TWO
Every student knew that when the final bell rang on the last day of school, it was the official start of summer break. My fellow peers hollered, boasted, and laughed, tunneling through the exits of Bradshaw Academy and racing for their cars like wild bulls. Even the teachers smiled, their shoulders unstiffening and being replaced by a momentary touch of relief.
Izzy was eighteen, and due to starting school a year late, I was nineteen. We were excited to finally be done with high school, ready to tackle college. Sadly, we were going to different universities, but they were only two hours apart, so we planned on seeing each other often.
I drove home from school that day.
Before I could back out of my parking spot, Riley, my ex-boyfriend, banged his hands on the hood of my car with an annoying grin on his face. We gasped, our attention averting from each other to him, and I slammed on the brakes.
“What the fuck are you doing, dipshit!?” Izzy shouted, her upper half now through the sunroof.
Riley busted out in a laugh. I rolled my eyes, lowering my window. “Get out of the way!”
“Not until you answer my question from earlier!” Riley walked around the car and to my window. He bent down, placing his elbows on the top of the door.
“I already told you I would think about it.” I looked back at Izzy as she sat back down and folded her arms. “We have plans. Your little pool party doesn’t seem like much fun.”
“Oh yeah?” He flashed a crooked smile. It used to make me drool. I quickly got over it when I realized how much of a cocky jock he was. “And just what in the hell will you two be doing?”
“We’ll be celebrating the start of summer elsewhere.”
“Oh fuck. Don’t tell me you’re going to Joseph’s party instead of mine.”
“Well, his party doesn’t involve a ton of whores soaked in water. His will be inside, with more drinks and louder music. Joseph’s house is huge. No one will complain because he doesn’t have neighbors close by.”
“You, on the other hand,” Izzy said, pointing at him and laughing, “…live next door to Kimmy who has a mother that nags and bitches for no fucking reason.”
Riley shook his head. “You are both idiots. My party is going to be the shit. Everyone is coming.” He stood up straight. “If you aren’t there, consider yourself lame.”
I shrugged, and gave Izzy a knowing look. She laughed and I said, “We’ll take our chances.” When he stepped back, I pulled off, swerving as he yelled something rude after us.
“What a dickhead!” Izzy chimed, lowering the visor mirror and checking her glossed lips. She fluffed her black hair and then looked at me with bright green eyes. “So, what are we really doing? Joseph’s last party was totally fucking lame.” She clapped her hands, suddenly having a bright idea. “Oh! I know! Let’s go to LA. Frankie’s mom has an apartment there. We can invite some friends, and I can get Marco to buy us some drinks. We can get wasted and then do the same again tomorrow night.”
I glanced at her before focusing on the road again. Izzy was still my best friend, but I don’t know what made her want to drink and smoke more often. She was becoming this untamed party animal, thirsty for attention. I guess I couldn’t blame her for it, though.
It all started when she lost her virginity to Justin, this preppy rugby player that was a class higher than us. To make a long story short, Justin dumped Izzy when he realized he only had two weeks left before going off to college. My guess is he figured college pussy would be better and more convenient for him than a twelfth grader’s.
I felt for Izzy, and I wanted to kick Justin’s balls up to his throat, but like a champ, she recovered, moving on to Marco. Marco she met at a bar in L.A when she was supposed to be helping her mom bake.
“That doesn’t sound like a fun start of the summer.” I scrunched my nose with disinterest. “Didn’t your dad say your mom was throwing a cupcake party tonight anyway?”
She scoffed. “Yeah, but no thank you! I’m not in the mood to taste every cake she bakes.” Her eyes rolled again.
“Your mom makes the best cupcakes! Are you kidding?”
“I’m pretty sure she’d rather me not show up. She knows I don’t participate. My dad talks too much. I don’t know why he even brought it up the other night. He just did it to make conversation with you. He knows I never show for Mom’s baking parties.” She looked me over through the corner of her eye when I stopped at a stoplight. “It’s like he can never shut up when you’re around. He goes on and on and on.”
I blinked fast, unsure of what to say. There were times when Mr. Black could never shut up. Like when I turned seventeen and finally grew boobs big enough to have all the guys stare at. My hips had rounded out, and softball helped me maintain a slender waist and a flat stomach. My thighs had filled out as well, toned from workouts. Even my face had become smoother, free of acne and blemishes.
I’d learned how to do my hair at a young age, so flat-ironing it or even leaving it curly when I’d wash it was simple. I wasn’t exactly a woman, but I was close enough. And although I was kind of insecure about my body, I knew there were girls that would have died to have it, so I didn’t complain much. Perhaps he was just comfortable with chatting with me, spilling all the family secrets.
We arrived in Primrose in no time. I went home to change out of my uniform and into a black and yellow sundress and sandals. When I jogged down the stairs, I heard the echo of my father’s deep voice. I hadn’t even realized he was home. He must have parked in the garage.
