The Hookup

  “I don’t see him,” I declared.

  “Your dad?” he asked.

  “Yes,” I answered.

  “Your choice?” he asked.

  “Absolutely,” I answered. “However, there is the small fact that Mom took us, ran away from him, and after making her life miserable for about two months, we never heard from him again, so it was his choice first.”

  Johnny’s hand came to rest on my thigh, the warmth of it immediately melting through my jeans.

  It gave me strength.

  So I shared, “This is probably because he found another woman to beat bloody.”

  I saw a flash in his eyes before he hid it and whispered, “Spätzchen.”

  “My grandfather hated my dad, ordered my mother not to marry him, and she rebelled. She was eighteen, head over heels in love, and pregnant, the last part my grandfather was really not hip on. She took off to be with the love of her life. That’s just the way things go, I guess. Therefore, when Mom took us from him to them, my grandfather closed the door in her face. Apparently, he was that kind of guy. I don’t know. I don’t really remember him and Mom never talked about him. Though from the little I do know, mostly how my grandmother behaved, even though I didn’t know her either, my mom found her father and married him.”

  “Fuck,” Johnny clipped.

  “My grandmother found us before we had to skip town and gave Mom her milk glass. Told her to sell it. Mom never sold it. It was the only thing she had of her mother. So she kept it. And Gramma would send cash as often as she could but it wasn’t very often. Still, we were so poor, whenever she could, it helped.”

  “Izzy,” he whispered.

  “Government cheese,” I said.

  He leaned into me, his fingers digging in.

  “Izzy,” he hissed.

  “She worked all the time. She’d find places close to school so Addie and I could walk if she couldn’t take us. Every time we moved when we were young, she’d walk us back and forth, back and forth. ‘Remember this, girls. Don’t go a different route, my queens,’ she’d say. ‘And don’t talk to strangers, not ever. Get yourselves home, fast and safe, and then you call your momma to let her know you’re locked in tight.’”

  Johnny said nothing.

  “She’d open cans of soup so I could heat them up for Addie and me if I had to make dinner. Soup and cheese sandwiches. Night after night. All I could make but also all she could afford. She’d call to make sure I turned off the stove. I was seven.”

  His hand slid up my thigh as he got closer but he said nothing.

  “I graduated to grilled cheese sandwiches when I was nine. You like my guac, you should try my grilled cheese. It’s to die for.”

  “Don’t make light of this, Izzy,” he said gently.

  “We were happy.”

  His chin jerked back.

  “We had each other, and in the beginning Addie and I only knew she was safer without him so we were in a better place because she was too. When we figured out there was more to have, we’d already learned it didn’t mean anything, so we stayed happy because we had each other. And then she died, and honest to God, Johnny, that was the first time after we left him that I was ever unhappy.”

  His eyes dropped down, he shoved my wine aside and he pulled my hand to him.

  I was wearing my mother’s charm bracelet again.

  “It’s cheap,” I whispered.

  He didn’t look up.

  “Those charms Addie and I bought her every birthday using some of the money we’d horde that our Gramma would send us for our birthdays. I got the bracelet when we lost her. Addie has the two charms that say ‘World’s Greatest Mom’ and ‘#1 Mom.’ I got her her own bracelet when she had Brooks and gave it to her with them on it.”

  His finger fidgeted with the head of a horse charm.

  “She made us dance with her in our living room, and she tried to get every Sunday off to do Sunday night facials she’d make out of honey and oatmeal, and she’d take us out to stare at the stars. She made a game out of doing laundry at the Laundromat, and she hid it really well those times rent was coming due but her paycheck wasn’t and we were running low. She was sunlight and moonshine and honey and song and love. And I had her for a while and then God needed her with Him so I had to let her go.”

  His eyes turned to me and the pain in them, the pain for me, dug down deep. Deep inside me.

  And settled there.

  And I wanted it.

  I needed it.

  It was buried treasure.

