Covering her mouth with her hand, she willed
herself not to puke, but her throat started squeezing and her mouth
pooled with saliva. She made it to the other edge of the porch just
in time to throw up too.
When she was just dry heaving, Kyra stood
up. Hale was propped against the railing. He handed her a napkin to
wipe her mouth. “Thanks,” she said weakly. “Seeing other people
throw up makes me throw up.”
“I have never,” Hale said, spitting out the
bile in his mouth, “ever,
ever
had to work this hard to get
into someone’s pants.”
Kyra wanted to laugh, but she only managed a
groan. “I hope it was the cookies that made you sick and
not…
me
.”
Hale tried to roll his eyes at her before he
swayed. “Ugh. I need to lay down somewhere preferable by a toilet.
This isn’t over yet.”
Kyra grimaced and helped him inside. She
took him to the back bathroom, where he draped himself over the
commode. He was already heaving when she left again to gather the
things from the porch. By the time she had everything cleaned up,
including the puke, which she buried deep in the ground, Hale was
asleep on the bathroom floor.
She went upstairs and brought down a blanket
and pillow, which she eased under his head before she settled the
blanket over him. Going back into the kitchen, she brought out a
bottle of water and some Tylenol to put within his reach. He still
didn’t look comfortable—or even alive, for that matter.
Kyra stood in the doorway and considered
what she should do. Maybe a better person would curl up next to
him, but she didn’t want to get puked on during the night if he
couldn’t make it to the toilet. So she went upstairs and washed off
her face. After brushing her teeth for nearly five minutes, she
collapsed into bed.
But she wasn’t tired. Actually, she was the
opposite of tired. She kept remembering Hale’s mouth on her and how
surprising it had been. Once she’d let him start, she’d felt like
every wall had come down inside her. It couldn’t get more intimate
than that, and she’d let him do it. It had been so freeing
and…sensual. She’d never felt so sexy or turned on in her life.
Thinking about it now had her aching again.
She wanted Hale so bad that she literally felt a physical pain
between her legs. It was torture, and no matter how much she tossed
and turned, she couldn’t alleviate it.
Kyra stilled in bed. The brine was heavy in
the air tonight, but she still smelled Hale on her skin. She
thought of his hands trailing up her thighs, and she reached down
and touched her skin. Her fingers weren’t rough like his, but she
imagined his as she pushed her dress up just like he’d done.
She pulled her panties down to her knees and
took a deep breath; she’d never touched herself before. It’s not
that she hadn’t wanted to, or that she was too embarrassed to. She
just hadn’t let herself. Just like she’d never let a man taste her
before.
Now she let her fingers drift between her
legs. She drew lazy circles on the innermost part of her thighs
while she worked up the confidence to touch herself. Biting her
lip, she eased her hand over, letting her fingers slip between her
folds. She was shocked at how wet she was, but the ache eased
slightly as she began to work her fingers over her clit like Hale
had done. She alternated between rubbing herself and slipping her
middle finger inside her. She didn’t know what she was doing, but
she figured out what felt good until she started getting close
again.
A floorboard creaked beside her bedroom
door, and Kyra jerked up in bed. Hale stood inside her doorframe,
watching her as he drank water. “Don’t stop on my account.”
Kyra blushed so badly that she felt the heat
deep in her chest like unrelenting heartburn. She didn’t know what
to do as Hale came into the room and around her bed. He stripped
down to his boxers and laid down beside her. He was on his side,
staring at her.
“Keep going,” he said.
Kyra tried to laugh, but it sounded like she
was choking. “Uh, I don’t think so.”
“Kyra, do me one favor tonight other than
poisoning me, and, please, for the love of all things holy, touch
yourself while I watch.”
She wanted to explain that she hadn’t meant
to poison him, but his eyes bore into hers and she couldn’t think
of anything else. The breeze rustled through the room again, and
she shivered as she reached back down between her legs.
“Show me.”
She shifted her body, angling onto her side
so that he could see as she pushed her finger inside. He looked
riveted and so into what she was doing that she felt emboldened.
