Damaged Page 6

  Using the cup next to the sink, I fill the glass with water and pour it into the back of the coffee maker, remembering the days when having a child was on my mind. Back when my career was a dream, when my time was monopolized by Evan and we owned the world together. We could be and do anything we wanted.

  I slip the K-Cup into the machine and turn it on as I remember how he’d hold my belly and plant a kiss there, just below my belly button, telling me what a wonderful mother I would be one day to his son.

  We were fools. I knew this would never last. I knew it back then. Just like I know it now.

  I lick my lips and take in a heavy breath, slipping the ceramic mug with Rise and Shine scrolled on the side under the spigot to the coffee machine.

  I would say that was back when I was young and stupid, but I still am young and stupid, aren’t I?

  My bare feet pad on the tiled kitchen floor as I open the fridge and search for the coffee creamer. I stare longer than I should at the empty spot on the shelf. I can’t even remember to get creamer. My teeth grind back and forth and the throb comes back with a vengeance in my temples.

  I slam the fridge door shut as the coffee maker sputters to life. It’s quite something when you’ve fallen so hard that a mundane task like going to the grocery store is enough to push you over the edge. Maybe I’ve truly gone crazy.

  The front door opening is the last thing I need right now. The door closes softly, like Evan didn’t want to wake me. I wipe under my eyes and push my hair out of my face as I lean against the wall with my arms crossed, waiting for him to make his way in here.

  I can’t explain why I feel guilty. It’s all I feel. Is this normal? I feel like this is what I deserve. Like somehow I’ve orchestrated all of this just so I could feel lonely and miserable. Maybe I just had it too good and I decided I needed to go right back to the mental space I used to drown in.

  “Morning.” I hear Evan’s voice and the sound of a plastic bag crinkling before I see him.

  My lips part to tell him good morning, but then I catch sight of him.

  He looks tired, his scruff a little too grown out, his dark hair a little too long and a bit of darkness under his eyes. For the first time I’ve laid eyes on him, he looks older, more mature but still as handsome as ever.

  His jaw tenses as he rests the bag on the counter and then looks over his shoulder at me. “Did you sleep well?” he asks me, barely looking at me before turning his attention to the corner cabinet and grabbing a mug for himself.

  “No,” I force the word out. “Evan,” I try to talk but my heart slams at the same time that Evan shuts the cabinet and turns around to face me. He leaves the stark white mug on the granite countertop and I stare at it, rather than at him.

  I have to spend time away from him. That’s what I really need. To get used to being alone again.

  “I need you to leave,” I tell Evan and then peek up at him. It hurts to say the words after last night. I should have said them before, but I was so tired and felt so alone. I just needed him then. I used him in a way, but I won’t do it again. I won’t keep pretending.

  He shakes his head, not once or twice but continuously as if he’s in disbelief. Like I didn’t actually tell him that. He had to know it was going to come to this.

  “Last night,” he starts to say and I cut him off.

  “Was a mistake,” I tell him forcefully and my voice cracks. My chest feels tight and it’s harder to breathe, but I stand my ground.

  “We’re different people, Evan.” I try to talk but my words are stuck in my throat.

  “We’ve always been different, Kat. Always,” Evan says and his words come out hard. I can already hear him convincing me. I can already see myself falling right back into his arms because that’s where I feel so safe and so loved. But he can’t hold me forever.

  “I can’t do this, Evan,” I tell him honestly, feeling my heart break. It’s a slow break, one meant to be torturous.

  “Do what?” he asks me cautiously and it pisses me off. The plastic bag crinkles as he reaches behind him, brushing against it and bracing himself against the counter.

  “This. I can’t.” I look him in the eyes even as mine water. I let the tears fall as my blood turns to ice, yet my skin heats.

  Evan takes a step toward me, my name falling from his lips and his arms open.

  “Get out!” I yell at him, feeling the weakness threatening to consume me. Threatening to bring me right back to him. “I don’t want this. I don’t want you here.”

  “It’s going to be alright,” he tries to tell me, that placating tone in his voice making me even angrier.

  “Well it’s not now, and you need to get the fuck out,” I seethe. My body trembles as I look him in the eyes and tell him again. “I need space, and that means you leaving.” This townhouse is in both our names, I’m more than aware of that and he could easily bring that up. He has a right to be here and part of me wishes he would, but he doesn’t. He stares at the ground for a moment, his broad shoulders rising slowly with each heavy breath. My body shakes as he snatches his keys off the counter and leaves, slamming the door behind him.

  I try to convince myself as I move to the counter, bracing my hot palms on the cold stone and focusing on breathing. This is the worst it’s ever been between us. And I know it’s the end of us. I can feel it deep down in my bones. Shattering my core.

  Out of the need to move, to do something and just go through the motions, I reach for the bag on the counter.

  It’s a mistake. Inside is a bottle of coffee creamer.

  It’s so stupid that something like this could shred me. That it can make me fall to the floor. That it can make me feel like I’ve made the worst decision of my life.

  That it makes me feel like I’m alone. And that it’s my fault for pushing Evan away.

  Chapter 10

  Evan

  * * *

  It happened so slowly,

  So slowly I couldn’t see.

