Chapter 19
A photo of Ava holding the cat looks back at Dean from his phone. She’s smiling into the camera, her cheek nuzzling soft black and white fur. The text message attached reads, ‘Look who’s home. Can you come over tonight?’
He replies with a ‘yes’, followed by a cat emoji and their flower.
It’s only been half a day, but if it were up to him, he would take up residence in her house or invite her to do the same in his. He is tragically attached to her and how she makes him feel. Wanted. Safe. Enough.
It’s a high better than any hit of pot he’s ever taken and even better than the pills Boone forced down his throat one day in an effort to turn him on to the finer things in life. Dean spent that evening floating in an opioid-induced fantasy, light as a feather and sleepy as fuck. Invincible.
He saves the photo with a flick of his thumb across the screen. It’s the only thing in his album that doesn’t look like the inside or outside of a car. The only sign of a new life taking shape.
He still has to remind himself that none of this is a joke. That this sort of thing, what he always assumed was meant for other people, is happening to him too. Somehow, here he is, with a photo of a beautiful woman on his phone and the real thing waiting for him in person. If someone told him when he was walking into that prison that he’d leave with his other half, he would have laughed.
When the phone rings again, it startles him and for a moment he thinks it might be her. Who else would be calling? Everyone he knows is right here in the shop, or on the other end of Ava’s text message. He almost doesn’t answer, convinced it must be a spam call when the word ‘unknown’ flashes across the screen, but then curiosity gives way and he hits the button.
An automated message from the Georgia State Correctional System asking him to accept a collect call makes him sneer. His brother is calling and it can’t be anything good. Still, Boone is the only family he has left, so against his better judgment he accepts a call from Hell and presses the phone to his ear, prepared to get irritated and upset before the conversation is over.
“Baby brother! Heard the good news. How’s life on the other side?”
Boone’s voice is all fake cheer and happiness and Dean scowls into the open space of the shop, leaning against the Mini Cooper he’d been working on. “Life on the other side is a hell of a lot better than it was in there. What do ya want?”
“Good to hear it. Lotta rumors floatin’ through the grapevine about how you got out early. Like an episode of Dateline and a game of telephone in here with everyone tryin’ to piece that shit together.”
Dean huffs, wanting to get to the point, knowing there must be one. Boone wouldn’t call him just to say hello or to congratulate him on getting out early. “What do you want?”
Boone chuckles on the other end like this is all quite funny. “Alright, alright. Need you to load me up on some commissary. Food in here is shit, soap is shit, toilet paper doesn’t even wipe up all the shit. You know well as I do how bad it is.”
“Speaking of shit, I ain’t doing shit for you. How about that?” He barks out the words, frustrated that Boone would ask for money after being the reason Dean got locked up in the first place.
“Come on. If it were reversed, I’d load you up. You know I would. Wouldn’t leave ya hanging if I could help it.”
He actually sounds sincere and it both grates at Dean’s nerves and makes him feel guilty all at once. Boone would add money to his commissary account if the situation were reversed. He’d go shopping for himself first, of course. Buy smokes and beer and order a pizza and then he’d send Dean a few dollars after he knew he was set, but the fact remains that he wouldn’t refuse.
Neither of them had access to their bank accounts from prison, so they were both out of luck back then, but now that one of them is out, the option is available and part of him wants to say yes. Help his brother when he knows he needs it, make his time in that dungeon a little easier now that he understands how awful it really is.
But then he remembers that he only knows because Boone made stupid choices that cost Dean his freedom and never apologized. Not once.
Silence hangs heavily between the phone line while Dean stews. The push and pull between acceptance and rejection wars in his mind when Boone pipes up again, even sadder than before.
“Don’t need much, fifty bucks? Enough to not starve in here. Do me a solid? You and me, we’re all we got left. Ain’t nobody ever gonna love ya like your brother, Dean. Like your family.”
Dammit.
He feels himself cracking like a weak little bitch the moment Boone uses the word love, something he does so sparingly that Dean can’t remember the last time he said it. When their momma died, maybe. Or when he left for the army, dooming Dean to a life alone with the old man, guilt weighing heavy enough that he told his brother he loved him before he walked out that door. Not enough to stay, though. Not enough to protect him from what happened after he was gone.
Still, for most of his life, he accepted that the only person who could love him was his brother. Even if that love came wrapped in a twisted relationship, full of betrayal and a decent amount of hate.
“Ya there? Come on, man. You’re out now, living the life and breathing fresh air. Heard you even got yourself a lady friend, that pretty nurse that works here. Dunno how the fuck that happened but good on ya, ‘bout damn time you got your dick wet. Better tell her you ain’t got no idea what you’re doin’ so she don’t break you in half. Need some pointers? I can draw you a diagram and mail it over.”