She spread her legs a little farther and pushed down the straps of
her dress with her other hand. Tugging the material down to expose
her breasts, she teased her nipple. The tightness in Hale’s boxers
grew every second, making his dick look even bigger.
“I want you to come,” he said and she
nodded; she needed to come too. The pressure was building, and she
felt as though she was being lifted up and torn into a million
pieces. She began to tremble as she worked herself up to the
edge.
And then she was coming. And her hips were
bucking into her hand. And a loud moan was ripping from her lips.
Hale never touched her, but it felt as though his fiery hands were
all over her at once as she rode out the orgasm.
After, she just laid there and tried to
recover, her spine melting deep into the mattress. She turned her
head to look at Hale, who watched her with dark eyes. His lips
parted, allowing only shallow breaths out. She went to wipe off her
hand on the sheets, but he caught her wrist.
“Taste yourself.”
“What?” she asked, pulling her hand away.
“No way.”
“Do it. I want you to know.”
“Hale,” she argued. “It’s weird.”
“Did you think it was weird when I did
it?”
“Not at the end.”
He took her hand again and guided it to her
lips. “So taste yourself then.”
He gently eased her fingertips against her
mouth. Her lips parted and her tongue darted out to lick the pad of
her fingers. She was surprised; it wasn’t awful. It was like musk
and sex and a hint of her body wash.
“See?”
Kyra mimicked Hale’s typical grin. “It
didn’t make me throw up.”
His eyes narrowed. “Those disgusting cookies
made me sick.”
“Then why did you eat so many?”
“I didn’t want to be rude!”
She smacked his shoulder. “Now who’s the
faker?”
He put his arm around her, tucking her
against his side. “All I want to do now is sleep. You’re
exhausting.”
She snorted, but she snuggled closer. The
breeze was just cool enough that she tugged the thin sheet over
their legs. Moments later, Hale’s deep breaths rumbled against her
shoulder. Slowly, he was opening her up to things she hadn’t even
thought possible, and she’d told him earlier tonight that she’d
come to this place to confront the darkness of her past, which she
hadn’t done yet. The closest she’d come was yelling at Florence and
going to her mother’s grave.
Tomorrow, she told herself. Tomorrow she
would go through the pictures and return to the cemetery. She’d sit
with her mom until she’d come to some kind of peace. She hoped it
was possible; she wanted to think it was.
But Kyra didn’t know how to accept something
she’d had no control over. Letting go of a mother she’d never known
seemed like an impossible task. Those thoughts plagued her until
late into the night, when the only sounds were the waves outside
and Hale’s soft snores.
No matter what, she decided as she fell
asleep, she would deal with all of this soon. Even if it meant
sitting down and talking with Florence. One way or another, she had
to understand her mother’s life in order to find peace with her
death.
twenty-one
K
yra woke the next
morning with her dress bunched up and a slight sweat on her skin.
Hale was gone, and the house was quiet as usual for a Sunday
morning. Groggily, she straightened out of bed and checked her
phone, repressing the tiny twinge she felt at Hale’s absence. She
had a text from Stevie.
Stevie:
Thanks for the scones. Hot
Doc shared them with me. He said you’d pick me up on Saturday. You
better be here or I’ll haunt you when I die.
Kyra:
Don’t hit on your doctor. It’s
unethical or something. I’ll be there. Don’t worry.
She sat the phone aside and went to the
bathroom to get ready. She had a big day in front of her, and she
wanted to look pretty when she tackled it. As if that would really
make a difference.
On her way to the cemetery, she stopped at a
local florist and picked up a bouquet of sunflowers. Kyra didn’t
think they were the most appropriate mourning flower, but she
couldn’t resist their happy yellow blooms. Once she’d opened her
mother’s garden gate and went inside to see the sad statues and
solitary grave, she knew she’d made the right choice.
Her mother needed a bed of sunflowers to lie
on, to rest on.
Every day for the rest of the week, Kyra
went to her mother’s grave with more sunflowers. She sat there,
waiting to feel some closure, but it never came. The following
Saturday, before she went to pick up Stevie, Kyra brought one of
the photo albums to the garden with her. She reclined against the
fence and flipped through the pages, but it felt like a hollow
act.
