Until Sage
Page 7
When I first found out that information, I knew I completely fucked up. I should have trusted my gut when I saw the look on Kim’s face as I confronted her. I didn’t do what I should have done, and I not only hurt Kim, I messed up beyond repair.
“I know you’re a man now. I know you don’t need my advice. But I’m gonna give it to you anyway,” he warns, taking a seat on one of my folding chairs at the card table set up in my kitchen. I’ve been using it since I moved into this dump, because I’ve been saving almost every penny I make and putting it into my house.
“Dad—”
“No, you’ll hear me out. Sit.” He nods to the chair across from him as he stretches out his legs. “Who’s this girl to you?” he questions, nodding to the envelope on the table.
I don’t even know how to answer that question. I thought for a moment she could be my future, but then shit went down and I thought she was a liar and just as fake as the rest of the women who’ve come into my life. I should have known better. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know, or you’re afraid to find out?” His eyes search mine, and he shakes his head, running his hand over his cropped hair. “I get that you want to experience life, experience women. I was young once, so I understand that shit. But, son…” He holds my gaze and drops his voice. “You’re never going to find someone if you don’t give anyone a chance, if you’re always searching, never stopping to see what’s in front of you.”
“I fucked up,” I tell him the truth, and he moves, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in the chair.
“How?”
Taking a seat across from him, I look at the envelope and tell him what went down. I fill him in about meeting Kim, about the time we spent together, and then I explain about Kim’s sister and what happened at the bar. Last, I spill what occurred after, when I corned Kim outside the salon. “I fucked up,” I repeat my earlier statement when I finish, and he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees studying me.
“Did you apologize?”
“Yeah.” I did apologize, but I knew the second I did that it was too late. The sadness I left her with had changed into anger, leaving me no shot at fixing what I broke.
“If she’s important to you, do it again, and again, and again, until she understands you’re sorry. Really fucking sorry,” he says, and I lift my chin, letting him know I heard him. But also knowing that ship has sailed, because not only is she still pissed at me, she now has a man, and even though I might be fucked up in a lot of ways, I won’t go there with her tied to someone else.
“Now, we need to talk about Nalia,” he adds, bringing my attention back to him, and that tightness in my chest changes to something even more uncomfortable. I hate the look on his face right now, hate that he and my mom both have the same expressions every time Nalia is brought up. I love my sister. I love her with all the love I have inside of me. But I’m pissed off at her. “She’s your sister, and as much as you and I don’t like what she’s doing, she still needs us right now.”
“I’ll be here for her, but I don’t want anything to do with Sharon,” I state, referring to the woman who gave birth to me.
I don’t understand Nalia’s reasoning for wanting a relationship with our birth mother. She tried to explain it to me once. Tried to describe how she feels it’s the loss of us that turned our mother’s life upside down. But as far as I know, her life was shit before she was forced to give us up when we were only two, because she had gone out partying, left us alone, and hadn’t come back for two days. No one even knew she was gone until they heard Nalia and me crying, and by that point, we were both in need of medical attention.
“I know you don’t, but you still need to be there for your sister. She thinks she can help Sharon. So as much as you and I may not like it, we still need to let her try,” he says, and I feel my face go hard and my muscles tense.
“The only person that bitch needs help from is the devil. What she did to me and Nalia…” I shake my head. “What she did to the two of us was wrong. I don’t care how she tries to twist it or what reasoning she has for what happened. It was fucked.”
“I agree with you.”
“Christ, she left us alone for two days, and the only reason she even came back is because she found out the cops were at her place,” I growl, feeling pain slice through me at the thought of the woman who was meant to protect us leaving us alone to fend for ourselves when we could barely walk.
“Nalia knows all of that. She doesn’t give a fuck,” he states quietly.
“I fucked up. I should hav—”
“You didn’t fuck up. You didn’t do anything wrong. She needs to find her own way and realize for herself that sometimes you can’t fix people, no matter how hard you try. And you need to have her back while she does that.”
“I get that, but I want not one fucking thing to do with any of that.”
“And I understand that, but—”
“No, I know you and Mom have always been about forgiveness and second chances, but no.”
“What about your other siblings?”
“We’re cool. We talk now and then, but my relationship with them has nothing to do with her.”
“All right,” he murmurs, and with that, I stand, take the envelope that I will never open over to my desk, and shove it into the top drawer.
