Torn: Chapter 18

‘Grab the rope out of the truck,’ I yell to Tristan.

‘Tor, you can’t go down there with your back problems.’

‘No shit, that’s why you’re going. Get the fucking rope.’

Tanner laughs as our brother takes off for the truck. ‘It’s about time the kid gets his hands dirty.’ He says.

‘True, bro. Let’s not drop him, though. I’m not going in after him and the dog.’

We stare down over the side of the bridge as Tris runs back to the truck. The river is raging beneath us, and a black lab is clinging to the side of the embankment, his back legs in the water. It’s a miracle he’s not being swept away by the current and the only thing I can think that his collar must be snagged on something like a rock or tree branch, keeping him where he is. If whatever it is lets loose, he’s going to be dragged down into the water and downstream and will most likely drown.

It’s almost impossible to climb down the sides of the steep hills on either side of the river. So, he either fell in, or more likely, got thrown in. This bridge is nicknamed Suicide Bridge because a few people have jumped to their death off of it a few times over the past few years. The river runs over huge granite rocks that are sometimes covered by the water if we get lots of rain and flooding. I’m not sure how he lived if he was thrown in.

When Tristan comes back with the rope, we rig it around him and he climbs down the steep mountain with us holding onto the rope at the top of the bridge so he can’t fall. When the dog sees him, it starts to get excited and digs frantically at the embankment with his front paws, whining.

Tanner and I are both pretty big guys, so we don’t have much trouble holding up our 180lb little brother, but the weather is stormy today with strong gusts of winds that keep blowing him around.

‘Tris is Mom’s favorite, ya know. If we lose him, she’s gonna kill us,’ Tanner teases.

‘I’m Mom’s favorite, asshole.’ I joke back. ‘If we lose him, I’m telling her you pushed him in.’

‘Grab the dog, you wuss! I got shit to do!’ Tanner yells down at him.

‘Don’t make him nervous, man.’

He gives me his evil grin. ‘It’s good for him. Too bad Ty’s not here. He’d jump right the fuck off this bridge and grab that dog in about two seconds flat. We wouldn’t need this rope bullshit.’

Tris reaches for the dog, tries to grab him, misses, and tries again.

‘Let’s lower him a little more.’

A few more inches of rope gives him enough slack to grab onto the dog, but he’s struggling trying to hang on to the rope with one hand and grab the dog with the other.

‘This wasn’t our best plan.’ Tanner observes, lighting up a cigarette.

‘Probably not.’

‘Grab him and haul his ass up!’ Tanner yells.

‘He’s stuck!’ Tris yells back.

‘What the fuck? I should have done this myself.’

I lean over the bridge, trying to see if I can see what’s going on. ‘Relax, man. He’s trying.’

Finally Tris grabs onto the dogs collar and yanks him up, hoisting him under his arm. The dog is soaking wet and obviously scared out of its mind, clawing at his chest.

‘Pull me up before I drop his ass!’ He yells up to us.

We haul him up the slippery hill and I grab the dog when he’s at the top edge of the embankment, looping a slip lead leash around his neck. I kneel down and check him over while Tanner gets Tristan untied from the rope. The dog seems fine, despite being very thin and malnourished. I’m pretty sure this is the dog we’ve been trying to trap for months. I can’t wait to tell Kenzi since she was getting so frustrated about him not going into the traps to eat the meat we kept leaving for him.

The dog is trembling, but still wagging his tail, probably feeling somewhat triumphant for eluding us for so long but now happy to be safe. My favorite part of dog rescue is how happy most of them are to finally have a person touch them gently and treat them with care. Their appreciation is evident in their eyes as they brave making eye contact with us, hoping we’re someone they can trust.

‘Alright,’ I say. ‘I’m going to drop him off at the vet. I think he’s okay but who knows if he’s got some internal injuries.’ I fist bump my younger brother. ‘You did good, Tris.’

‘I wasn’t expecting him to be so fucking heavy. He was like dead weight.’

‘They usually are when they’re scared like this. They just freeze up, or even worse, they try to bite us or run off.’

‘Well, I’m glad he’s okay.’

Tanner punches him playfully in the arm. ‘You better start lifting some more, little bro.’

Tris laughs and heads back towards the truck they came in. ‘Whatever, old man. Let’s go.’

By the time I take the river dog to the vet, get home, shower and eat, it’s after nine and I’m beat from running around all day. Diogee and the kitten join me on my king bed as I get comfortable on what has become my side and put something mindless on Netflix until my brain settles down enough for me to fall asleep.

I’m just dozing off when a melodic chime sounds from my nightstand, making my eyes snap open. It’s the new tone I programmed for Kenzi’s messages. I fumble for the phone and squint at it in the dark.

