Page 17 of Copper

“Always.”

The silence between us is deafening, and the air practically crackles between us. I burn to touch her, and her shoulders tense in restraint like she wants to touch me. We’re locked in a game of sex chicken, but I’m not sure if the first to touch will lose or win.

“Be with me tonight. Your bed. Like we used to be.” I lose the chicken game. I don’t care. I’m going to lay my cards out and fall first.

Lucy looks down. “No, Aaron.”

The room spins a little as I push off the counter, laughing like a maniac. Lucy stiffens further and circles the counter. “I think you should go.”

“Why did you let me follow you inside? Hand me wine? You have to know I want you, Lucy!” I yell. I don’t mean to. Something about the alcohol and my frustration combine into an uncontrollable pitch. I clear my throat and reach for her. When I tuck her hair behind her ear, she gently pushes my hand away, and my skin burns where her fingers touched me.

“I don’t know why I invited you in, Aaron. I guess I’m still codependent and don’t want to be alone all the time. I’m broken, Aaron. I’m so fucking broken.”

“No, you’re not. You’re beautiful and strong. How many women would have survived what Beck put you through?”

She looks up at me, and her eyes darken. It’s not sexual, though. It’s…mean. “I’ve had to be strong.” She nudges her chin toward the door. “What happens at the club doesn’t necessarily happen in my home.”

“So, now you only fuck around with me when you get paid for it?” I pat my pants pockets like I’m looking for something. “I think I have a twenty here somewhere.”

The slap comes before I can block it. Her hand moves faster than my eyes. I have police reflexes, but I don’t see it coming since my guard is always down with Lucy. At that moment, I know I’ve had way too much to drink. I really should have seen that coming.

Because I deserved it.

Her handprint burns on my face, and I instinctively touch my cheek before she can straighten from the follow-through. Even her hair moved with the strike, a lone lock of auburn hair flopping over her forehead with the force of her movement. She has one hell of a right arm.

She backs into the wall behind her, shaking her head. Her eyes are wide like she thinks I’ll come for her, and that’s typical for a battered woman. I’m actually shocked she got violent with me. “I’ll call you a ride. I’m sorry, Aaron. I shouldn’t have hit you…” Her voice trails off and her face crinkles like she’s about to cry.

I hold up my hands, trying to signal I won’t hurt her. I want to pull her into my arms and apologize, but I don’t want to scare her. Truth be told, I’ve never seen Lucy slap a mosquito, and my heart pounds in shock that she hit me, even as I want to comfort her. Something has crawled under her skin.

“Don’t call a car. I shouldn’t have said that. Fuck,” I whine, running my hands through my hair in anguish. “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t mean that. It just came out. Something obviously has you rattled, and you’re not talking about it. I want to keep you safe. I’ll sleep on your couch tonight. I will never touch you again, but let me keep you safe tonight. I just…” My voice trails off, and I lean against the wall opposite from her.

“I’m sorry, Aaron. I just so fucking angry all the time now.”

I step toward her, and she cowers against the wall, one step up from curling into a ball. “Hit me,” I whisper.

“Wh-what?” she stammers.

“Hit me again.” I hold my arms out wide. “You’ve got some rage. You have some issues with men after what he did to you. Hit me again, Lucy! I’ll take it if it’ll make you feel less broken. Less battered. More powerful. I want you to take your power back. I want you to be Lucy again.”

She shakes her head but her stance straightens. She’s not cowering anymore at least.

“I won’t.”

“I’m giving you a pass. Beat the shit out of me. I’ll take it. I’ll take it from you. For you.”

“I’d never hurt you like that, and I’m sorry I slapped you, Aaron.” Her eyes dart around the room. “I guess I do have some issues with men, but I’m pretty sure they’re valid.”

“Lucy, you’ve got a lot on your plate, and I really wish I could take those words back. I would do anything to take them back,” I plead, looking at the floor. “I don’t think of you as my whore.”

She tilts her head as a tear rolls down her cheek. I see it and wince. I put my hand over my heart because it feels like it’s going to crawl out of my chest that I made her cry.

“What do you want, Aaron?” she asks in a tired voice with a weak smile. “And don’t tell me to beat you up.”

My chest heaves, and I walk to her, boxing her in and putting my elbows on either side of her face. If she doesn’t want me here, she can bring her knee up and nail me in the balls, but she looks up at me as I tentatively run my hand through her hair.

That soft hair. I’m so psycho for this woman that I’d take a lock of her hair to sleep with under my pillow if she ever said she wouldn’t talk to me again.

“I want you, Lucy. No club. No me having to pay for a blow job to feel close to you.”

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