Tortured

  My head rolled back, my mouth falling open. His one hand was braced against the wall, the other lowered to the bend of my hip, his fingers sinking into it as the rest of his body pushed into mine. A sound came from me that I didn’t recognize. I had to cover my mouth to contain it. When my head lowered enough to see Brecken, his face was turned up in a partial smirk.

  “The bed?” I breathed, letting myself adjust to him inside me again. Letting myself grasp the reality that I was making love to Brecken Connolly again.

  “I lived inside four walls for six years. There wasn’t a bed.” He kissed the bend of my neck, his lips tracing down the column of my neck. “I made the most of my situation by imagining you in those four walls with me, up against any one of those four walls with me inside you.” His body smashed into mine a little harder, managing to sink the slightest bit deeper. “Just doing a little fantasy fulfillment.”

  I smiled even as he started to move inside me. “This seems like a nice wall.”

  Brecken was breathing hard, his forehead beading with sweat. “It’s a nice wall wherever I have you pinned against it.”

  His mouth returned to mine, claiming ownership in the same way he was the rest of my body. I felt him everywhere, inside, outside—he was a part of me.

  “Brecken?” I breathed against his lips, squirming as I tried to slow my body down.

  “Me too, Blue Bird.” His forehead fell into the wall beside me, his back going rigid. “Me too.”

  A pulse shot through my body right before my orgasm surged to life. His fingers dug deeper into me when he felt me come undone, his own release following. He rasped my name once, then again when his body stopped moving inside mine.

  “That was …” He shook his head against the wall.

  My fingers dragged down his back, my whole body feeling as though it were floating. “Quick?”

  A raspy chuckle emanated from him. “Insane.”

  “Insanely quick?”

  His head tipped against the wall to look at me. “Insanely good. Insanely amazing. Insanely unreal. Insanely the best thing to ever happen to a guy in the history of ever.”

  My body rocked against his when I laughed. “Now I understand.” I paused, loving the feel of the sweat dotting his back. Loving the way it felt gliding along the pads of my fingers, the raised ridges of his scars with it. “But I might need a repeat. Maybe this time though, insanely slow?”

  Brecken’s arms wound around my back before turning me away from the wall. He started toward the bed, his steps strong and sure. If he was limping as he carried me across the room, I didn’t feel it.

  “Do you mind if insanely slow translates to all night?”

  My head shook against his neck, a gasp escaping from my mouth when I felt him harden inside me. As he laid me down on the bed, his hands cupped around my left hand. His eyes stayed on mine as he slid the platinum band from my ring finger. He held it for a moment, then he opened his fingers and let it fall to the floor.

  “I’ve always been yours.” My fingers braided through his as he lowered his body over mine. “Nothing changes that.”

  “He was too blind to see what he had. I never was. I always knew what I had when I took you into my arms.” His arms knotted behind me, drawing me into him, as his hips rocked into mine. “The whole fucking world.”

  My body still ached the next morning, but it was different. The aches from pain had dimmed, being replaced with aches from pleasure. Brecken had managed to take away the pain, one gentle touch at a time, one loving word at a time.

  I was waking to the same life, but I was a different person traversing through it. The time on the alarm clock beside the bed read a little before six in the morning. I recalled seeing four something before my eyes had finally given in to sleep. I’d never felt so rested though, even on only a couple hours of sleep. That might have been because I hadn’t slept with the proverbial one-eye open, anticipating when the next attack would come.

  When I rolled over, I found the other side of the bed empty. On the pillow though was a pink wild rose he must have plucked from one of the bushes outside, and a note. On it was a little stick figure with exaggerated eyes. Sorry. Staring again. It was signed Pretend, Stick-Figure Me.

  Most mornings I woke up with some version of dread or resolve on my face. This one, I woke with a smile. Collecting the flower and note from the pillow, I pried myself out of bed to get showered and dressed. I wasn’t sure where Brecken had gone, but I assumed his cabin since we’d both decided it was important to keep our relationship, as far as it went beyond friendship, hidden from Keenan. It would only confuse him, and I wanted to keep confusion to a minimum in his life.