“I gotta head out,” I state as I turn and head into the kitchen and open the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water for the road. “I’ll be out of town for a couple days chasing a skip, but I’ll call and check in.” I watch my dad unfold from the chair and stand.
“Make sure you call. You know your mom worries.”
“I’ll call,” I agree, picking up my keys before heading for the door. Feeling my dad close, I open the door and grab my bag I dropped next to it earlier.
“Be safe.” He pats my shoulder as he moves past me. Lifting my chin, I lock up then move to my ride while he heads for his bike.
Kim
“HARDER, PLEASE,” I WHISPER, running my hands up the smooth skin of his back, feeling his muscles bunch at my touch.
“Slow, baby, you feel too fucking good,” he murmurs, licking and kissing up the column of my neck.
Nice.
No. More than nice. Perfect.
Pressing my head back into the pillow, I wind my legs around his hips and tip my pelvis, sending him deeper, moaning in my throat when I do.
“Goddamn, you’re beautiful.”
My face softens and I slide one hand around his waist, up his abs, chest, and neck, stopping at the underside of his jaw to run my fingers along the sculpted edge there.
“No.” I shake my head, swallowing over the lump forming in my throat. “You’re beautiful.” And he is, the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
Waking with tears in my eyes, I roll to my side and wrap my arms around my stomach. He’s still torturing me. Months later, the memory of him is still torturing me. “You need to get over this.”
I roll to my back and watch the rain beat against the skylight as I blink away the tears in my eyes. A few months ago, Sage came to me and apologized for the way he treated me. I told him I accepted his apology, but I lied. The time that had gone by before his apology had given me a lot of time to think, and the more I thought about what went down, the more upset I got.
Yes, he was wronged, but if he had felt even a fraction for me of what I had felt for him, he would have at least heard me out. He would have at least let me tell him about Kelly, but he didn’t do that. He made assumptions and said shit to me that I can’t get out of my head. Shit still hurts every time I think about it.
Three weeks after that apology, he asked me to have dinner with him. I didn’t say, “Fuck you,” like I wanted to. Instead, I lied and told him I was seeing someone—that someone being my best friend, who also happens to be gay. Yes, I lied, but once bitten, twice shy. I may have fallen for the charms of Sage Mayson once, but there’s no way in hell I would do it again. But that doesn’t mean my heart has given up on the idea of him. Every time I see him, I remember exactly what I felt in those moments we had together.
“I know you’re a man now. I know you don’t need my advice. But I’m gonna give it to you anyway,” he warns, taking a seat on one of my folding chairs at the card table set up in my kitchen. I’ve been using it since I moved into this dump, because I’ve been saving almost every penny I make and putting it into my house.
“Dad—”
“No, you’ll hear me out. Sit.” He nods to the chair across from him as he stretches out his legs. “Who’s this girl to you?” he questions, nodding to the envelope on the table.
I don’t even know how to answer that question. I thought for a moment she could be my future, but then shit went down and I thought she was a liar and just as fake as the rest of the women who’ve come into my life. I should have known better. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know, or you’re afraid to find out?” His eyes search mine, and he shakes his head, running his hand over his cropped hair. “I get that you want to experience life, experience women. I was young once, so I understand that shit. But, son…” He holds my gaze and drops his voice. “You’re never going to find someone if you don’t give anyone a chance, if you’re always searching, never stopping to see what’s in front of you.”
“I fucked up,” I tell him the truth, and he moves, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back in the chair.
“How?”
Taking a seat across from him, I look at the envelope and tell him what went down. I fill him in about meeting Kim, about the time we spent together, and then I explain about Kim’s sister and what happened at the bar. Last, I spill what occurred after, when I corned Kim outside the salon. “I fucked up,” I repeat my earlier statement when I finish, and he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees studying me.
“Did you apologize?”
“Yeah.” I did apologize, but I knew the second I did that it was too late. The sadness I left her with had changed into anger, leaving me no shot at fixing what I broke.
“If she’s important to you, do it again, and again, and again, until she understands you’re sorry. Really fucking sorry,” he says, and I lift my chin, letting him know I heard him. But also knowing that ship has sailed, because not only is she still pissed at me, she now has a man, and even though I might be fucked up in a lot of ways, I won’t go there with her tied to someone else.
“Now, we need to talk about Nalia,” he adds, bringing my attention back to him, and that tightness in my chest changes to something even more uncomfortable. I hate the look on his face right now, hate that he and my mom both have the same expressions every time Nalia is brought up. I love my sister. I love her with all the love I have inside of me. But I’m pissed off at her. “She’s your sister, and as much as you and I don’t like what she’s doing, she still needs us right now.”