She’d thought this would help her come to
terms with her mother’s death, but by the time she left on
Saturday, Kyra had only a handful of bug bites and a grass stain on
her shorts. Hale hadn’t thought her visits to the cemetery would
help much, and she understood why now. This wasn’t the place where
she’d find her peace.
He’d supported her throughout the week,
though, understanding her need to feel closer to her mom. They
hadn’t seen much of each other, but she felt closer to him than
ever before. For the week, he’d been her protector, her support.
She was discovering it was a role that came to him naturally.
She spent the rest of the day in town,
loitering until she could pick up Stevie. She bought stuff for her
semi-finished kitchen and flower pots for her porches. Her last
stop before the hospital was at the local nursery Hale had
suggested. She loaded the trunk and backseat of the Jeep with
bright flowers that dripped moist dirt and filled the car was
pungent sweetness.
Her phone dinged. It was another text from
Stevie.
Stevie:
Come to the ER entrance. The
Goon Squad is in the front.
Kyra cringed, but she followed the
directions. When she arrived, she circled to the ER doors, and
there Stevie sat in a wheelchair with Ethan cross-legged on the
ground beside her. They noticed Kyra’s car as she opened the door,
and Ethan rolled Stevie forward.
“Hi! How are you feeling today?” Kyra
chirped. “Hey, Ethan.”
“Spectacular,” Stevie grumbled.
“Somebody is a little grouchy today.” Ethan
lifted his eyebrows and mouthed “withdrawals” when Stevie’s head
was turned.
“Are you hungry?” Kyra asked quickly, her
palms starting to sweat from nerves.
“No,” Stevie snipped. Ethan helped her get
into the car, which Kyra had left running so it would stay cool
inside. She closed the door, sealing Stevie inside.
“What do I do?” she asked Ethan quietly.
They walked to the back of the car.
“Don’t let her drink.”
“Obviously,” she said, eyeing the Jeep.
Stevie was slouched down in her seat.
“She’ll probably conk out when you get her
home. She’ll want a drink, so distraction might be good when she
wakes up.”
“Thank you, Ethan.” She hugged the doctor.
“I appreciate your help so much.”
He shrugged. “She’s a good girl, and you’re
a good pal. Just watch her.”
“Will do.” She waved and started around the
back of the car. She paused. “Would you want to come to dinner
tonight if I have some friends over for Stevie?”
“Sure. Hale has my number.”
Kyra waved and opened her door, slipping
into the cool temperature of the Jeep. “So your parents are at the
front?” she asked.
Stevie swore colorfully in what Kyra took as
agreement. “Did you buy out the entire nursery? It smells like
optimism and an old lady’s perfume in here.”
Kyra laughed. “Not the entire place, but
close. Hey, so…would you maybe want to stay at my house today? You
could rest a while and then the guys could come over. Maybe even
Dr. Faraday, if you want.”
Stevie’s eyes drifted toward the window.
“Sure,” she said. “Why not?”
When they arrived at the house, Kyra jumped
out and started around the Jeep. Before she was even to Stevie’s
door, Hale was there, helping her friend out. “Hey, Stevie,” he
said, taking his place on Stevie’s other side to help her up the
stairs. “I see you feel especially wonderful today.”
“Zip it, Cooper, before I kick you in the
balls.”
He laughed good-naturedly as they helped
Stevie up the stairs. Kyra put her in her bedroom since it was the
only one with sheets on the bed. Stevie paused before she sat down.
“You two haven’t done it in this bed have you?”
“Uh…no,” Kyra said, flushing.
Hale snorted and left the room so Kyra could
help Stevie lay down. She took off her friend’s shoes and set them
beside the bed. “Do you want me to close the windows?”
“No. Leave them open.” Stevie hunkered down
in the covers and pulled them up to her chin.
Kyra dug around in the pile of stuff beside
her bed until she found her sleep mask. “Here. This might
help.”
“Oh,” Stevie’s eyes brightened. “Thanks.”
She eased the leopard-print mask onto her eyes, positioning it
carefully around the deeper cuts on her face.
Kyra squeezed Stevie’s hand and was about to
leave, but Stevie didn’t let her go. “I love you, Kyra,” she
whispered.