  After showering and dressing, I went back to straighten up the bedroom and made sure none of Brecken’s clothes were left lying around. I didn’t miss that he must have picked up my ring sometime early this morning and put it on the dresser for me to find.

  I slid it on with a heaviness. He knew the way things were between us, and he’d also accepted the way things had to be once Crew was back from rehab. It was a strange reality to accept that the man I loved would gladly rip out the throat of the man I was married to … if it wasn’t for me asking him not to.

  Checking my phone where I’d left it charging in the living room, I saw I’d missed a text from Crew. He’d sent me one each morning since he’d checked into the program, each within a few minutes of each other. Each one started with a countdown to how many days were left, followed by some quip about missing us and being sorry. Like the two mornings prior, I erased this one.

  Keenan hadn’t moved from the position he’d been in last night, his chest still moving in slow, even motions. Nothing like a day at the lake to deplete a kid’s energy stores.

  He was going to wake up starving though, so I figured I should get started on breakfast before he woke up. Actually, I was hungry too. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d actually eaten because I’d been hungry, instead of just eating to keep from wasting away.

  We’d picked up a few things at the grocery store before heading here yesterday, so I tore open the box of pancake mix and pulled the carton of eggs from the fridge. I was just cracking the last couple of eggs into the frying pan when I noticed a figure running along the lakeshore. It was barely detectable, but his stride was a bit uneven. Smooth on the right, choppier on the left. Not that it was slowing him down any. Brecken looked like he was training for the hundred-meter sprint instead of out for a morning jog.

  His footsteps echoed on the stairs a few minutes later, his heavy breaths sounding similar to the ones I’d experienced against my skin last night. I made myself focus on breakfast so it didn’t burn, instead of the reminders of the night before.

  The screen door whispered open, followed by Brecken slowly stepping inside when he noticed Keenan still sleeping. When he saw me, his eyes softened, right before they roamed me in a similar fashion to the way mine were roaming him.

  “Hungry?” I said quietly, waving my spatula at the plate of steaming pancakes.

  His brow lifted before he wiped his face off on his shirt. “Famished.”

  The way he said it had me clearing my throat. Hormones, be gone. Libido, save it for later.

  “Exertion?” I eyed his sweaty running attire.

  He grinned. “Plenty.”

  “Tired?”

  His forehead creased as he gave me a look. “Negative.”

  “More?”

  “Positively.” He nodded once as he moved closer.

  “Tonight?”

  He grabbed an apple from the table and lifted it to his mouth. His teeth sank into it, his eyes aimed at me as he chewed. “All night.”

  “Sounds …” I started, scrambling the eggs.

  “Amazing?”

  “Strenuous.”

  His brows bounced as he took another bite of the apple. “If you’re doing it right.”

  “Which you make it a point to.”

  He gave a half bow, followed with a w
ink. “Are we done with the one-word sentences conversation?”

  “Maybe.” I smiled into the pan when he grumbled.

  A moment later, the sounds of someone starting to wake up came from the futon. Keenan had a ritual when he woke. Couple of yawns, arm stretched above the head, another yawn, long and drawn-out, followed by bouncing up in bed, all ready to take on the day.

  “Hey, sleepyhead.”

  “Hey, Mom.” Keenan rolled out of bed and padded into the kitchen. “I’m starving.”

  I glanced at Brecken as I carried the plate of pancakes to the table. “Seems to be the theme this morning.” Giving his messy-haired head a kiss, I layered a couple of pancakes onto a plate for him.

  “Hi, Brecken. Why are you all sweaty?” Keenan stopped reaching for the syrup when he took a good look at Brecken, who was moving toward the stove.

  “I went out for a run this morning.”

  “Can I go on a run with you tomorrow morning?”

  “Yeah, sure. If it’s okay with your mom,” Brecken added, grabbing the spatula and giving the eggs a look, like he was trying to broker a truce.

