Chapter 11 #2
I shake my head. “The specifics beyond that don’t matter.
Punches were thrown, but that little tweaker was no match for me.
I got a little shitty with him. Called him some names.
Tried to embarrass him. I thought maybe he’d leave, but he doubled down.
Grabbed a pool stick and hit me with it.
After that, I just saw red. I was done with the bullshit and the posturing.
I hit him right in the jaw, sent him sailing.
He didn’t even try to break his fall. Paramedics pronounced him dead at the scene. ”
I can’t say I feel sadness retelling the story.
I do feel sick. Uncomfortable. I hate that this one random day, a day when I might have just as easily ended up in bed with Vicky—a girl whose name I only remember because I had to give it to the cops, everything changed because of a series of random choices.
And me trying to be a hero without even meaning to.
“The bartenders and witnesses all told the same story, but the facts were the facts. I’d antagonized the guy.
Tried to shame him into leaving. Even after everything he did to start it—he threw the punch, the pool stick, all that shit—I was the one who hit a guy and ended his life. Somebody had to pay.”
I look down at Birdie, silent tears staining her face.
“I’m sorry,” I say again, so quietly I’m not sure who I’m apologizing to. “I’m sorry for what happened to him, to me. All of it.”
She wraps her arms around me and holds me tighter than I think I’ve ever been held before. She rocks slightly, stroking my back and neck, and I close my eyes, trying to banish the name and face of the man I killed that day.
“Can I ask another question?” she says softly, her lips pressing into my shoulder.
“Yeah. Go ahead.” I’ve come this far. I might as well get it all out of the way. If we go any further, I want to know there are no secrets between us.
“Did he…have a family?”
I nod. “Elderly parents,” I say. “They came to the trial. They were all he had. Thank God for small favors, in some ways. I can’t even imagine if he’d had kids or a wife some place.
As it was, I was lucky the parents didn’t sue me for damages.
Did you know that? They could have sued me for compensation for being responsible.
” I shake my head. “Anyway, I got less than the full sentence because of the ‘undisputed facts.’ Everyone agreed that the guy started it. Threw the first punch, hit me with the stick. You know the rest. It was just bad luck for him. The fact that I was big and not a fellow cracked-out, skinny druggie led to things going so badly for him.”
I pull away from Birdie’s hug. I want to see her eyes when I ask her this question.
“Birdie,” I whisper, “I’d never hurt anyone like that on purpose.
I didn’t mean for that to happen. I’m not a violent man.
I don’t have anger issues. I served my full sentence.
Paid my debt. But that doesn’t mean I expect you to be able to trust me.
Accept me. I won’t hold it against you if you don’t want me around you and your daughter.
Just say the word, and if you want, I’ll go. No questions asked.”
She pulls my face to hers and kisses my eyes, the tip of my nose, and the scruff on my chin. Her tears wet my face, and she pulls away, holding up a finger. “I need a tissue, or we’re going to be swapping more than just tears.”
She trots off to the half-bath off the kitchen and returns blowing her nose, a wad of tissues in one hand. She sits back beside me and grabs one of my hands. She laces our fingers together and looks down at our hands.
“My life is…” She laughs, a dry, sad sound.
“…a goddamn mess. I’m a now-unemployed single mom.
My house is a wreck, my body is falling to bits.
” She shakes her head. “My mom held our lives together with love and hard work. Without her…” Birdie swallows back tears.
“It’s all been so much to handle. Every day, I wake up feeling like I’m letting everyone down.
My daughter. My employer. Former employer, now. Myself.”
She looks up at me, her gray eyes stormy. “Crow,” she says, “I’m so far from perfect, it’s not even funny. I’m holding my life together with tape and prayers. I haven’t dated in years—I mean years. And kissing? I haven’t been kissed in…too long. And never like that.”
I’m looking down at the way she’s stroking the wings of the sparrows inked on my hands as we talk.