  She ruined me, damned me,

  And brought me to my knees.

  I can’t deny there was only one,

  Only her for me.

  One true love is a lie,

  But with her, it has to be.

  It’s funny how love was there right from the start and I didn’t even know it.

  Looking around my old bedroom in my father’s house reminds me of all the times I spent here, but more than anything the last time I was in here. When I was crying like a bitch on my bed, burying my head into the pillow and refusing to accept that my mother was dying.

  I glance at it, the red plaid flannel sheets tucked in tight. Kat did that. She made the bed the next morning. She held me all night. She let me cry and didn’t tell me to stop. She just loved me.

  I think she loved me from the very beginning though.

  I remember that first date we had a few days after meeting her. I could still feel the beat of the heavy music in the club pumping through my veins as I opened the door to my apartment on the edge of Brooklyn. I looked over my shoulder to take a peek at her, knowing the alcohol was wearing off and what I wanted was more than obvious.

  I could tell she was surprised by how nice my place was. There’s a lot of remodeling going on in the city and I spent my money wisely, always have.

  The second the door closed, my hands were all over her just like they had been in the taxi and in the club. We were magnetized toward each other.

  That’s why I think it was love. Lust is one thing. It comes and goes. And the moment you’re filled and satisfied, disinterest takes its place. But that’s never been the case for us. There was always more. Even as we grew apart, it only made what could be that much more tempting.

  I turn the lights off in my bedroom as a distant siren drowns the silence of the room and headlights from a passing car leave stripes of light moving through the small space.

  Again, I remember what we used to have. Who we used to be. The first night is all I can think about. The day she ruined
me forever. And I didn’t even know it was happening.

  She wrapped that sweet mouth of hers around my dick before I could stop her. We’d only just gotten inside and I was planning on moving a little slower. But I would’ve skipped the foreplay and gone straight for what I wanted. I wasn’t going to tell her no though.

  I was paralyzed as she dug her fingers into my thighs and sucked her way down my length. Her cheeks hollowed as she moaned and I swear I almost came just from the sight of her.

  My balls tightened as she pulled back, letting my dick pop out of her mouth and then licking the tip. Her tongue slid up my slit as she worked my shaft and then did it again. The sight of her on her knees and practically worshipping my dick is something I can never forget. It was the shock mostly, I think. A woman who was already too good for me. A woman who was probably slumming it, was on her knees devouring me and loving every second of it.

  My fingers speared through her hair as I closed my eyes and let myself enjoy it. Only for a moment though. I wanted more of her and I was sure I only had the night.

  Time moved so slowly as I savored each second of her, wanting more and knowing I could have it, but not ready for it to end.

  She stared up at me, licking her lips and shaking her head when I tugged on her to come up and stop. Her lips were already swollen as she panted and then leaned forward. Ignoring me and taking what she wanted.

  I watched as she closed her eyes and pushed me all the way to the back of her throat, forcing me to groan from deep in my chest. I fisted my hand in her hair and pulled her off of me; it was fucking torture, wanting what she was giving me, but knowing I’d need more.

  “Strip down,” I groaned out, my head leaned back and my eyes closed. As if I had any control at all over her.

  She shook her head again and I couldn’t believe the plea that slipped from her lips.

  “I want you to cum in my mouth.” She said it so simply, but full of truth. Her voice was laced with desire, but it was the way her shoulders rose and fell with her heavy breathing and the way she scooted closer to me, eager and begging for more that convinced me.

  I could never say no to Kat. She doesn’t ask for a damn thing. Never has, and I’ve wished she would. I’d give her the world if I could. But that night there was no fucking way I was going to deny her that.

  I’m a selfish man, after all.

  I slipped my hand around the back of her head as my toes curled. I was almost embarrassed by how quickly she made me cum.

  She didn’t stop swallowing until I was spent and even then, she bobbed lightly on my dick and sucked like she wanted more. My greedy little sex kitten.

  After she was done with me, when I’d pulled my pants up and stared down at her, the atmosphere changed.

  “I don’t have sex on the first date,” she said shyly, a blush rising to her cheeks as she slowly stood up, trying to keep her balance by gripping onto my arm. She was hesitant, embarrassed maybe. I think it was vulnerability. I think she was afraid I’d be done. She was afraid it was only lust.

  “Oh yeah,” I responded, still trying to catch my breath and get a sense of who this girl was. “So what’s this then?”

  When I looked in her eyes, I knew what the real reason was. She thought I’d be done with her if I got her in bed.

  More importantly, it meant she wanted to keep me.

  The pride that filled my chest at the thought has never felt so good.

  She wanted more and all the same, she was terrified to have me. Maybe scared she couldn’t keep me, or scared to keep me. I still can’t tell which was the motivating factor.

  The thought made my still-hard dick even harder. And I stroked myself once and then again until she noticed. A smirk lifted up my lips as I saw her eyes widen.

  “What if I want you? What if I want to take care of you now?” I asked her, taking a step forward and forcing her backward. Her knees hit the bed and she nearly collapsed, the heat growing between us and nearly suffocating me.

