Текст книги "Indisputable"

Автор книги: A. M. Wilson

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Текущая страница: 6 (всего у книги 19 страниц)

CHAPTER NINE

Tatum

After Mrs. Marsden passed, I called the nurse down while Finn called David.  Kelsey had already headed home since she was venturing into a 24 hours shift, promising to return after a little sleep.  Finn and I prepared Monica for family and the funeral home, while the staff nurse made arrangements to have her body picked up and transported.

I thought I would be filled with much more sorrow than I am, but after witnessing her death, I can’t help but feel peaceful.  Whatever Monica saw in those final moments was enough to erase her fear and put a smile on her face.  I think I just might believe in angels after all.

“You okay?” Finn asks, grabbing my hand as we leave the Marsden family alone to grieve.  He gives it one gentle squeeze, before releasing it.

“Yeah, I think I am,” I reply quietly, still lost in my swirling thoughts about death and the afterlife.

“I know you were close to her.  She really enjoyed you, you know.”

I smile over at Finn as we stand quietly in the kitchen.  His shaggy blond hair is messy from working an overnight shift, and his light green eyes are sporting tired rings around the bottom.  His looks and his build, at least six feet of lean, hard muscle, make it hard to believe he works as a CNA.  Don’t get me wrong, I love having his strength around here when we do transfers, but he looks like he just stepped off an Abercrombie shopping bag.

“I know.  I enjoyed her too.  I’m going to miss her.”

“Was she your first?”

I nod my head slightly.  Death is much harder when you have a relationship with the person.  She wasn’t even my family, and yet, I feel an immense sense of loss.

“You’ll be alright.”  He pats me on the shoulder, before walking into the office to clock out.  “See you soon?”

“Yeah, Finn.  Thanks for staying with me.  See you.”

It’s after 8 a.m. when I finally leave the home and drive back to my apartment.  School is out of the question today, as I just want to curl up in bed and unwind.  My body is drained, both physically and emotionally, and I need a hard reset.  After a quick shower, I slide into some sweats and a t-shirt before crawling into bed, intending to rest as long as possible.  It doesn’t take long before I’m drifting off into a solid sleep.

When I roll over from my dreamless slumber, the clock on my dresser reads half past two.  I extract myself from the mass of blankets and pad into the bathroom to pee before heading to the kitchen for a snack.  With a PB&J in hand, I plop down on my bed to see what’s on MTV at this time of day.

I don’t have to work today, and I’m grateful.  The head nurse gave me pay for sticking around last night and found someone to cover my shift.  She said she was impressed with my dedication to Mrs. Marsden and wanted to reward me with a good day of sleep after I stayed there all night.  It’s nice to feel appreciated for once; although, I was more than glad to stay without the pay.

As I eat my snack, I’m having trouble focusing on the mindless reality TV in front of me.  My mind is replaying those final moments: the scared look in her eye, the squeeze of her hand, the deep, rattling breath.  And the peaceful look that overcame her right before her final exhale.  As settling as it is, I’m also terrified.  My thoughts are overcome with death.  I wonder if my mom saw anything as she had lain there, the drugs overwhelming her system, waiting for her own demise.  Fuck!  I need a distraction.

I call the one person I know will be here, no questions asked.  Wyatt.

Not even twenty minutes pass before he knocks on my door, surprised I called him in the middle of the afternoon.  He also had the day off today, and sounded eager to come by.  I had told myself yesterday I wasn’t going to call him this week, but I need this.  I need to find some way to unwind, or I’m going to drive myself crazy.  This is the only way I know how.

He sits down beside me on the couch, but I can’t wait any longer.  I need this now.

“Come here, Wyatt.”  Crooking my finger at him, I reach forward to take his shoulders in my hands, pulling him towards me.  He comes easily, like I knew he would, pressing me down until I’m lying on my back, and he’s propped up above me.  “No talking this time,” I tell him, before pulling his mouth down to mine.

He smirks at me before claiming my mouth with his.  Wyatt knows how to kiss, his smooth lips moving gently against mine, his tongue slipping out to trace my full lower lip.  I open my mouth readily, greedily, and slide my tongue out to meet his.  He tastes of peppermint and tobacco, but I don’t mind.  The combination is overwhelming, but I’m used to it.

We don’t waste any time removing each other’s clothing.  His hands come up to slide my tee over my head, his eyes roaming my now bare chest.  He brings both of his hands to my breasts, kneading and massaging my flesh before dipping his head to pull one hardened nipple into his mouth.  I can’t contain the moan that rides out on my exhale.  Wyatt brings his hand down my stomach, slipping it beneath the waistband of my sweats.  He rubs his fingers in slow circles on my core through my lace underwear, my clit throbbing beneath his skilled touch.