“I’ll be here for her, but I don’t want anything to do with Sharon,” I state, referring to the woman who gave birth to me.
I don’t understand Nalia’s reasoning for wanting a relationship with our birth mother. She tried to explain it to me once. Tried to describe how she feels it’s the loss of us that turned our mother’s life upside down. But as far as I know, her life was shit before she was forced to give us up when we were only two, because she had gone out partying, left us alone, and hadn’t come back for two days. No one even knew she was gone until they heard Nalia and me crying, and by that point, we were both in need of medical attention.
“I know you don’t, but you still need to be there for your sister. She thinks she can help Sharon. So as much as you and I may not like it, we still need to let her try,” he says, and I feel my face go hard and my muscles tense.
“The only person that bitch needs help from is the devil. What she did to me and Nalia…” I shake my head. “What she did to the two of us was wrong. I don’t care how she tries to twist it or what reasoning she has for what happened. It was fucked.”
“I agree with you.”
“Christ, she left us alone for two days, and the only reason she even came back is because she found out the cops were at her place,” I growl, feeling pain slice through me at the thought of the woman who was meant to protect us leaving us alone to fend for ourselves when we could barely walk.
“Nalia knows all of that. She doesn’t give a fuck,” he states quietly.
“I fucked up. I should hav—”
“You didn’t fuck up. You didn’t do anything wrong. She needs to find her own way and realize for herself that sometimes you can’t fix people, no matter how hard you try. And you need to have her back while she does that.”
“I get that, but I want not one fucking thing to do with any of that.”
“And I understand that, but—”
“No, I know you and Mom have always been about forgiveness and second chances, but no.”
“What about your other siblings?”
“We’re cool. We talk now and then, but my relationship with them has nothing to do with her.”
“All right,” he murmurs, and with that, I stand, take the envelope that I will never open over to my desk, and shove it into the top drawer.
“I gotta head out,” I state as I turn and head into the kitchen and open the fridge, grabbing a bottle of water for the road. “I’ll be out of town for a couple days chasing a skip, but I’ll call and check in.” I watch my dad unfold from the chair and stand.
“Make sure you call. You know your mom worries.”
“I’ll call,” I agree, picking up my keys before heading for the door. Feeling my dad close, I open the door and grab my bag I dropped next to it earlier.
“Be safe.” He pats my shoulder as he moves past me. Lifting my chin, I lock up then move to my ride while he heads for his bike.
Kim
“HARDER, PLEASE,” I WHISPER, running my hands up the smooth skin of his back, feeling his muscles bunch at my touch.
“Slow, baby, you feel too fucking good,” he murmurs, licking and kissing up the column of my neck.
Nice.
No. More than nice. Perfect.
Pressing my head back into the pillow, I wind my legs around his hips and tip my pelvis, sending him deeper, moaning in my throat when I do.
“Goddamn, you’re beautiful.”
My face softens and I slide one hand around his waist, up his abs, chest, and neck, stopping at the underside of his jaw to run my fingers along the sculpted edge there.
“No.” I shake my head, swallowing over the lump forming in my throat. “You’re beautiful.” And he is, the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen.
Waking with tears in my eyes, I roll to my side and wrap my arms around my stomach. He’s still torturing me. Months later, the memory of him is still torturing me. “You need to get over this.”
I roll to my back and watch the rain beat against the skylight as I blink away the tears in my eyes. A few months ago, Sage came to me and apologized for the way he treated me. I told him I accepted his apology, but I lied. The time that had gone by before his apology had given me a lot of time to think, and the more I thought about what went down, the more upset I got.
Yes, he was wronged, but if he had felt even a fraction for me of what I had felt for him, he would have at least heard me out. He would have at least let me tell him about Kelly, but he didn’t do that. He made assumptions and said shit to me that I can’t get out of my head. Shit still hurts every time I think about it.
Three weeks after that apology, he asked me to have dinner with him. I didn’t say, “Fuck you,” like I wanted to. Instead, I lied and told him I was seeing someone—that someone being my best friend, who also happens to be gay. Yes, I lied, but once bitten, twice shy. I may have fallen for the charms of Sage Mayson once, but there’s no way in hell I would do it again. But that doesn’t mean my heart has given up on the idea of him. Every time I see him, I remember exactly what I felt in those moments we had together.
