I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2) (35 page)

Chase asks to hear more, so I confess all the filthy things I’ve dreamed of him doing to me. He tells me a few ideas of his own. That makes me share even more. I think my ability to match my boy on dirty and filthy surprises him, but he’s more than happy to do everything I ask.

He calls me the dirty names I ask him to, he puts his fingers in places no fingers have ever been, and he yanks my hair back when I scream for him to as he finger-fucks me from behind. But what sends me over the edge, what makes me scream in ecstasy, is when Chase does what he does best—fucking hard and dirty. He does this with finesse, though, moving me to where I suit him best. He positions me so I can take all of him when his thrusts become punishing and rough.

And that’s what Chase does now—punishes me with his cock. We’re both covered in sweat, me on my back, Chase on top, between my legs, pounding hard. It’s
his
hands that now grip the antique iron headboard bars, giving him the leverage to fuck me into oblivion. Chase once told me he could never imagine me craving oblivion, but he was wrong. I crave it now, in this way. Chase owns me and he can annihilate me if that’s what he wants. And I fear he might. But just when I think it may be too much, that this man may actually break me, Chase slows and stops. He pulls out and lowers his mouth to where his cock was just tearing me up.

I cry out his name.

He licks and kisses everywhere, his tongue probing where I throb, where I still feel the part of him that was just giving me so much pleasure and enough pain to render me incredibly sensitive to what he’s doing. now. I come swiftly, hard, my walls clenching with a powerful release.

I catch my breath, finally relax.

Chase moves back up my spent body and thrusts into me once more. I’m still euphoric as I feel him pump a few times, lazily now. He stills and releases into me. Then, my dirty, gorgeous boy collapses onto me to catch his own breath.

I hold on to him tightly, my fingers twined in his sweat-dampened hair. He shifts so that his weight isn’t too much, and though we’re not actively having sex anymore, he’s still inside. “Don’t leave me,” I whisper, arching to keep him where he is, even though I can tell he’s only partially hard now.

He chuckles. “I think it’s inevitable.”

Just then he slips out and we both groan at the loss.

“Just give me a few minutes,” my boy rasps in a tone full of promise.

I don’t doubt him, and sure enough a few minutes later Chase is hard and back inside me—body, heart, and soul.

When we wake the next morning, things are subdued. Chase is hung over, and I’m back to thinking about my mother and all she told me yesterday evening.

My boy and I are wrapped up together in the covers, facing each other as I finally share with him all that happened the night before. When I get to the part about Doug leaving the patio door unlocked, Chase’s expression darkens. His body tenses so much I fear he’s about to dart from the bed and track down my ex, which wouldn’t be too difficult since he’s probably still at the hospital with his mother.

I caress my boy’s arm and try to get him to relax. “Just forget it, Chase. I don’t want to dwell on this. I don’t want to waste any more time blaming and hating.” I pause. “I’ve been thinking. Life’s too short, and Sarah wouldn’t want us taking our pain out on each other. My mother’s done that long enough for all of us. I think we should let it go.”

He calms and assures me he’ll leave Doug alone. But something in his blues—which are darker than I’ve ever seen them before—tells me if those two ever run into each other… I can’t even think about it, but I do spare a second to imagine the look on Doug’s face when he sees Chase coming at him.

I smile, but only briefly, because Chase is saying, “You should have told me it was the anniversary of the day Sarah died. I would have worked something out with Will. We could have changed the ticket.” A beat passes. “Not that it matters, since he didn’t show up anyway. But still.” Chase sighs, and adds, “I do feel bad, though, for not coming straight home.”

I touch the rough stubble on his cheek. “Don’t feel bad, Chase. You didn’t know. And you’re right, I should have told you. From here on out I’m telling you everything, no matter how big or small. And I want your opinions on all of it too.”

My sweet guy is listening intently. He pushes hair that’s fallen to my cheek back into place, and says, “Speaking of opinions, how do you feel about your mother? Are you going to give her a chance?”

I can’t really read how Chase feels about last night’s unexpected reunion, but I know for a fact he’s not a big fan of my mother, seeing as how she hurt me so deeply, and for so long. So it’s with caution that I ask, “What do
you
think I should do?”

“I think you should do what your heart tells you.”

I sigh, roll to my back, and stare at the ceiling. “I can’t just instantly forgive her for turning her back on me, but…I think I might want to try. Maybe over time we can reach an understanding.”

Chase draws me back to him and kisses me on the cheek. “Then that’s what you should do. You know I’m with you on whatever you decide. I’ll stand behind any decision you make.”

And this I know, I know Chase Gartner—
my
Chase Gartner—will always have my back.