“Fuck, you’re wet,” he groans, before slipping my underwear to the side and gliding two fingers effortlessly inside me.

“Wyatt, ah God,” I cry out, the intense rush of pleasure taking me off guard.  He uses his other hand to work my pants and underwear off my hips, shimmying them down my legs where I use my feet to wiggle them off.  I spread my legs wider, giving him unquestionable access, my hips working into his hand, trying to reach the core of my desire.

His mouth comes back down on my breasts, one and then the other.  He alternates licking and softly pinching my rosy nipples with his mouth, each touch sending a zing of pleasure down to where his fingers are working rhythmically.  Wyatt lifts his mouth from my breast, taking my lips with his, giving my upper lip a sharp nip.

“Oh baby, you like that?  Should I make you come like this?”  His words send a hot rush through me.  My body is buzzing, but it’s not enough.  The pleasure is good, but I need more.  On the cusp of my mind are the thoughts of the past couple of days, and I try to will them away.  I need more.  I need Wyatt to rob me of the ability to think and leave behind only the ability to feel.  To erase the anxiety and fear and thoughtful questions swirling within the dark depths.

But he’s not enough.  He’s never enough.  He’s like lidocaine when I need a shot of morphine.

“No, wait.  I need you to fuck me.”

He groans, his fingers not missing a beat.  Taking that as a yes, I reach down and unzip his fly, sliding his pants down just enough to free his hard cock.

“Condom?” I ask on my next breath.  Wyatt circles my clit with his thumb and I close my eyes, moaning his name.  I’m awash with sensation, pleasure.  From his hands, his mouth, his body pressing into mine.

“Front pocket,” he grunts around his own breathy moan.  I reach into his jeans, finding the condom and sliding it down the length of him.  He doesn’t miss a beat as he removes his fingers and thrusts himself inside of me.

“Oh God,” I cry out, the pleasure branching out from that sweet spot deep inside of me, reaching to the tips of my toes.  He stills, holding himself completely inside me, giving me a moment to adjust.  But I don’t want him to wait, I don’t want him to stop.  I need to feel this, to forget everything else so I rock my hips forcefully against his, trying to take him deeper inside me.  Trying to make him move.  Trying to help me forget.

“Again.” I demand, and he does, pulling out the entire length before slamming himself back inside of me, hitting that sweet spot again.  “Fuck Wyatt, again.  Harder.”

“Oh yeah,” he grinds out between thrusts, pushing my body further and further towards the edge.  I can feel my orgasm building, my toes tingling as my legs begin to flex and tighten around his hips.  I start trembling from head to toe as he pushes on, pounding into me harder and faster.

“Keep going, please,” I beg, my orgasm so close I’m panting with each word.  I clench the tight muscles in his back, his shoulders rippling with the effort to hold himself up and drive into me relentlessly.  I can feel him trembling, a light sheen of sweat coating his body as he slides against me over and over again.  He dips his head to pull my nipple into his mouth, scraping his teeth lightly against my sensitive flesh.

“I need you to let go.  I can’t hold on much longer,” he fires at me, and his words spur me on.  My body bows, rising off the couch as I tip over the precipice, my eyes slamming closed from the intense pleasure.  My body rides the waves of its own accord, my hips bucking beneath his as Wyatt finds his own release, pumping rhythmically into me.  And for a moment, I am lost.

Although, it is fleeting.

We lie together on my couch, slick with sweat as our breathing begins to return to normal.  Wyatt pulls himself out of me, and crosses the room into my bathroom without a word.  I sit up and pull my clothing back on before he gets back, curious about his quiet demeanor, yet at the same time receding within my own walls.

When he returns, he dresses and sits down beside me, tossing his arm around my shoulders and begins drawing light circles against my arm.  We sit silently together.

“Is something wrong?” I ask, after he’s been quiet much longer than usual.  He’s usually one to get done and leave a few minutes later.  I can’t remember a time he’s lingered around like this.

He keeps drawing circles on my arm, and I give him a moment, knowing he heard my question.

“Do you ever think about turning this into something more?”

Damn.  I so don’t need this right now.  A bitchy reply tries to claw out of my throat but I swallow it down.  I don’t need to hurt his feelings but he deserves the truth.  We always said if the lines started to blur, everything would stop.  And this is seriously crossing the line of casual sex.  “Honestly?  No.  I don’t think we could ever be more.”

“Why not?” he demands, turning his body to face me.  “We get along, we’re great together, and the sex is amazing.  What more is there?”