  “She was iron,” I whispered. “Iron and steel and granite and everything strong packaged up in feathers and goose down and kitten fur and everything soft. She was the most precious gift I’ve ever received and will be until I have my own babies.”

  “Stop talking,” he ordered gruffly.

  I closed my mouth.

  “I can’t erase that,” he stated and the blood started singing in my veins. “I can’t make that better.”

  Oh my God.

  “Johnny—”

  “We fight wars over dirt and oil and ego when we should fight wars against men who force women to live that kind of life with their children.”

  “We were happy,” I reminded him.

  “You could have been happier,” he said to me.

  I again closed my mouth.

  Johnny didn’t break the silence so I asked, “Are you done getting to know me now?”

  “Now?” he bit out. “Yes. Done? Not by a long shot.”

  My blood started burning.

  “Do you . . . um . . . do you wanna talk about your mom?” I queried cautiously.

  “She left when I was five, Toby was three. He doesn’t remember her. I do. She was amazingly beautiful. And she was down to her soul selfish. I haven’t seen her since. My dad never saw her again either. He also never got over her. I hate that for my dad, but her leaving meant Toby and I got Margot, so we had it better than we would have, I figure. And that’s it.”

  “That’s very succinct,” I noted carefully.

  “So it aptly describes her tenure as a mother,” he returned.

  “Honey,” I murmured.

  “I don’t miss her and I don’t think not having her made me miss anything. I don’t feel loss. I had Dad and he was a great dad. The best. I had Margot. I had Dave. I had Toby. Toby’s a wild one but it’s not because he missed having a mom or was acting out, wondering why she didn’t give a shit enough to stick around. Dad also didn’t spoil him and Lord knows, Margot didn’t. No one would say it to his face, but we all think it. He got a piece of her. But he also got a lot of Dad, so even though he hasn’t yet found his way, he will.”

  “I hope so,” I said softly.

  “He will,” he replied.

  “Where is he?” I asked.

  “Guiding fishing expeditions in the Florida Keys?” he asked, like I could answer him. “Training to be a ranger in Alaska?” he asked another question I couldn’t answer. “Employed as a flight instructor in Phoenix? Who the fuck knows?”

  “He can fly planes?”

  “Toby can do anything.”

  “But can he, well . . . actually fly planes?”

  “Yes. And speak German fluently since he had more of Grams, because I was in kindergarten when Mom left and shortly after, full-time school, so he had more time with her and she talked German to him all the time and kept doing it until she died. I would have lost half of what I had if Toby didn’t try to get one over on me by speaking to me in German. Dad spoke it too, since Grams taught him, so he’d call him on his shit as well. Toby was captain of the football team, quarterback, and he got caught banging the homecoming queen in the locker room after the big game. The coach chucked him off the team. The town went nuts. So they ended up suspending him for two games. The only two games Matlock lost that season.” He paused then said, “Golden boy.”

  He shook his head and any sting he might have felt about the next he said was taken away with his rueful but also a
dmiring grin.

  “No matter how much he’d fuck up, and he was a master at it, he’d come out smelling like roses.”

  “Did you play football?”

  He nodded his head. “Tight end.”

  “But not captain?” I asked warily.

  He looked confused. “Well . . . yeah.” Then he grinned again. “And I was dating the homecoming queen and already banging her, so I didn’t have to sneak a go in the locker room.”

  I rolled my eyes and reached for my wine.

  After I took a sip, he said, “Dad was the shit.”

  I put my wineglass back and prompted quietly, “Yes?”

  “He wasn’t sunlight and moonshine and kitten fur, spätzchen. He was motor oil and beer and NASCAR racing. He didn’t miss a single one of our games. He gave us the talk and told us he’d break our necks if we disrespected a woman. Then he gave us condoms. He also gave us Margot and Dave, and their sons were older than us so he gave us three older brothers and big Thanksgivings and Christmases and Easter dinners. He wept when his father died and sobbed when he lost his mother, but way before that he told us only stupid men hide emotion. There’s strength in being who you are and feeling what you feel and not giving a shit what people think. He said one of the worst things a man could be is inauthentic. He told us never to willfully break a woman’s heart because there’d come a time when a woman would break ours and we’d feel what we’d made her feel and we wouldn’t be able to live with the guilt. He loved us and he showed it. He was proud of us and he showed it.”

