“Grant?”
“Hey, Alex, what’s up?”
“I’m in trouble, man. You’re the first person I thought of. You’re the only one I can trust to go the distance, you know?” he says in an unusually rapid-fire voice.
I stop, stand up straight and pay attention. “What do you need?”
My little brother’s always so laid back; he never takes life seriously. Except right now, he sounds breathless and anxious.
“Sky and I have been arrested for child endangerment. It’s a long story involving a car accident and cocaine, but I’m using my one phone call to call you and I can’t talk long.”
“Tell me you’re not being busted for trafficking.”
Alex laughs without humor. “No, it’s not like that. This afternoon, I had a fender bender—it wasn’t even my fault. Sky and I were driving along and some asshole pulled out right in front of us. We had the right of way. The cops were right there. We were coming back from a lunchtime party where we did a few lines of coke; you know how it is. Our stash was in plain sight, only an ounce or so—for personal use. I don’t sell it anymore. Anyway, the cops figured it out and I was sent to the hospital with a concussion. I’m OK, but we were both under the influence…” He pauses for a moment and then adds, “Briley was in the car.”
Blitzed on coke, with a baby in the car.
“Briley’s OK?”
“He’s fine.”
Alex and his wife are ‘coke heads’—and they have a baby. How screwed up is that? They’ll probably receive a court order to attend Narcotics Anonymous. Maybe this disaster will help them realize they need to change their lifestyle.
“Grant, you gotta talk to our attorney,” Alex says. “Tell him to get down here to Northwest Dallas Police department. Also, I need you to get Briley out of social services. Don’t let mother get involved, not that she’d want to be. They’ll only let a relative “of good character” have him. You have a Purple Heart, for Christ’s sake. No one will doubt you. Hire some nice woman who’s good with babies. I need you to look after him until we can get him back.”
Alex pauses and I hear a shaky intake of breath. Waiting, I say nothing. I just wish I’d been a better brother to him.
“You gotta get Briley, man. He’s gonna be so scared.”
“Of course,” I assure him. “He can stay with me as long as it takes.”
“I owe ya, bro.”
“No, you don’t. I’ll take care of everything. I’ll call our lawyer right now.” With nothing more to say, I hang up. Our family attorney’s one of the few numbers I have on speed dial.
“Morrow, Finch and Easley, Attorneys at Law,” a cheerful feminine voice answers.
“Grant Wilkinson for Dwight Marrow, please.”
“I’m sorry, he’s on another line. Will you hold?”
“Yes.”
Tedious elevator music plays while I wait. My brother’s in trouble, and all I can think about is that my time with Renata will be cut short. It’s a selfish thought, but I can’t help it. We were getting somewhere. Hell, we were getting everywhere.
I sigh deeply. As I listen for my attorney’s voice, I quietly update Renata on the family crisis. As I explain the details, I’m startled by her sudden input.
“Sounds like they’ll both be formally charged and released,” she says. “Their child will be in protective custody with Social Services. They’ll need to place him with a family, so you’ll have plenty of time to recover him before then.”
“How long until my brother and his wife get Briley back?”
Renata shrugs. “They’ve lost custody. They’ll have visitation rights under the care of a qualified court appointee, which—if they have money—they’ll have to pay for. It’s hard to say. Could be as much as six months.”
“No way!”
“Oh, yes. Best case scenario? Two to three months minimum, I’d guess.”
“You seem to know a lot about it.”
“I was a ward of the state, remember?”
I cock my head and study her for a moment. Who’d have guessed? So pretty. So confident. So normal. André trusts her. I trust her too. André saved her. He saved me, too.
It’s something else we have in common.
“Do you know anything about the care of six month old baby boys?” I ask.
To my great surprise, Renata suddenly pales as the blood leaves her face. What the fuck? There’s panic or perhaps horror in her eyes as I take her arm. I’m concerned she may pass out or something.
“Renata, what’s wrong? I say anxiously.
Unsteady and trembling, she says nothing. Just then, my attorney comes on the line “Mr. Wilkinson, what can I do for you?” Mr. Marrow asks.
“Hello, Mr. Marrow,” I say. I can’t find out what’s going on now. Breathing deeply, Renata shakes me off, making “I’m OK” motions with one white hand.
With my eyes fixed on her, I quickly fill my attorney in on the details. I instruct him to immediately go spring my brother and his wife from Northwest Police lock up. I explain I’m out of state, but I’ll fly back to Dallas immediately. I tell him to put my name down as the relative who will take custody of Briley. We arrange to meet when I arrive home.
As soon as I end the conversation, I slip my phone back into my pocket and take Renata’s hands. They’re ice cold. What just happened? What’s wrong with her? First, a crying jag at the memory of Jamie, and now she’s in shock.
With my hand on her lower back, I escort her to a nearby bench in the shade and sit down with her.
“What is it, darlin’?” I ask her.
“I won’t go into it right now,” she says, sounding calm, but not quite herself.
I shake my head in instinctive disagreement. I'm worried about her; she doesn’t look well. I hate seeing her so out of sorts, especially when I have no clue why.