Kenzi: I wanted to say hi and let you know I’m thinking about you

I’m instantly awake and smiling as I type back.

Me: Hey you. I was thinking about you too. I had microwave meatloaf for dinner. I have no idea what I just ate. It may have been iguana meat. I miss your dinners. 😉

Kenzi: I see what I mean to you now 😉 You’re probably buried in white fur too, huh?

Me: Pretty much.

Kenzi: I’m not sure I feel bad…

Me: I miss everything. Not just you taking care of me.

Kenzi: I miss you, too.

My eyes latch onto those words and I’m very aware of how quickly and naturally we slip into these moments of what I can only think of as longing. And flirting. I attempt to U-turn the conversation with idle chatter.

Me: I have good news. Remember the dog we’ve been trying to catch by the river for months? We got him today.

Kenzi: Omg finally!!!!! Is he okay?

Me: He is now. He was actually stuck IN the river, off Suicide Bridge. Tris had to go in on a rope to get him out.

Kenzi: Holy crap! That’s amazing. I’m so proud of you guys!!!

Me: Thanks. He’s super thin but he’s going to be fine. Mom’s found a foster for him already.

Kenzi: I’m so glad he’s finally safe.

Me: Me, too. So, are you enjoying Maine?

Kenzi: Yes. Sailor came by a few days ago and took me for lunch. He was visiting a friend who lives out here. He’s a really sweet guy, very quiet and polite. I’m designing a tattoo for him.

The mystery meat dinner turns in my stomach.

Me: That was nice of him.

Fucking asshole drifter.

Kenzi: Yeah. We had a nice day. So, Katherine’s friend is a photographer and took some pix of me for my portfolio. She thinks maybe I could do some shoots with her and get paid, like for products, or maybe even for a magazine.

Me: That would be great. I’m proud of you.

I’m still stuck on Sailor spending the day with her. I want to ask her if they’re dating but I don’t want to come off like some jealous teenager. Could he seriously have friends out there, conveniently located near Kenzi’s aunt? I’m not buying it.

Kenzi: We’ll see what happens. Do you want to see some of the pix she took?

Before I can answer, a photo begins to load on my cell phone screen. I was expecting the usual pose of her leaning against a tree, or sitting by the ocean with her hair blowing. I sure as hell was not expecting to see her stretched like a cat across a white silk covered bed, her long honey blonde hair flowing all around her, wearing a black bra that’s just barely covering her full breasts with gold glitter sparkling across her perfect tummy leading down to matching black lace-edged panties. One of her legs is bent up, laying over her other thigh, the hint of her tight ass curved up. And on her feet, those little black leather boots that make my blood pressure spike every time she’s got them on.

My mouth suddenly feels like it’s filled with a hundred cotton balls, and my heart is jackknifing in my chest.

I swallow, near panic, as another photo loads, this one of her kneeling on the bed, her hair longer, hanging down in front of her naked chest, just barely covering her breasts. Her jeans are unbuttoned and unzipped to show off cherry red panties. A hole is torn from just above the knee to her inner thigh, the worn and frayed denim edges revealing delicate flesh that’s begging to be touched.

A war erupts in me, part of me fighting to throw my phone across the room and not ever see her this way, and the other part of me hungering for more as my cock grows harder with anticipation as another photo starts to come into view beneath the others.

Shit. I can’t take anymore.

This one nearly does me in when it fully loads. She’s sitting in the sand at the edge of the beach with some kind of mermaid costume on, her long legs covered by the tight, sparkling scaled material, the water lapping up onto her. She’s leaning back, looking up towards the sun, her breasts held by a bikini top of seashells, jutting upward in the most tantalizing way. A tiny starfish hangs from a chain around her neck, resting in the valley between her breasts. A thin gold headband wraps around her head, holding back her hair that is somehow almost three times longer than it was the last time I saw her. It now streaked with blue and green to match her mermaid fin, flowing down her back and pooling onto the sand behind her. I’m so lost in the photos, scrolling back up to look at each one again, that I forget she’s on the other side of the phone waiting for me to say something.

Sitting up, I ignore the dog’s accusing stare as I type back to her with shaky fingers.

Me: A little warning would have been nice.

Kenzi: I wanted to surprise you.

Me: You definitely did.

The pictures are slowly destroying me, demolishing my walls, burning up my self-control like an unstoppable inferno. I hate her for forcing me to see her this way and for making me want her so fucking much that my body is literally aching for her.

No. I don’t hate her. I love her. I need her.

Kenzi: You don’t like them?

I’m jerked back to reality as I realize I’m the first and only man to ever see her this way, as a woman and not a little girl. I know all her insecurities, and I know how hard this was for her because she doesn’t see herself as sexy or attractive. She’s a jeans, t-shirts and boots kinda girl. She’s effortless and clueless in her own beauty, and that just makes her even more attractive. I can only guess how vulnerable she feels, sitting there waiting for me to say something reassuring to her.