Maybe I sensed this potential in him the day we met in the church parking lot, maybe I knew Chase was my destiny the minute his hands touched me, steadied me, kept me right. My boy was upfront with me from the start, calling me on my bullshit and asking me if I’d give him a chance, a
real
chance. And I did.

In doing so, I learned how to start taking chances of my own. And look at what I gained—I gained a best friend, a lover, and a future. Who knows where this love will take us. This love that has blossomed over lunches at a diner, this love that was nurtured by two broken people opening up to one another, sharing their fears, their hopes, their disappointments, and their dreams.

But this love isn’t all serious moments. It’s playfulness and fun too. This love is stolen hair ties and stolen lemon-lime sodas, hiked-up dresses, and first kisses by lockers. From mended cheap sunglasses, to mended priceless hearts, this love is healing. It’s also daring to open up, finding the joy in laying souls bared. And forgiving, always forgiving. Whether it is forgiveness found dancing under the stars, or forgiveness found in confessing to inked angels, this love fosters forgiving.

The love I share with Chase is good and bad. It’s real life, from sunset picnics on rooftops, from baguettes and brie, from making love under the Eiffel Tower…all the way to secrets kept to secrets revealed, to red balloons lost, magic found, tripping and falling, and picking each other back up. Because when Chase and I fall we will always be there to catch one another, like that day in the parking lot—the beginning.

This love is full circle. It will only end when last breaths are taken.

Chase and I are in this for the long haul. I’ve stood before him and he’s stood before me. And this is what it’s all come down to: Chase Gartner is my future, my forever. And I, I am his.

Epilogue:
Lead in to
Never Doubt Me
(Judge Me Not #2)

Chase

On Sunday after church Kay and I walk back to the cemetery, together. We kneel at her sister’s grave.

Sarah Stanton
.

I hold the love of my life’s hand as she recites three things about her little sister she will never forget. “One, you always had to have Hello Kitty Band-Aids on your cuts and scratches,” Kay begins.

My girl takes a breath and glances at me. I take her hand, squeeze reassuringly.

She focuses back on the granite marker and continues, “Two, when we had our little tea parties you always wanted the tiniest cup, the one with the chip in the china.” Kay sighs and murmurs, “I don’t know why.”

My girl waves her hand in front of her face to keep from crying.

“And three…” Her voice cracks. “You cried the first day of kindergarten. But when I promised to take you to your school and walk you to your classroom, you stopped.”

A single tear trails down Kay’s cheek. She goes to swipe it away, but I turn her to me and gently dab it dry. I hope my eyes convey to my beautiful girl how much I appreciate that she’s sharing this—her most private ritual—with my undeserving ass.

In case she doesn’t know, I tell her.

She responds, “I’ve wanted to share this with you for a while now, but I wanted to wait until after you knew everything. I’m glad you’re here with me today.”

“Always, baby. Not just today, always.”

I want our future to be always, I truly do. I know in my heart that someday I will ask this woman to be my wife. I love her that fucking much. So much that I can’t imagine a life without her. I am a part of Kay, and she is most definitely a part of me. We are dug into each other’s souls, burrowed in to stay. When Kay feels pain, it hurts me. When she’s happy, I am fucking joyful. And seeing my girl happy is my number one goal. If I can put a smile on her face at least once each day, make her life a little brighter, then I know I’ve done my best.

Since today is shaping up to be all about sharing and shit, when we get back to the house I decide to show Kay my sketchbooks from prison. I promised her she could someday see them and today feels right.

Not that I expect her to, but she doesn’t judge as she turns the pages of each book. But she does slow at the sketch of the beaten prisoner in the cell, the drawing depicting the cellmate standing at the bars, indifferent to the suffering right behind him.

“You saw that?” she asks quietly. I just nod.

Next, my girl reaches the drawing of the heroin addict shooting up. She studies the angels and their pornographic poses. When she looks at me and raises an eyebrow, I just shrug one shoulder.

“Pervert,” she mumbles. She’s not judging, she’s actually trying to lighten things up.

“Look who’s talking,” I volley back, playing along. “If you stare any longer you might burn a hole in the paper.”

She swats my arm and we both laugh. But then my girl grows quiet. I ask her what’s wrong and she says, “Nothing, it’s just…”

My eyes meet hers questioningly, and she continues, “Well, it’s just I have to still write down the three things I told Sarah today at the cemetery, and I was wondering if maybe you’d like to see the journals. That way you’ll learn more about Sarah, what she was like.”

I tell Kay I’d love to see the journals, so she goes next door to her apartment to retrieve them.

