Zelda
January 1st
I told the police about the two guys I’d seen talking with Darlene, but people had been filtering out of the loft and I didn’t see them among the scattered few who remained. Darlene’s episode had effectively ended the party.
Wes and Heidi, Nigel, Jackie, and I waited for a cab on the street outside. We huddled shivering in the cold. Nigel’s laughter was gone, and Heidi wiped her tears against Wes’s shoulder.
“I should've been watching her,” she said.
My heart echoed the sentiments. I’d been too busy stealing a moment of bliss with Beckett. Drunk on euphoria while not twenty feet away, Darlene was suffering.
My phone showed no texts or missed calls from Beckett. I worried about him being out in this weather in only a sweater. I slung his jacket around my own shoulders and the pocket banged heavy against my side. I reached in and found his cell phone.
The display showed a voicemail message waiting from an unknown number. The call was ten minutes earlier, while I’d been talking to the police. I hit the button.
“Hey, it’s Beckett. Not sure if you can get this but I’m at New York-Pres. Darlene’s going to be okay. They’re kicking me out until morning. I’m getting an Uber home. I’ll see you soon, okay? Bye.”
I relayed the info to the others. “New York-Pres?”
“Presbyterian,” Jackie said. “Should we head over anyway?”
“They won’t let us in until morning,” Wes said. “We’re not family.”
“Yes, we are,” Nigel said, earning my affection for life.
“We’ll go in the morning,” Heidi said.
We piled into the Uber Nigel had called. Nobody said much on the ride. A road closure sign was up on Penn Street, and the driver had to let me out a block early.
I walked fast, head down and Beckett’s jacket clutched around me. It was bitter out. The sleet-filled wind stung my cheeks and brought tears to my eyes.
The wind, and nothing more.
Inside, I went immediately to the radiator to give it a kick. It whined in protest, but a steady stream of warm air started leaking out. On the other side of the window, the wind was picking up and howling.
God, Beckett.
I changed out of my clothes and piled on sleep pants, shirt, sweatshirt. As I paced the studio, worry for Darlene began to morph into worry for Beckett.
He’s okay. He called a car. He’s on his way home.
Home…
I curled up in the bed and waited.
Next thing I knew, I was coming out of a doze to the scrape of a key in the lock. Beckett came in, bringing a draft of cold with him. He tossed his keys on the counter and blew on his hands. He looked tired. Broken and beat down.
“Hey,” he said.
I sat up. “What happened? How is she?”
He leaned against the counter, his eyes on the window where the snow gusted and swirled on eddies of icy wind. “They knocked her out. Pumped her full of Naloxone. She’s going to be okay, I guess. As okay as she’ll ever be.”
Beckett’s voice sounded so heavy, his shoulders slumped. He blew on his hands again and then shook them as if they hurt. The Christmas lights showed his sweater was damp with melting snow, and his face and ears were ruddy.
“You had no jacket,” I said. “And the road was closed a block away…”
He nodded. “I can’t feel my hands.”
“Oh my God, come here.”
He took off his boots and pulled the sweater off to reveal a plain white undershirt.
“Those too,” I said, indicating his pants that were damp with melted snow.
“Zelda…”
“Come here,” I said again.
He took off his pants, revealing plaid boxers, and climbed into bed with me. We lay on our sides, facing each other, and I took his hands in mind.
“Jesus, they’re like ice.” I brought his fingers to my lips, to alternately breathe on them and rub warmth into his skin. “She’s going to be okay?”
Beckett nodded against his pillow. This close, his eyes were the darkest blue, like the sky right before the sun rises.
“How are you?” I asked, still cupping his hands. I blew the warm air of my breath over his fingers, my eyes never leaving his.
“Better, now,” he said softly.
A small smile played over his lips then faded. His entire expression caved in after it, leaving him stunned and staring. He lay next to me, his hands in mine, but the night was dragging him away. I clutched him tighter.
