33. Abigail – “Life is one grand, sweet song so start the music.” — Ronald Reagan
33
Abigail
“Life is one grand, sweet song so start the music.” — Ronald Reagan
I pull into the driveway, my body jostling from side to side as the headlights beam on the closed garage ahead. Pressing the clutch, I hit the brake and turned off the engine. The bar cleared out a little earlier than expected, so I got off by 12:30. It was five past one in the morning. Too late to make a wish since it’s well past 11:11, but it looks like my wish may have already come true. I don’t see Naomi’s car here, but that doesn’t mean Colt didn’t take her home with him. He’s a guy with needs; I shouldn’t expect him never to have a woman around. The first day coming here proved that. But tonight, when I saw Naomi touch his arm and whisper in his ear, making him laugh, it brought up all sorts of emotions inside me. The pain in my jaw reminded me of how I felt for one full hour, the length of time Colt and Naomi stuck around until they decided to leave.
When I exit my car, I realize I don’t see Colt’s car here either, unless it’s in the garage. I did see another car I had never seen before. Being the curious creature I am, I decided to go inside the main house first to see if the dread in my stomach matched the assumptions in my head.
I grab my bag with the corset in it. I changed into a T-shirt before I left the bar. While I felt pretty exposed, more than I’m used to with a few pairs of eyes on me all night, I quirk a smile to myself, thinking of the wad of cash in my pocket right now. It’s not nearly what I could make bartending at the strip club next door, but it’s more than I usually earn in a week. And I can't lie. I kind of liked the attention. I see why some girls got addicted to it.
I knew the moment his eyes were on me tonight when he walked in, and I was at the jukebox. I could see him in the corner of my eye when I walked to the bar, too. And I know that look, possessive. I lock the truck door. My heart fluttered against my chest as I headed for the house.
I hate the idea of leaving. This house has become familiar and warm, like a home. Something I’m not used to, and even though I knew Colt can be blunt and come off rude sometimes, I do like him.
He cares.
Of course, he doesn’t express his concern very eloquently, but I know his intentions are in the right place. And if Blake stuck around longer, maybe he could have seen that about Colt, too. It’s nice having someone look after me and give a damn about what I do. I would never admit that, of course.
I unlock the front door, apprehension settling in between me. Entering the house, I scan around. The TV was still on, and the sound was turned down almost all the way. I looked at the couch and saw Colt’s mom asleep. She had a blanket wrapped over her, lying on her side with a pillow propped underneath her head. She looked so peaceful, and I must admit, I hope I look half as good as her at her age.
She had a few faint wrinkles around her crow's feet, but other than that, she had smooth skin. The TV screen lit up her face each time a new scene played. I quietly reached over, grabbed the remote, and turned off the television.
Bodie must have been asleep for a while now, but why was the light turned on upstairs? Did Colt’s mom forget to turn it off? I’ve only been upstairs a few times. One time, I snooped around and just wanted to check the place out, and another time, Colt had some of his clothes in my laundry, so I folded them and placed them on his bed to put away. I placed my foot on the first step. My ribs tightened as I found it hard to breathe suddenly.
Should I go up there? What if I walk in on them?
At the same time, I couldn’t hear anyone talking, laughing, or making sex noises. I took another step and another until I reached the top of the upstairs. The light was turned off in Bodie’s room. And so was Colt’s. But the door was cracked open in the other room, the one that was always locked, and I could see a light shining through. Maybe Nora grabbed something in there and forgot to shut the light off. I’ve never been in that room, so I assumed it was a storage room or something.
I slowly reach the door, placing my hand on the knob. I’m not sure why my heart was beating so fast. Maybe it's the couple of shots I took in my car when I got home. Or the thought of finding Naomi and Colt in there sound asleep, making me feel like an idiot for my hopeful thoughts about Colt and me.
I cracked open the door to make sure no squeaky noises leaked through. When I didn’t hear anything, I continued to open the door. I cover my mouth as soon as a wince leaves my chest. Records, piles of records posted up against the wall, along with an old vintage record player, the same one I saw in Blake's room, caught my immediate attention. I looked around and saw the walls filled with posters of rock bands, musicians, and even some well-known rap singers you couldn’t deny made history, like Jay-Z. There were a couple tiny pinup posters of naked women with the weed flower covering their private parts. It felt so weird being in this room. Like I was taken back in time and felt his presence again. Tears pricked my eyes, and my breathing evened out as memories of peanut butter cookies and bench-lunch talks flooded my mind. The room was well overdue for a cleaning. I could see the inch-thick dust from here piled on all the furniture. Despite the lack of TLC, the room was given, it was so Blake.
“I miss him,” I whisper, barely audible, even to myself. The only thing that looked out of place in this room was Colt, passed out on Blake's twin bed.
Jesus, he was tall, abnormally tall. His feet practically hung off the bed. His carved jaw was square and hard as stone. His tousled hair begged for a tug, and I wondered what he was like when he was younger—before being drafted to the NFL, before Blake's death.
