Page 51 of Whirlwind
There’s something powerful when someone with trauma like Kit’s decidesyouare the one they trust to help them move past it. I feel like a different man, now. There are moments in life that change you irrevocably—whether it’s a death, a birth, an illness. For me, it was a witnessing.
I bore witness to her surviving her monster. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever done. All I wanted was to rage for her—to hop on a plane, fly to Maine, hunt him down, and bury him in the fucking ground.
There are still so many questions I want answers to, but I won’t make her relive any of it just to satisfy me. That’s a torture I’ll live with—knowing that if I everdoget the chance to find that asshole, I’ll make good on my desires.
And then, there was the moment she had the courage to ask me to get myself off for her. It was intimacy unlike anything I’ve ever known. She was so beautiful.
But I can’t help wondering if she’s ever had afullorgasm.
She came— I know she did, because I tasted it on her fingers. But it wasn’t explosive; it was the smallest flicker of release I’ve seen since Jill Swanson and I lost our virginity to each other at fifteen. I barely got Jill there, either—had no idea what I was doing back then.
One day, I hope I get the chance to truly blow Kit’s mind. I’m obsessed with the thought of it. Which makes me feel like an asshole—because while she’s taking baby steps into her sexuality, all I want to do is fuck her until she’s limp and can’t remember anything but my name.
“Hey, Shitbrick! Wake up,” Lottie says, bringing me out of my thoughts.
“Lot,” my mom chastises her. We’re at a restaurant on the waterfront, a nicer establishment, otherwise, Mom wouldn’t care. We all talk like longshoremen at home.
“I’m awake.”
“Just distracted,” Lottie says. “Because of that woman?”
“What woman?” Dad asks.
“His neighbor lady.”
“She has a name,” I say.
“Well, are you going to tell us what it is?” Mom asks.
“Her name is Kit.”
“That’s a cute name,” Mom says.
“She’s not a kid; it’s not a cute name. It’s a pretty name,” Lottie argues. “She isn’t a kid, is she?”
“No, smartass.”
“Well, that’s good,” Dad says, as if it was an option that I’d be dating someone underage.
“Why did I invite you all here anyway?”
“Because you miss the hell out of us,” Lottie says, picking another blueberry out of her pancake. If blueberry pancakesare on the menu, she’ll order them. However, she hates the blueberries being in the pancake. She picks them out one by one and eats them separately.
I don’t ask questions.
“I thought I did,” I say, rolling my eyes at her, then winking.
“Do we get to meet her?” Mom asks.
“She’ll be at the game tonight,” I say, nodding.
“In the family section?” Lottie pops another blueberry in her mouth.
“Yes, with Willa. I think Isla and Sadie will be there, too,” I say, and they all stare at me. When Isla broke it off for good with me, I didn’t take it well. My family saw the worst of it.
“It will be nice to see them again,” my mom says. “Seems weird to meet your new girlfriend with your ex in tow, though.”
“Don’t call her my girlfriend in front of her,” I say. “She’s not comfortable with that whole idea yet.”