While I wait for her to return, my heart swells with happiness that sweet girl wants to share with me what she has left of her sister, but my heart also breaks a little at the same time. My girl should have so much more than these fragmented memories she’s trying to hold on to. She should have her sister here with her, alive and well. I think I finally realize how very close Kay and Sarah were. In many ways, with such a big age difference, Sarah was like Kay’s daughter. Maybe someday I can give my girl a child of her own. Not a replacement for the sister she lost, never that, but a new life that may lessen her sorrow, a new life that’s part of her and me.

But all of that is for way down the road, not for today.

Kay returns and we sit on the living room couch. She opens the first journal and hands it to me.

I begin to read, and shit, do I learn a lot about little Sarah Stanton. In addition to what I heard Kay say earlier today at the cemetery, I discover Kay’s little sister loved chocolate-chip ice cream, but hated any that was fruit flavored. Sarah loved cloudy days, but feared thunderstorms immensely. She was just learning how to ride a bike the summer she died. When Kay and Sarah’s father gave the bike to a thrift store down the street the training wheels were still attached.

I turn the pages. Kay follows along, her eyes wet.

When Sarah was a toddler she played patty-cake with my girl almost every single day. Sarah knew there was no Santa Claus, but believed in the tooth fairy. And then I reach this section: Sarah loved the color purple, and she called my girl Kay-bear, never Kay. Sweet girl touches my hand and informs me these were the three things she told Sarah the day she met me in the church parking lot. I read the last entry from that day: Sarah couldn’t sleep unless she was holding Peetie. The stuffed rabbit I saved from a junkie-filled parking lot the night I meted out justice for Kay. Now, it means even more that I retrieved that little bunny.

I set the journals down and I notice Kay crying softly. I hold her until the tears subside. Afterward she asks me to make love to her. I ask if she’s sure that’s what she really wants. To me, she looks sad at the moment, like maybe she might need some time alone as opposed to me all over her. But she tells me the opposite is true—when we’re together, like that, it’s an affirmation of life.

I never thought of sex that way, but I try my best to think of it like that today. When we get started, everything I do, I do slowly and gently. Careful and tender touches, soft caresses, and light kisses. When I finally bury myself deep inside the woman I love I move differently—
so-o-o slowly
—allowing us both to savor the connection.

And for the next hour, I make slow, sweet love to my girl.

The next night, Monday evening, Kay and I are watching a movie in my living room. My girl is all nestled into me, which I fucking love, and my arm is draped over her shoulders. The movie we’re watching is a comedy and we find ourselves laughing at all the same parts.

Things are better and brighter today. Father Maridale relayed this morning that Mrs. Wilson will recover completely. She has a long road ahead, but she’ll be fine. Mrs. Wilson’s upgraded status means Doug-fucking-Wilson is back in Columbus where he belongs. Far away from me equates to very lucky for him. If I ever run into that motherfucker, he’ll be sorry real fast for keeping his bigger-than-we-realized role in Sarah’s death a secret for so long. I may have told Kay I’d let it go, but I don’t think I really can.

I tense and my girl gives me a questioning look. I shrug it off and try to think of something else. But now that Columbus is on my mind, I can’t help but be reminded of Kay’s mother.

Mrs. Stanton is also back in Columbus. I’m sort of all over the place with that one. We shall see how it all plays out, this mother-daughter reconnection. That lady better not renege on my girl, I can tell you that. So far, though, things look good. Kay’s mother is staying in contact. She called earlier this evening, in fact, and even put Kay’s dad on the phone for a few.

My girl seemed so light and happy afterward, that’s why we went with a comedy for tonight’s movie. I’m glad Kay’s talking to her parents. She needs her family, just like I need mine, even if both our families are pretty much fucked up.

Speaking of which, just as the movie ends my cell phone rings. I check the screen and groan to Kay, “It’s my mom. Maybe I should let it go to voicemail and call her back tomorrow.”

“What if it’s about Will, though?” Kay says, sitting up.

“Good point,” I respond.

I haven’t heard from my brother since Friday after he blew up over my refusal to allow Cassie to come with him to Ohio.

I answer my cell, and, as usual, my mother is in somewhat of a panic. I only half-listen initially, but when she catches her breath and slows down a little I quickly catch up.

Shit.

I sit up swiftly and glance over meaningfully at Kay. She places her hand supportively on my arm.

“What the hell are you saying?” I ask my mom. “What do you mean Will ran away?” Kay’s little hand tightens and slides down to my wrist to cover my hand.

My mother fills me in on what’s going on. Will was supposedly staying at Cassie’s house this weekend. “So much for being grounded,” I mutter.

Apparently, the day he skipped his flight and went to Cassie’s he did call Mom like I told him to, but instead of demanding he come home, she gave him permission to stay the weekend.

“That was three days ago,” I say, rolling my eyes. “Doesn’t he have to check in with you or something?”