I entered the kitchen, spotting him with his phone glued to his ear. He turned around to the sound of my footsteps and put on a gentle smile when his identical hazel eyes met mine. I exchanged a smile, and then he held up a quick finger, silently telling me to wait a second.
Going for the bar stools at the island counter, I took a seat and picked up a banana. I was done eating it by the time Dad was off the phone.
“I swear they’re trying to kill me,” he muttered, placing his phone on the counter. He shut the screen off and I smiled. I knew he had work to do, but, like always, he gave me some time out of his busy schedule. “So, I have your graduation date marked on my calendar. I know I’ve missed a ton of stuff this year, baby girl, but I won’t be missing that. You have my word.”
I grinned. “Okay. I believe you.”
“What do you say to some lunch tomorrow? Ice cream afterwards maybe? We can hit that old ice cream shack we used to go to right by the beach.”
“That sounds great. But… wait.” I squished my brows together. “You don’t have to work?”
He shrugged. “I can work around it. I’m proud of you. My baby girl is about to graduate high school! Soon she’ll be off to college.” He sighed, almost in disbelief. “Where has the time gone?” Smiling, Dad came around the counter, pinched my cheek, and then kissed my forehead. He started to say something else, but his phone buzzed on the marble counter again. Cursing beneath his breath, he went back for it, checked the name on the screen and then shook his head, his shoulders going into a defeated slump. “Sorry, Chloe. Gotta take this. Plans tonight?”
“Yeah. With Izzy. Last day of school.” I hopped off the stool.
“Oh okay. Well be safe. Call me or your mom sometime tonight so we know you’re still alive.” He answered the phone call and started for the mouth of the kitchen. Before he disappeared, he quickly whispered, “I love you!” and then he was up the stairs, most likely on his way to his office.
Sighing, I tossed the peel of my banana in the garbage can, grabbed my cell phone and then went over to Izzy’s, walking right in. I no longer needed to knock. The Blacks trusted me.
When I walked in, Izzy was coming down the stairs in a tight purple dress. “Oh, Chloe! Hey, can you zip me up please?” She whirled around, bringing her hair over her shoulder.
“Who do you think is gonna show in L.A.?” I zipped the back of her dress, and she turned around, her green eyes meeting my hazel.
“Marco will show, and I’m sure Joey is ditching Riley’s party. He always has pot, too. And he is so fucking into you.” She whispered the last sentence, and just as she did, the sound of a motorcycle’s engine hummed from the driveway. I stiffened. Izzy’s eyes went wide like a deer caught in headlights. “Holy shit! Let me go get a cardigan or something. My dad will flip shit! And don’t tell him where we’re going!” she shouted as she ran up the stairs.
I straightened my back, listening as she scrambled through her closet. She wasn’t the only one nervous about his appearance. I looked down at the seams of my dress, smoothing out the wrinkles with flat palms. My heart picked up speed, and I sighed. What is it with you? Why are you so nervous to see him? You see him almost every day.
It took a while for him to come in. I fidgeted on my feet, glancing at the couch. I could have taken a seat, but I didn’t want to. I wanted him to see me, maybe compliment me on something I was wearing like he always did.
I loved this dress. I’d just bought it. Maybe he would compliment that.
So many crazy thoughts ran through my mind, but they all made sure to shut the hell up as the door creaked open and Mr. Black walked into the house, going through the mail in his hand and, soon, kicking the door shut behind him. When he spotted me, his eyes connected with mine, expanding. “Oh, Chloe.” He put on a smile. “What’s going on, Little Knight?”
“Hi, Mr. Black.”
“Theo,” he corrected.
I laughed. “I feel really weird calling you by your first name.”
“We’re all adults now, right?” he shrugged. “Calling me Mr. Black makes me feel old as hell.”
“But you’re not. You look great—I mean you shouldn’t consider yourself old—” I sealed my lips, heat blazing in my cheeks. “I just mean… you’re not old.”
“Ha.” He laughed softly, head tilted. He dropped the stack of mail on the table, walking forward. “That’s nice to know.” He studied my attire, smiling softly. “Cool dress.”
“Thanks.” I beamed inside, bursting with rays of sunlight—or maybe it was moonlight. I felt cool to have his compliment—like the moon—not hot and blazing like the sun. I fought hard to ward off my blush, looking towards the open window above Mrs. Black’s favorite red leather recliner.
“You two coming to Janet’s shindig tonight?” he asked.
I whipped my head. “Um… I’m not sure. We’re going to go to the mall. Izzy is going to help me pick out a dress for graduation day.” I gave an innocent shrug and press of my lips. “It’s right around the corner, after all.”
“Really? I believe Izzy has had hers picked out since winter.” He folded his arms across his broad chest, a crooked smile taking over his lips. I hadn’t realized before, but he only had on a black muscle tank. His muscles flexed as his arms crossed, the detailed ink making my heart spasm a little.
Fuck, Izzy’s dad was hot. With his goatee and hair styled the same ever since the day I met him. Classy and casual. Why couldn’t guys my age look like him?
