Kelly Gay - The Better Part of Darkness

“My pants,” I blurted out, not caring anymore. Not caring that my voice shook or my hands trembled. It had been so long. And Will knew every button to push, knew just how I liked it. “Get them off.”

We had a good ten minutes before the bus arrived. Plenty of time. I managed to get the zipper halfway down before he took over and pulled them over my knees, and then distraction drove his hand straight to my panties. My breath caught with anticipation. His hand cupped me, pressing, making me squirm. “Will.” He kissed me again, this time hungry and deep.

Then, suddenly, he was gone and the air rushed between us, cooling my scorched skin. I opened my heavy eyelids and blinked, feeling woozy and unbalanced. He stood back from me, dragging shaky fingers through his hair and letting out a disturbed huff.

“Charlie …” He paused, struggling with the words. “Do you still love me?”

My heart continued pounding, and I still felt his hands and mouth everywhere. I shook my head, trying to clear the sex-induced fog from my brain.

When I didn’t answer, he stepped back more, looking confused, as though I should have fallen down at his feet and confessed my undying adulation. “No. I don’t want you like this,” he said, “not like this.”

Understanding dawned just before the humiliation took over. Bitter cold swept through me, extinguishing any stubborn flames. “Like what, Will? I’m standing here with my pants down around my ankles and you’re just going to walk away because I’m not going to say I love you?” Still trembling, I jerked my pants over my hips, feeling the pressure of tears rise to my eyes. “Go to hell.”

It took all my effort not to slam my fist into Will’s face. I stayed against the wall, fingers flexing, trying to regain some control and hurting more than I had in months. I was an idiot.

Will braced his hand on the opposite wall, letting his head fall low, his rugged profile grim. He shook his head and stared at me, so full of regret. Whatever was going on in his head was far more complicated than I’d thought.

I hated that his scent evoked so much history between us. We’d spent our young adulthood together, built a life together. Two nineteen-year-olds facing the world. As a team. It hurt just to look at him. In the last six months, he’d succeeded brilliantly in his career, but was it on his own merits? He claimed to have quit practicing after that night. Friends, family, everyone believed him. And I guess I did, too, or else I’d never allow Emma to spend time with him. I also knew that he never meant for things to get so out of hand, but there was a mountain of emotional obstacles for us to overcome. He wanted too much, too fast.

I had to learn to trust him again. And right now, that seemed impossible.

With a determined gaze, he moved toward me, not stopping until his mouth was on mine. I sucked in a small, surprised gasp, pulling his warm breath inside me without meaning to. He kissed me hard and meaningfully. No tongue, but with so much emotion that tears welled in my eyes. I knew he loved me, and his sorrow and regret tore me in half.

The squeal of bus brakes broke us apart.

Grateful for the reprieve, I sidestepped my ex-husband, straightened my shirt, and redid my hair as Will went to the sink and splashed water onto his face. He was just as shaken as I was.

The entire visit had rattled me to the bone. Emma and I had been doing just fine on our own. We’d settled into a comfortable routine in the last few months, had pushed past the initial hurt of divorce and were moving forward. Damn him!

He dried off and then finished the bottle of water as Emma came through the door.

“Daddy!”

Like magic, the dark aura of emotion surrounding him lifted and a wide, genuine grin split his handsome face. For a moment, it was as if they were the only two people in the world.

“Hey, you. How’s my girl?” He set her on the counter.

“Fine.” Her brown eyes grew larger and more serious. “Amanda is in the hospital.” Her confident gaze flicked to me. “But Mom’s going to help her.”

Tall order, Charlie. I plastered a mom-smile on my face, ignoring the concern that her trust and matter-of-factness stirred in my gut. She believed in me. And there was nothing worse than letting your kid down. Nothing. “Why don’t you go wash your hands and put your things in your room?”

She hopped off the counter, the soles of her Mary Janes thudding on the tile floor. “Am I going with Dad tonight?”

Will glanced from Em to me, and I could see he was up for it. I shook my head. “No, Aunt Bryn wants to have a sleepover.”

“Why don’t I take her now,” Will said, “and then I’ll drive her over to Bryn’s after dinner.”

I hesitated, suddenly not wanting to be left alone after the day I’d had. But Emma loved her father so much. I couldn’t say no. “All right, but make sure she does her homework.”

“I’m taking my DS and my iPod!” Emma yelled, running from the room and pounding up the steps. I followed at a more sedate pace, picking up the backpack she’d let fall on the kitchen floor. Will stopped me with a hand on my arm. “You sure it’s okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” But I didn’t feel fine; I felt torn apart and downright sluggish as I followed my daughter up the stairs.

I packed Em’s clothes while she washed up. When she came into her bedroom, I patted the bed. “Hey, kid, I want to ask you something.”

The mattress dipped with her weight. Then she noticed the backpack and frowned. “Mom.” I sighed as she unzipped the bag and pulled out all of the clothes I’d just packed. “I can pack myself. And I hate these underwear and these socks.” She went to her dresser and rooted through drawers, shoving clothing into her backpack without folding. “So, what’s going on?” she asked over her shoulder, turning her attention to the small stack of DS games on her desk.

Emma and I had a pact. We always consulted each other before any major decisions were made. It was my way of making sure she felt included. “So … how would you feel if I took a desk job at the station instead of working out in the city?”

She turned, eyeballing me like I’d sprouted a shiitake mushroom on the tip of my nose. Then she walked over and placed her soft palm on my cheeks and forehead, testing for signs of illness.

“Ha, ha. Very funny.”

She stepped back and put a hand on her hip. “Okay,” she said slowly, “and why would you want to quit your job?”

I returned her attitude-ridden look. It wasn’t like I was saying I wanted to move to Antarctica. “Because it would be safer that way, and I don’t want you to worry about me.”

“Mom. If you do that, who’s gonna help Amanda?”

I blinked. My mouth opened but nothing came out. I’d promised to help Amanda, and I’d also promised myself I’d be a better mom and take a safer job. Two things that couldn’t exactly be accomplished at once. I rubbed my hands down my face and let out a deep breath.

“You can’t quit now. Amanda needs you.” Em straightened, bent one knee, and cocked her hip, giving me her best superhero pose—hands on hips, chin lifted, and eyes looking off into the distance. “Atlanta needs you. The very world itself might, one day, need you.”

Despite myself, I laughed. She giggled, blew a wild strand of hair from her eye, and then zipped the bag. When she turned to me, slinging the bag over her shoulder, she shrugged, pleased with her summation and logic. “Plus, Hank would never forgive you if you quit.” She waited by the door.

I stood, thrown by her reaction. I’d underestimated her, which was an easy thing to do when you didn’t want your kid to grow up. “Maybe after Amanda’s case then,” I said, more to myself.