  He looked to my wrist and slid his forefinger between my skin and my mother’s bracelet, turned his hand and gently curled it around the inside of his first knuckle.

  “And I wept when he died and every year on the anniversary, I take some of his ashes to the first place he took Toby and me fishing and I put them in the creek and feed the fishes in the moonlight,” he finished.

  “That’s beautiful, Johnny,” I said softly.

  He turned his head to me. “I should have taken you with me. He woulda liked meeting you.”

  As my hand rose of its own accord, my body swayed forward the same way, and I curled my fingers around the warm, firm skin at the side of his neck and I pressed my lips against his.

  I pulled back but I didn’t go far.

  “So I wish I’d had your mom and I wish you’d had my dad,” he murmured.

  “Instead, we found each other,” I murmured back.

  “Yeah,” he said.

  “She would like you but she would not like you grilling a chicken breast and a steak for five people,” I informed him.

  The white of his teeth cut through his beard. “Don’t know how to grill tofu, babe.”

  “You sadly will never have the chance to eat one of her homemade veggie burgers. You might swear off beef for the rest of your life.”

  “I don’t think that’s true.”

  “They were really good.”

  “You didn’t swear off beef,” he pointed out.

  “Mm,” I mumbled.

  He started chuckling.

  He cupped the side of my head, kissed my mouth and leaned away so my hand dropped.

  He took a sip of beer.

  I took one of wine.

  When I’d swallowed, he said, “Now’s the time to take this shit light.”

  I gave him a small smile. “Agreed.”

  “So what’s your favorite color?”

  I started giggling.

  Then I told him, “The rainbow.”

  He stared at me a beat before he burst out laughing.

  When the laughter was waning, he asked, “How could I have guessed that?”

  I tilted my head to the side and shrugged.

  He shook his head and took another swig of beer, so I took another sip of wine.

  When his bottle and my glass were back to the bar, I stated, “Let me guess. Red.”

  He looked at me and shook his head.

  “Blue?” I guessed again.

  He nodded. “Though there are stipulations.”

  My brows rose. “Stipulations to your favorite color?”

  “Yup,” he replied and went on, “Trucks, black. Dirt bikes and ATVs, yellow. Snowmobiles, black. Tees, they just have to be kickass. Jewelry I’ll give a woman, gold. Lacy underwear with garters, black or red. Teddies, black, red and I’ll throw in pink, which, babe, is the only way I like pink.”

  “I think I need to go underwear shopping,” I muttered.

  “This would not go unappreciated,” he replied.

  I averted my eyes and took another sip of wine.

  He chuckled again.

  When I put the wineglass back to the bar, he asked, “Ever been on a dirt bike?”

  “No.”

  “Wanna try?”

  “Yes.”

  “ATV?”

  “No.”

  “Wanna try?”

  “Yes.”

  “Snowmobile?”

  I shook my head.

  “Try it?”

  I nodded my head.

  His lips hitched.

  “Do you have all of those things?” I asked.

  “Drive my truck up under the mill in winter and that’s where that stuff stays year round when I’m not using it.”

  “Ah,” I said, not yet having wondered what that space was used for and glad I didn’t have to start.

  “You gonna nurse that wine until you die?” he inquired.

  “In a hurry?”

  “You goin’ home tonight after I’m done with you?”

  My nipples started tingling but I said, “I probably should, honey. If Addie’s still up, she might want company.”

  “Then yeah, I’m in a hurry.”

  I took a gulp of wine and my eyes got big when I swallowed it.

