I never did write Mindy. The shame came over me again. It didn’t matter that I didn’t know who Denham was then, or that in the end he wasn’t my half-brother. The shadow that darkened those years crossed over me and I couldn’t talk to anyone, not even in messages.
I was glad I was alone.
For an hour or so, I distracted myself by poring over Gwen’s Facebook page, saving photos of Gabriella to my iPad. Then I felt guilty for stalking her without her knowing and shut it down. My life was a mess. So many lies and half-truths. I thought about this woman who was Denham’s mother and the Aunt Didi who dumped him on us. But they were dead.
I wondered if Denham knew his father by now. That would be Gabriella’s grandfather. He might be alive. Another person cheated from knowing her.
I stood up and changed from my dance clothes into sweatpants. The loneliness began to pierce me. I needed to do something useful so I could get my mind off these thoughts of Denham and Gabriella.
But I had loved Denham. And eventually, he had loved me.
That first month of high school was amazing.
We knew our limits. Now that the floodgates were open, Denham and I sneaked around any time we could. After Mom and Dad had gone to bed, he would come to my room, and we would push the envelopes of touching, tasting, and teasing each other.
I wanted more, but Denham was dead set against it. And we were careful not to be seen together too much. There was this glow about us that would be so easy to spot.
Denham quit sneaking out. He still wore boots and leather, but he was softer now, less angry and bitter. He even stopped smoking. Most nights he played with Andy, and he and I stole happy glances at each other from across the room.
One night at dinner, Mom remarked that Denham sure was fitting in well with us.
“I like playing with Andy,” Denham said carefully. “He’s a great kid.”
Andy leaned over in his chair to rest his head on Denham’s shoulder. “I love Denum.”
My dad grunted, but I could see he was pleased with how it was all working out. Later, I wondered why he hadn’t gone ahead and told us that night that Denham was his son. If he had, he could have saved our family so much heartache.
With two seemingly responsible teenagers at home now, Mom and Dad decided to go to San Antonio overnight for their anniversary. I thought about having an entire night to be with Denham, going anywhere we wanted in the house, and felt flushed with anticipation.
We put Andy to bed as usual, and waited a solid hour to make sure he was sound asleep before crashing into each other.
“On the sofa,” Denham said. “And the kitchen table.”
“Backyard?” I asked. October was still warm in Houston.
“Anywhere you want,” he said.
And we did, wearing as little as possible, teasing each other, kissing and touching and doing all the things we’d figured out over the past two months.
When we got into the backyard, Denham dropped the reclining lawn chair down into the position I used when I would get sun over the summer.
“I want you here,” he said. “Like that first time I got a good look at you.”
I sat down on it and leaned back. The moon was high and full, casting a light glow over the yard. The neighborhood slept. Our fence was solid and no windows looked in.
“I want you naked out here,” he said, and a thrill zipped through me. We rarely undressed all the way, since we were so afraid of getting caught.
But I did what he said, slipping off my clothes in the moonlight.
He did the same, and I saw all of him for the first time. He lay next to me, our bodies pressed tightly together on the lounger.
We didn’t speak, just kissing and touching like we always did. The rung of the lounger started to bite into my side, so I shifted onto my back. Denham moved over me, and my heart raced with him in that position.
“I feel so strongly about you, Livia,” he said. “What have you done?”
I smiled up at him. “I don’t know. Just loved you, I guess.”
“I think I get it now,” he said. “The love thing.”
I thought my heart would absolutely stop beating. “What do you mean?”
“I think I love you too.”
Everything soared inside me. I was warm from head to toe. Denham loved me back! There was nothing we couldn’t do. We would be together forever.
His body pressed against me at the hips, and I could feel everything, him hard and strong between us. I’d touched him, even tasted him. I knew that part of him well.
But I wanted it the way real couples did it. It was like a molten fire, almost painful in the need. Surely he wanted it too. Especially now that he felt the same as I did.
I kept his gaze as I shifted below him, angling my body so that he was where he needed to be.
He closed his eyes. “Livia,” he said softly.
“Don’t think,” I said.
He eased against me, sliding around. Then he was inside, and my world splintered. The burn was searing at first, then it lessened. But it didn’t matter, because Denham was going now, his hands on my shoulders.
I moved with him and found his rhythm. And I understood. This was what made life work. My love for him flooded me and I knew I would never get enough. I would want this and want this and want this.
That first time was risky and unprotected, but had no consequences. It was later that we were stupid. We had condoms that Denham picked up, but they were sometimes in the wrong part of the house, or we’d run out but did things anyway.
We got reckless.
And then we got caught.
I don’t want to think on that, alone in this hotel. I push it away and lay on the bed in the room I share with Blitz. I send him a message that I miss him and tuck his pillow under my head. It has been the longest day, but I have gotten through it. Now just a night, and tomorrow he will be back.
I’ll return to my happy present, where Denham can’t hurt me, and all this will eventually be another terrible dark memory.