I stand by the truck, duffle bag sitting on the ground as I wait for Kross, wondering where the weird-as-fuck text came from that said to get ready and pack a bag for a couple of days. Then he disappeared for about an hour. I only know he returned by the slam of the front door and the blur of sweaty, inked muscle that passed by me to go to the shower.
I’ve racked my brain, wondering where he went or what he was doing. Or who. I internally slap myself at that absurd train of thought. We’re exclusive, I repeat to myself. He wouldn’t do that to me. Would he?
I’ve never been a jealous person. Hell, I knew Chuck wasn’t only with me and I was perfectly fine with it, given the circumstances. But right now, I want to chain smoke and ask questions, even though I know it’s none of my business. Just because we’re having sex on the regular, living together, and together nonstop doesn’t mean he isn’t still having a side life that I know nothing about. Even though we claim to be exclusive, he doesn’t technically owe me anything as much as he’s already done for me. I did come to him first.
Speaking of sex . . .
I open my purse and dig through it, looking for my pills. After moments of scrounging with no luck, I turn and rest it on the hood to free up both hands, taking out my wallet to make more room. Still, to no avail. Fuck, where are they? I check the last possible place they could be—my small makeup bag for touch ups. Not there either. “I can’t already be out.”
I think back, trying to remember how many I’ve taken. The more I think about it, the more it seems I’ve been popping them like candy almost. That’s likely not what they were designed for.
I’ll just have to make him stop by a pharmacy. I really need to figure out a way to schedule a doctor’s appointment to get back on birth control. I internally sigh. That shit isn’t cheap. This is where insurance comes in handy; something I don’t have.
My pack of cigarettes is lying on top of my wallet from where I dug them out. I grab it, shoving the rest back in, before lighting one. On exhale I turn around, leaning against the side of the truck, attempting to calm my nerves. My eyes close, letting the nicotine fill my lungs. I have to figure out an alternative method here. This isn’t going to work. He’s keeping me too occupied all the damn time. What is alone time anymore? Regardless, something has to change.
Maybe we should have the discussion about him pulling out. I reflect back on the first night, the way he took me without question, no care in the world to what I wanted, and suddenly, I don’t think those kinds of talks work with a man like Kross. He takes what he wants, but I’m pretty sure that’s what drew me to him in the first place. Somehow, it makes me feel different to him that he doesn’t pull out, regardless of whatever the truth is.
I’m a little scared to open up the floor for that conversation. I like living in my little bubble of self-created facts in regard to Kross and me.
Before I can open my eyes, my cigarette is ripped from my lips. When they do, there is one very angry, hot man standing in front of me. There is no sense in someone smelling and looking that good. “What the fuck did I tell you about this shit?”
“What? I was smoking outside of the tattoo shop before Lux showed up and you said nothing. I thought that was our peace treaty.”
He tosses a perfectly good cigarette down and digs it into the ground with his boot. “No, it wasn’t. I was having an internal battle on whether I should be pissed about your jealous outburst or not. Contrary to what you think, I liked it. The responsible business owner won out and shoved the boyfriend aside.”
Boyfriend.
My heart melts a little. Then it’s shot to Hell and back with, “Give me the fucking cigarettes.”
I stomp my foot into the ground like a defiant toddler, crossing my arms over my chest. “Kross, I’m a grown woman. You can’t boss me around outside of the shop. You can ordain it a smoke-free campus and demand that I never touch them inside of your house and even your truck like on Halloween, but outside, it is no man’s land. I can do whatever the fuck I want.”
His palms go to the metal, his face leans in, and if looks could kill I’d already be gone. My insides quiver a little in fear, but outside, I stand my ground. Even when his voice booms like thunder, sending every brazen cell in my body running to hide. “Let me tell you one goddamned thing. If I backed down every time someone told me no I’d still be working for someone else, probably living in some shit apartment to stay low-key, and scared of fucking daylight in fear of running into the cunt of a foster mom who took my virginity, abused me in whatever way she could find, tormented me mentally, and continued to ride my cock until I killed the bitch. Cigarettes bring back fucking memories. They remind me of her smell, her leather skin, and the discoloring of her teeth. It is a hard limit. Now give me the fucking cigarettes—every last damn one—and the lighter too. This conversation is over.”
Words stall in my throat.
Air backs up into my lungs.
Tears threaten to spill from my eyes.
Every muscle falls in mourning.
My heart breaks in two, like it did so many times with Lux. Robotically, I hand him the pack and the lighter, as commanded. For the first time since I was sixteen, nausea engulfs me at the thought of smoking. My mouth opens to speak, but he cuts me off. “I don’t need or want your pity. Get in the truck.”
I do as he says. This conversation isn’t over, but one thing I learned from Lux is that an outburst confession in anger isn’t the place to talk about someone’s demons. It’s merely a way of feeling someone important out before letting them in. She suffered alone for a long time before she told me what was going on.
So, for now I’ll wait. I’ll wait for him to offer me more, because something told him he could trust me with it in the first place or I would have never known. Even those drowning in hurtful secrets only reveals them at the exact moment they want to, to whom they want to. The thing about secrets—they’ll torment your soul forever before they’ll slip to the wrong person.
He opens the back door and tosses two bags on the seat, before rounding the back of the truck, heading for the driver’s side. When he gets in his entire body is tense, his muscles rigid and hard.
I wonder just how burned he is inside. Regardless, he’s the most beautiful man to me, and I only want to know more. “I’ll never tell,” I say, looking at his profile. “But I’ll take some of the burden if you’ll let me. You and Lux aren’t all that different, yet you are.” I reach over and place my palm on his cheek. “I can be your safe haven, Kross. All you have to do is let me in.”
His entire body falls, and he suddenly looks exhausted, as if a kingdom weighs on his shoulders. He places his palm on mine, grabbing my hand, and then pulls it down but doesn’t release it. “I need to check in on one of my shops.” My shoulders slump. He’s shutting down again, like he always does when he gives me a small glimpse of what’s inside. I go to agree when he speaks again. “I need some time with you, away from the fucking shop. Away from here. Just us. I think that’s what I need. Then, maybe I can face it enough to tell you more.”
What small part of me that was still put together shatters. I nod, quickly turning toward the window in just enough time to wipe the tear as it falls. His hand releases mine and he starts the truck, pulling away from the house. And after years of living in silence, I pray.
