7. Noah
Chapter 7
Noah
I’m waiting for Maggie at the foot of the stairs when she comes down. I tapped on her door earlier, telling her we were making dinner for her and to come on down when she was ready. The three of us decided this was as good a way as any to get to know her a little better.
She looks amazing. I don’t even see the bruise high on her cheekbone. Her hair is freshly washed and drapes across her shoulders in a golden curtain. Her face is free of makeup—a refreshing change from all the weird and wonderful shit women put on their faces these days.
Maggie is wearing a pretty blue dress that falls to her knees. The dress is held up by the shoestring straps tied at her shoulders. I have a sudden urge to tug them free so that her large breasts spill out into my waiting hands. I may be a virgin, but I’ve done plenty of other stuff. I can picture doing every one of those things with her, and only her.
Her sweet smell reaches my nose, a subtle blend of perfume and soft femininity. It’s intoxicating. It makes me want to bury my nose in her neck and inhale deeply, filling my lungs full of her.
I shake off my lustful thoughts and extend a hand toward her as she reaches the bottom of the stairs. “Senorita. Would you do me the honor of allowing me to escort you to the dining room?” I ask with an exaggerated bow.
Maggie grins at my display as she places her hand in mine. “Gracias, senor.”
Our eyes meet for a second, and I notice the goosebumps that break out across her skin. It’s not cold in here. Could it be my touch that’s causing her skin to pebble and her nipples to press against the fabric of her dress? Is she feeling it, too?
I clear my throat. “I hope you like what we’ve prepared for you.”
“What is it?” she asks, clinging to my hand as I lead her through to the dining room.
“Ah, ah! It’s a surprise,” I grin, pulling her chair out at the head of the table so she can sit.
We hardly ever use this room, preferring to eat in the kitchen when it’s just us three, but having Maggie here warrants something a little more special.
Tanner and Theo appear, carrying drinks and dishes of food.
“Champagne?” Theo asks, raising a dark eyebrow at Maggie.
“Um, okay,” she replies hesitantly. “I’ve never had champagne before.”
Theo pours a little into the champagne flute at her place setting, and she takes a sip. She wrinkles her nose.
Theo frowns. “You don’t like it?”
“I really want to. I mean, it’s champagne, for God’s sake, but…is it bad that I’d prefer a beer?” she asks sheepishly.
Theo chuckles. “Not bad at all. Woman after my own heart. I’ll go grab you a cold one,” he says, hurrying from the room.
Jesus, he’s behaving like a lovesick puppy. Pray to God he doesn’t roll over and ask her to rub his balls.
“So the champagne was a bust, but I hope you like…” Tanner lifts the metal lid from the food with a flourish.
Maggie claps a hand over her mouth, her blue eyes twinkling with mirth. “Tacos?”
“What?” Tanner asks, pretending to be offended. “I’ll have you know that tacos are a staple food here in America.” He pauses to grin at her. “But if you don’t like them, I’ve got the local pizza place on speed dial.”
“I love tacos,” she says, grinning back at him.
A look passes between them, and I swear I can almost feel the crackle of electricity even though I’m standing six feet away. Maybe they’re both remembering their kiss this morning. Tanner’s not one to show his emotions to anyone other than Theo and me, but he’s more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him. Maggie is good for him. I think she may be good for all of us.
“One ice-cold beer,” Theo announces, entering the room with a bottle and a glass. He goes to pour the beer into the glass, but Maggie covers his hand to stop him.
“There’s something about drinking it straight from the bottle,” she says, taking it from him and lifting it to her lips.
We all watch like brainless fucking geeks as she takes a long slug and smacks her lips. “Ah, that’s better. Guess I’m just not a champagne kind of gal.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” Tanner says as we all take a seat at the table. “Seems to me you know exactly who you are and exactly what you like.”
Maggie blushes. “Not so sure about that. Up until now, I’ve put everyone else’s wants and needs before my own.”
“As in your mom?” I ask, indicating that she should dive into the tacos. We’re all seated close together so that we can reach the huge metal platter in the middle, and it feels intimate.
Maggie nods, taking a bite of cheesy taco. She licks the grease from her lips, and my cock starts twerking in my jeans. Shit, I should’ve worn sweats. An eight-inch dancing boner is no fucking joke in unforgiving denim.
