Lana
I sit at the window of my bedroom with my notebook and pen, staring out at the rain. I like the way the way it clings to the glass, the way some drops stick before finally sliding down. I like the constant stream, the distortion; I like the way the light bends around the raindrops. I like the way the house shakes. I giggle when I hear Terry grumbling from the living room. I want to write something about it, something poetic, but I can’t. My pen doesn’t move. Every time I write, I think about Kade, as though he’s leaning over my shoulder watching me. I can’t write. I can barely think. I just have Kade in my mind, that image of him and me and the child on Sunday morning. I just wish things had gone differently. It’s been a month and he hasn’t contacted me, not even a text or a call. Maybe he’s done with me.
I try and make myself react with anger, rather than heartache. I tell myself I am infuriated rather than despondent. I tell myself countless lies, stack the lies atop each other, until I am standing beneath a tower of lies. Maybe I could write about that: a tower of lies. A tower of lies sitting in the unceasing summer rain. But when I turn my pen to the page, nothing happens. I just sit here, stunned. Constantly stunned over this past month. Stunned that Kade is not here; stunned that I will have to raise this child alone; stunned that life is galloping ahead without me.
When Terry throws the door to my bedroom open without knocking, I know something is wrong. Though this is her apartment and I’m not yet paying rent, Terry is respectful of my space. It’s yet another reason why I love the woman so much.
Then the reason for her sudden disregard of my privacy appears. Kade walks up behind her, completely drenched, water splashing onto the hardwood floor.
“Kade?” I ask, my voice full of disbelief. It’s only been a month, but a month is a long time if for the weeks before that you spent every night in somebody’s bed. He’s still tall and muscular with sturdy features, and the same piercing blue eyes. The sort of blue eyes I prayed for as a child when the world seemed small and I felt trapped. “Is that—”
He paces across the room, raindrops flinging around him, and stands over me.
“I’m—I should’ve come sooner,” he says. His voice is husky, strained. It’s the voice of a man who has never been any good at expressing his emotions. “I—” He glances at Terry and I know that he won’t speak his emotions in front of her. I’m about to ask for her to excuse herself—she stands at the door, arms folded across her chest—when Kade says, “We have to get out of here. Both of you. I have to get both of you out of here.” At first I think he means me and Terry, but then he reaches down and places his hand on my belly, the tiny bump which is starting to show. “I’ve been . . . I need to protect my family, Lana. I need to protect you and our child. And you, Terry.” He turns to her. “You need to come with me.”
“What? Why?” Terry says, suspicious.
Kade quickly explains about the Italians.
“They’re closing in,” he finishes. “Or, at least, that’s how it looks. They might be blowin’ steam, trying to get us riled. Either way, I’m not taking the risk.”
I love you, Kade. I love you for coming back. I love you for thinking of our child. I love you.
I don’t say it, though, because he might not say it back. Feeling that pain once is enough.
“Look, I know this is serious business,” Terry says, “but I don’t think I need to go with you. I don’t think I’m in any danger. What am I, to them? I’m Lana’s friend—”
“Exactly, you’re Lana’s friend,” Kade says. He speaks more patiently than I would’ve expected from him. It’s as though something in this past month has changed him. Perhaps being apart from me. He keeps smiling at me, and then at my belly. Glancing at me to make sure I’m still here, that I’m real, even as he talks to Terry. “You don’t know these men. They’ll think nothing of hurting you to get to Lana, to get to me.”
Terry shakes her head slowly. “This is madness.”
“I agree.” Kade nods. “It is.”
“I’ll go and pack some things.”
Terry leaves my bedroom.
I stand up and lead Kade to my bed by the shoulders.
“You don’t need to keep pacing,” I say.
He sits on the edge of the bed, drenching it. But I don’t mind. He could spray the whole room with hose-water, ruining everything, and I’d still be happy he was here. He rubs his hands together, watching me as I go around my room, packing clothes, packing my writing material. Even when I’m turned the other way, I feel his eyes on me. His breathing is heavy as he watches me. I know that breathing well. Lust and rage are gripping him. He himself probably doesn’t even know where one begins and the other ends.
I pack quickly, and then sit next to Kade on the bed. I don’t make any move toward him. I’m still stinging from the rejection at the town hall. I just sit there, my legs touching his legs, as Terry grunts from the next room.
Finally, Kade places his hand on my leg. I place my hand atop his hand.
He turns, smiles softly at me. “It’s good to see you again, Lana,” he says. “I was worried.”