Did you fuck him?
Colt's words come to life the first conversation we ever had about Blake in the coffee shop. I told Colt no, and that was the truth. My truth anyway, but there were some things I should have mentioned. I had kissed Blake, and he had kissed me more than once, and in another life, one where my parents didn’t act like they hated me, and Blake hadn’t been devoured by his addiction, maybe we could have been more. Perhaps we would be getting married this year on our twenty second birthdays, like he promised.
As I watched Colt sleep, he looked split down the middle of a strong, famous athlete battling a hidden depression no one saw. He only gave the world the happy, put-together self. The strong athlete. A healthy, successful NFL player. I know how hard that was to do because I did it myself. More often than not, it seemed like. In a way, suffering from an eating disorder was no different. People saw what they wanted to see. Perspective was everything, but I lost one Killian brother. I was not going to watch another one ruin himself. Thank God it’s just Colt I had to worry about and not Josh too.
His chest moved up and down as I tiptoed over to grab the book lying on his chest. I didn’t think he read books, but I realized it wasn’t just any book as I got closer. It was my zodiac book—the Secret Language of Relationships. I’m unsure why, but I look behind me before gently picking the book up to see what he could have looked up in my zodiac book. When I flip the book over, a small smile crosses my face. At the top of the page was my birthday and his in big black numbers.
November 3-11, week of Depth
January 23-30 The week of Genius
Nothing Short of Amazing
Strengths: Miraculous, productive, exploratory
Weakness: frightening, suspicious, uncomprehending
Best: love
Worst: marriage.
I looked up. Love was our best attribute together? I would have never thought to think that since he was an air sign. Intrigued now, I read on to find out how our relationship would be, according to the stars.
When these two combine their energies, the results can be nothing short of miraculous. Indeed, the chemistry here is somewhat unfathomable, for the partners themselves have difficulty figuring out how such completely different approaches can yield such wonderful results. Aquarius I’s don’t always understand Scorpio II’s that well, seeing them as people who always do things the hard way. Meanwhile, Scorpios II’s are usually amazed when Aquarius I does something in half the time it would have taken them, but they remain a little suspicious of their partner's methods. These two should not delve too deeply into such mysteries since things often work best when their underlying mechanisms stay hidden. Love affairs here can be highly romantic. Scorpio IIs usually solidify in control of these relationships. However, since they generally find their Aquarius lovers thoroughly, captivating, and charming, they can easily be manipulated, and their dominance is not oppressive. Should the romance lead to marriage, Scorpio II’s find their spouse troublingly flight and unable to share their serious approach to things. But few personalities in the year can take their minds off their career worries when they get home after a hard day’s work as easily as fun-loving Aquarius I’s.
ADVICE: Get back to the real world occasionally. Be careful of your effects on others. Don't succumb to the dark side. Use your energies constructively.
I closed my eyes, feeling these words enter my soul. There was no way I could act like I didn’t see those words on this page. Acting like they didn’t exist. I knew this dynamic pull I was feeling wasn’t all in my head, but the question was, did he feel it, too? Or did he look at me as another piece of ass that he could conquer?
When these two combine their energies, the results can be nothing short of miraculous.
And there you have it, ladies and gentlemen. Colt Killian and I would be a walking miracle if we got together and made this work. Or getting together would feel miraculous since it mentioned energies. I bring my hand to my lips, remembering our kiss. The one that jolted me from my dormant sex life. I shake the idea out of my head. As much as I loved the thought of Colt being all about me, I knew that would never happen. He’s a hot NFL player who could have anyone. I was a regular girl who worked hard at everything she did and never relied on her looks to gain anything from anyone. He would eventually get tired of me and my ambition, it says so right here.
Two things I learned about Colt Killian just no, his birthdate and that he is having a hard time letting go of Blake Killian and the guilt that came along with his death.
I slowly placed the book back on his chest, and the second the book touched his body, I knew it was a bad idea because his eyes shot open. He quickly grabbed my hand as if trying to catch an intruder. He held my gaze as he held my hand in his wrist, his piercing blue eyes flickering between mine.
“I….I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you. I saw the light on, and I…” trailing off, he leans up, still holding my hand. He takes his other hand to remove the book from his chest and places it on the bed.
His lip curls and I’m not sure if it’s a snarl or a smirk, but I’m going to go with a snarl since his blue eyes look molten.
“Colt, I’m sorry I didn’t know this room was-” I hesitate. I want to say Blake’s name, but I’m afraid that may set him off even more now. “I just wanted to make sure you-you.”
“I was what?” He seethes.
“O-Okay”
“Liar.”
I flinch, blinking rapidly at his statement. I felt dizzy. I’m confident the alcohol was affecting me now, or maybe it was the fact that Colt Killian had no filter when it came to saying what was on his mind.