“Talk to me,” I said. “What are you thinking?”
He stayed quiet for a moment, his eyes searching mine. “Do you ever wonder, Zelda, if you’re allowed to be happy?”
Tears sprang to my eyes. “Yes,” I whispered. “All the time. Every minute.”
His brows furrowed and he brushed the backs of his fingers along my cheek. “I hate to hear you say that. I hate that I can’t take that pain from you.”
“Me too,” I said. “For you. You carry too much.”
“Maybe we both do,” he said. “But I don’t know what to do or what is too much to ask for. All I can think about is you and how you’ve taken my shitty life and made every single bit of it better.”
A single tear escaped and slid down my cheek. He brushed it with is thumb, shaking his head, then rolled to his back, to stare at the cracks crawling along the plaster ceiling like black lightning. “Jesus, Zelda. You deserve so much more than this.”
“What do you mean, this?” I asked, finding my voice.
“This.” He gestured upward. “This cold apartment and talking to the police about drug dealers, and…”
“Don’t,” I said. “Don’t pull away from me. I’m scared too.”
He turned his head to look at me. “No, you’re brave. You’re braver than anyone I know.”
“I’m not. I’m scared shitless. I don’t know what I’m doing or how to be good for anyone. I suck at relationships. What am I saying? I’ve never had one. Not a real one. I don’t know what I’m doing and I’m scared I’ll fuck it up. I’m scared of being happy. Or maybe it’s exactly what Darlene said. I’m scared because I’m happy.”
“Are you, Zel? Happy?”
A flame of hope flickered in his eyes.
Now. This moment. Take it.
I crawled over him, on top of him, straddling his waist. I bent down, rested my arms on his chest so our faces were inches apart. My hair fell down around us, blocking the rest of the world out.
“Let’s just be you and me, and no one else,” I said. “No past, no guilt, no Mrs. J or Rosemary. Just you and me. Let’s stop thinking so much about the past or the future. Stop thinking or talking or wondering what we deserve. What do you want, Beckett? Do you want me?”
His hands came up under my hair to take my face in both of his hands. “God, baby, yes.” His voice shook. “I want you so badly. I’ve never felt like this before and it scares the shit out of me too. I’m scared I can’t give you everything you should have.”
“You’ve already given me more than anyone else,” I whispered my lips brushing his. “I don’t want to mess this up. The graphic novel or me living here.”
“You live here,” he said fiercely. “This is your home too.”
“And if something goes wrong?”
“We won’t let it,” he said. “There’s too much to lose. Isn’t there?”
I nodded, knowing he wasn’t just talking about the book or the apartment. “There’s so much between us,” I whispered, pleaded, because it was scary for me to admit it. I needed to know he felt the same.
The smile that broke over his face was beautiful and told me everything.
“Yeah, Zel. There is. And I want more…”
He pulled me to him and kissed me. The softest, sweetest kiss of my life. More than a New Year’s kiss, more than any kiss I’d ever known before. It was more. There were promises in our kiss. Unspoken vows to take care of what we had, of what we were creating in that very moment, because after tonight, there was no going back.
We kissed and breathed and kissed again. He pulled his shirt over his head and I sat up to take him in, my eyes raking over his body. A new flush of heat swept through me at the sight of him.
“Jesus, Beckett…”
His body was magnificent—sculpted and smooth and powerful with lean muscle. Matching tattoos I’d never known he had were inked onto each pec, small and precise: a diagonal arrow and a drop of blood. Immediately, I bent to kiss each arrow, as if I could heal the wound they represented.
Beckett reached for me again, pulling my mouth to his. We kissed, our hands roaming over skin. His touch was warm now, his mouth hot on mine. I felt his erection beneath me and my hips ground against him, rolling hard as our kiss turned dire. Biting, teeth grazing and nipping.
