The Girl of Diamonds and Rust (The Half Shell Series Book 3) Page 7

  That was mean, so mean, Rene.

  I am able to meet her stare for stare without flinching or crying, and I take a few more bites of my food and then toss what’s left into the trashcan.

  When I get into the living room, I find Neil rummaging through things and tossing them into boxes. I start packing up my shit, and occasionally peek at Neil. He doesn’t say a word.

  In the bedroom, he goes to his side of the closet and I go to mine. In less than an hour, I’m done. I undress, put on one of his t-shirts and climb into bed.

  Neil is still packing up things from the drawers.

  “I’m sorry I brought stuff up in front of Rene,” I say. “It’s a hard decision. I’m not messing with you. I hope you know that. I’m just not sure what I should do.”

  He doesn’t look at me. “You’ll do what you decide to do,” is all he says, tossing the last of his junk into a box and then sealing it with packing tape.

  He takes off his clothes, tosses them in a pile, and then climbs into bed. He turns off the light and settles back against his pillow. I become acutely aware of the space between our bodies.

  I roll over on my pillow to face him. His eyes are open. He’s awake.

  “I don’t want you pissed at me,” I say.

  His head does an aggravated flutter on the pillow. “I’m not pissed, Chrissie.”

  “Then why are you over there? You’re practically on the edge of the bed.”

  “I’m just tired,” he says, but then he moves his arm so I can rest my head on his shoulder.

  He kisses the top of my head and closes his eyes. I stare up at him, the lines of his face, the messy arrangement of his chestnut waves. I lean upward. I kiss the underside of his chin.

  He adjusts me against him. “Don’t start anything unless you intend to follow through this time.”

  I flush. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  His eyes open and the way he looks at me makes me tense. “You sleep cuddled against me. You touch me. You kiss me. You let me hold you. But you don’t fuck me, Chrissie. I get it. But it doesn’t help. I’m horny as hell.”

  I can feel the heat move from my cheeks to my neck. “I’m sorry.”

  His arms tighten around me. “It’s OK. I get it. You couldn’t after…” He breaks off, not going there. “I know it might take a while to get there mentally again. I just really miss being with you, Chrissie. I love you.”

  The way he effortlessly shares his heart makes me ashamed of how little of me I share with him. I don’t know why I hold back. Neil is safe and loving and unselfish. The kindest guy I’ve ever known.

  I kiss his chest. “I want to make love with you. I’m just kind of afraid to try.”

  “I know,” he says, and his body turns a little more into me, holding me closer. He kisses my brow. “Don’t be afraid. For once tell me everything you’re thinking. We can think it through together.”

  Don’t be afraid? He makes it sound so easy but it’s not. Not for me and it never has been. There are times I feel like I’m possessed by my fear, paralyzed in my life, unable to manage anything because I am afraid.

  “I want to go to Seattle. I’m afraid,” I confess.

  “I know, Chrissie.”

  He brushes the hair from my face and kisses my cheek.

  “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with my life, Neil.”

  He kisses my mouth. Against my lips, he says, “I know. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do with my life either. I don’t think anyone knows for sure. I think we all just do.”

  His mouth lightly trails down my neck and I can feel him starting to work the t-shirt from my body. In a minute, I’m naked and lying staring up at Neil.

  “You don’t have to be afraid. Everything is going to be OK, Chrissie.”

  Neil stays balanced above me, reclined on a hip, his body angled. Those long fingers start to touch me everywhere. Up my arms very slowly, then my collarbone, to roam my breasts and then everywhere. He doesn’t kiss me. He gently touches and stirs me until I am languid and aroused and he is fully erect.

  I stare up at him. For the first time in many weeks, I want him. I want him now.

  “Make love to me,” I whisper.

  He turns me in his arms until I’m straddling him and consumes my mouth in quiet, thrusting kisses, his tongue dancing and playing, fucking my mouth with the same unhurried glide as his fingers moving on my flesh.

  I feel his erection between my legs, touching me there, but he keeps us separated. He lifts my hair and his lips are on my neck. A hand brushes feather-light up my back.

  There is something different in me. I can feel something different in Neil. I am impatient inside and he is slow, achingly slow in this. He spreads me on the bed, his tongue running over my breasts and I can feel his fingers between my legs and then in me. As he cups my sex he teases me with the lightest of contact.

  “I love you, Chrissie,” he whispers, and I feel myself tighten and grow wet there.

  I melt into his touch, wanting him hard and moving inside me, but he continues this controlled erotic play on my body and it is unlike Neil.

  He has never made love to me this way. Not ever. A light kiss on my neck. A finger brushing my flesh. A kiss on my stomach. It is slow and tender and loving. I start to cry and I really don’t know why. The tears roll down my cheeks and I can’t stop them.

  His lips tease my ear. I inhale a deep breath. “It’s going to be OK, baby,” he murmurs against my flesh.

  A part of me aches even as all of me turns to mold into him. Baby? Why did he call me that? Neil has never called me baby before. Only one guy has ever called me that: Alan.

  His tongue moves on my breast, circling my nipple before he takes it slowly into his mouth. I arch up into the play of his lips as his fingers move downward spreading me there.

  He enters my body in achingly slow degrees. Inch by inch until he’s buried all of his erection in me. He doesn’t move. He holds his body still, breathing raggedly, kissing and touching me.

  My senses swirl even as my emotions scatter with my thoughts. Why is he having sex with me this way? It’s almost as if he thinks I can’t take anything too passionate, too physical, too intense. Or maybe what I’m feeling is him, is his own reaction to all the shit I put him through with me. Maybe he’s afraid to touch me. Maybe he’s unsure he wants this, after having gone through that with me. I don’t know what is happening here between us, but the quiet of his body is unnerving.

