Page 10 of Between Never and Forever
Like the one standing right in front of me.
“Maybe I did come home just to tell you that,” I shot off immediately. He was irking the crap out of me, acting like I should listen to him, like he wanted to take care of me when he couldn’t even respond to my reaching out. “Or maybe my coming home had nothing to do with you at all because I barely even think of you.”
His eyes widened at my statement, and I saw the hurt flash in them before it morphed to anger.
“You really think I believe that?”
No. How could I when I thought of him weekly, daily, hourly? But I wouldn’t admit that.
He took two deep breaths as he looked down at my lips and his hands shook on me like he was trying to hold himself back. Then he whispered, “Fuck it,” before he slammed his mouth hard into mine, his full lips moving with the purpose of dominating mine.
There was no passion in that kiss, only pure hate and the intent to show me he had the upper hand. His tongue expertly slid across mine, his hands dancing over all the spots he knew I liked. He squeezed my ass, bringing me close to him, and I whimpered at the feel of him against me.
Years we’d been apart, but instantly, my body remembered him. Every part of me wanted him. I submitted immediately because he was the only one who’d ever made me feel that way.
His other hand threaded through my hair, and he dug his fingers into the strands of it, loosening the bun I always wore now. Once he had enough around his fingers to grip, he pulled my head back to gain more access, to tower over me as he tasted what he didn’t even want.
I whimpered at that thought. He didn’t even want me anymore. I felt it in how he kissed me with no appreciation or love.
Yet, I clutched at his shirt, trying to hold on to the moment as long as possible. He was still a comfort I couldn’t deny myself, a home to me after all this time. He was the person I felt safest with even though I knew I shouldn’t.
When he stepped back, he did it abruptly, and I stumbled forward before catching myself. He didn’t even try to help me. “Feels like you think of me a lot, Kee.”
“Dex.” I needed to control the shake in my voice, manage how he was making me feel. I hadn’t felt like this with anyone else. The only feeling that came close was when I walked on stage. Nerves and excitement and adrenaline all at once. Love was a scary thing.
Still, I had to be mature about what was happening. Therapy had taught me that. “I want to talk to you about what happened when I left. What I said about Ethan was untrue and if—”
“You sent texts after you left and called me. You left me voicemails. I know you want to talk.”
He twisted the dagger in me by saying it out loud. That meant he’d consistently ignored me, that he didn’t care enough to respond.
“So, can we talk?” I needed this, and he did too. How was I supposed to get over the love I left behind when I’d never wanted to leave him behind in the first place? I needed to tell him that at least.
But he stared at me with a look of anger, and then he blinked and it was gone. All the pain, all the emotion, all the passion we had between us was gone. He’d turned it all off. “Fine. Let’s go to the garden then.”
“The garden?” I squeaked out. I hadn’t been back there in years, not since the last time I’d gone with him.
He lifted a brow. “You have a problem with the garden, Kee?”
“It’s just, we used to—”
“You scared of a few memories?” He looked me up and down like my love for him had been some childish thing.
I wanted to scream at him for that and remind him that once upon a time, he’d loved me too. Instead, I pushed past him to make my way down the hill of our backyards and then onto the wood-chipped path that led into a little forest. Our family had acres of land back there, but my father had found an open spot where he’d planted lilacs for my mother and me. She never walked along the path anymore, but Dex and I used to always come down here.
When we were young, I could run out into the backyard, across our field, through some woods and into the line of lilac bushes my father had planted so long ago. Mom had set up a little gate that I’d unlock with a gold key and then leave open. If Dex saw it, he’d make his way down into the woods and find me. We’d spent hours there.
It’d been our spot where Dex brought a blanket to lay on and I’d play guitar for him. I’d sing songs, and he’d listen like he gave a damn. He’d bring a phone too, and we’d watch movies under the stars, make out for hours, and then he’d send me home even when I tried my best to take it further.
Now, we weaved along the path in silence, like we were supposed to wait until we got to our old spot to talk, but when we did, the lilacs weren’t in bloom. Most of them had been overtaken by other plants, abandoned and not kept up. I think my mouth fell open at how badly my parents had let the spot get. “They must have forgotten…” I choked on the word, and Dex’s eyes narrowed. I hadn’t told him about my mom. It wasn’t his place anymore to know. “They must have forgotten about this place,” I whispered out.
There was only a small patch of grass left, flowers threaded through weeds and buckthorn. A remnant of how it used to smell lingered in the air. Before, when they were in full bloom, the smell was sweet, floral, and bright. They smelled of spring and sun and joy.
“Your parents have better things to do than keep up a little garden that means nothing, Keelani.”
He was right, for reasons he didn’t even know. And as the clouds rolled in, the lingering smell of them turned painful, agonizing. It filled me with sadness as he stared at me and our space with complete apathy.
“Dex, this garden meant something to me,” I admitted. “It meant something to us.”