“I’m sorry I Googled you, but I wanted to know more about the man I’m starting to have feelings for.”
“Feelings,” I echo. “And how do you feel now?”
She meets my eyes. “My father never married my mother. For years, he stayed with my mom in this very house, part time. He never wanted to give up his own life, his own place. He was a trial lawyer and had a really demanding schedule. At least, that’s what he told her.
” She shakes her head. “That turned out to be total bullshit. Total bullshit. He was married, Crow. The whole time. He had an affair with my mother while he had a wife and three kids at home. The place he went back to when he wasn’t here, sleeping with my mother and lying to our faces, was a place he lived with his real family. A family that wasn’t us.”
I tighten my hold on her and move closer on the couch, our thighs touching.
I want to wrap my arms around her, protect her from the pain just talking about this is causing her, but I don’t trust myself.
I’m wound so tight that if I bring her close, I may not be able to stop myself.
And this is not a time for acting on my impulses.
She still hasn’t told me how she feels about everything I’ve said, but I don’t want to stop her from talking.
More than anything, that’s what I want. To know her.
To hear her. The real Birdie. Just like I hope someday she’ll want to know the real me.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “How did your mom find out?”
She takes a deep breath. “One day, I got hurt at day care. It was nothing serious. I tripped and bit down on my lip so hard they thought I might have bit right through it. There was so much blood, the day care staff tried to reach my mom to come get me and take me to a doctor. They couldn’t reach her, so they checked my emergency contacts and called my father at his office.
Turns out, his secretary was out sick that day.
She must have been the gatekeeper of all my dad’s secrets.
Whoever was covering the desk in her absence told the day care that Dad was at lunch with his wife, but that as soon as he returned, she’d deliver the message.
“When my mom finally got out of her meeting, she came flying over to the day care center. The owner told Mom that she’d left messages for both of my parents, so Mom called my dad’s office to let him know she’d made it to me.
By then, I was fine. The bleeding had stopped so they knew I had a nice deep cut, but I hadn’t bitten through my lip.
I was only four, but I remember that day like it was yesterday. ”
Her fingers stop tracing my bird tattoos as she talks, going deeper and deeper into memory.
“Long story short, the temp told my mom the same thing she told the day care. That Dad was at lunch with his wife. My mom confronted my dad, and he denied it. Over and over and over. But she knew, Crow. All the signs and things she’d ignored or explained away over the five years…
She’d seen them all. She just didn’t want to believe the truth that was right there. ”
I want to understand the grief in her eyes, the lost, faraway look on her face. “I’m sorry,” is all I can mutter. “For your mother. For you. People can be…shit.”
“They can and they are. So many of them. But not you, Crow.” She twists a little on the couch, so she’s fully facing me while never letting go of my hands.
“I’m not going to pretend it’s not a big deal.
You’ve got stuff on your record that’s going to forever change your life.
Voting, credit, buying a house, getting a job.
It’s complicated, I’m sure. And I don’t know any of the details.
” She sighs, and the depth of her sadness tells me she understands exactly how hard things are going to be.
“But you know what doesn’t change?” she asks.
“The way you tease Mia. The way you throw yourself into your work. How thoughtful you are. How you’re honest about my sweet tea being shit.
” She chuckles. “Your father and my father may look perfect on paper, but they don’t have a fraction of the heart and soul you do.
It just sucks that having a heart like yours has come at such a heavy cost. I can’t begin to imagine how you bear it. ”
She kisses the sparrows on my hands. “I don’t want to pretend I get it or that it won’t be hard, but I’d like to try.
To get to know you. To spend more time with you.
I’m not afraid of you or what you’ve told me.
I’m afraid that I can’t possibly pull my own weight.
No job, my money problems.” She shakes her head.
“I’m not exactly a fun time. And with my headache issues…
I can’t make any promises, Crow. All I can offer you is what I have and who I am.