“Yeah. My dad died when I was seven from a heart attack,” she replies. “He was only thirty-eight. He drank, smoked, and worked too hard. I only have vague memories of him, but they’re good ones. I know he loved me. My mom? Not so much.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, reaching across to squeeze her hand.
She squeezes back, linking her fingers with mine as she continues.
“After he died, things were tough. I can’t remember a time when Mom didn’t drink. She re-married less than a year after my dad died. That one only lasted three months. Then she met husband number three. Mike was a decent guy with a job in finance. Life was pretty good for a while,’ she says wistfully. “They were together for five years until he came home and found my mom in bed with another woman.”
My eyebrows lift in surprise. “Your mom is bisexual?”
Maggie laughs hollowly. “I have no idea what my mom is. I don’t think she does, either. I just know she likes sex. Don’t get me wrong, I think people should be able to have sex with whoever they want as long as they’re not hurting anyone. But Mike didn’t sign up for an open marriage. Which is why he became ex-husband number three. Then, there was Larry. He was a piece of work. Brought drugs into the house and was an addict himself. Twice he tried to force me to have sex with him, but I told him if he ever laid so much as a finger on me, I’d castrate him in his sleep and choke him with his own cock.”
Anger wells in my chest as I listen to Maggie’s story.
“You’re one ballsy chick,” Theo says admiringly. “No excuse for a man to force a woman. Please tell me Larry got what was coming to him.”
Maggie nods. “He did. He was arrested for supplying Class A drugs and went down for seven years. That was three years ago. I’ve lost count of the number of people Mom’s been involved with since then.”
“And I thought we had it rough,” Tanner says thoughtfully.
“You guys were in foster care, right?” Maggie asks, looking between us. She notices as Tanner’s face closes up. “I’m sorry. It must be tough having your personal lives splashed all over social media.”
Tanner shrugs. “It’s okay. They know what we want them to know. We don’t talk about our time in the system, but fair’s fair. You shared your story with us,” he says, giving me a slight nod.
“Tanner and Theo were already in the foster home when I turned up,” I begin, recalling the first day I walked through the doors of the group foster home. “We all come from broken families, drugs, alcohol, violence, you name it. We were all allocated the same social worker. She was a manipulative bitch,” I say bitterly.
Maggie looks surprised at my outburst. I’m pretty quiet as a rule. I learned to keep my real thoughts and emotions to myself from a young age. Growing up in the foster system will do that to you. But remembering the injustice Tanner and Theo suffered gets me riled up.
“What did she do?” she asks, sensing this is not a happy story.
“She forced Theo and Tanner to have sex with her from the age of fourteen. Said she’d mark herself up and cry rape if they refused. I think she would’ve forced me too, but I was two years younger, and Theo and Tanner protected me. It went on for years. That’s why we’re so close. They’re both annoying assholes, but they’re my brothers,” I say, shooting them a wry grin. “The people you call family don’t have to be related by blood. Some bonds go much deeper than that. I’d lay down my life for either one of them.”
I look up to see Maggie wiping away tears. “I’m so sorry,” she chokes, knowing better than anyone how inadequate those three words sound. She reaches out for Theo and Tanner’s hands, too. “Thank you for sharing that with me. I feel privileged.”
I swallow hard, fighting down emotion. Theo and Tanner aren’t doing too well, either. We sit there in silence for a minute, our food forgotten, our hands linked in the middle of the table.
“Writing poetry and song lyrics was my therapy,” Maggie says, breaking the silence. “Everything I felt, all those crappy experiences, I poured onto the pages of the notebook I showed you this morning. Music was my favorite subject at school. I tutored my music teacher’s son in Math in exchange for piano lessons with her. When I wasn’t at home, you’d find me in the music room at school. It was my safe place, somewhere I could lose myself for a little while.”
“Music is life. That’s why our hearts have beats,” I say, remembering having read that quote somewhere.
“Where words fail, music speaks,” Tanner adds.
Maggie smiles. “Hans Christian Andersen.”
“It is,” Tanner says, looking impressed.
“My turn,” Theo says. “Without music, life would be flat. Get it? B flat?” he snorts, cracking up at his joke.
“Fucking hell, bro, that was bad,” I groan, shaking my head in disgust.