Page 7 of Bad to the Bone

I wake with a start and strong arms immediately cradle me. For a moment I don’t remember how or why they are there, and I am tempted to scream.

“Bad dream?” Zayne’s voice rumbles right behind my ear. He’s here again. How many times this week? It doesn’t matter, I’m just glad that he is here.

“Sort of. You know the kind of dream where you know you’re dreaming but you can’t get out of it,” I say, trying to get my heart to calm down.

“Yeah.”

“One of those.” I snuggle closer to his warmth, letting the feel of his skin against mine chase away the shadows in my mind.

“Wanna share?”

“Not really,” I say, pulling the blanket up around my shoulders. His naked body feels warm against my skin, despite the cool night air.

“You sure?”

“Yeah.”

“Does this happen often?” he sounds worried.

“No. Just sometimes when I spend a lot of time thinking about my sister,” I confess.

“You’ve been thinking about her a lot lately?”

“The anniversary of her death is coming up pretty soon.”

“Oh.” He lays quietly for a long time as I try to get back to sleep. But sleep won’t come. “How did she die?”

“In a plane crash. She was supposed to be going out of town for work.”

“That sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“That was the same year your fiancé died, right?”

“It was the same plane,” I say, feeling small and pathetic. I don’t know why I feel this way every time I think about it. You would think the grief of losing my sister and my fiancé at the same time would override everything. When I found out that the two people I loved the most had betrayed me, I thought I would feel anger and hatred. But, I didn’t. In all honesty, Shannon took it much harder than I did. All I felt was small, useless and pathetic. I mean, I was the only element that never made sense. He was charming and amazing, and she was a real hometown beauty. They made much better sense as a couple than he and I ever did.

Zayne doesn’t say anything else. The truth of it all just hangs over our heads in the dark. I don’t have to spell it out for him. He’s a smart kid. I’m sure Shannon has given him clues about how everything ended.

He holds me tighter, trying to keep me rooted in this moment, using his own flesh to exercise my demons. I let him, because its late and I am too tired to fight these kinds of battles alone. Tonight I need a distraction.

“He was a fool,” he says, shifting our bodies so that he looms above me, the faint light from the moon giving his dark eyes an ethereal glow.

“So was I.”

“Love makes fools of all of us,” he says, bending his head to kiss me.

He settles his body between my thighs and I can feel the muscles pull and stretch to accommodate his body.

“I’m still sore,” I say softly.

“Next time don’t seduce me with dinner and yoga pants.”

“And Jenga,” I add, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Don’t forget the Jenga.”

“Ah, yes, Jenga. That must have been what pushed me over the edge,” he teases. This time I kiss him, without any thoughts beyond this moment. He moves his lips beyond my neck and across my collar bone. I stroke his back, and cradle his head against my body. He seems completely unaware of every flaw and “trouble spot” on my body as he lavishes my skin with hot, needy kisses.

I allow him to have his way, surrendering to his attentions. It sounds crazy, but when I’m with him, it feels as if all of the broken and empty places inside me begin to mend. The ragged wounds inside begin to heal every time he looks at me. It’s moments like these that I become the most scared. Pain, loneliness, rejection, I can handle all of that. But, what if one day he stops touching me like this? What do I do if he stops looking at me the way he does?

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