“Well, I’ll let Janet know.” He walked past me, and I caught a whiff of his scent. There was a smidgen of cologne, but it’d most likely faded from a long day at work. His natural scent was inviting. Delicious. My body hummed inside, familiar with his smell. “She might be a little disappointed, though.”
“I’m sorry,” I apologized. “If I find a dress in time, we’ll try to make it.”
Izzy trotted down the stairs with a small tote bag, greeting her dad as she wrapped her arms over his shoulders. “Hey, Dad.”
“Izzy Bear, heard you weren’t coming to your mom’s party tonight?”
“Oh…” She pretended to care, pouting her bottom lip as she pulled away. “I was going to, but Chloe has been asking me to help her buy a dress for weeks now.” That was the lie we agreed to use if our parents asked our whereabouts.
He looked at me briefly before focusing on her again. “Sure, kiddo.” He gave her a sarcastic, full-of-shit look. “Come on, now. You don’t have to lie to me. Just be safe and be sure to call me tonight. I won’t hound you unless I feel I have to.” He looked at each of us. “You’re smart girls. And I trust you around Chloe. That’s the only reason I’m letting you go out tonight.”
My lips spread when his eyes bounced from hers to mine. They sparked a little, the brown pools gentle and confident. Unable to conceal the grin and the blush that ran over my face, I dropped my head, pretending I didn’t notice the spark in his eye. Sometimes I wondered if Mr. Black was flirting with me or if he was just a really nice guy.
There were certain looks he gave me, looks that only boys that were into me provided. Like how he winked at me every time he saw me, and even when he stood only a few inches away, watching as I spoke to him and filled him in on the latest school gossip. He watched how my lips moved, and even noted how my eyes always rolled when I mentioned Riley. He wasn’t pretending to be interested in what I had to say. He actually responded and even gave me advice.
It was… strange. But, for some reason, I liked it. He was the only one that actually listened to me. Not even Izzy indulged in my concerns fully. Most times, she was too busy talking about herself or something she got into, and if she wasn’t, she’d be on her cellphone, texting or tweeting away while I quietly explained my reasons for being upset, happy, etcetera. She cared, of course, but she didn’t listen quite as well as Mr. Black.
Izzy kissed his cheek. “I’ll be safe, Dad. Don’t worry,” she promised. Then, she picked up her bag from the corner, gesturing for me to come on with a hurried swoop of her eyes. She was out the door in a second, and I followed after her, but before walking out, I took a glance over my shoulder. Mr. Black waved a hand, wordlessly saying, “See you later.”
It was hard ignoring the heat that slid through me as he sat on the arm of the sofa, arms folded again, brown eyes hot and smoldering. “See you later, Mr. Black.”
“Later, Chloe.” Chlo-ee. I shut the door, but trust me, the way he sang my name replayed in my head all day and all night long.
Even as Izzy got completely drunk and puffed on marijuana, I thought about him. I imagined him, and then I remembered that, ever since I was twelve, I had always admired him.
He kept himself in great shape. He was nice to me. Sweet. And it seemed when he was younger, he was a complete badass, but Mrs. Black whipped him into decent shape and made him sort of good. I knew there was some darkness in him, and that alone intrigued me.
When I was a little older, spending endless hours at Izzy’s and growing into my mature, girly ways, I wondered how he was in bed. I’m a little ashamed to admit that I heard him and Mrs. Black one night.
I’d slept over with Izzy, and it was nearing two in the morning. I could hear them when I went to use the bathroom. She sounded like she was in ultimate pleasure—like she never wanted it to end—and he groaned, gently banging the headboard against the wall.
I could vividly imagine him.
Eyes shut.
Body tense, ready to release.
I was sixteen. I was pathetic.
And crushing on my bestie’s dad.
Hard.
Around 1:45 AM, Izzy’s cellphone rang, buzzing on the nightstand. It was a constant ring. On and off. Maybe it was urgent. “Izzy,” I groaned. “Your phone.” She snored. When her phone stopped, mine decided to ring, and I picked up, answering groggily.
“Hello?”
“Chloe!” Mr. Black’s voice came through the line, frantic and on edge. I perked up, eyebrows stitched.
“Mr. Black?”
“I—fuck. I need—where is Izzy? Where are you?”
“We’re… at Frankie’s. Why? What’s going on?”
“Is she sleeping?” His voice sounded strained.
“Yes.”
“I need you to wake her up… please.”
“Mr. Black… what’s going on?”
“It’s Janet…” His voice broke. “I’m at the hospital and Janet… she—there was an accident.”
“An accident?” I gasped. “What do you mean? What happened?” I hopped off the sofa, rushing to where Izzy had passed out on the floor. She groaned.
Mr. Black continued. “On her way home from the bakery she stopped at some—some run down gas station. Got robbed and mauled by some low-life motherfuckers. I swear to God if they find them I’ll fucking kill them.”
“Is she alright?” I asked.
