Page 20 of Keep Me Still
How long has she been doing that?My stomach plummets at the thought of a little boy with messy dark hair and tear-filled green eyes being kicked around like a junkyard dog.
“Okay,” I choke out over the lump that’s formed in my throat. “Thank you for dinner. I’m going to go down and say goodbye.”
“Door’s down the hall on your left,” is all she says.
When I find the door on the left, I think his mom must be mistaken. Or I chose the wrong one. It’s pitch black and I’m gripping the handrail to get down the stairs without falling and breaking my neck. “Landen?” I whisper into the darkness.
“Over here. Take five steps and make a right. Put your hands out.” His voice is thick and low. Wounded. Angry. I do as I’m told until I feel a well-worn leather couch beneath my hands.
I reach until I feel him and lower myself onto the seat beside him. Minutes pass and neither of us says a word. Until I can’t take it anymore. “That happen a lot?”
“Depends on what you mean by a lot.”
“Jesus, Landen. That’s not okay. Hehityou.” I find his arm and wrap mine around it, leaning over into him. I don’t know how to comfort him, how to make it better. But God I want to so badly.
“It happens,” is all he says. His voice is raw and broken and it sends a painful sensation crashing over me. Peels away my skin and leaves my nerves exposed.
I want to climb on top of him. Kiss him, devour him. Fix him. Make it better, like he does for me. I take a few deep breaths and turn towards him. I can’t see it, but I know that muscle in his jaw is probably flexing. Know his fists are clenched.
“I’m so sorry.” I reach up and place my arms around his neck, pulling him to me, yanking him into a hug he may not want but I need.
He snorts out a small laugh. “You’re sorry? What the hell, Layla? Don’t apologize because my dad was a drunken asshole and disrespected you. That just makes it worse. I should’ve made the bastard spit teeth.”
“No, you shouldn’t have. He’s drunk, like you said. No amount of hitting will fix that.”
“Might be worth a shot,” he grumbles and pulls back. I open my mouth to protest but he lays his head in my lap and lets out sigh.
I rake my fingers through his hair for several minutes. “Does it hurt?” I ask, lowering my hand and tracing lightly over his jaw. It’s too dark to see if it’s bruised but I can feel that it’s swollen. My tears catch in my throat. Crying won’t help him. Plus I never cry in front of anyone. Haven’t since I was a kid.
“Not too bad. I can take it.”
“You shouldn’t have to,” I answer, my voice barely above a whisper. I wipe the solitary tear that escaped onto my cheek.
“Neither should you. Not from him or anyone. Listen, that shit at school, the way everyone—”
“Shh.” I shake my head, even though I know he can’t see. “I can handle it.”
“Say the word and I’ll set every single one of them fucking straight. I’ve already warned Cam and DW. If you so much as hear anyone whisper Freaky Flaher—”
“Landen. Enough. I’m fine. It doesn’t bother me anymore. Not since…”Not since you came. Since you saw me.“Since you.”
For a full minute he’s silent and completely still. I’m almost afraid I’ve shocked him into a coma. And then something warm and unexpected presses against my inner thigh. Holy Lord. Landen just kissed me on the leg. He’s never even kissed my mouth. I want to him to. I want him to so badly I can’t stand it. It’s all I can do not to grab him and drag his face to mine. But with the tension from tonight’s dramatic events and the mention of the way things are for me at school…our pain is out in the open instead of buried where we normally keep it. And it’s leaking out into the room and suffocating me.
Part of me doesn’t want him to kiss me for the first time right now because I don’t want the memory tainted by how much we’re both hurting. And part of me doesn’t want him to because in this moment, with his secrets right on the surface, I’d give him anything. Everything. If he kissed me right now, it wouldn’t stop there.
And we both know I’m not ready for that.
My breath hitches as he places another kiss on my thigh, higher this time. His right hand inches up my dress, gently caressing my leg as he goes.
A steady pulse begins somewhere inside of me and lands at the juncture between my thighs, just below his head.
“Landen,” I breathe.
His lips tickle my flesh as he speaks. “Tell me to stop and I’ll stop.”
My mouth forms the word but doesn’t say it. The sound of my own breathing fills my ears. His lips are parted this time when they come into contact with my inner thigh and I can feel the wetness of his tongue coming closer to my panties. A small whimpery sound escapes my throat and he grips me harder, his hand coming closer to touching me in a place I’ve never been touched.
This is not smart. We should definitely stop. Except…it feels like he needs this. Needs me. A distraction. Something good to come out of being blindsided by an angry drunk that’s supposed to love him. Protect him. Instead of being the one he needs protection from.