“Seriously, Grant,” she says in a determined tone. “I promise I’ll tell you all about it another time. You’ve had a good day. You’ve made great inroads. I'm not going to bring you down with my shit.”
I frown heavily, feeling powerless. I want her to talk to me, but I can’t make her. I see that shadow of darkness creeping over her again and can only sympathize. What terrible moment in her past have I accidentally touched upon?
She smiles and I watch as she forces her mood away. “It can wait. You have stuff to do for your brother—this isn’t me just speaking as a counselor, either. I honestly want to focus on you. You’re so happy right now. That makes me happy. Something important happened to you today. When you’re ready, I want to hear all about it.”
“You sure you’re alright?”
The playfulness is back in her eyes. “Yes. I’m fine. It’s an old memory, a very old memory I’ll tell you sometime. I just… I… well, it just surprised me. No big deal. Besides, we made a pact to tell each other our stories, remember? We sealed that agreement with a kiss.”
“So we did,” I say, smiling.
“Grant, I’m really good with babies,” she says. “I’ve had lots of experience and I love them to bits. If you want, Mitten and I can come stay with you. I’ll help you look after the baby until your brother and his wife are awarded custody.”
The joy that slams into me takes my breath away. Renata—staying with me in my house? Renata, around all the time? It’s too good to be true. It’s better than I could ever ask or even wish for.
Chapter 16.
“I am in love—and, my God, it is the greatest thing that can happen to a man. I tell you, find a woman you can fall in love with. Do it. Let yourself fall in love. If you have not done so already, you are wasting your life.”
— D.H. Lawrence
~~~
Grant Wilkinson
“Really? You’d come and live with me? What about your psychology course?”
“Most of my study is done on-line. I can defer if I need to.”
Hope wells up within my heart. Having Renata there to help me with my nephew would do much more
than simply solve Alex’s problems. My secrets don’t frighten her. I could keep talking to her. I could keep learning. I might figure out how to be a normal human being with Renata around, leading the way. And… I could see her every single day.
That thought makes so incredibly happy, I’m unable to speak.
We look at each other for a few intense moments in silence. Her blue eyes are bright and there’s a hint of mischief in her expression. I’m frowning because I still can’t believe it.
“But your vet job and your apartment?” I finally say. “Can you really drop everything? You’d do that for me?” I ask in utter disbelief.
“Sure,” she smirks. “I was a runaway living on the streets, remember? I don’t need much and I’m used to moving around.”
There’s so much love, happiness and hope welling up from deep within me. Renata says she loves babies. How lucky can I be? Having her help look after my nephew solves everything.
Our eyes lock and there it is again—that incredible sense of connection. There’s a compelling energy between us. It’s a living, breathing thing that almost has a life of its own.
“I wouldn’t do this for just anyone, of course,” she says with a mischievous smile, “but I’ll make an exception for you.”
I’m so unbelievably happy! I find myself picking her up once more and swinging her up in the air, over and over again. We both laugh and I finally let her slide down through my hands.
She’s circled by me, embraced in my arms—God, I love the sensation of holding her. Renata’s arms curl around my neck, her hands run through my hair. Her long slender body presses deliciously against mine. I’m achingly hard for her and Renata knows it. My stiff erection is difficult to miss, but that’s OK.
I can hardly believe it. We want each other.
The persistent, lonely emptiness that’s haunted me as far back as I can remember, is gone. I’m not alone and I’m learning to like myself. Renata likes me, so I can’t be that bad.
This time when we kiss, I kiss her without reservation. It’s a passionate joining and sexy as hell. Her lips are soft, warm and smooth. She tastes and smells delicious. My heart beats double time as I push my tongue through her lips. I ardently explore her mouth and Renata joins the intimate dance.
Her breath catches—mine does, too.
The world disappears as we fall together. There’s only Renata and me—but I’m not sure where I start and where she begins—I feel that close to her.
Is this love?
I don’t know what love is.
On the drive home, I park the car at a shopping center and tell Renata to wait just a moment. I leave the car running with the air on, so it stays cool.
I jog off into the mall where I find a flower shop and order a large bouquet. I don’t want anything as commonplace as red roses. She may have a boring streak similar to my own in terms of her taste in ice cream, but Renata’s far from ordinary.
I end up ordering a unique garden bouquet with purple and white alstroemeria lilies, green button poms, monte casino daisies, yellow sunflowers, a few pink roses and red tulips all set in an elegant clear glass vase.
Her eyes shine when I open the passenger door and hand them to her.
“Thank you so much, Grant. They’re beautiful,” she says, but she doesn’t seem at all surprised.
When I get back into the driver’s side of the car and sit down, she leans over and gives me a kiss on my scarred cheek. A rush of tingles flow down my spine from her touch. I don’t think I’ll ever get over her kissing or touching my scars.
And Renata’s smile? It could melt even the hardest heart.
“Thank you, again for these flowers,” she says warmly, smelling a rose. “I’ve had a lovely day.”
“You’re welcome,” I say with a smile. “My day was perfect. Did you know I was going to get you flowers?”
“Yes.”
I shoot her a questioning look.