“She… tried to fight back. Broke her jaw. Broke some ribs, and…” He swallowed hard, and his voice was unclear. “Because she fought back, they stabbed her eight times. She would have bled to death if someone hadn’t found her, heard her cries for help.” He sniffled. My heart cracked.
“Oh my god,” I whispered.
“They don’t know if she’s going to make it.”
I shook Izzy harder, and she sat up, eyes broad and confused. “What the fuck, Chloe?”
“Izzy, I—we have to go.” I stuttered, keeping the phone glued to my ear. “What hospital?” I asked into the phone. Mr. Black told me where, and as soon as I was dressed and helped Izzy back into her dress, I grabbed her keys and rushed down the stairs, meeting at the car.
Izzy groaned, calling after me. “I’m so lost,” she whined “I don’t get what’s going on. Why are we leaving in the middle of the night? Did Marco try to come onto you? I swear I’ll fucking kill him.”
I slammed the car door behind me, and when she was inside, I turned to face her, gripping her shoulder caps. “Izzy, I seriously need you to get out of your high and hung-over stupor and listen to me.”
She frowned, forehead creasing. “Sheesh. Okay…?”
“Your mom was… robbed and stabbed eight times on her way home tonight.”
“What!?” She gasped, frantic. Her entire body perked up, eyes growing wide. That was all she needed to hear to snap out of it. It almost seemed she didn’t believe me with the look of utter disbelief masking her face.
“She’s in the hospital,” I went on, and I hated to see the relief in her eyes because I wasn’t finished. “But they don’t know if she’s going to make it.”
She cupped her mouth, eyes wide and watery. “Oh my god,” she whispered. Then she waved her hands, tears spilling as she motioned for me to start the car and hurry up. “Well fucking go, Chloe! Go! Oh my god!”
I started the car and pulled off, unsure of what to feel… how to react. I felt numb for both Izzy and Mr. Black. I wasn’t sure how to accept it either. If Izzy lost her mother, she would regret not showing up for the baking party.
She would hate herself.
I couldn’t believe this was happening. Even as we reached the hospital, storming inside and finding Mr. Black in the waiting room, it still hadn’t hit me yet. It hit Izzy of course. She sobbed hard into her father’s chest, her body racking. Mr. Black tried remaining strong, but he couldn’t fight the tears.
I lingered silently, my head down, purposely avoiding their eyes.
We sat in the waiting room for three hours. They were performing surgery, but the surgery turned out to be nothing more than another complication.
A doctor appeared in the waiting room. “Mr. Black?” he called, eyes sullen.
Izzy and Mr. Black jumped out of their seats, rushing for him. They had optimism in their eyes, but I could tell that was about to be crushed. Mrs. Black was already gone and they didn’t even know it.
Deep down, I knew it.
I knew she’d lost the battle. She was a petite woman, and to be stabbed eight times… I couldn’t even imagine. This wasn’t 50 Cent’s survival story. There was no fantasy bullshit—no coming out of this.
This was real.
Raw.
And insanely depressing.
The doctor spoke, and immediately, Izzy broke down, clutching herself, eyes sealed tight as she wept. Mr. Black caught her as she threw her body into his arms, reeling her in, and swallowing hard as he did his best to nod his head and take heed of his emotions. Patting Mr. Black’s shoulder, the doctor turned and walked away, leaving us in a muggy shower of gloom.
They stood there... well, he stood there. Holding Izzy. He was in a frozen state of mind, listening to his daughter weep, calming her by rubbing her back. It would have seemed warm and affectionate on his behalf, but those weren’t his intentions. It was a habit he was accustomed to—soothing his daughter whenever she was in need. The act he was pulling now… it was confusing as hell. His eyes were too focused on the blank wall ahead of him. He was too stiff.
Too cold.
Too… wrapped up in disbelief.
Finally he moved. He spoke—did something to prove he was okay… for the time being anyway.
“Chloe,” Mr. Black murmured, turning only a fraction of the way. I stood. His face was as white as a sheet of snow. “Take Izzy home, please. Make sure she’s okay.”
I nodded, immediately reaching for a torn up Izzy and making my way to the exit. Before I departed, I looked back. Mr. Black pinched the bridge of his nose, trying his hardest to fight off the tears. Only, it didn’t work. And though I wanted to be there for Izzy, I also wanted to be there for him.
He had been ripped apart, raw emotion pouring out as he sat in one of the chairs, body shuddering. Tears threatened me, but I kept it together, cooing to Izzy as I made my way to the car. As she sobbed in the passenger seat, I sat still for a moment, gripping the wheel.
I wondered how it would have been if one of my parents had died. Would I cry this hard? Would I care this much? They were hardly around, even while retired, but I loved them to death. It was scary to imagine them no longer on this earth.
I looked at Izzy, watching as she swiped at the never-ending flow of tears. She hid her face in the sleeves of her cardigan and her sobs stopped for what felt like forever. Her body went absolutely still, and my eyes widened because from where I sat, it looked like she’d passed right out. Her eyes were shut. Her body was motionless. I couldn’t even hear her breathing.