  I kissed my way down her neck, letting the heat between us get higher and higher.

  “Not just yet,” I said as I stroked my dick again, feeling it turn hard as steel again already. “Let me taste you,” I whispered.

  Her gorgeous eyes peeked up at me through her thick lashes.

  “Take it easy on me, will ya?” she asked me, again feigning a strength that wasn’t quite there. She was vulnerable and weak for me. Both of us knew it, only she was pretending she wasn’t.

  It’s something that made me crave her more.

  “Sure,” I whispered in her ear as I pushed her onto the bed. But I never had any intention of holding back when it came to her.

  I fucked her as hard as I could into that mattress. I buried myself inside her and held off as long as I could, taking her higher and higher each time until she was holding on to me for her life. Her nails scratched and dug into my skin as she screamed out my name.

  I destroyed her the best way I could. And I’ve never been more proud of anything else in my life.

  She’s an emotional woman, Kat is. I didn’t see it at first, but that night, our first night, I knew it. I could practically hear her tell me she loved me. If nothing else, I know she loved what I did to her.

  I wanted to hear her tell me those words so badly. More than anything else, I wanted this woman to admit it. She fell in love with me that first night.

  I was desperate for it.

  I didn’t realize that night that the look in her eyes was exactly what I felt too. Desperate to keep her, but knowing it was never supposed to happen.

  I whip around, facing the door as the sound of someone coming brings me back to today. Six years later, that night is just a distant memory.

  The door to my bedroom opens wide, creaking as it does and revealing my father. I haven’t seen him like this in a long damn time.

  His hair’s been gray for a while, but it’s just a bit too long and in a t-shirt and flannel pants, he looks older. Beaten down even. Just a few years can change everything. Has it been that long since I really looked at him?

  “You getting comfortable in here?” Pops asks me as he walks in and takes a look at the dresser. He runs his hand along it and then makes a face as he turns his hand over and sees the dust there. As he wipes off his hand on the flannel pajamas he adds, “It’s about time you came back to clean your room.”

  A rough chuckle barely makes its way up my chest.

  “When are you moving out of this place?” I ask him jokingly.

  “When I’m dead and gone,” my father answers me the same way he has for years now. Ever since Ma passed, I’ve wanted him to move. He won’t though and I can’t blame him.

  “Good thing I’m not in a nursing home. Don’t think you’d like to crash there, would you?”

  I give him a tight smile, feeling nothing but shame. I lick my bottom lip and run my hand through my hair searching for some sort of an explanation, but I can’t lie to my father and I don’t want to tell him the truth.

  “I messed up before with your mother, you know. She kicked me out. I thought it was over.” My father flicks on the light and walks toward the bed, ignoring the fact that I just wanted to pass out and try to sleep.

  “I was younger than you though. By the time I was your age, we’d had you. I’d settled down and stopped being stupid.”

  “What’d you do?” I ask my father out of genuine curiosity. I’d never seen anything but love from my parents. They never fought in front of me and the one time I came home early, catching them in the heat of a fight, they stopped immediately.

  Later that night, when I was sitting in front of the TV, cross-legged and way too close, all I could hear was him apologizing in the kitchen. It’d been quiet all afternoon and night.

  “I don’t want you to go to bed mad at me,” I heard him tell her.

  It was the only fight I’d ever witnessed and I remember being scared that he’d done something that Ma wasn’t going to forgive.

  But she
did. I never asked back then, and I’m sure if I did he wouldn’t remember. And this fight he’s talking about obviously isn’t that.

  “What do you think?” he answers me. “We were young and stupid and had a bad fight over money or something. I got drunk, kissed a girl at a bar. I felt like shit about it and she smacked me right across the face too.” He smirks at the memory. “She beat the hell out of me. Kicked me out.” The smile falls and he shakes his head as he adds, “I deserved it.”

  “I can’t imagine you ever doing that.”

  “I loved your mother. I was angry at her over something stupid, I can’t even remember what.”

  The silence stretches between us as he struggles to come up with what to say next. “I proposed to her a few months after we got back together.” A huff of a laugh leaves him and he adds, “God rest her soul,” as he twists the wedding band around his ring finger. He’s never taken it off. For the same reason he’ll never leave this house.

  He still needs her. Even if it’s just the memory of her.

  “The point is, we all make mistakes,” he says and then squares his shoulders at me, raising both of his hands and shaking them, “when we’re young and allowed to be stupid.”

  “I’m not that old,” I tell him halfheartedly. I know what he’s getting at, but I don’t need to be lectured. I’m well aware of how stupid I’ve been. He’s the one who has no idea how badly I’ve fucked up.

  The silence drags on again and all I can think about is every position I’ve put myself in where not being faithful to my wife would have been easier than it should be. I focus on that and not the night that still haunts me.

  “What are you doing, Evan?” my father asks as I dump my bag on the bed. “You’ve fucked up more than you should have. You’re too old to be carrying on like this.”

  My initial reaction is to bite back that he’s wrong. That he has no idea what’s going on. But it wouldn’t matter.

  I nod my head and let the strap from the bag fall off my shoulder. “Yeah, I know, Pops.”