With my free hand, I reach up and touch his face, stroke my fingers along his jawline. He is cold, but beneath the coldness there is a burning warmth which reminds me of the nights we’ve spent together, the nights when he was too tired to do anything but give me mind-blowing orgasms, and then the nights where we shared love, countless times, again and again throwing ourselves into each other. Dirty, hard pleasure; slow, comfortable pleasure; hungry, desperate pleasure.
“Scud’s gone,” Kade says, and then tells me what happened.
“I’m glad you didn’t kill him,” I mutter.
Kade tilts his head at me. I remove my hand from his face and place it on his knee. He takes a deep breath, that simple touch waking up lust within him. I can tell just by the way he is acting that he has not been with another women this past month.
“Really?” he says.
“Yes. He was a creep, but he didn’t do anything.”
“Tried to,” Kade murmurs. “Anyway, he’s not got a free-pass. If he ever comes back, anywhere near you, my kid, he’s a dead man.”
“Your kid? It’s strange to hear you say that, after . . .”
“I could’ve handled that better, Lana. We both know that.”
“Then why didn’t you?” I ask. I don’t want to ask the question. I want everything to be perfect. But I can’t help it. It just comes out.
“Because . . .” He groans, closes his eyes, as though searching himself for an answer. I know men like Kade—tough men—don’t think about their emotions much. I know this must be hard for him. Finally, he says, “Because I was scared I’d lose you, too, I guess. Duster’s gone, and now you . . . and I was a damn fool for thinkin’ anything happened with you and Scud. I know that. But I guess that’s what I am. A damn fool. And then I told you to stay. I told you to stay at the clubhouse and I thought you’d just do what I said. But then, over this past month, I’ve been thinking. Strange for me, thinking about things I’ve done like that. Second-guessing. I’ve never second-guessed myself. I’ve been thinking and I realize that you didn’t want to tell you anything, did you? You wanted me to ask. But you couldn’t ask me to ask, ’cause that’d defeat the purpose.”
“Yes,” I say. “Yes, that is it, Kade.” I smile. “Who says men can’t understand women?”
I watch him, waiting. He’ll say it now. I’m sure he will. I love him, and he loves me. He will say it now.
He opens his mouth, about to speak. I wish I could take a picture of his eyes right now. Burning blue. Brimming blue. It’s like his eyes are the sky and emotion is fluttering birdlike across them.
“Lana, I—”
“Okay, I’m ready.” Terry hefts her bag with a groan. She looks at me, and then Kade, and back again. “What? Am I interrupting?”
Kade rises to his feet, all business again. “No,” he says. “We need to go. Hang on.” He takes his cell from his pocket and begins talking with Noname. “Bring the car around. Be ready. We want to get back to the clubhouse quick. Fuck my bike. You talked to Earl? Locked down? Yeah, yeah, good. Safest place for us. A fuckin’ fort. Good, yeah, yeah. Alright. Be ready.”
He hangs up the phone and walks to the door, joining Terry. Both of them look at me expectantly.
I stand up, make to pick up my bag.
“Oh,” Kade says, walking across the room and picking it up for me. “What sort of father am I goin’ to make, eh? Letting my woman and my kid carry all the heavy shit.” He tries for a laugh. It sounds forced at first, but when I join in with a giggle, we laugh along together all the way to the door.
Terry rolls her eyes. “You two are psychopaths,” she says. “Dragging me from my home and laughing all the way. You make me sick.” She pouts at me as we walk down the stairs.
“Blame him,” I say, nudging Kade in the shoulder. “He’s the one who’s been ignoring me for a month.”
“Oh, I do blame him.” Terry winks at me behind his back. “Maybe we should teach him a lesson. Cook him up in a stew. I’ve been told before I’d make a good witch.”
“Ladies,” Kade says. “The time for jokes will be later.”
“See,” I say, “he’s scared.”
He glances back at me, a smile on his face, before stepping into the rain.
We walk quickly down the street to what looks to be a rental car, a large, luxurious-looking sedan. Seeing the gruff-looking leather-wearing Noname behind the wheel of a vehicle like this is enough to provoke enough round of laughter.
Noname shrugs when Kade raises an eyebrow at him. “You said get a car, Boss.”
Kade packs the suitcases into the trunk and rushes us into the car. He sits in the passenger seat, and even turns around before Noname starts the engine to make sure I have my seatbelt on. It’s strange, seeing him so concerned with my safety, like he’s stopped seeing me as a fuck buddy and started seeing me as—dare I say it—his girlfriend.
Noname pulls away from the apartment, the car cutting through the still-lashing rain, and starts driving back toward Evergreen.
Kade looks at me in the rear-view mirror, looks at me like he never has before.
He’s changed.