My brain spins round and round like a merry go round that’s tilting off its axis. This moment, my response, could change everything. Do I do the right thing and reply as her lifelong friend? Say something polite? Or do I show her a piece of the man she’s playing with?

I’m tired of the fight.

I’m lonely.

I want to play.

My fingers fly defiantly over the keyboard, leading me straight into the fire.

Me: Are you kidding? I fucking love them. You look incredible. Are there more?

Kenzi: Yes.

Me: I want to see them. Please.

I feel dizzy and intoxicated as more pictures flood my screen. I’m like a rabid junkie getting a fix, and I can’t get enough. All the photos are classy and sensual, but capture her perfectly in a way I’ve been trying to pretend for months that I haven’t noticed. She’s turned into a drop-dead gorgeous woman with a body that could very well turn me into an animal and make me beg for just five minutes with her.

Me: How did your hair grow so fast?

Kenzi: It’s extensions. They clip on.

Me: Oh. The way it hides you but gives just enough of a peek is driving me crazy. It’s the perfect tease.

Kenzi: I could grow my hair that long if you want.

Me: No. I like you exactly as you are. Don’t ever change for anyone. Not even me.

Kenzi: You really like them? I’ve never posed like this before. Do I look awkward?

Me: Hell no. I love them. I can’t stop looking at them. It’s killing me they’re so tiny on my screen.

Kenzi: I was really hoping you would like them. I was nervous.

Me: Don’t be. Did you send these to Sailor?

I’ll go into an all-out rage if she says yes. I’ll hunt that fucker down and smash his phone and beat him until any memory of seeing her like this is gone from his brain. I can’t stand sharing women anymore and there is no way in hell I could ever share her.

Kenzi: God no. I would never do that. He’s just a friend. Some of these are for my portfolio and the others are just for me to have.

I lick my lips and adjust my throbbing cock under the sheets. I swear I want to paw at my phone screen right now just to have any piece of her I can get. This is sheer torture.

Me: Why did you send these, Kenz? What are you trying to do to me?

Kenzi: I want you to see ME. I want you to want me like I want you

The air leaves my lungs. Is she trying to kill me? Does she have any idea what she’s saying? And the effect it’s having on my thumping heart and other southern regions of my anatomy?

Me: Make no mistake, Angel. I want you. Bad.

Fuck. I’ve completely lost my mind. We should stop this before it goes too far into places we have no right to be in and will never be able to back ourselves out of without some major damage.

But it feels so good.

Kenzi: I want to see you. Send me a picture of you.

Me: No. I don’t do selfies.

Kenzi: Please? I love all your muscles and your tattoos. I won’t show anyone. It’s only for me to look at when I’m alone.

My heart feels like it’s going into cardiac arrest, pounding in my chest so hard I can hear it and my head is thundering with the aftershock of her words. She wants me. She wants me to want her.

Ugh. It’s all so fucking wrong. Taboo at its finest.

The devil plants his ass on my shoulder. It’s just playful texting, though, right? I’m not touching her. She’s hours and miles away from me. It’s late and dark. We’re sleepy. It’s safe.

Before I can change my mind, I turn on my bedside lamp, push the covers down low around my hips and snap a picture, cropping it just a few inches below my naval to make sure my hard-on isn’t visible. She’ll like this one because it shows my hair all messy around my shoulders which I always catch her eying, plus my chest, abs, and all the ink that comes with it. I always assumed she was too young to appreciate all the work I put into my body but apparently she’s not. I hit send on my phone and wait.

Kenzi: Ohmy. wow. Thank you xoxox

Me: You like?

Kenzi: I love it. Your muscles are just wow. Thank you for including your hair for me. 🙂 And that ab V or whatever it’s called…omg. **Faints**

There’s a big goofy smile on my face that I’m not used to. I’ve never had this cute flirting stuff with anyone before. She’s kidnapping me into her world, and I’m slowly surrendering, a willing hostage.

Kenzi: I have a few more of me…

Five more photos come through, and while these are thankfully less sexy, they are just as beautiful with her wearing a mint green sundress that brings out her eyes. She’s sitting on a wicker swing I recognize as being on Katherine’s front porch. She’s more natural in these photos, with no hair clip things and less makeup, but she looks breathtaking, older, and elegant. The last picture, however, instantly becomes my favorite. It’s a moody setting, grainy black and white, taken in her bedroom at the Inn. She’s standing at the window with her back to the camera, completely nude with the thin gauzy curtain blowing behind her like a veil. Her perfect round ass and the swell of her breast is visible through the curtain as the light coming from the window gives her a beautiful silhouette, accentuating all her curves. She’s looking off to the side, her mouth slightly parted, her long ebony eyelashes laying against her cheek. It’s hands-down the most sensual photo I’ve ever seen. I want to print it, frame it, and hang it over my bed where it can be the first thing I see every morning. My finger slides across the screen, along the curve of her waist. Wishing. Wanting.

