Chapter 12 #3
I watch her lips curl into a soft, contented smile.
The frantic, sad, almost desperate energy has faded.
I realize that her hand is curled into a fist. I slip mine down from her waist and work my fingers over the tight ball.
She relaxes as I work her fingers open. I bring her hand to my lips and place a kiss in the center of her palm.
I can’t think of any song except for the old nursery rhymes from when I was a kid.
I start into row, row, row your boat and Loreena giggles.
I don’t know what I’m doing except that I start swaying and she comes along with me, her body mirroring mine because we’re pressed so close together.
I’m more than okay with making a fool of myself for her.
I can’t sing or dance, and I can barely even hum, but that’s okay. As long as she keeps smiling.
As soon as I finish the song, her lips flatline, taking my heart with them. Her eyes pop open and she studies the window again, naked yearning mixed with intense pain plain on her reflection.
“Close your eyes,” I whisper. She shivers when my breath hits her ear.
“In prison every single night, I told myself the same thing. I went through a list, chanting it like a prayer, to remind myself who I was and who I wasn’t.
In ten years, I was bound to forget. I’d tell myself that I am my mother’s son.
She was a good woman. She told me to find the good in the world and fight for it.
She was proud of me, even if I wasn’t perfect.
I was her son while I was in there, and I’d be her son when I got out, and no matter what, I’d always make sure she could look down on me and be proud of the man I was, am, and will be. ”
“My family’s not proud of me,” Loreena protests. It’s fucking heartbreaking.
I tighten my arms around her. “I’m proud of you. Scythe, Lockwood, the women, and the men at the club—they’re all proud of you.”
“They’re not,” she groans. “Why would they be? They don’t even know me, and I haven’t done anything yet other than exist in this house and say things they can’t even comprehend.”
“Close your eyes,” I instruct again. “When things got back for me on the inside, when the chanting didn’t work and I didn’t feel right, I’d take a moment and just breathe. In and out.”
“Breathing doesn’t work all that well for me.”
I inhale deeply and let my breath out slow and loud, emphasizing it for her. Eventually, she follows, even if the first one is about as sassy and sarcastic as breath can be.
“I don’t give a shit if this is avoidance or shoving stuff down or whatever.
This is what kept me going. It’s just you and me here in this kitchen.
Just breathe and feel your body. Feel your limbs.
They’re heavy. They’re perfect. You’re exactly who you’re meant to be in this moment.
It won’t last forever, but in the next moment and the next, you’re safe.
There is nothing else. Just the breath, and you.
You’re a part of the earth. The wind. The sky.
You’re tethered to the ground, but your soul is free.
It knows no time or boundaries. There are no clocks, no minutes, no months, no years.
There is no yesterday or tomorrow. Just here.
Now. Just you and your breath. You exist. You matter.
You’ve known love and you will know it again.
You’re at peace. You are peace. With every breath.
I’m so wrapped up in what I’m saying and in measuring my breaths, that I barely feel Loreena twist in my arms. It’s the feel of her soft palms on my face, cupping my jaw, that snaps me out of the litany.
She stares into my eyes for a second that seems to last forever before she drags me face down to hers.
There’s nothing between us. Literally and in every other way.
All her walls are down. I’ve never had any with her to begin with.
She knows exactly who I am and what I’ve done, and to her, that doesn’t make me a bad person.
She looks up at me like she’s never quite seen anyone like me before and never will again.
She sees me like I’m not broken and trying to glue myself back together to exist in a world that has changed so damn much, I’m little better than lost in it, despite how much I might pretend otherwise.
She shifts to her toes when I remain frozen. When our lips meet, it’s because hers graze softly over mine. She initiates. She leads. But I don’t hesitate.
I don’t drive her against the cupboards or pick her up, I don’t scald her mouth with kisses or devour her.
I keep the kiss slow and tender. Soft. I pour my emotion into it.
Kissing is a physical thing, but it’s also mental and emotional.
I pour myself into it, my heart, my soul, every moment that I’ve ever thought of her.
She steals my breath. She’s captivated all of me from the first letter, and now we’re here, years later, sharing a moment that defies everything.
She drops her hands to my shoulders and then wraps her arms around me, like I’m the one who needs to be held. I am. I might break apart if she doesn’t tether me to her.
As soon as her tongue meets mine, the kiss changes. She tilts her face, drawing me in deeper. She kisses harder, more frantic. Little whimpers roll off her tongue. I kiss them away, taking them inside of myself, little treasures that I’ll store up for forever.
She spins us around, guiding me through the kitchen.
I take slow steps to make sure I don’t crunch her toes or that I don’t trip and fall.
She leads, her hands roving over my shoulders, my face, twisting to the back of my neck, tugging at my hair.
Our mouths clash together furiously. We leave the kitchen and make it to the hall.
The door to the basement is right there, but she doesn’t open it.
Instead, she tugs me into her so that we both jam up against the wall.
“Maverick,” she whimpers against my lips in a tone that I never thought I’d hear.
I want you. I need you. Badly. Here. Now.
I know I’m not wrong, but I want her to show me. Guide me. Take the lead on this. If there’s discovery, I want to walk side by side with her. I want her to show me what she needs, how much, and when.
She does. She tugs my face back to hers and peppers my lips with kisses.
In all my life, all the tough, lean years of growing up, and in all my time in prison, I never surrendered. If I had one fear, it was that, but I can let my guard down with Loreena. I can place myself into her hands. I can trust in her. I can escape to a world where only we exist.