“There’s a lot more, actually.  You and I, we’re different people.  We want different things out of life.  In the whole time I’ve known you, I’ve never seen you as more than what we are now.”

“And what’s that?” he questions, “A convenient fuck?”

I can’t ignore the look of hurt on his face.  ‘Well yeah,’ I want to say, but I don’t.  It’s not my intention to hurt him, but I thought we were clear on what we are.

“You and I both know this has just been a distraction—for both of us.  You have your shit going on, and I have mine.  This life isn’t it for me.  I have plans to leave here, and I know you don’t.”  He looks at me with frustration and hurt written all over his attractive features.

“So what?  If you leave, then we’d be done.  It’s that easy.  Why won’t you try?”

“What’s the point?” My own frustration is fueling my emotions, and I’m exhausted; I want him gone.  “If we only plan to stay together until I leave, what’s the point of being together at all?  I’m sorry, Wyatt.  You’re a great guy, but I just can’t.”

“Can’t or won’t?”  He asks, leaning forward to brush his fingers across my cheek.  I pull back from the contact.

“Won’t,” I respond coldly, frustrated with his game.  His ice blue eyes take on a new fire I’ve never seen in them before.

“Who else are you fucking?” he spits at me, his hands gripping my thighs.

“What?” I sputter back, incredulous at the implication.  “Nobody but you, but that wouldn’t matter anyway since I’m not dating you!”  The loose control I held over my inner bitch snaps.  Nobody talks to me like that.

He squeezes my legs tighter, and I’m certain I’ll have bruises tomorrow, but I sit still, knowing the flames are burning down.  He’s going to go; I can see the resolution on his face, his eyes now like glowing embers.

“You’re just enjoying being a little slut too much to be tied down with me.”  His words have me jumping out of my seat and backing away.

“Get the fuck out,” I command, willing myself not to cry.  He stands up, jamming his arms into his coat.  Thank God, he’s leaving.  “And don’t ever come back.  This is over,” I add.  He gives me one last glowing sneer before he yanks my door open.

“We’ll see about that,” he mutters before slamming the door loudly behind him.

Physically exhausted and emotionally drained, I feel worse now than I did earlier.  Dragging my heavy, tired body to my bed, I pull the comforter over my head, burrowing down with no intention of coming out tomorrow either.

It’s after noon when I wake up the following day and finally decide to drag my ass out of bed.  Still smelling like Wyatt and sex, I start the shower to wake myself up.  I spend an unusually long amount of time soaking in the hot water, relishing in the relaxing effect it has on my muscles.  Spending so much time lying in bed the past two days has my body tense and stiff, and this is the closest thing to a massage I’ll ever get.

I’m more agitated than I was yesterday, and after a moment of contemplation, I stick my dripping hand out of the shower towards the vanity.  Pulling open the left hand drawer, I find the implement I seek.  Resting my back against the cool, wet tiles, I lower myself to sit on the shower floor.

The adrenaline from the anticipation is enough to lighten my mood.  This week is all culminating into one giant clusterfuck of emotion I can’t identify.  Mr. Ryan.  Mrs. Marsden.  Wyatt.  One person can only take so much before seeking an out.  This is my out.  My relief.  My escape.  Closing my eyes, I relish in the cool metal blade gliding across my skin.

One.

Two.

Three.

Done.

The air leaves my lungs in a whoosh.  Gazing down, I watch the red swirl intricately with the water as it sluices down my body before disappearing down the drain.  Rinsing away my emotional pain.  I’m filled with relief as cleansing as sucking in a lungful of fresh air.  Staring unseeing into the depths of the drain, my mind once again silenced.  Until the water starts to turn cold.  I turn it off, dry my body, and clean up my arm before replacing one pair of sweats with another.

After dropping my dirty clothes off in my laundry basket, I pull my phone off the charger where I left it last night before I fell asleep.  I have two missed calls and three missed text messages.

Ignoring the phone calls, I look at my messages first.  Two are from Emerson and one is from Kelsey.  I tap Kelsey’s name first.

Checkin in to see if you’re doin okay.  I’m workin with you saturday so we can chat then.  Call me if you need anything.  She sent it around ten o’clock last night.  Scanning the timestamps, I can see Emerson’s text are both from this morning.

Where the hell are you?????

Are you okay? Why are you skipping two days of school, are you mad at me? Text me back when you get this

I’m a horrible friend.  I didn’t think to let Emerson know I wasn’t going to be at school; although, I don’t ever remember really making that conscious decision for myself last night.  Feeling guilty, I type out a quick reply to both my friends, grateful they both cared enough to check in on me.