Me: That last one, Angel. It fucking ended me.

Kenzi: I like that one, too. I can’t believe that’s me.

Me either.

Me: I’m speechless. I think I’m going to need a cold shower.

Kenzi: LOL

Me: I’m dead fucking serious. The things I would do to you. You gotta stop.

Kenzi: Tell me.

Me: No.

Kenzi: Tor. Don’t close up. I like you this way. Just let us have this for tonight. It’s just fun fantasy. Make it my birthday present.

Me: I already have a present for you.

Kenzi: Then let me have two 🙂

My chest tightens. I want to give her everything. I want to be her everything.

I type something quick and generic but then delete it, because it’s cheap and lame and she deserves better. There was a time when I penned lyrics that screamed of heartache, desire, and undying love. One thing I know I can do is make love to her with words.

Me: I would have loved to come up behind you in that last picture, pull your hair to the side, whisper in your ear, and ravish your neck with my mouth until you fall back against me. I’d slowly run my hands up your body and caress those perfect tits of yours until you were begging me for more.

My breathing speeds up as I type to her. This is like crazy fucking foreplay, and I’m hard as a rock for her. My phone is silent, but I can feel her waiting for more. Even miles away, our connection resonates between us.

I’m going to burn in hell.

Me: I’d bend you over that window sill, spread your thighs, and slide deep into you. I’d want to hear you gasp and feel your body all tight and wet around me. I’d tilt your head back and kiss you until you’re delirious and can’t breathe without me. I’d carry you to the bed and make love to you until you fall asleep in my arms and I’d count the minutes until I could be inside you again. I don’t think I could ever get enough of you, and I’m afraid I’d love you and fuck you to the point of mental and physical exhaustion. And then I’d do it all over again until neither one of us can even consider the idea of ever not touching again.

Silence. Minutes of it.

Maybe I scared her away. Maybe she thinks I’m a pig.

I am a pig.

Kenzi: Toren. Do you mean all that?

I love when she says my name. And types it. And now I want to hear it on her lips when I’m buried inside her.

Me: Have I ever lied to you?

Kenzi: No.

Me: Sorry you asked now?

More long moments of silence torture me as I stare at the ceiling with the biggest hard-on of my life, cursing myself while I wait for the coveted sound of her text. Just hearing that small musical chime lately turns me all inside out.

Kenzi: Not at all. That was the best present ever. I’m actually shaking.

She’s ruining me. I want to run my fingers over her warm quivering flesh and feel what I’m doing to her. I want it so bad I’m on the verge of jumping on my bike and riding three hours in the middle of the night just so I can do exactly that.

But I can’t. Because the truth is cruel; she’s still her and I’m still me, and we were never meant to be this way with each other.

Me: Ok we have to stop now. Game over.

Kenzi: 🙁

Me: We both know this is wrong.

Kenzi: I wish it wasn’t. 🙁

Me: Me too, Angel. But we should go now. I have to get up early and I’m going to have a hard time falling asleep after this.

Kenzi: I will, too.

Me: Thank you for sharing your photos with me. You’re beautiful. In every way.

Kenzi: Thank you for sending me yours. 🙂 Don’t take this wrong, but you’re beautiful, too. Like a dream.

Me: We’ll talk again soon. I love you.

Kenzi: I love you, too. Xo

I’m pretty sure there’s now a seat in hell with my name engraved on it. Sleep is impossible for me when mere inches away from my pillow is a four inch device that holds all my deepest desires, fantasies, and sins. It’s way too tempting. I’ve tried to be strong. I’ve tried to keep her away and yet still hold onto our special bond, but it’s all crumbling around me.

Exiling her from my life isn’t an option. Not talking to her? Not seeing her? Giving up our little us-isms? No fucking way. It would be like cutting off one of my own limbs.

In the discrete darkness of my bedroom, I transfer her photos to my laptop where I can analyze every detail of her forbidden curves. Every little birthmark. Some I’ve actually kissed, at a time when it was simply cute and innocent between us. The playful lift of her smile and her enticing mossy-green eyes seduce me from the fifteen-inch screen. She’s given me the gift of being able to ravish her with my eyes here in the privacy of my house and the chance to play out my fantasies with the help of my right hand.

Hello, Satan. I know you’ve been waiting patiently for me since the demise of the good and noble Uncle Tor. I have a feeling I’ll be staying here a while.