Boone can’t help himself from being a complete asshole. All thoughts of caving and filling up his commissary account vanish into thin air at the mention of Ava. He should have known that given time and rope, Boone would hang himself with his own words.
“Not giving you anything. If ya wanted to eat more than slop and wipe your ass with good toilet paper, you shoulda thought of that before you fucked up and hid a bunch of drugs in my goddamn car.”
He hits the end button on his phone without waiting for a reply, wanting to toss the damn thing across the room and hear it crack.
Dean spends the rest of his work shift trying to think about Ava and not his brother, but for the first time, thoughts of her don’t come as easily. Mixed emotions about Boone tug at him instead until guilt takes over yet again, familiar and reliable, telling him that the asshole piece of shit is still his brother.
Before he clocks out for the day he transfers fifty dollars into Boone’s commissary and feels dirty the moment the transaction is complete.
The relief he expected never comes.
Never again, he’s cutting Boone off cold turkey. Plain and simple.
He may be the only blood relative Dean has left, but one thing he’s starting to realize lately is that someone he cares for, someone he loves, and he loves his brother no matter how much he tries not to, isn’t supposed to make him feel like this. Awful, ashamed, sad and angry.
He can’t wait to see the one person who makes him feel ten feet tall.
* * *
Ava’s all smiles when he gets to her house later that evening, giving him a closed-mouthed peck in greeting and shoving the source of their problem last night into his arms.
“He looks good. Real good, don’t you buddy?” He says first to Ava and then to the cat, who hangs half over his shoulder like a baby ready to be burped, purring and touching his wet little nose into Dean’s cheek.
Ava beams a smile so big that he can’t help but smile right back, so relieved to see her happy again after the stress of the morning. “He’s still a little snotty, but they said two weeks of meds and some special food and that’s it.”
She leads them into the kitchen, where he plops the kitten down onto the island and runs his hand from the top of his furry head to the end of his tail, watching his back scrunch up in delight. Maybe Dean’s not smiling anymore though because her words are concerned a second later, two coffees in her hand that she sets down in front of them. “Are you okay? You look somewhere else right now.”
The conversation with his brother still weighs on him, much as he wants to shake it, but risking her good mood with talk of that nonsense doesn’t sound like a solid plan. He can’t seem to completely dismiss it, though, not when she’s been so open with him about her own past. Telling him things that still haunt her, trusting him with secrets he thinks she might have been ready and willing to bottle up forever.
“Ain’t nothin’ important. My brother called, didn’t go well. Tell you about it later?” He’s trying for a compromise that doesn’t shut her out but also doesn’t lead them into a full conversation about Boone.
She pauses, clearly wanting to ask for more information but granting him space instead. “Okay. Later. I thought maybe we could stay in and watch TV tonight. Sound good?”
“I’m always down for movie night.” He’s handed a bowl of popcorn and they take up residence on her sofa.
“Any requests? Horror fan? Comedy? Porn?” she asks, scrolling through movie choices on the screen.
“Is this a trick question?” Logic says to pick the porn, but in reality what he wants is his own private showing, not random people going at it.
“I’d never trick you,” she teases with a purse of her lips and a slick side-eye. “Let’s go with horror this time.”
He expected some chick flick, but he should know by now that all she does is surprise him.
She leans back into the cushions, curling her legs up to rest along his side like it’s no big thing. He lifts his arm, letting her burrow in next to him while his head dips to press a kiss to the crown of her head, soft strands tickling his face.
Being here with her is familiar, but different. Similar to how they’d been that morning before, they both passed out for a few more hours of precious sleep, but this time there’s no sadness or tears and her body is soft and relaxed from the very start. His favorite person is curled up next to him. Their cat sleeps on his other side like a tiny loaf of bread on the sofa arm. It’s almost too perfect, but instead of doubting it, he sinks further into the cushions and hugs Ava a little closer.
They don’t make it half an hour into the movie before they’re staring at naked people in the middle of what looks like a very satisfying act.
“I was joking when I offered porn,” Ava says with a hint of amusement. “I forgot everyone who dies in a horror movie has to have sex first.”
She leaves a trail of tingling sparks across his ribs with her fingertips, drawing absent shapes there while her eyes remain on the tv screen.
The sex scene they’re watching is ridiculous and when the woman starts moaning, loud and dramatic, Ava muffles a laugh into his shirt. He huffs out one of his own, letting that hand around her shoulder run down to her elbow and then curve around her hip. All he can think about is how she tasted when he had his face pressed between her legs, how soft she was on his tongue, and those sweet little sounds she made while she came.