And that’s all I want from you. We’ll figure the rest out as we go. ”
“You think?” I can’t believe what I’m hearing. We’re like two birds with clipped wings who’ve fallen from the nest but have somehow found each other. We might not be able to fly, but we can waddle around. Together.
“I know,” she breathes.
I grab the back of her neck and bring her face to mine. I fist her hair gently, and a soft moan escapes her lips.
“Too hard?” I ask, lightening my touch.
“No, don’t stop. It feels so good.”
She shifts her weight so she’s straddling my lap.
Her nails dig into my shoulders, and she initiates the kiss, as hungry and greedy for me as I am for her.
She sweeps the tip of her tongue against my lips, and I open to her, before claiming her mouth with mine.
She purrs, a happy, needy sound deep in her throat, and I hold her against me as I let myself get lost in her kiss.
Stars dance behind my eyes, and in this moment, all I feel and taste is Birdie.
Her sweetness. Her sorrow. Her joy. It’s as if, when we kiss, we connect in a way that surpasses words.
I don’t have to apologize for who I am. She doesn’t have to explain what she doesn’t have.
It’s just raw, honest desire, emotion, and connection between us.
My past fades into the background. It’s not gone, but it’s not a noose around my neck, holding me back just as I’m close to reaching a goal. Right now, kissing Birdie, I’m freer than I’ve ever been. And it feels like flying.
I’m kissing her so greedily, I have to come up for air.
But she pushes my chest lightly and rolls her hips against my lap.
I close my eyes and let her explore my shoulders with her hands, kneading and stroking the tight muscles.
God, I feel like I could explode with pleasure and even pain.
My shoulders haven’t been touched by anyone in so long, it’s like years of pent-up tension start to break loose under her hands.
She must feel my body relaxing because she works her hands around to the back of my neck.
She kisses my forehead and pinches the taut cords that line the back of my neck until I’m gasping for relief.
It feels so good it hurts, this pleasurable pain.
When her nails scratch against my scalp, I feel the sting of tears in my eyes.
I’m not even ashamed. I’m so grateful. So fucking grateful to this woman.
She explores the landscape of my head with her gentle fingers, scratching and stroking, until I’m panting and so relaxed, I don’t know if I’m asleep or in a sensual trance.
But this power she has over me is real, and if this is submission, I never want to take back control.
She brings her fingers tenderly to my forehead, where she circles my temples with the pads of her thumbs while leaning close to plant kisses on my face while she massages me. When she stops, her eyes are half closed, her lids heavy and her lips parted.
“My turn,” I demand. She’s already sitting in my lap, so wrap my arms around her and cuddle her against me.
I start off copying her moves, massaging her shoulders and adjusting the pressure based on her happy, contended coos.
A little harder, a little softer, I work my way down her back, all the way to the swell of her hips.
She gasps when I knead her ass cheeks, my hands only able to grab the upper part while she’s still planted in my lap. “This too much?” I whisper, my voice hoarse and my words hardly more than a whisper.
“No,” she says. “Not too much. You’re perfect.”
I want to keep going. To feel her thighs around my neck, to taste her core, but this is a woman I could build something real with.
And I know, now more than ever, that things worth having take time.
Time to shape and grow and develop. Like anything I’ve ever made or fixed with my hands, I know that if I rush this, I’ll fuck it up. I just know I will.
Against every desire of my body, I pull my hands from her hips and hold her forehead to mine.
“Birdie,” I breathe, my lips inches from hers.
I kiss her again, light kisses that only stoke the flames inside me. But I won’t burn the whole place down before I get a chance to learn how to control this heat. I kiss her again and again until, finally, I say, “I think I need to cool off… How about I make us some sweet tea?”
She drops her head to my shoulder and laughs. When she lifts her face to mine, her eyes are dilated, the gray now almost completely consumed by black.
“Crow,” she breathes my name, and it sounds so right coming from her lips, deep pink and swollen from my teeth and kisses. “I would love that.”