Mom ignores me and continues, explaining that Cassie’s mom was on some weekend business retreat and just returned home today. Of course, this was all news to Mom since she assumed Cassie’s mother was home all weekend. Anyway, Cassie’s car was missing from the driveway, but her mother didn’t think much of it at first. Then, she went into Cassie’s room to gather laundry and noticed a bunch of her daughter’s clothes were missing, as well as a suitcase.

“Cassie’s mother said the room looked like nobody had been in there in days,” my mom says.

Fuck. Where could my brother and Cassie have gone? Would they really run away? Maybe something worse happened with the stepdad that prompted them to leave?

“Has Will called you?” my mom asks, interrupting my thoughts.

“No,” I respond.

Worry creeps up my spine.

My mom kind of sobs, and I ask, “What about the stepdad, Paul? Will said when I talked to him on Friday that the guy was home.” I don’t add that the stepdad had done something to upset Cassie and that’s why Will blew off his flight. Why worry Mom further?

“Where was this Paul-guy all weekend?” I continue. “How could he not notice Will and Cassie weren’t there?”

“I don’t know, Chase,” my mother says, sniffling, a little calmer now, but not much. “I guess he was in and out of the house a lot over the past couple of days. That’s what Cassie’s mother said, anyway. Paul didn’t even notice they weren’t there until this morning.”

Sounds like a great guy
, I think sarcastically as I roll my eyes.

Just as my mother is declaring she’s going to call the police—which I agree is the right thing to do—the doorbell rings.

Kay and I look at each other, and I know she’s thinking the same thing I am. “Fuck,” I mumble.

Kay bites her lip. I think about how Will asked if Cassie could come with him to Ohio if he still were to visit me. Next, I calculate how long of a drive it is from Nevada to Ohio. Definitely enough time has passed for the two of them to make it here.

“He wouldn’t,” I mutter.

“What?” my mother on the phone and Kay who’s at my side ask simultaneously.

The doorbell rings again.
Shit.
I ask my mom to hold on, but I keep the phone at my side. Kay stands up when I do and follows me to the door. When I open it, my brother is standing on the porch.

I raise the cell to my mouth. “He’s here,” I say somberly.

My eyes meet Will’s fiery greens. I shake my head at my brother, like I’m saying
what-the-fuck
. And I kind of am saying exactly that.

I tell my mother I’ll call her right back, but not to worry. Will’s okay. I add that I’ll get the details on Cassie’s whereabouts as well. My mother protests, but I hit
end
. I need to take care of one thing at a time, and this takes precedence.

I lower the phone and my brother smiles at me. “Hey, bro,” he says, all casual and smug-like. “Guess what? I made it to Ohio, after all.”

He glances at Kay, who’s at my side. My little shit brother smiles all charmingly and says, “Hi, I’m Will, Chase’s brother.”

Kay says hi back, all while squeezing my arm. My girl is holding me back, like I’m about to go off on my brother. I am a little, but mostly I’m just shocked.

It’s then a young girl steps out of the shadows at the base of the porch steps. She stares down at the ground. Will catches her attention and motions for her to come up on the porch. When she reaches his side she places her hand on his arm, just like Kay’s hand is on mine. It seems to strengthen my brother’s resolve. I see it in his face.

My brother firmly states, “This is Cassie. And before you say anything, Chase, I am telling you now we’re not going back to Vegas. We can either stay here with you…or we’ll just leave and keep driving east.”

“Did something happen?” Will knows what I mean. And apparently so does Cassie. When I glance at her, her eyes dart skittishly away.

My brother’s girlfriend positions herself behind Will, he answers for her. “Nothing happened, but we decided to leave. It’s better if Cassie’s away from that place.”

I almost ask Will if he’s high. I mean, what the hell is he thinking? I know he wants to protect Cassie from her stepdad, but this has gone too far. They need to tell the girl’s mother about this creep. I feel sure she’d kick him out in a heartbeat; she just doesn’t know what’s going on.

“Will—” I begin, but my brother interrupts.

“I’m serious, Chase. Can we stay with you, or not? It won’t be forever, just until we figure things out.”

“Figure things out?” I scoff. “What kinds of things? You’re both in high school. Or are you just not going to go back in the fall?”

Will looks away but I reach out and gently coax him to meet my gaze. He lets my hand stay on his shoulder. “Will, you’re only fifteen,” I softly remind him.

But my brother is resolute, his greens bore into me. “I’m serious, Chase. We aren’t going back. What’s it gonna be? Can we stay here or not? It’s your house, it’s your decision.”

Three pairs of questioning eyes fall on me. My wayward brother, my love, and this runaway girl who I’ve just met all await my answer.