Page 70 of Hero Hair

Tucking her hair, on the side that’s long enough to tuck, she says, “Do you know what it takes to admit he did this? That he has this control over my life without my permission?”

Her father. I’m able to piece together this disaster one abandonment issue at a time. Mix those with extreme anxiety, wait for a low boil, and watch for explosion.

Through narrowed eyes she spits, “Don’t ever tell me to shut up again.” Teala is there, in her command this time. So be it. Anger is what needs to happen right now.

I sigh, kneeling down in front of her. Gently, I place my hands around her calves. It has dual purposes. The need to touch her is fierce, but she’s so small I could snap her legs like twigs. Has it only been a month that has passed? Is this capable of happening in a month? My erratic behavior mirrors hers. I don’t know how to relationship properly and the one time I fuck up, I cause the worst possible scenario.

“I’m sorry,” I whisper.

She doesn’t meet my gaze, but her lip trembles again.

“I know you hate apologies that span multiple things, but that’s what that was and you’re going to accept because I’ve missed you.” Pushing my luck, I slide my hand up one leg and graze her face to bring a short chunk of her hair in between my fingers. I look at her and raise a brow in question. “Britney circa 07?” I ask.

She smiles, and it’s painful to watch. “Something like that,” she responds. “Oops I did it again. Maybe, One more time? I was upset and I wanted to control something. Unfortunately I saw scissors and then realized my neck was sweaty. The rest is history.” Her laugh is shallow as she runs her hands through her uneven haircut. She meets my eyes. “You know I can’t be with a man who leaves. It’s glaringly obvious.” She waits for my rebuttal, but I don’t waste my breath. What’s obvious to me is that she’s made up her mind. She continues, “Even if you come back every single time. I can’t. This right here is proof.” Teala motions to her body and face. “I’m not sleeping. Don’t get me wrong. I’m in bed most of the day, but I’m awake not thinking about anything.”

“You texted me,” I say. I want to pull out the phone and shove the text in her face.

Her eyes are wild again. “I told you I miss you. Not come to me.”

I wince. “Ouch.”

My heart is combusting with the magnitude of what she’s saying. She may not be in the right frame of mind, but my pride won’t give her another chance if she does come to her senses and realizes what she’s done.

She stands to get away from me. She walks to the bar and pours herself a glass of vodka.

“Why don’t we get something to eat?” I offer.

“He liked women. Just like you. He was a professional at leaving. It was too similar,” she explains, grabbing her hair.

I don’t know what to say or to respond with, so I ask about food again. She shakes her head and continues her explanation even though I don’t want to hear another complicated word.

“I started yoga all those years ago to combat my anxiety.” Teala laughs and turns to face me. “Fucking men helps too.” She swallows the alcohol in a few large swallows while eyeing me over the rim of her glass.

My fists are tight by my sides and it takes a lot of effort to stretch my fingers out. It’s painful. “I’m not your fucking father, Teala. I can be your daddy if that’s what you really want.” My stomach churns even as my dick hardens. “Have you been fucking other men?” I’ll still fuck her right now if she replies in the affirmative, but it will be for the last time.

Finally, she smiles, and I’m glimpsing a piece of her from weeks ago. Her mind is twisted and I don’t even care. Suddenly I don’t want to know the answer. It would change things even more. I close the distance between us in a few steps and pull her into my arms. The glass in her hands clatters to the ground and shatters. I kiss her and pure vodka sweeps my tongue. There’s no trace of her sweet breath or the sounds of small sighs. Her hands are tight around my neck as she scrambles to climb my body like a rope at the gym. It’s frantic, even for me, who sets a similar pace without realizing it. It’s never been like this with her. I let my lips slide against her neck and close my eyes when a familiar scent hits my system. Now I have something to hold on to. I kiss her neck for a few more moments, leading her back to rest her against the wall.

“Fuck me,” Teala growls. “Right now.”

I haven’t had sex with something other than my palm for a month. I want to fuck her. I didn’t expect it to be like this and I’m surprised by the disappointment. I reach between our bodies and free my cock. Teala moans when she circles her hand around my shaft and pumps. I let her feet hit the floor long enough for her to strip off her pants. I bring up the mental image of her naked body before. This isn’t the woman I’m in love with in my arms right now—she’s frail, weak, and devastated by a past come back to life. She hits her knees, and I have to remind her about the broken glass. She doesn’t heed my warning and puts my dick in her mouth after she removes my dirty pants and boots.

It feels fucking amazing. Then I reach down to guide her with my hand in her hair and I’m spiraling back into reality. When she stands up, her shins are covered in cuts and blood. I clear my throat to bring her attention to the issue, but her mind is only on one thing until her phone rings and she tells me she needs to answer it. Teala is all over the place and I realize I’m just riding some foreign wave at this point.

It’s her friend Carina on the line and I listen to her play nice with her friend for several minutes. She’s different. Normal. After she hangs up, I fuck her against the thick panel of glass. She clutches me as I thrust into her. I don’t have to think about my grandma on a cold wet day to prolong coming. I merely have to think about the woman I love to keep my orgasm at bay. Figures move in the building across the street and it draws my attention, distracting me even further. Teala is screaming out in her release, her fingers laced in my hair and her teeth lightly grazing my shoulder and neck. I come by proxy after several more thrusts.

She collapses against me and makes no move to slide down, so I hold her, her weight light in my arms.

“I missed you so much,” I whisper. I still miss her.

I walk her over to the bookshelf, far away from the broken glass, and set her down. Blood and come are mixing down her legs in a streaking pattern an artist would love.

“Fuck,” I say, closing my eyes and shaking my head.

“It’s just a little blood,” she says, grabbing her pants from the floor and cleaning her legs in a few swipes. “Never seen it before?” Teala smirks.

I don’t return the gesture. Blood isn’t the issue. I can wear it from head to toe for Halloween.

“Can I use your shower?” I ask.

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