Rock Chick Reckoning
Page 61
“What you’re tel ing me,” my voice was both quiet and weirdly scratchy, “is that if I’d asked you back, you would have come?”
The fingers of his hand not in my hair started to stroke The fingers of his hand not in my hair started to stroke my spine.
“I needed you to make a statement, Kitten,” he said softly. “You didn’t.”
Al of a sudden, I felt like crying.
I fought it and persevered at trying to understand what he was tel ing me.
“What you’re saying is you didn’t break up with me because you wanted to break up with me. What you’re saying is you broke up with me to test me?”
“Yeah,” he replied.
Simple as that.
Yeah.
A year of heartache and a simple “yeah”.
It al boiled down to that.
Tears fil ed my eyes, I didn’t want them to but I didn’t fight them either. I was way beyond fighting. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling; I just knew none of it was good.
“Okay,” I started, my voice now croaky and his hand left my hair, his other hand stopped stroking my spine and his arms got tight. “I just want to be sure I have this straight. You came into my life, gave me the first something good I had outside of music and took it away as a test? ”
“Kitten –”
What he said and what it meant final y penetrated my brain.
“You jerk,” I whispered.
His arms grew tighter. “Stel a, listen to me –”
“You jerk,” I repeated, my voice breaking, the tears sliding out the sides of my eyes, I didn’t even try to control them because I knew I couldn’t.
“I didn’t know how you felt, you didn’t tel me –” he started.
“You didn’t ask,” I reminded him.
“Babe, if I’d have asked, would you have told me?”
“Yes,” I said immediately and watched his head jerk back in surprise but I ignored it and went on. “I would have told you, back then I would have given you anything.” He watched my face as if assessing my honesty then his hand went up, his fingers sifting into my hair, he tilted his head back and shoved my face into his throat.
“Christ, Stel a,” he said but it sounded more like a groan.
“Mace, next time you feel like ‘giving me one’, you should reconsider,” I advised, my voice had turned cold, my eyes had dried and I knew, somehow, my heart had gone hard.
“Now, let me go.”
I meant the words with a double meaning.
Of course, he didn’t let me go.
Instead, he muttered, “I f**ked up.”
He was right about that.
“Yes, you did. Now let me go.”
“I f**ked up,” he repeated then used my hair to pul my face out of his throat and his head tilted down to look at me.
“Kitten, I’m sorry,” he whispered.
I knew it took a lot for him to say that.
I knew it.
But it hurt so much I didn’t care.
“I’m sure you are. And I’m just as sure that I don’t give a f**k,” I lied but it sounded good, it sounded real and I watched him wince as I scored the point. I knew that seeing his wince should register somewhere but it didn’t. “Now let me go.”
He stil didn’t let me go, instead, he said, “You need to get it.”
“Oh, I get it,” I told him even though I didn’t and I never would.
“No, babe, you don’t. Yesterday morning –” I shook my head. “Oh no you don’t,” I snapped.
He was not going to f**k with my head anymore. He didn’t want to share until he got his piece of me, so be it. I was keeping al my pieces al to myself.
Fuck that!
His arms got so tight they made it hard for me to breathe and I watched as his face morphed from soft remorse to the beginnings of hard anger.
“Listen to me,” he growled.
“We’re done talking,” I interrupted him. “I don’t want to talk anymore. Go find the bad guy, Mace, so this can be over.”
“You need to understand where I’m coming from,” he told me.
“I don’t care where you’re coming from,” I shot back.
Morph complete, Mace was straight out angry. “Stel a, I’m warnin’ you, you got one shot at this, you throw it back in my face, you won’t get another one.”
Hard-hearted or not, that scared the snot out of me.
Regardless of the fear, self-preservation took firm hold and answered for me. “I’l take that chance.” His face stayed angry but I could swear I saw pain flash in his eyes, sharp and fierce. The sight of it made bile climb up my throat but I had no chance to take back my words.
He let me go.
Then he exited the bed.
The loss of his body felt like a cold slap.
I sat up and pul ed the sheets around me as he walked to his jeans. His body was taut, his movements jerky. It didn’t take a body language expert to know he was pissed.
And, what was even scarier, maybe even hurt.
Shitsofuckit!
Now, what had I done?
I felt my heart start racing and swal owed the bile in my throat.
I opened my mouth to cal to him when the buzzer went.
“Jesus,” he muttered, yanked on his jeans and walked to the alarm panel.
“Mace,” I cal ed but it came out more quiet than a whisper and he didn’t hear me.
Mace hit the button on the alarm panel, Al y’s face fil ed the video screen and Mace said, “Yeah?”
“Open up!” Al y demanded. “Rock Chicks!”
He took his finger from the button, muttered, “Jesus,” again and then hit another button, buzzing them up.
He unlocked the doors, turned to me and said, “I’l take the dog out.”
Then he went to his bag, pul ed out a navy blue henley, yanked it on and was sitting on the platform, pul ing on his boots when the Rock Chicks stormed the door. Al y, Indy, Jet, Roxie, Ava, Daisy, Shirleen, Annette and even Jules was there.
“We hit the news!” Al y shouted, holding up a copy of the paper. “This time al of us.” Then she snapped her mouth shut and her eyes swung from me, to Mace, back to me.
I sat, stil frozen, stil naked, stil in bed, staring at my friends as they al stood, silent, realizing from the heavy air that they’d interrupted something.
“Um, is this a bad time?” Jules final y asked.
In answer, Mace got up, stalked to the leash hanging by the side of the door and whistled for the strangely attuned to her human’s emotional turmoil thus silent Juno.