Since today is Friday and I’m already skipping school, grocery shopping sounds like a perfect way to pass the time.  I can’t remember the last time I had a decent meal and it’s not as if I have anything better to do.

I dig out my knitted brown scarf, wrapping it tightly around my face, and place a matching brown beanie on my head.  Pulling on a light sweater, I grab my keys off the counter and shut the door behind me.  I jog out to the car amid a downpour of rain.

I’m shaking by the time I climb into my car, which is saying something as I parked only 100 feet from the entrance to my building.  Jamming the key in ignition, I turn to fire up the engine.  Instead of the strained whining sound my car usually makes, I’m met with silence.  Nothing.  Nada.  The engine isn’t even turning over.  Flicking my hand to the dome light, it surprises me when it clicks on.  What the hell?  I don’t know jack about cars but my gut tells me that this is more of a Wyatt problem than it is a car problem, seeing as I just had her in for the fuel injectors last week.  I’m fuming as I dig my phone out of my purse, punching Wyatt’s name on the caller ID roughly.

“I knew you couldn’t stay away.  Need me to come take care of you again, baby?” he coos into the phone, smugly.  I don’t have time for his games.

“What did you do to my fucking car?” I spit, anger boiling through my veins.

“I didn’t do anything to your car, sweetie,” he says, patronizingly.  I could fucking strangle him with my bare hands.

“Well the damn thing won’t start, and I can’t think of any other reason except that you fucked with it.”

“Need me to come tow it for you?  I’m at the shop today and I wouldn’t mind taking a little afternoon break.”  The implication in his voice is my breaking point.  He needs to take a freakin’ hint.

“No, I don’t need you to tow it so your shitty shop can do more shitty work on my shitty car!” I yell into the phone.  “I just had my car in your shop last week, so either you messed it up then, or you messed it up last night.  Fix this shit!”  I’m fuming.  My teeth are chattering not entirely from my damp clothes, but from the adrenaline fueled rage in my body.

“Calm down, babe.  Let me get it towed and we can put it back together again.  I just wanted a reason to see you.”  Wyatt has me.  He knows it and I know it.

If he messed with my car, I know he won’t fix it until I agree to come by there, and if he didn’t mess with it, and the piece of junk is just broken, he knows he can give me the best deal around to find out what’s wrong.  I’m screwed either way, and I can practically hear the victory in his voice through the phone.

“I can’t pay for a fix, let alone a tow, Wyatt.  I need to get groceries,” I tell him, hoping he can find an ounce of sympathy somewhere inside his callous black heart.

“I can think of a couple different ways you can pay me,” he taunts, goading me.

“Fuck you, Wyatt.  I don’t need you.”

I’m about to disconnect the call when he says, “Wait, I’ll help you.  When did you get so uptight about shit? Let me send the tow, for free, and I’ll fix it for you.  I just can’t leave work right now.”

I huff in frustration before I answer.  I’m cold and tired, and he’s sitting here playing tricks on me.  If I hadn’t been so positive about the end of our escapades last night, I sure am now.

“Send the truck.  I’ll be waiting inside.”  I hang up before he can answer me, incredibly pissed at his games.

Thirty minutes later, his buddy Cole shows up in the tow truck, sporting a shit eating grin I wish I could slap off his face.  No doubt that Wyatt filled him in on his little joke, and they had a nice laugh at my expense.

When we arrive at the mechanic’s shop, I hop out and give Wyatt a piece of my mind before finding a place to sit.  He told me I have to wait for my car because he has another vehicle in front of mine that needs an oil change, and his boss is hanging around today.  What a waste of a day off.

I pull my phone out of my pocket to mess around on some apps to kill time when I see I have a missed call and a voicemail.  Plugging my free ear with my finger against the noise from the shop, I listen carefully to the message.

 

“Hello, Miss Krause, this is Mr. Stephenson.  It has been brought to my attention by Mr. Ryan that you have been absent from school for two days, and the administrator doesn’t have a record of any notice or valid reason.  Since you do not have a legal parent or guardian responsible for you, I wanted to bring to your attention that regardless of your home situation, you may still be found truant under the law.  I expect to see you in class first thing Monday morning.  If you have circumstances we need to discuss, please call me.  I am here to help, but you need to be willing to ask for it.  We’ll talk soon.”  

 

Guilt overwhelms me at the disappointment in his voice, and I delete the recording.  I’m one week into my last semester of high school and I’m already sliding.  And I’ve disappointed the one person who has stood up for me and has helped guide me through the horror I endured last year.  The only adult who’s ever been there for me in any sort of parental role.  This isn’t like me.  I don’t skip classes or disrespect my teachers or hide out in my bedroom.  I’ve bottled up so many emotions over the past year, that I’m about to burst.