But seconds later, the loudest sob I’d heard from her all night was unleashed in the small space of my car and I startled in my seat, swallowing down the big pill of emotion.
“God, Mom!” she wailed, and then she fell forward, burying her face in the cup of her hands. I rubbed her back, silence overcoming me. Nothing I could have said would calm her grief.
For Izzy, it was too much to handle. No longer having a mother. No longer being able to share her life or future with the woman that birthed her and made so many sacrifices for her.
I can’t imagine…
“Let’s get you home,” I whispered, starting the car and driving slowly, blank the entire way back to Primrose Way.
Mr. Black got home about two hours after we did. Sliding the curtain aside, I watched as he parked his bike and kicked the kickstand with the side of his leather boot. I waited for him to get off—waited for him to make a move—but he didn’t.
The sun was just rising, a few rays shining down through the leaves of the towering palm trees surrounding him. None of the rays touched him, though. It seemed a higher power knew he was hurting, that his soul had been cloaked in darkness and anguish and was cutting him some slack.
He sat on his bike for several minutes, and then he finally took action. Hopping off the leather seat, he opened the garage and as soon as he was inside, he picked up a few personal items, tossing them all out. Toolbox after toolbox came flying out, metal clanking and rattling as it slammed onto the concrete.
A sharp gasp passed by me, and I went for my jacket, rushing down the stairs, shutting off the alarm, and quietly slinking out the balcony door so my parents wouldn’t hear me. After rounding the side of the house, I rushed across the street and up the Black’s driveway.
“Mr. Black!” I called as he lifted a hammer in the air above his head. He was standing right above his old 2000 Harley. It was a classic, still in great shape. I only saw him ride it once. He wanted to save mileage… at least that’s what he told us.
His head whipped to the side, and he looked at me, eyes red-rimmed, his face still pale. His nostrils flared, the anger present. The pain clear. His hurt cutting deep.
I lifted my hands in the air as I entered the garage cautiously, eyes hot. My throat dried out, lips parted as I tried formulating words. But what could I say? Other than saying I was sorry for his loss nothing felt like the right thing to tell him.
“Theo,” I whispered, and his back straightened, his arms dropping with sluggish feat. “I know you’re upset,” I said. “I know this isn’t what you wanted. Mrs. Black shouldn’t be gone… she didn’t deserve what happened to her—”
“I know she didn’t.” His voice was gruff as he cut my sentence in half. I’d never heard it that way before. Dry and scratchy and deep. It was the first time I ever felt unwelcomed by him.
“Destroying the home you two worked so hard for won’t make you feel any better.” I pointed towards my house, taking a few more steps ahead. “Izzy needs a safe place to come back to…”
He didn’t say anything. Just stared at me, motionless. Then, before I knew it, the hammer was no longer in the air. His arms dropped and it slipped out of his hands, hitting the ground with a heart-rattling thunk.
I didn’t feel so safe while in the garage with him, but like someone trying to tame a wild beast, I kept moving forward. I didn’t know what Mr. Black was capable of. I didn’t know if I could trust him while he was so angry. I didn’t know the Theodore Black that thrived way before I ever existed. I didn’t know his backstory, but I assumed he had an immoral temper.
I understood he was a good man and that he would never harm the people he loved, but I wasn’t sure if I fit into that group. As someone he cared about… someone he loved.
After spending seven years around this man, he never could be placed in that “fatherly” category. He acted as more of a friend than a role model to me. Like he wanted to be my age again, living a free and reckless life.
Sluggishly, Mr. Black stepped back towards the door that led into the house, his face tightening. “I should have waited,” he said, voice breaking. “Instead of going home early, I should have been there, following her home.” He lowered to a squat, pressing his elbows on his thighs and folding his fingers in front of his mouth. “I was complaining about a damn headache and she was good enough to understand. I should have just manned the fuck up. I should have stayed there. If I had, it never would have fucking happened.”
“No, no, no,” I cooed. Marching forward, I squatted in front of him, holding onto his forearms. “No, don’t say that. You didn’t know this would happen. Mrs. Black takes the same route home every night. Things happen that are out of our control.”
“I should have just rode to fucking L.A. with her. This is the exact fucking reason we left from that fucked up city. Ignorant, stupid motherfuckers can never keep their hands to themselves. I swear to God if I find them, I’ll fucking kill them. All of them. There was more than one.”
I blinked my tears away, watching his run free. He didn’t dare swipe them, and he didn’t even try to hide. He no longer cared how he looked or how emotional he was. He was… comfortable with me. At least he was talking, not bottling it all up.
“She’s fucking gone, Chloe. Isn’t that some shit?” He scoffed, giving a smile that contained no trace of happiness. “Her, of all people… my fucking wife of thirteen fucking years. Dead.” He shook and dropped his head. A few stray tendrils fell down on his forehead, eyelashes touching his cheekbones. I tucked the loose strands back. He looked up. Our eyes connected and barred for just a small moment.
