Page 53 of Auctioned to the Prisoners

Finally, I turn in Rock’s embrace to pull Kinkaid closer, but he doesn’t let me kiss him right away. Instead, he hauls me against his powerful body, wrapping his thick, muscular arms around me so tightly that my shoulder joints creak. His breath, warm and quick, brushes against my ear as he murmurs, “Lory.” My name sounds like a plea on his lips.

I know I’m leaving. The threat looms over me like a dark cloud, and this is about them trying to communicate their feelings in their own ways.

“I don’t have to go,” I whisper, desperation aching in my words. “I can beg Grady to change his mind. Maybe I could stay here for a while, and you guys can head back to reduce the suspicion. He can bring you back when the coast is clear.”

I realize I sound pathetic and desperate, but I don’t care. The thought of leaving their warmth and strength feels unbearable. I can’t face the prospect of being outside without them—of not being able to reach out when I need them or knowing they won’t be there when they need me. Letting them go will be too hard.

“It’s for the best,” Kinkaid insists. “You’ll get your money, and you can help your sister.”

“But… but…”

“It’s okay,” Rock soothes as his hand cups my hip.

“We’re not going to forget you,” James blurts out, his eyes darting nervously to his friends, worried he’s spoken out of turn. “Leave us your name and address so we can write to you.” The earnestness in his voice hits me hard—he genuinely wants to keep in touch. I struggle to hold back my tears, the weight of our impending separation pressing heavily on my heart.

“This has been special, but it’s not the real world, Lory. You probably feel things you wouldn’t be if we were all free.” Kinkaid squeezes me tighter, telling me things his words don’t. He’strying to make me believe this isn’t real, but his body doesn’t lie when it grips me closer.

I cling to him, wishing I had more space in my arms to embrace them all.

Is he right? Does he fear the impact of our forced confinement as much as I do? Does he doubt his emotions, or is he trying to protect me? Even if I wanted to, how could I wait for a man who has more years left on his sentence than he’ll admit? Even if I could wait for James and Rock, our dynamic wouldn’t be the same without Kinkaid. A quarter would be missing from our group, a vital part that none of us would want to go without. Kinkaid is the strong arms and the rational mind, Rock is the gentle hands, James is the sweet inner child and the humor, and I’m the heart and the glue. At least, that’s how it seems.

I’m greedy to want them all. Some women don’t even find one man to fit against their brokenness, and I’ve found three in the most impossible circumstances.

“Don’t let me go,” I whisper, my resolve shattering in the face of our separation.

James curses, grabbing his hair and tugging hard, and I realize that my pain and reluctance to leave are only going to make things harder for them. These men will be trapped here with the knowledge that I’m outside these walls with all the temptation and danger the world has to offer. I have to help him get through the last months of his sentence so that he doesn’t do something foolish to add more time. I take his hand and press it against my breast, knowing the effect that touching me has on him. Tension leaches from his body as I replace his brutal grip with my tender fingers, stroking his scalp. He takes my other nipple in his mouth, sucking gently, and his body relaxes like I cast a magic spell to push out his demons.

“I’ll wait,” I say. It’s the right thing to tell them. It’s the only thing to say. I don’t want this to be the end of us.

“Okay.” Rock pushes my hair from my neck and kisses me between my shoulder blades. “Okay, Lory. Okay.”

When Grady comes, the bottom falls out of my world. Kinkaid, Rock, and James stand like a wall of brutality, their muscular, tattooed arms folded across their chests, their jaws set with grim finality. I’m wearing the leggings that the warden brought me and one of the white prison t-shirts. I think it’s Rock’s because it smells like him. I’m holding my sandals and dress, intending to walk out of this place in a pair of James’s socks I hastily pulled on.

I’ve been barefoot and naked for most of my time in Blackstone Penitentiary, so it’s strange to be clothed differently, like a kid returning to school after summer break. My eyes dart to the corners of the room, taking it in for the last time.

“You ready?” the warden asks, fingering the side of his mustache. He looks grim today, and I respect that. He understands the gravity of this act to remove me early. He promised them thirty days, and now he’s whipping away the candy like the witch in Hansel and Gretal.

I wonder how many people have felt like me about leaving this jail behind. Are there men who’ve become so institutionalized that leaving the walls they’ve become accustomed to has felt like punishment? Being yanked away from these men is causing me physical pain, the ache around my heart an echo of sorrow. My stomach is woven into complex knots I fear I won’t ever be able to untie.

“No.” I want him to know that this isn’t what I want, or at least make him confident that I’m torn up about leaving. Being able to help Kennedy early will be a relief, but knowing it’s on the back of three men’s misery will cloud everything.

I stand halfway between them, not knowing what to do with myself. For a week, I’ve been a part of them. I’ve become so used to their hands on me that when I stand alone, there’s somethingmissing and I’m unbalanced. The outside world is vast and lonely without their arms to hold me together.

I turn to face them, watching James’s throat move with an almighty swallow. Rock fights to keep his expression neutral, and Kinkaid looks anywhere but at me. My breath is trapped, stretching my lungs. Tears burn my throat, and one slides down my cheek. “Bye,” I whisper.

Will they hold their reserve?

I understand why they’re keeping their distance now. They don’t want to wear their pain or desperation. It’s a protection mechanism necessary for survival in a place like this. I won’t hold it against them because they’re practically vibrating with tension, their mouths tight and their eyes pleading. It’s killing them to let me go.

James is the one to break first. He reaches me in two determined strides and crushes me against him, lifting my feet from the ground.

Rock is next, stealing me away to hug and kiss away my tears. He pulls something from his pocket and presses it onto my hand. When I look down, I discover a small, folded origami rose made from the pages of a book. I blink and tears trickle a path down my hot cheeks.

Kinkaid is last, and he can’t look at me, but his hold is firm, his kiss to my forehead gentle and fleeting as though touching me is too much for him to bear. When I stare up, desperate to look into his sapphire eyes, he maintains his gaze on a point in the distance. I pull the hastily scribbled note from where it’s tucked into my waistband and stuff it into his hand. He glances down, then closes it tightly in his fist.

“You should go now,” he says in his cold, gruff voice, but he holds me just a little too long to be truly unaffected.

I pull away, inhaling a gulp of breath to push down the wave of sadness that would be big enough to knock me off my feet ifI let it escape. The warden holds the door open for me, and I walk without awareness, like a windup toy crossing the floor, its attention focused on nothing. The click of the door behind me is so final, it makes me gasp. I don’t turn because looking back is pointless. They’re trapped in a world that isn’t mine. But I won’t be able to forget them. Not ever. I’ll write to them. I’ll tell them how I feel. I’ll make them understand that I want to wait for them, however long it’ll take.

---