  Thankfully, I’d turned down the heat before taking the pancakes to the table.

  “Is it okay, Mom?”

  “It’s okay with me,” I answered, cutting his pancakes into small pieces as he poured a stream of syrup over them.

  “Why do you work out so much, Brecken?” Keenan asked.

  “Because I need to be strong,” he said, carefully stirring the scrambled eggs. He seemed surprised when flames didn’t start shooting from the pan.

  “Why? You’re not in the marines anymore. Why do you need to be so strong?” Keenan stuffed a forkful of pancake into his mouth.

  “Because I want to keep the people I care about safe.” He spoke facing the stove, but I could feel his words aimed toward us.

  “I guess that’s a good reason.” Keenan shrugged, inhaling a few more bites of pancakes while Brecken finished scrambling the eggs.

  After inspecting the eggs and turning off the burner before we went from scrambled to scorched, I nudged Brecken. “Nicely done.”

  “I’m a quick learner.”

  “Or I’m a good teacher.”

  “Fine.” He smirked at me, carrying the pan of eggs to the table. “Then I’m an eager learner.”

  “True story.” I found a smile as I dished up two more plates of pancakes.

  “So what are we doing today? More fishing?” Keenan’s eyes lit up, his head whipping toward the window in the direction of the lake.

  “Sorry, little man. I’ve got more work to do today, and I’ll probably be back too late to take you out night-fishing again.” Brecken scooped some eggs onto Keenan’s plate, then mine, before taking a seat.

  Keenan slumped in his seat for a moment before shooting back up. “Mom?” He turned toward me, blinking those big blue eyes. “Would you take me fishing?”

  Picking up my fork, I paused. “I don’t know anything about fishing.”

  “Brecken didn’t know anything about fishing, but he took me out.” When Brecken shot him an injured look, Keenan shrugged.

  “My secret’s out. I don’t know anything about fishing.” Brecken dished a portion of eggs on his plate. “But we still had fun trying, right?”

  Keenan’s head bobbed. “Come on. Please, Mom? I’ll do anything. I’ll do the dishes. Fold the laundry. Just please, try? For me?”

  The bite of egg I’d been about to take was still frozen in the air in front of my mouth. Brecken had joined in with the clasped-hand begging, puppy-dog-eyed guilt-tripping. They looked like twenty-year age difference clones, from the drooping lower lip to the ramrod posture.

  I lowered my fork, glancing out at the dock where the fishing boats were bobbing in the water. “Let’s go fishing.”

  “This is the best day ever, Mom. The bestest,” Keenan announced from his seat in the fishing boat a few hours later, a pole resting in his hands.

  “You said that about yesterday too.” I checked the tip of my pole for any movement at all, like the guy who’d rented the boat to me had instructed. Nothing. I was starting to wonder if the lake was fresh out of fish.

  “Yesterday was the best day ever. But now today is.”

  I tipped his hat down lower over his head to cover more of his face. It was hot out again, and the midday sun was beating down on us. My long-sleeve shirt was plastered to my back from the sweat, made worse by the restrictive orange life jacket I was stuffed into.

  Keenan hadn’t complained once, but he had to be roasting. Thankfully, Brecken had suggested I pack a small cooler with some water and snacks in case we were out here for a while.

  “We’re fishing,” Keenan announced a minute later, grinning at me. “We did it, Mom.”

  Despite the heat and the sweat and my unfavorable opinions on the topic of fishing, I was struck with something. A feeling of accomplishment, a sense of confidence. I’d known nothing about fishing other than how to spell it and that there was a pole involved, yet here I was, out on a boat in the middle of a big lake, fishing with my son. Crew wouldn’t have believed it. No one who knew me as the person I was now would have believed it.

  For so long, I’d bought into the theory that I was weak and incapable and inadequate, but I realized what a lie that was. I had everything I needed to face any challenge. It was all inside me. Maybe it was hiding, but it was there, waiting for me to find it.

  My back relaxed and I exhaled, admiring the scenery around us. “You know, this really is the best day ever.”