“It doesn’t seem real,” I murmured. “It seems she could come home at any minute. Pull up in the driveway and greet everyone.”
“Yeah…” His eyes held mine, the brown pools darker but softer. He studied my face, the small stretch of sunlight allowing him the opportunity.
Eyes connected.
Skin tingled.
Heartbeats quickened… my heartbeat.
Swallowing thickly, he stood to his feet, bringing me up with him. When he held my hands, it caused my skin to buzz, eliciting a fire within me. I controlled my reaction, taking a step back as he raked his fingers through his hair. He looked at me hesitantly, like he felt the same thing but couldn’t speak on it—wouldn’t dare speak on it. Breaking the silence, he said, “I’m going to go hit the shower. Catch some sleep if I can.”
“Okay.” I nodded. “When Izzy’s up, I’ll let her know you’re here.”
His face grew pained, almost like he didn’t want to face his daughter. There was fear, fear that he might break down once he saw traces of his wife in his baby girl. Like her green eyes and small nose. Her wild personality. “Okay,” he finally said.
He stepped back, looking me over before turning around and entering the house. I watched him go inside, the door shutting behind him. I stood in the garage for a moment, recapping all that’d just happened.
He was hurt.
He was devastated.
He couldn’t believe he was the one suffering.
He of all people.
Losing his wife.
Losing half of himself.
Losing what probably felt like everything to him.
I can tell you that Mr. Black was never the same again. I can tell you that he hardly ever showed up at home, and if he did it was to shower and change clothes, maybe work on his bike late at night.
I can also tell you that he was angry, like the world and his life had gone to full-blown shit and that it could never be restored. He was always at work. Always busy, trying to steer his mind from reality, working to will away the broken life he hated even existed.
But for Izzy, he did his best. He survived. He attended graduation and even saw her off to college. She left a week and a half before I had to go, and during that week, I watched him from across the street, peeping out of my bedroom window. I watched as he worked on several different bikes, blasted rock music he’d never listened to before, and got so drunk in his garage that he’d pass out. Music like that, metal-rock, made most people hostile and angry.
I was certain that was his goal—to be angry with any and everything. To have an excuse and something to back him up if things went awry. He was being immature and taking his grief out in all the wrong ways.
When he passed out, I’d walk across the street to help him. I’d carry his weight up their two flights of stairs, nearly dragging him into his bedroom and laying him on his bed. This happened three nights in a row without a single issue.
Not even Izzy was taking it this hard. Yes, the pain still cut her deep, but she was healing from her loss, ready to start fresh elsewhere. I guess it was different for Mr. Black because he loved Mrs. Black in a completely different way. He lived in a home they shared and slept in a bed that I’m sure reminded him of her every single day and night.
One night—the fourth night I helped him—changed our relationship in its entirety.
He passed out in the garage again around midnight.
Sighing, I walked across the street and helped him up, going through the same routine, draping his large body on mine. He was damp with sweat and grease marks soiled his shirt. I tossed him on the bed, and he chuckled then sighed.
He reeked of gin this time. I shook my head. Knowing he’d hate himself if he ruined his sheets with his dirty boots, I bent down, untying the strings and pulling one of them off.
Mr. Black kicked the other foot as if he was trying to get rid of me, like he had no clue I was helping. “Mr. Black,” I said, struggling to catch his foot. “Please stay still. I’m trying to take off your shoe.”
“Mr. Black?” he repeated, voice sluggish. It took him a while to sit up straight just to find me in the dark. The bathroom light was on, but the door was cracked. Only a sliver of light showed, revealing part of his face. His glassy eyes caught mine, his supple lips separating as he said, “I like it better when you call me Theo.”
“Well, Theo, please be still so I can take your other shoe off. Don’t want to ruin your sheets, right?”
“Yes ma’am.” He grinned, teeth white and glistening. I ignored the drumming of my heartbeat, pulling off his other boot and then standing, placing it aside.
“There. I’ll put some water and aspirin by your bed. You should take it in the morning.” It was weird talking to him now. Normally he’d pass right out once he hit the sheets, but not this time.
No, this time he stared at me as if he wanted something—something he knew he shouldn’t have. His eyes roamed my body, up and down, breathing heavy. Words were begging to be spoken, but instead he kept quiet, allowing his actions to speak for him.
Standing from the bed, he leisurely walked towards me, but I stumbled away, my back hitting a wall, preventing escape. I wasn’t afraid of him, though. No, in fact, as his smoldering brown eyes pierced mine and he stood before me in nothing but a grey muscle tank, I couldn’t help but falter.
He was such a beautifully damaged man. So much pain and chaos and hurt in his eyes, but it didn’t mask his good looks. I wanted to make him better with the only way I knew how.
Affection.
Hugs.
And sweet, tender kisses.
But hugging and kissing Mr. Black would have been wrong… right?