  He chuckled again, leaned in and kissed my neck.

  He leaned back and shared, “You don’t have to glug it, baby.”

  “We’ll have to be quiet tomorrow,” I reminded him.

  “Yeah,” he confirmed.

  “So I have to glug.”

  Another lip hitch.

  I took another gulp.

  And when I did, Johnny burst out laughing.

  Johnny had mounted me.

  I was on my hands and knees and he was curled over me. One arm straight, hand in the bed, fingers linked with mine. One arm angled over my shoulder and slanted across my chest, his hand cupping my breast. He had his face stuffed in my hair that had fallen over my shoulder at my neck. He’d ordered me to touch myself, something I was doing. And he was thrusting inside.

  It felt good, like it always did with Johnny. The best.

  But it was more, surrounded by Johnny, the strength of him, the surety, the power, the safety of him, all of that covering me, penetrating me.

  I had my head back pressed against his shoulder, my eyes closed, my lips parted, my breaths heavy, coasting on all he was giving me, letting it sweep me away, letting him take me there.

  My climax was fast approaching.

  I opened my eyes, about to call his name.

  And that was when I saw us reflected in the windows to the balcony.

  We were perpendicular in the bed, facing straight to the windows.

  I hadn’t noticed that before.

  But now I couldn’t tear my eyes away.

  I could see the muscles of his shoulders moving with his thrusts. I could see his dark head stark against my lighter hair. I could see my thighs splayed wide in order to take him inside. I could see my face harsh with sex, filled with need.

  We were beautiful.

  God, we were beautiful.

  Johnny must have felt the swift ride to climax I was taking had slowed as I watched him fuck me, getting off on yet something else he gave me, because his head came up.

  And his eyes locked on mine on our reflection.

  Instantly, that muted roar rumbled up his chest, so deep, I felt it beating down my spine, exploding between my legs.

  “F
uck, you’re beautiful,” he growled.

  No.

  He was.

  Suddenly, I was up on just my knees and fully exposed to my eyes, his eyes, watching myself take his cock as he moved his hands to cover my pubis in a V and then up my belly, over my breasts, where he gripped me on either side at the juncture of neck and shoulders and held me steady to take his cock.

  That was even more beautiful.

  I whimpered and started moving more desperately on him, meeting his thrusts, my breasts swaying with my movements.

  “Look at my sex kitten,” Johnny grunted, his eyes locked on our reflection. “She loves taking my cock.”

  “Yes,” I breathed.

  His hands came back down, one cupping my breast, fingers rolling my nipple, the other pushing my hand aside to dive in and rub my clit.

  I moaned, and as much as I didn’t want to lose the sight of us, I couldn’t stop my head dropping back as my movements became frantic.

  “Look at you,” Johnny groaned. “Fuck. Christ.” He squeezed my nipple and I gave a small cry. “Look at you.”

  I felt my hair tickling my chest, tremors starting to flow through me, and I forced my eyes back to our reflection, seeing my body moving wildly on his, my knees spread wide, my sex exposed, everything exposed, slamming into his thrusts, watching his cock sink in, pull out and sink in again and again and again.

  “Johnny,” I gasped.

  “Yeah, baby,” he growled. “Yeah. You love taking my cock, don’t you?”

  “God yes,” I panted.

  “Work it, Izzy,” he ordered thickly.

  I was working it but I worked at it more. For me. For Johnny. For moments like this I’d do anything.

  My back arched, angling him deeper, and I cried out again.

  “Fuck,” Johnny bit out, his face had been dark with sex but now it was cruel with it. Cruel and beautiful. “That’s it, sex kitten, give it to your man.”

  “Just you,” I forced out.

  “Just me,” he clipped off, his fingers at my breast curling and digging in almost painfully.

  “Just you,” I whimpered. “Only you. I’m only this for you.”

  I barely registered the look on his face changing before my head shot back, hitting his shoulder, my spine arced at an impossible angle and I came.