my attention to the computer screen andread.