“I don’t want you to leave,” he admitted. “You’ve taken care of me and Izzy…” He met up to me and cupped one of my cheeks. I expected a rough hand touching smooth flesh, but it was gentle, his hands free of callouses and blisters, courtesy of the gloves he often wore while working. “I appreciate you so much for that. Taking care of me. Watching out for me. I know I can get crazy—do some really childish shit.” He stroked behind my ear, running his tongue over his bottom lip. “God, you have no idea how beautiful you are, do you?” My heart pounded.
I couldn’t speak. I didn’t need to.
“I know you like me, Chloe.”
“Mr. Black, I—”
“Theo… please,” he begged, eyes shutting briefly before opening again, “…just call me Theo. Call me by my first name. It sounds so good coming out of your mouth.” The pad of his thumb ran across my lips, feathery-light. My core heated, a gush of warmth flowing to my sacred area.
“Theo,” I whispered, pressing a hand against his chest.
“Yes?” He got a thrill out of me saying his name. I saw it in his eyes, how they lit up and sparked like a shower of meteors.
I tried creating words—lyrics I’d rehearsed—but the way he looked at me and how close he was to me, I’d never felt this before. Not with any kind of man. No man had ever made me feel this way—ready to pounce on top of him, smother his lips, and take him whole. Just Theo.
“W-what do you wanna do to me?” I tempted, my wavering voice barely heard. I was being bad. Naughty. I knew better.
Theo’s face became hard like the metal he worked with, the light emphasizing his chiseled features. Locking eyes with me, he gripped my waist, reeling me into him, and breathing deep as his nose ran down the angle of mine.
Before I knew it, he’d yanked my spandex shorts down, his mouth angled above mine. He paused for what felt like an eternity, testing me. Teasing me. Playing with my mind and body.
But, instantly, he spoiled me, mouth crushing mine, his tongue thrusting between my lips. He groaned, and I defenselessly fell into his touch, his hands on my waist, picking up one of my legs as he turned for the bed.
My back hit the soft padding, my left leg pushed up to my chest as he sank against me. Theo lifted up and yanked off his belt then undid his pants, grasping my hips, nearly bruising my waist as he brought me closer. His arm shot out towards the nightstand, and he dug in the drawer, pulling out a small, square, gold packet. A condom. As he tore it with his teeth and took the time to slide it on, I could have wriggled out from under him… but I didn’t. I just lay there, wanting it.
Craving for it.
In that moment, I was his for the taking. My lower half exposed, hips tilted up in the angle he desired. He could’ve stopped—I could tell he was debating whether to keep going or call it quits—but he proceeded, the confliction in his eyes rapidly subsiding. I was so glad he didn’t give out.
His cock sank deep inside me, and I was consumed by a hot, welcoming rush with each slow stretch. He stilled, shutting his eyes tightly and groaning, the veins bulging under the ink on his arms and neck. God, he was so thick and long, everything I ever imagined. Quite possibly more.
I adjusted around his size, whimpering for him to stroke, move—do something. “Fuck,” he cursed under his breath as he finally started. “So fucking tight.” He looked down at me, and I thought he would stop once he realized exactly what was happening, but he didn’t. He moved slowly, his cock filling me up, bringing me over the edge. Bringing me higher. “Damn, Chloe. You’re so fucking wet for me.”
His mouth came down on mine again, our tongues colliding, warm bodies greedy for each other. We’d wanted this to happen for quite some time now. The both of us. From the moment Mr. Black noticed the changes that had taken place in my body, I was sure he thought some pretty naughty things about me—things he’d never share with anyone else. But back then, he was a married man and I was underage. It was bad.
Wrong.
Dirty.
But now, I was nineteen, on my way to college to start a new life. He was a widowed, gorgeous man with needs that needed fulfilling and a dark, cluttered mind that needed clearing.
As I lay on the bed, watching this gorgeous man take me, thrusting hard and deep, bringing my legs to my chest and pumping just enough to reach my g-spot, I couldn’t bring myself to care about anything else outside of this. Not even the fact that I was losing my virginity to him.
There was pain, and even an odd stretching sensation that I couldn’t ignore, but once that passed, it was the greatest thing I ever endured. True pleasure taking over my body, letting out noises within me that I never knew existed. I was sure he was too drunk to notice, or maybe he was too drunk to care. I wasn’t saving myself for anyone. I just never felt like any of the other guys were worthy enough. But for Theo, it was astonishing what I would do for him—what I would give just to be close. Damn. I wasn’t sure if it was sickening or delightful.
I needed to get it out of my system, and so did he. We needed to get it over with, forget about whatever feelings we held back on because it was obvious we would never be able to be together, even if Izzy wasn’t my best friend and his wife was long gone.
Our age played a huge, scary part.
It would be oddly accepted in this world.