In order to right the situation, I need to make a trip to the school to pick up some homework and talk to my teachers and Mr. Stephenson.  The last thing I need is to be dragged off to court for a truancy charge.

“Wyatt, how much longer on my car?” I call out, because even though I can’t see him, I know he’s in here.  He walks out from behind a large black SUV, wiping his hands on a dirty rag.

“A while yet.  Why what’s up?”

I try to take a deep cleansing breath to eliminate my frustrations.  It’s not working.

“I need to run to the school and get some homework before the weekend since I’ve missed the past two days.  Can you give me a lift?  They’ll lock up the school pretty quick here seeing as it’s already after four.”

“You bet.  Give me two minutes.”  Sure, now he’s being pleasant and cooperative.  The prick.  I shoulder my purse and step outside to wait for him.

The whole five minute drive, Wyatt keeps trying to place his hand on my upper thigh, and I keep having to remove it.  When we pull up to the school doors, I see him unbuckling his seat belt, and I freeze with my hand on the door handle.

“What do you think you’re doing?” I ask, confusion coloring my tone.  “I’ll be just a minute.”

“What do you think I’m doing?  I’m coming with you.”

Before I can get out another word, he exits the car and stands, waiting for me on the sidewalk.  Rolling my eyes, I climb out of the car, powering up the walkway without stopping to wait for him.  He better not lag behind because I want to get this over with, get my car put back together, and not have to deal with Wyatt again.

We climb the steps to the third floor to start at the top and work our way down.  I walk down the hall, leading the way as Wyatt trails behind me, pointing out insignificant things he did when he went to school here.

“Oh dude, I remember setting off fire crackers in this bathroom!  The fire alarms went off, and everybody had to wait outside for the fire department,” he tells me, as if I should be impressed.

I tune him out as I walk, losing hope with each room I pass.  After finding my third classroom vacant and locked, I’m beginning to see this trip was a waste of time.

“Nobody is here.  Let’s check out the second floor and then we can leave.  Sorry for dragging you out.”

Walking down the staircase to the second floor, I can hear Wyatt trailing behind me.  As I step out onto the landing, he grabs me around the waist, pulling me towards him and pushes me up against the stairway wall.  “What are you…”

His hands come down, pinning my arms to my sides as his mouth crashes into mine, cutting off my question.  He doesn’t waste any time as his frantic tongue begins searching, demanding entrance into my mouth.  I keep my lips clamped shut against the assault.

What the hell is he doing?  His hips press into mine, anchoring me to the wall, and I can feel the length of his erection pressing sickeningly against my lower stomach.  He brings both hands above my head, securing mine in one of his large palms, and his other arms snakes around to hold my thrashing head still.

“Stop, Wyatt, stop it!” I call out, fear rising within my body.  My heart begins to race when he doesn’t release me, and the adrenaline kicks in, sending a dizzy rush to my head.

“Shh, baby.  We’re alone, no one will catch us.  Relax,” he says before bringing his mouth down to my exposed neck.  He licks and sucks the sensitive skin there making me shudder in disgust, before biting down roughly when I won’t stop moving.

“I don’t want to.  Get off!”  I try to kick out my legs, to hurt him, to get away, but his hips continue to hold me still.  His left foot tangles with my right, and his right knee digging into my left thigh painfully, holding my legs apart.  Immobile.  I’m trapped between the brick wall and his stone grasp.

“I like it when you’re feisty,” he whispers in my ear before biting me again.  "You're mine, baby.  All mine.  I'm going to remind you of that."

A terrified scream erupts before he clamps his mouth over mine once more, his hand leaving my head to grip my chin painfully.  He slides his fingers towards my throat, closing off my supply of precious air.  In a moment of vicious, desperate lust, he releases my arms to thrust his hand beneath the waistband of my sweatpants.

I wrestle desperately with the hand choking me, but it’s futile.  The digging and scratching of my fingers is nothing compared to the gripping hold he has on my neck.  He’s too strong and he has me exactly where he wants me.

I close my eyes against the onslaught of his fingers between my legs, trying to close down, to feel nothing as he thrusts them inside of me.  I whimper, knowing I’m helpless to defend myself.  My vision blurs, inky blackness creeping in around the edges.  My lungs expand painfully, drawing in nothing but a horrible sucking sound as they desperately seek oxygen.  I’m lost, detaching and retreating inside myself.  I become numb, and I welcome it.