“I knew you’d buy me flowers from the moment I told you how much I love them,” she says. “You made me happy then, and you’ve made me happy now.”
“I’m glad,” I say, and I really, truly am.
After Renata makes a call to check with André. I only hear one side of their discussion, but when she hangs up, she says her mentor is on board with our plans. Renata agrees to fly out with me first thing in the morning.
Finally, my life is coming together. I think of all I’ve achieved over the last year. André and Renata have changed everything. I’ve never felt more hopeful for the future. And now Renata and I are going home together. She going to live with me and help me with Briley.
Euphoria swells inside of me; it’s hard to contain. I’ve never been so glad to be alive. Can life get any better than this? What’s really incredible is that I believe it will.
My cup runneth over.
I’ve heard psalm 23 so many times, but I’ve never felt it. It’s the idea that your cup in life is so full, it spills out and runs over. There’s an abundance of goodness and joy in every single person’s existence—because God isn’t stingy.
I’ve never believed in God, yet right now, I feel so grateful. If there is a God, my heart swells with the overwhelming desire to thank him.
I’ve made a deal with Renata. We promised to tell each other the stories of our abusive childhoods. We’re going to share our darkest secrets. I want to tell her everything. I know she’ll understand.
From this moment forward, I feel as if I’ve got a chance to start over.
Frowning, I remember. There’s one secret I can never tell. Not to André. Not to Renata. Not to anyone.
It isn’t until much later, back in my hotel room, when I finally listen to a voicemail from my mother. Mother goes on and on about “a terrible scandal” and how she, “can’t bear it.” When I finally get through the nonsense, I discover she’s upset about a court order.
Apparently, our father’s body is being exhumed to test for drugs.
The sheriff has been tipped off from a “reliable informant.” Whoever it was, said dad’s death wasn’t accidental. The police now suspect he was murdered.
Fuck.
End of Abuse
Accuse: Prologue
Results of a 2005 American Survey:
What do women need to do to conform to cultural norms? Be nice, be thin, show modesty by not calling attention to oneself, be domestic, care for children, keep sexual intimacy contained within one committed relationship, and use all available resources to invest in appearance.
What do men need to do to conform to cultural norms? Winning at all costs, emotional control, risk-taking, violence, dominance, playboy behavior, self-reliance, primacy of work, disdain for homosexuality, pursuit of status.
— Boston College Research
I lie on my stomach, out of breath and panting. My pulse is racing, but it’s beginning to slow.
“Excusez-moi, ma petite souris,” a quiet voice says from behind my back. Excuse me, my little mouse, he says.
André has always called me that from the first day I met him. I’m 5’10,” not at all little or mouse-like in size. Yet, ‘little mouse,’ suits me.
I grew up in the shadow of a violent father, which resulted in me being fearful of everything. I became nervous around people and could only stutter—when I was able to talk at all.
I’m so much better now. I can hide my fear around strangers. I can meet their eyes and talk to them, but I’ve still got a long way to go.
André presses his lips to the skin between my shoulder blades in farewell. I shiver as his simple touch causes a flare of sensual fire to flash down my spine. He gets up from where he’s been lying on top of me, and strides with confident grace toward the bathroom.
I watch him leave, admiring his broad shoulders, narrow hips and tight, muscular ass. He's so manly, yet so beautiful.
Languid and utterly boneless, I notice a sheen of sweat on my forearm. What a workout! The man has killed me with pleasure, but what a way to go.
A liquid sensation of delicious erotic release thrums through my whole body with every beat of my heart.
Each and every aching desire I have has been well and truly satisfied.
I’m done.
Well done.
Char-broiled in fact.
It’s been a big day—in fact, it’s been a big week. This week I celebrated my twentieth birthday, something I’ve been waiting for what seems like forever. I haven’t been intimate with anyone since my best friend Jamie died.
During the last five days with André, I've more than made up for any lack of sexual activity. It's been spectacular—well worth the wait.
When I was homeless, I had sex all the time. I wanted it. I needed it. Sexual intimacy made me feel loved. It’s funny, but since I met André, I haven’t had sex—and yet, I feel more loved than I’ve ever felt before.
I’ve lusted after André for a long time, but he always refused my advances. I’ll never forget what he said the first time I asked him to take me to bed. He looked at me with a kind expression and those ridiculously long, black eyelashes.
Instinctively, I knew he wanted me—just as I wanted him.
“Ma belle,” he had said tranquilly, despite the hunger in his dark eyes. “Pardon… I refuse to make love to a teenager.”
Thus, we both had to wait. I first came to live with André, three months before I turned eighteen. Consequently, I’ve had a powerful case of the hots for him for years. He’s starred in countless erotic fantasies.
Five days ago, I finally left my teens behind. The day I turned twenty is a day that will be forever etched in my memory. All sense of restraint between us was gone. Passions that had built up during our time together were finally set free. The resulting raw, animal violence of our passion astonished us both. We struggled and fought, straining to get closer, our bodies sweating and molding together into one.
He took me in every possible way, just as I took him. André and I went at it like rabbits, all day—all night. We even ate in bed.
It was amazing.
It was also the best birthday gift anyone could ever receive.