30. What’s In Gideon Bell’s Suitcase?
What’s In Gideon Bell’s Suitcase?
That night, we stayed at my house. Seemed odd enough having sex above the body of my ex; sleeping there was a bit too much to fathom.
Maybe in a way this was my own fucked-up little goodbye to Bryan.
For the cheating, the pushing, the hateful comments and constant pressure to stay just as messed up and altered as he was.
It should’ve been awkward, uncomfortable, as Gideon followed me into the shower.
It wasn’t. My cheeks flushed as he washed every inch of me, the sounds of his quick breath and groans as I did the same for him.
We hadn’t made it out of the shower before he was shoving me against the wall, the steam making it hard to breathe as he took me there too.
For Gideon, having been a virgin—a thought that still baffles me—he learns quickly.
I’m not surprised; Gideon is good at anything he wants to be.
Unwavering focus and attention to detail make for mind-blowing orgasms. I’d nearly fainted when he’d pulled the shower head down, his hand keeping me pinned by the neck as he swapped through the settings, finding the one I liked.
He’d kept me trapped there, forcing me to the brink over and over.
I was boneless by the time he’d turned me around and thrust into me, my palms braced on old yellowing tile.
It was like slipping on your favorite pair of pajamas. Later, when he tucked me into bed, nestling Krissy in my arms, I didn’t care so much about… literally anything. Just that Gideon was warm at my back, he was home, and I’d perhaps waited my entire life to have him just like this.
That he’d been waiting too.
I stretch out like a warm house cat on his bed, my sketchbook and colored pencils scattered and lost on the sheets.
The sound of people filing in and out downstairs, someone playing somber music in the viewing room.
It burns, sure, but grief is an ugly beast. It takes without warning or mercy, fading and ebbing, convincing you that hey maybe it’ll be alright.
Maybe I’m getting better before it rears its ugly head again.
The cut on my lip is ghastly, but Jessica has lost more than her vanity.
If my staying away helps them, fine. If placing the blame on the people trying to help her gives her any sense of purpose, there’s not much that can be done for it.
So long as Gideon keeps his cool, which I think he will.
He stared at the cut a lot, which only added to my self-consciousness.
He licked and kissed it even more, which made me forget why I felt anything but beautiful under his musings in the first place.
The temptation to see him in action is nearly too much to bear as I slip off his bed to peek over the balcony.
The funeral is fully underway now, the doors closed to the viewing room, Pastor Lemmings reciting scripture just a little too long.
When my feet fully lower off the bed, I nearly stumble, my heel catching something.
I pitch forward, catching myself before whirling around to see what I tripped on. The corner of…
Oh, his suitcase.
I hook it with my toes, having every intention of shoving it back under, but suddenly I’m pulling it the opposite way, curiosity gnawing at my bones.
We spent all evening yesterday talking about my life after he left, the ugly details omitted, although he saw the scars.
Kissed and doted on every one and then held me when I cried about it.
He’d had little to nothing to offer about his. He worked, slept, and existed.
While not hard to believe, in ten years there had to be more than that.
Finding out his dad had passed and that he’d had nobody with him brought a fresh wave of harsh emotions.
Mr. Bell was a good man; he deserved better than that.
My heart aches as I plant myself on the rug in the middle of the room, flipping the unzipped lid of the suitcase up.
My brow furrows, hesitant as I reach in, shifting through the contents, counting as I go.
Seventeen VCR tapes, marked only by their numbers.
I pick one up, my fingers grazing something underneath it.
A manila envelope.
Anxiety strikes me a little then, for the life of me I’m not really sure why. I believe Gideon when he said there’s been nobody else, not that he owes me that, but the thought still makes me a little sick.
“Go ahead, puppet.”
I flinch, dropping the envelope inside the case before I whirl around, meeting Gideon’s intense blue eyes. He looks so handsome all done up in his suit; it only makes my sputtering worse. “I wasn’t trying to snoop. I tripped on the suitcase and I—"
He smirks. “Look at it.”
“It’s okay, I don’t really want to. It’s not my business really I—"
“Audrey,” he warns.
I ignore him, getting up from the floor. “The funeral isn’t over yet. Why are you up here? Do you need my help?”
His steps toward me are nothing more than calculated stalking, my heart fluttering in my chest as he presses his lips to my forehead. “I wanted to check on you.”
“Oh.”
The silence drags on, and damn him.
I hold out, my teeth scoring my inner cheek.
It doesn’t last long.
“What’s with the tapes?”
His thumb brushes my lip, his other hand snagging my waist. “Documenting my work,” he says simply, like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
I shudder, trying to pull away from him, the roughness of his bandaged hand scratching my skin. “Ew, like videos of you working on bodies?”
His smirk deepens.
“Gross, Gideon. What about the envelope? Oh, sick.” I cut off, smacking at his chest, making a soft, halfhearted chuckle leave his throat. “Don’t tell me that’s pictures.”
He brings his hand to his lips, pretending to lock them.
I roll my eyes, dropping to the floor and making a dramatic and pointed show of zipping up the suitcase and shoving it all the way to the back wall behind the bed with my legs. “No, thank you!”
My heart stops when Gideon’s shins meet my back, his body bowing over, hand gently angling my head back so I’m forced to stare at his handsome upside-down face. “I wouldn’t mind if you looked. There’s a VCR in the living room. I want you to know everything about me.”
I grimace despite the soft musings of his thumb on my skin, making my belly feel downright giddy. “Sometimes secrets are okay.”
“Not for me. Not with you. I don’t think… I don’t know what I’d do if I found out you were keeping something from me, Audrey.”
My brow knit together. “I would never keep things from you, Gideon.”
The smile he offers is almost warm, but there’s something in the underwriting, something that makes goosebumps dot my arms despite the warm room. “I know, puppet, because you’re perfect.”
Damn me, my heart melts at his weird nickname.
He must like the smile that blooms on my face because his lips take mine again.
Soft and slow, savoring. Like simply seeing it isn’t enough, he has to taste it too.
“Lemmings is finishing up downstairs. I’ll be gone for a while finishing up at the grave—"
I laugh, finally pulling away from him and spinning to press my back against the side of his bed. “I survived ten years without you as my shadow. I’ll be fine for a few hours.”
For a few fat seconds, the only response is the clenching of his jaw. Before he lets out a breathy of course.
When he heads from the room back to the grieving Jordans downstairs, I lift myself from the floor, heading to the living room to watch TV and forsaking my art supplies for now because no way in hell am I hanging out in that room with those tapes.