  Keenan was in the middle of a smile when the end of his pole wobbled. “I got one! Mom! I caught one!” He leapt up from his seat, making the boat rock some.

  “Reel it up! I’ll get the net!” I was shouting with him for some reason, my heartbeat pumping in my throat.

  Keenan’s hands were a haze of motion as he worked his reel while I wrestled to get the net untangled from the tackle box. If anyone was watching us, they were probably getting a good show.

  “I can see it! There! I can see it!” He stopped reeling long enough to point at the flash of silver rising from the dark water.

  “It’s a big one, Keenan! I don’t think it’ll fit in our net.”

  Keenan’s mouth made a round shape as he stared at the net before getting back to his reeling. When the fish was close enough to the surface, I dropped the net into the water, scooping the fish into it.

  “Does it fit? Does it fit?” Keenan was bouncing in excitement, leaning over me to try to get a look.

  “Barely.”

  Once I had the net in the boat, I turned it over to let the fish slide out of it. It flopped around on the bottom of the boat, the hook hanging from its mouth, splashing droplets of water onto us.

  “It’s ginormous!” Keenan hooted, leaning down to touch it before thinking twice about that.

  “Biggest fish I’ve ever seen.”

  I leaned over the fish to shield it from the relentless sun. Truthfully, it was a little puny and all banged up. One fin looked mangled, and there were a bunch of marks running all along its belly. Even one of its eyes was cloudy. It was a fish that had seen a hard life, even though it had clearly been a short life gauging the size of it.

  “Should we keep it, Mom? We can cook it up for dinner tonight. Brecken won’t be able to believe it.” Keenan was leaning over me, still shaking in his excitement.

  “I don’t know. What do you think?”

  I kneeled back, finding myself feeling almost sorry for this poor little fish that had been looking for a means to stay alive, been tricked into taking the wrong bait, and was now going to pay with its life. It was a fish. Not an emotionally intelligent animal, if you could even classify it as an animal. Fish. Slimy. Scaly. God, it wasn’t like it was some adorable polar bear cub I’d just lured into my boat for the sake of entertainment or a meal.

  Keenan continued to stare at the fish with me, his body starting to quiet. Eventually, his little hand made it the rest o
f the way so his fingers could brush across the fish’s metallic scales.

  “Let’s put her back,” he said, moving toward the tackle box like he knew what he was looking for.

  “You sure?” I turned my head to watch him dig around in the tackle box, surprised. From how excited he’d been about fishing, I’d guessed he’d want to have his first one stuffed and mounted.

  Keenan held out a pair of needle nose pliers for me. “Let her go.”

  As I worked the tiny hook from her mouth, I told my son the reason for my tears was the bright sun reflecting off the metal boat. I couldn’t tell him the real reason. So instead, I pulled him under my arm as we both lowered the fish back into the water, letting her go so she could swim to see another day.

  He wasn’t back yet. He’d thought he’d be back by nine, ten at the latest, but it was almost eleven. He wasn’t back.

  I guessed that what had happened to him back then would always haunt what happened now. I told myself he was fine, just running later than planned. I reminded myself this wasn’t a war zone; it was Southern Oregon. It didn’t matter. Nothing was capable of calming my worries.

  Keenan had been adamant about staying up until Brecken got home, but even he’d crashed in the middle of a game of checkers half an hour ago. Another long day of fishing, swimming, and hiking had worn him out. It had worn me out too, but the more minutes that went by without hearing from Brecken, the more awake I became.

  He’d said he’d try to pick up a cell phone sometime today so I could get ahold of him if I needed to, but that didn’t do me any good tonight. To distract myself, I picked up all of the games Keenan and I had scattered around the living room, collected the pieces of popcorn we’d tossed at one another. After he’d fallen asleep, I’d changed into a soft cotton nightgown, unable to keep myself covered in billows of fabric any longer. The bruises and evidence of my beating were still evident, but being able to display them for once, instead of making concealment the priority, felt freeing.