Theo’s body locked, his hands on either side of my head, eyes bolted with mine. Only his hips drilled, the definition of his muscles exposed. “Your pussy is so tight and wet for me, Chloe. My Little Knight.” He leaned forward, his lips coming to the shell of my ear. “You’ve saved me so many times.” He slammed, and I cried out, my fingernails biting into the smooth flesh on his muscled back. “I owe you this much. I owe it to you to make you feel good—comfort you this time. Show you what a real man can do. I know you’ve wanted it,” he breathed. “Trust me. I know. I see the desire in your eyes every single fucking day, and it kills me.”
And then it happened. His deep, orgasmic voice. His large, toned body on mine. The heat thick in the air, his hand cupping the back of my neck, the possessive hold he had on me and how he repeatedly pressed on a g-spot that had never been triggered… god, I came. I came so hard. So fucking hard.
My body shook violently, out of control. I’d never felt such a thing. It was magical and intense and fucking amazing. I screamed, sighed, and then moaned his name.
“That’s right,” he breathed, still tipping me over. “Cum for me. Cum all over my fucking cock, Chloe. You’ve wanted this. Fucking claim it.”
I shuddered, and he groaned, dropping his face into the crook of my neck. “Goddamn.” His voice was heavy and gruff as he came next, crashing into me three more times before collapsing and panting wildly.
He was still buried within as I lay there, staring up at the ceiling. I felt wonderful for a split second. Utterly amazing. I listened to my heart beating fast like the wings of a humming bird. Absorbed the feeling of his warm breath drifting past my damp skin. I was drunk on the way his sweat mixed with mine, his chest heaving. For the briefest of moments I felt like I belonged there… but I knew I didn’t.
My face straightened, and I immediately came back to the sobering reality. Oh my god. I couldn’t believe it. I’d just fucked Mr. Black, the man across the street. My neighbor and my best friend’s dad. A man that was twenty years older than I was…
And I couldn’t take it back.
I lifted up, and he rolled onto his back, sighing as he shut his eyes. I watched his relaxed position, how he sighed again as if he’d been waiting on that to happen for years. Something bad settled in the pit of my stomach, gutting me. I so badly wanted to cry.
Climbing off the bed, I walked forward, picking up my shorts, sliding them on and then tucking my hair behind my ear. Theo touched his crotch, and when he felt something wet, his brows puckered, his hand shooting up above his face.
He sprang up, looking from the redness on his fingertips to me. “Chloe… oh shit.” He blinked in my direction, shocked. “Chloe—why didn’t you tell me?” he whispered. His speech was still a slurred mess. I figured it best not to get into it. It didn’t matter. It was done. There was no taking it back—or dare I say giving it back.
“I—I should go, Mr. Black.”
I had a feeling he didn’t quite understand what’d just happened—the true depth of this situation. It would take him a few hours of recouping and getting sober to realize the act of sin we’d just committed. “Wait—Chloe… hold on. Did I just… did I just take—” He was unable to get it out, still stunned. Still drunk. Still at a loss for words and on the verge of passing out.
I opened the door. “I think this will be the last time I help you when you pass out, Mr. Black.”
“Chloe?” he was still confused, struggling to come to a stand.
“Please be careful, Theo. Have a good night.” I shut the door and hurried home, feeling like the entire neighborhood had heard me—or at least watched me through X-ray goggles or some shit. It didn’t help that Ms. Rhodes’s stupid dog barked, bringing attention to the night. I quietly entered my house, tiptoed upstairs to my bedroom, took a quick shower, and then got into bed.
My head fell to the left, my cellphone sitting on the nightstand. I picked it up. The only person I was concerned about was Izzy. I wanted to tell her that I’d made a mistake—that we’d made a mistake.
But I knew if I did, she’d never forgive it or look at me the same, no matter what he was going through. She’d blame me for getting close to him in his hour of need. She’d blame me for everything and sympathize with her father. She was the only true friend I had. I never kept secrets from Izzy, but this was one I was taking to the grave.
So I dropped my phone, looked towards the window, and figured it was best not to ever let her know. I tossed and turned all night, remembering just how he took me, claimed me. His mouth on mine, tongue desperate and needy. His masculine body close, bringing me to absolute euphoria. I never thought I’d feel so much my first time.
I sighed because I’d never felt so amazing and so horrible all at once. This would change the way Theo saw me, especially the whole popping of the cherry thing, so I prepared myself for the worst. I prepared to be ignored by him, never to be looked at in the same, innocent way.
I told my emotions not to get involved because, after all, it was just sex. I made him feel just a little better and that was what I wanted. For him to forget his pain for a little while. To feel normal again… at least a tad bit happier, even if there was a cost on my behalf.
But I was only fooling myself.
It was much more than that to me. Just sex. No matter how hard I tried, my feelings for Theo only became stronger. I became attached to the idea of him. Weak and vulnerable for him. I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand myself for giving in. Falling victim to my fantasies. My desires. I knew better. We, as adults, knew better.
Theo had no care for right or wrong the moment he lost his wife.
His well-being became polluted with misunderstanding. Rotten from prolonged anguish.
His soul was tainted black, and there was no going back.
“Fuck,” I thought. “Where do we go from here?”