The fingers of his hand not in my hair started to stroke The fingers of his hand not in my hair started to stroke my spine.
“I needed you to make a statement, Kitten,” he said softly. “You didn’t.”
Al of a sudden, I felt like crying.
I fought it and persevered at trying to understand what he was tel ing me.
“What you’re saying is you didn’t break up with me because you wanted to break up with me. What you’re saying is you broke up with me to test me?”
“Yeah,” he replied.
Simple as that.
Yeah.
A year of heartache and a simple “yeah”.
It al boiled down to that.
Tears fil ed my eyes, I didn’t want them to but I didn’t fight them either. I was way beyond fighting. I wasn’t sure what I was feeling; I just knew none of it was good.
“Okay,” I started, my voice now croaky and his hand left my hair, his other hand stopped stroking my spine and his arms got tight. “I just want to be sure I have this straight. You came into my life, gave me the first something good I had outside of music and took it away as a test? ”
“Kitten –”
What he said and what it meant final y penetrated my brain.
“You jerk,” I whispered.
His arms grew tighter. “Stel a, listen to me –”
“You jerk,” I repeated, my voice breaking, the tears sliding out the sides of my eyes, I didn’t even try to control them because I knew I couldn’t.
“I didn’t know how you felt, you didn’t tel me –” he started.
“You didn’t ask,” I reminded him.
“Babe, if I’d have asked, would you have told me?”
“Yes,” I said immediately and watched his head jerk back in surprise but I ignored it and went on. “I would have told you, back then I would have given you anything.” He watched my face as if assessing my honesty then his hand went up, his fingers sifting into my hair, he tilted his head back and shoved my face into his throat.
“Christ, Stel a,” he said but it sounded more like a groan.
“Mace, next time you feel like ‘giving me one’, you should reconsider,” I advised, my voice had turned cold, my eyes had dried and I knew, somehow, my heart had gone hard.
“Now, let me go.”
I meant the words with a double meaning.
Of course, he didn’t let me go.
Instead, he muttered, “I f**ked up.”
He was right about that.
“Yes, you did. Now let me go.”
“I f**ked up,” he repeated then used my hair to pul my face out of his throat and his head tilted down to look at me.
“Kitten, I’m sorry,” he whispered.
I knew it took a lot for him to say that.
I knew it.
But it hurt so much I didn’t care.
“I’m sure you are. And I’m just as sure that I don’t give a f**k,” I lied but it sounded good, it sounded real and I watched him wince as I scored the point. I knew that seeing his wince should register somewhere but it didn’t. “Now let me go.”
He stil didn’t let me go, instead, he said, “You need to get it.”
“Oh, I get it,” I told him even though I didn’t and I never would.
“No, babe, you don’t. Yesterday morning –” I shook my head. “Oh no you don’t,” I snapped.
He was not going to f**k with my head anymore. He didn’t want to share until he got his piece of me, so be it. I was keeping al my pieces al to myself.
Fuck that!
His arms got so tight they made it hard for me to breathe and I watched as his face morphed from soft remorse to the beginnings of hard anger.
“Listen to me,” he growled.
“We’re done talking,” I interrupted him. “I don’t want to talk anymore. Go find the bad guy, Mace, so this can be over.”
“You need to understand where I’m coming from,” he told me.
“I don’t care where you’re coming from,” I shot back.
Morph complete, Mace was straight out angry. “Stel a, I’m warnin’ you, you got one shot at this, you throw it back in my face, you won’t get another one.”
Hard-hearted or not, that scared the snot out of me.
Regardless of the fear, self-preservation took firm hold and answered for me. “I’l take that chance.” His face stayed angry but I could swear I saw pain flash in his eyes, sharp and fierce. The sight of it made bile climb up my throat but I had no chance to take back my words.
He let me go.
Then he exited the bed.
The loss of his body felt like a cold slap.
I sat up and pul ed the sheets around me as he walked to his jeans. His body was taut, his movements jerky. It didn’t take a body language expert to know he was pissed.
And, what was even scarier, maybe even hurt.
Shitsofuckit!
Now, what had I done?
I felt my heart start racing and swal owed the bile in my throat.
I opened my mouth to cal to him when the buzzer went.
“Jesus,” he muttered, yanked on his jeans and walked to the alarm panel.
“Mace,” I cal ed but it came out more quiet than a whisper and he didn’t hear me.
Mace hit the button on the alarm panel, Al y’s face fil ed the video screen and Mace said, “Yeah?”
“Open up!” Al y demanded. “Rock Chicks!”
He took his finger from the button, muttered, “Jesus,” again and then hit another button, buzzing them up.
He unlocked the doors, turned to me and said, “I’l take the dog out.”
Then he went to his bag, pul ed out a navy blue henley, yanked it on and was sitting on the platform, pul ing on his boots when the Rock Chicks stormed the door. Al y, Indy, Jet, Roxie, Ava, Daisy, Shirleen, Annette and even Jules was there.
“We hit the news!” Al y shouted, holding up a copy of the paper. “This time al of us.” Then she snapped her mouth shut and her eyes swung from me, to Mace, back to me.
I sat, stil frozen, stil naked, stil in bed, staring at my friends as they al stood, silent, realizing from the heavy air that they’d interrupted something.
“Um, is this a bad time?” Jules final y asked.
In answer, Mace got up, stalked to the leash hanging by the side of the door and whistled for the strangely attuned to her human’s emotional turmoil thus silent Juno.