Beckett’s hands surged into my hair and tightened into fists. He pulled gently, exposing my neck to his mouth. I gasped as he sucked and licked, all the while his hips bucked under mine. I tore at my shirt and stripped it off, leaving my naked breasts exposed.
“Oh God, baby,” he said, his eyes drinking me in. “I knew you’d be beautiful, but Jesus, Zelda…”
His words sent another sweep of heat through me, the need to have him turning into a fever pitch. He rolled me onto my back and covered my body with his. I felt the hard length of him between my thighs, against my leggings. I arched my back, my hips rising, offering.
He acquainted himself with my breasts, holding one in the palm of his hand while his mouth worked over the other, biting and sucking the nipple. Mindless sounds of want fell from my open mouth, and my fingers tangled in his hair.
“Beckett,” I breathed. “Please.”
I didn’t know what I was asking for. Anything. More kissing. More touching. His body on mine and inside me—God, I’d never wanted a man inside me as badly as I did at that moment.
“I want all of you,” he said, his words infused with fire.
He rose up on his hands and knees and found my mouth with his. A kiss that was all tongue and teeth and a growl deep in his chest. His hands slipped down to my waist and tugged at my leggings. I pushed him aside and sat up to do it myself, while he slipped out of his boxers.
I stared.
“Holy God…”
I had no other words. The sight of him, hard and ready, emptied my mind, leaving nothing but intense desire. His own eyes roamed over my naked body, dark and hooded and greedy, and I’d never felt more beautiful.
We reached for each other at the same time, our mouths crashing together, his arm wrapping around me. I grabbed his shoulders, scratching at his skin desperate to have him and we tumbled down, me on my back and Beckett over me. He braced himself on both elbows kissing me again and again. I melted into the bed, dissolved under the weight of him, glorious and naked at last.
I reached for him, ringed my arms around his neck and brought my mouth to his ear. “Now, Beckett,” I whispered. “God, now. I need you.”
Out of my throat came a moan of relief and ecstasy as he slid inside me. He was huge and hard, and yet warm and gentle and everything Beckett. He pushed into my body until his hips touched mine and his face found my neck.
We held still for a half a breath. I pulled everything I had around him, feeling him inside me. Like nothing and no one before. A perfect heaviness. A completion. I knew I’d never want anyone else the way I wanted Beckett Copeland.
“Jesus, Zel.” His breath was hot against my skin. “What are you doing to me?”
He lifted his head to look in my eyes. His hands cupped my cheeks. I was his. In every way. And he was mine. In that one heartbeat, I knew he felt it too, and the most beautiful smile flitted over his lips before he kissed me. Another vow. Another promise to keep me safe.
The kisses deepened, reignited our bodies. He moved in me, slowly at first, reveling in the tight heat that wouldn’t let him go, before sliding back inside as deep as he could. My breath was his. He took it from my lungs and gave it back. Give and take. Hard and fast. I clung to his powerful body that was over me and inside me, taking me to the highest peak and keeping me there for one heartbeat.
Then another.
“Beckett,” I whispered, a wisp of breath, all I had left as my body cinched tight, bound by an ecstasy I hadn’t thought possible.
I cried out then. Called his name and hissed the word yes, because it was all I knew. This was all I wanted. To say yes to everything that was him, and us, and the life we were going to have when the sun rose that morning.
I shuddered as the orgasm ripped through me, but didn’t let go of him. I held him tight, pulling his hips to mine. He reached one hand between us, held my hip to push himself deeper in me, his thrusts hard and relentless. His own release came moments later. His beautiful face contorted with something that looked closer to pain than pleasure. Then he crumpled down, his face buried in my neck again, groaning into my shoulder as he came. His body shuddered one last time, then went still.
“Zel,” he whispered.
“I know,” I said, keeping him wrapped in my arms and legs, heated skin to heated skin. Outside, the wind howled and beat at the glass but inside, we were together. And together, the cold couldn’t touch us at all.