She tilts her head up to push a kiss to the throbbing pulse in his throat and all thoughts of the TV are forgotten in an instant. His eyes slip closed, hand inching a little lower, taking a chance and cupping the round of her ass in his palm. He’s rewarded with a sharp exhale into his skin, her fingers tracing light patterns into his forearm, leaving goosebumps to prickle unchecked.
The scene on the screen and being this close to her in the first place was already coaxing him to hardness, so when she moves to throw a leg over his thighs and straddle him, so tentative and slow, his cock springs to life, pulsing between them and straining against the confines of his pants.
She’s been here before but last time she was drunk and in tears. This time she’s sober and willing, her weight a delicious intoxication against his crotch. He doesn’t know what to do with his hands. They flail for a moment until her kiss finds his lips and his palms settle naturally on her thighs while she rocks against him. A pitiful groan escapes his throat, prompting a smile from her.
Their pants block them from getting as close as he wants, but even with just this much, he’s nearly done for. She is balanced delicately on his cock, her nose nuzzling into his neck, and he is so fucking close to embarrassing himself beyond repair.
“You gotta…stop…gotta stop.” He forces out a pained whisper against his better judgment.
Ava springs backward like she’d burned him, eyes wide and lips kiss swollen. He grabs her waist to make sure she doesn’t topple over, her reaction so sudden that he doesn’t think either of them were expecting it. “I’m sorry. I thought you wanted—”
“I do. That’s not what I meant.” He balks, saying this out loud is admitting a major fault in telling her he’s got a hair trigger. “If you keep doing that, I won’t last but ten more seconds and I didn’t bring more pants.”
It’s a defeated admission, but he shrugs anyway with a self-deprecating raise of his brows. He is a lost cause and may as well embrace it.
“Oh.” She ducks her head, looking up at him through dark lashes. “It’s okay. I want you to.”
She’s got her hands on his belt, waiting for permission, and he gulps hard, shifting his weight as all the blood rushes south again. He is both terrified and excited and isn’t sure which feeling wins. One thing he does know is that he wants this. Wants her. He gives her a nod and her fingers make quick work of his belt, button, and zipper, hesitating a moment before tugging his boxers down when he lifts his hips.
This is the first time she’s seen him like this and her eyes widen, tongue snaking out to wet her lips as she curls a careful hand around the base of him. He twitches on contact at the first stroke, so light and tentative as if she might hurt him.
If she only knew how hard he works his own hand over his shaft when he’s alone, thinking of her.
She is enthralled by the sight, watching as she moves her palm up and down in long slow strokes, her breath hitching when a bead of pre-cum escapes the tip. Her thumb spreads it around the swollen head and his grip on her tightens, his lower belly clenching. He wasn’t joking when he said he was close. A few more strokes and he’ll be done for. He’s already embarrassed at the very thought but unable to curb the way his hips thrust up into her hand, muffled by the weight in his lap.
“Will you still be okay for round two if we do this now?” she asks.
Dean has to bite the inside of his mouth to keep from exploding at the very thought of pushing deep inside of her. “Fuck yes. I ain’t twenty no more, gonna need a few minutes, but yes.”
He curls a hand around the back of her neck to pull her in close and sucks her lower lip between his. Only makes it three more flicks of her wrist before he’s whimpering into her mouth, white-hot heat coiling at the base of his cock and spurting obscenely over her hand. He doesn’t think he’s ever come this hard before in all his life. Can’t fucking stop either. It hits his belly where his shirt has ridden up and slides down her knuckles, coating his length as she continues to stroke him.
The curve of her shoulder is the perfect place to muffle his curse while his vision swims. Thankfully, she doesn’t pull away the moment it happens, only slows down into an easy rhythm, coaxing the last few shuddering bursts of pleasure from him while her other hand sifts through his hair, cradling him close while he falls apart.
When he finally relaxes against her, his dick twitching but otherwise stated, she sits back far enough to see his face, brings her pointer finger to her mouth, and sucks a drop of semen off the tip.
“Fuck,” he growls, wishing he wasn’t softening or out of breath, wanting nothing more than to spread her legs and spill himself between them, pushing his cum where it belongs.
“Bedroom?” Ava says hopefully.
He chuckles, forgetting for a moment how half-naked he is between them, sneaking a kiss to the side of her neck that makes her sigh. “Hell yeah.”
A shiver rocks her body that passes through his before she reaches over to the side table to grab a tissue, cleaning off her hand and offering him a square that he gratefully accepts.
He doesn’t pull his pants back up, only steps out of them when she tugs him from the sofa and to her room. She steals glances backward every few seconds, trying to hold in a smile that’s both sweet and incredulous, like she can’t quite believe this is happening and he knows the feeling because he can’t either.
Everything is about to change.