Page 51 of Mother Pucker

My mind takes me back to an hour ago, when I told my friends to make sure Kai wore his velcros outdoors . . .

Okay, so it has to endsoon. Fears and habits aren’t things most people can break in a day, but at least I’m trying. I’m working on trying not to be a “ball of nevers”.

I squint up at the rafters above me.

I really should have a celebration for this newfound thinking. I turn toward my nightstand, pulling the drawer open to getTrick out. That’s the name I’ve given my new gold vibrator, honoring the rapper with gold teeth. I’m just about to push the button to turn him on when I remember the promise I made to Rowan.

“Ugh!” I groan, throwing my shiny new toy back into the drawer. “Fucking Rowan!”

Tossing and turning once more, I decide to get out of bed. I hate the idea of not getting enough sleep, especially since I have to be up early tomorrow to catch the flight, but I also can’t just lay here with all my thoughts.

I’ve just placed the vibrator inside my nightstand when my eyes catch the pack of cigarettes I keep toward the back. I open the box, noticing only one left in there.

“Okay, good. Just one.” I nod to myself. “One last smoke to celebrate new beginnings. Not buying another pack, ever.”

I was going to quit anyway, but I’m also not a proponent of waste. I mean, there are people going hungry out there! Okay, so my last remaining cigarette doesn’t apply to the hunger crisis, but I’m sure it applies to something. Maybe the drug crisis . . .

That doesn’t really make sense, either.

I’m just going to quit applying this moment to any crisis but my own!

Grabbing a shawl from my chair, I step outside through the door to my room and find the step I’ve become quite familiar with in all the months I’ve lived here.

Only a handful of winking stars grace the dusty Boston night sky, but the breeze definitely lets me know we’re in the middle of October. It skitters down my spine under my shawl, and I shudder, wrapping the fabric closer to my body.

Lighting up my cigarette, I take a long drag, reminding myself this is it. This is the last time I’ll do this.

Because the guilt of doing so isn’t worth the few moments of reprieve. Because even though I’m going to relax some of myrules, my diet, and my regimen on both myself and my son, I’m not going to straight up put toxins into my body, either.

I look at the bright bud at the end of the cancer stick in my hand. “This is the last time. Do you understand me? The last time I let you fill me up and take me. The last time I’ll let you fuck me the way you’ve been fucking–”

“What the fuck?” The familiar, charming voice I’d heard this afternoon has transformed into a venomous growl as Rowan’s massive form dominates the dimly-lit space in front of me, his tense jawline the only visible feature. “Let me make it real clear, Doc. If you let any other motherfucker touch you, you’ll be the reason I break every goddamn bone in his body. No amount of physical therapy will ever fix him again.”

sixteen

shay

“Rowan? What are you doing here?”My mind whirls, and for a moment, I wonder if I’ve just conjured him up simply of my own volition. He has been on my mind a lot lately, and I did drink a decent amount of wine . . .

“I should ask you the same thing.” He glares at me, his features set like stone, before he glances at the cigarette in my hand. “What are you doing out here? And who the fuck were you talking to?”

My shoulders deflate. I should be embarrassed; I should be apologizing for being the fraud I am.

Instead, I feel a strange sense of relief. Relief from not having to hide this from one more person. Relief that another piece of my mask has been ripped off, even if I wasn’t intending for it to happen.

Maybe this will be reason enough for him to walk away, like he probably should.

I lift my cigarette, flaunting my truth. “This guy right here. I was just saying goodbye to him because I won’t be smoking again.”

Rowan shifts from foot to foot, probably reconsidering everything between us, given I sound like a crazy person.

I wouldn’t blame him.

Our arms touch when he sits next to me, before he removes the cigarette from my fingers. I’m about to object when he places it to his lips and takes a long drag.

“You smoke?” That sounds . . . unbelievable, but who am I to pass judgment?

He shakes his head, a chuckle vibrating in his chest, before he hands the cigarette back to me. “Nah. But now when I kiss you, we’ll both have tobacco on our breath.”

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