“I’m not lying. I saw your mom passed out on the couch, and a light was on up here. I wanted to make sure it wasn’t Bodie’s room, so I came to check on him. I didn’t know if he was awake. But when I saw it coming from this room, I thought Nora came in here and forgot to shut the light off.” Our eyes flickered like zigzags as we stared into one another’s pinned gazes.
“I’d appreciate it if you released my wrist now so I can shower and sleep.”
He stands, pulling me in closer to the point we’re touching.
God, he’s so tall.
I only had my tennis shoes on, so his six-foot-two-inch frame towered over me, making me feel even smaller. I could feel the heat radiating off his body, and my body and my dumb hormones began to react to it.
He was so damn gorgeous, even when pissed. It’s no wonder he could have any girl at his mercy. He didn’t have to be in the NFL for women to succumb to him. His attention alone made me feel like I was the only thing in this world he focused on. Maybe it was a football thing, but he was intense with his gaze.
“So you looked us up in my book, huh? Thought you didn’t believe in that bogus.” I say, hoping it relieves the tension, the heat firing between us.
He swallows hard. “Well, I had to do something to figure out how someone that I’ve never dated or been inside of could piss me off and drive me crazy all at the same time. So, I wanted to know what I could do to fix it.”
A nervous laugh leaves me. “Wh-what are you saying? You’re going to date me now?”
“No, I’m saying I’m going to be inside you.”
Holy shit. Did he just say what I think he said? Wait? What is even happening? Did something happen between Naomi and him? And now he thinks he can use me to blow off some steam? Even though a tsunami of emotions were pouring through my entire body, I kept my cool.
“Classic. Did Naomi and you get in a fight or something? And now you think you can just fuck me to ease your pain. Well, it ain’t happenin’.”
“You are the fight.” He growls.
I blink rapidly at him.
“I left because I didn’t want anything to do with her. Because I was too busy thinking about you.”
I don’t move. His hands are still wrapped around my wrist, and my neck is strained from looking up at him.
“So, I’m the reason you have so much steam you want to blow off, huh?” I taunt, staying as calm and collect as I can manage. I have no idea what is happening right now. He’s breathing hard as if he’s just getting fired up.
“She won’t satisfy me.” He says. “She’s not the one I want.”
Holy shit. Holy shit, Holy shit. Realization hits me like lighting mixed with a ton of bricks, and I swallow hard. Remembering all the fucked up things my cousins used to do to me. The things Namoi said recently about me. The shit I’m sure she talked about me tonight with Colt about working at Shifters and something washes over me. Something so powerful that it changes me inside. Turns the switch.
I inhale his scent, and faint fragrances linger. The tide I used to wash his clothes earlier this week is mixed with cedar and sweet pear. He smells like a hot summer night out in the woods. I soak it all up because I know I’m going to wake up any minute, and he will come to his senses.
“So, did you invite Namoi to the bar to make me jealous? Was that part of your game?”
He doesn’t say anything; he looks down at me. My heart pounding against my chest, I continued. “The thing is, if you rode Naomi like one of your horses, all night long, you’ll still wake up thinking about me, won’t you?”
His breathing grows heavier, and I can see him weakening. I continue.
“You’ve been wondering what I’ve been doing in my bed alone, all by myself?” I push up on my toes, hover my mouth over his bottom chin, and whisper. “If I’m touching myself dreaming about you coming in my room and eating me out through my panties. Or you barging in and fucking me the way you did, Heidi. My legs spread wide.”
He sucks in a breath closing his eyes, and I can feel him get hard against his jeans.
“Abigail,” he says.“Fuck.” He breathes out
I try to keep my smile to myself. But I’m so happy. I know he wants me now. Me. Not my cousin. Not Namoi, but me.
He slowly releases my wrists.
No, no, please, no.
Was I wrong?
Colt’s lips are twisted in a snarl. There’s no mistaking it this time, and he’s breathing hard, in and out. In and out. As he glares down at me, I can feel him, it’s there. And it’s like we are wrapped up together, the heat between us suffocating, and all he has to do is pull me into his arms and take me.
But he doesn't. He stands there, and tears burn at the back of my eyes as he hoovers, unmoving, unwilling. My heart is breaking, inch by inch.
Shaking my head, I say. “So, guess it’s true football players can score a touchdown but would lose at finding a girl’s clit.” I scoff and push away from him. Pissed and humiliated, I just wanted to go back to my room and get some sleep. That is if I can sleep after this fucked up encounter. But then, suddenly, he grabbed my arms and hauled me back to him. I gasp as he puts his hands under my ass, lifting me so I’m face to face with him now.
“I may be hands-off with practice this season, but that pussy will never be hands-off after I’m done with you.” He brings me in, kissing me. Stealing my breath, I wrap my arms around his neck, squeezing my legs tighter around his waist.
“I’m dying to taste you,” he whispers. This is happening, and all I can think is…
Fuck yes.