  I realize the last month has changed us both. Death lingers in your flesh. It’s metaphysically altering. It changes you.

  Why didn’t I remember this? I should have remembered that before I went to the clinic. I feel vacant inside, hollow. Such a simple thing, Rene said. Quick. No big deal. Life goes on.

  Only it’s not a simple thing. Death, in any form, changes you. And I definitely should have remembered that before I let Neil go with me to the clinic.

  I start to cry harder. Everything around me, inside me, inside Neil, no longer feels familiar and I know it’s my fault. I just want to feel good somehow, any way again. I need him to fuck me hard like he always does, physical without the emotional convolution. I want only to feel in my flesh. I don’t want to think. I want not to hurt. I want my heart and mind to go mercifully blank and I want Neil to fuck me until I’m numb in my flesh.

  I start to writhe beneath the tight cocoon of his body, my hips rising up in a frenzy, plunging him deeply within me as I devour his mouth with my kisses. His hands move and try to steady me. My nails cut into him as I run them up his back and bite his lower lip. I force him deep within me again. He fights it. I arch upward into him, rougher this time.

  Over and over, until I feel the excitement build in his flesh, his muscles growing tauter, the skin across his face straining in the way it does when I’ve pushed him to come and he doesn’t want to.

  I wrap my arms and legs around him, and he starts raging in my body. The thrusts are gloriously painfully and
I lay pliant beneath him, wanting it harder, deeper, always deeper. He is pounding in me in a way that numbs me.

  “Oh fuck, Chrissie,” he groans, pulsing within me as he spills into my flesh. He collapses against my body, sex-damp and quivering. And I don’t know why, but I now know I’m going to leave Berkeley with Neil.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  We stand at the international departure gate at Oakland Airport. Rene clutches me against her in a firm and breezy hug.

  “You stay sweet,” she orders, tapping my chest with an index finger.

  “You stay cute,” I reply automatically, but our ritual banter hurts me today.

  Her enormous brown eyes fix on me intently. “I’ll be back from Costa Rica in a month.” She makes a face. “That is if I can survive that long with my mother. I’ll call when I get back. Make sure I have Neil’s tour schedule. I want to see you both before I start medical school.” She laughs, sparkly and excited. “I won’t have time after.”

  I nod, trying hard not to break down here in the airport.

  She pulls Neil against her. “You be good to her, jerk, or you’re going to have to deal with me.”

  Inwardly I cringe, because it almost feels like I’m a baton being passed on in a relay race, as if by giving me over to Neil she can walk out of my life with a clear conscience. Christ, Rene, I’m a person not a thing.

  I smile as Neil hugs her. She rushes toward the gate, pausing to do a swish with her hips and a whoop, her arms stretched above her head. “We survived University of California Berkeley.”

  That was said loud enough to pierce the sound barrier. And then she disappears down the ramp, her laughter trailing behind her. I roll my eyes. Everything works for Rene. Almost every set of male eyes on the ramp lock on her to watch her go.

  Once she’s out of view, I turn to Neil and he gives me a gentle wraparound hug.

  “Someday, Chrissie, you’re going to have to explain to me why you’re friends with Rene.”

  I laugh and peek up at him sheepishly. Neil knows exactly when and how to make me laugh. My emotions begin to settle and the anxiety of seeing Rene leave starts to fade.

  “She’s not that bad,” I reply.

  Neil shakes his head, but he’s smiling. “OK. She sort of cares about you in her own warped way.”

  I rebuke him with my eyes, but I am not in the mood for a snappy comeback. I am silent as we walk from the airport terminal.

  Neil opens my car door. “How much longer will it take you to be packed up and ready to go?”

  I shrug. “Not long. I just want to leave a note for the management company so they know what to do when the movers arrive.”

  Neil leans against my open door. “High-rise condos. Management companies. Boy, you are definitely going to be slumming it in my place in Seattle. It’s a good thing we’re only going to be there a few days. You’d probably leave me if we stayed more than a week.”

  I roll my eyes and Neil leans in to kiss me, but I’m chaotic inside again. Seattle and the road. I don’t know what I’m doing. Not really.

  Neil sinks into the driver’s seat of the Volvo and puts the key into the ignition. “Have you called Jack yet? Let him know about your change of plans?”

  I stare out the window. “Nope.”

  “Why not?”

  I shrug and look at Neil. “Just haven’t. I’ll do it when I get settled in Seattle.”

  Neil frowns and shakes his head, and I ignore his unspoken criticism.

  As we pull into the condo parking lot, I spy Josh Moss leaning against a wall, smoking. We cross the parking lot and he straightens up, tossing his cigarette onto the pavement. He nods in Neil’s direction and doesn’t look at me.

  “You ready to get on the road, man?” he says, giving Neil a one-arm, firm, fast hug.

  “I’ve just got to grab our stuff,” Neil says, rummaging in his pocket for the elevator key.

  Josh frowns. “Our stuff?”

  Neil shrugs. “Chrissie is going back to Seattle with me and out on the road.”

  Josh’s gaze shifts to me and the way he’s staring makes me uncomfortable. Josh has never liked me, not really, but it’s never before felt like he hated me. What’s changed? Why does he hate me?

  The tic twitches in Neil’s cheek. “You got a problem with Chrissie going out on the road with me?”

  The sharpness of Neil’s voice makes me jump. I stare at the guys wondering what this extremely tense moment is all about. The scene holds the feel of shit going on I don’t know anything about.

  Josh shakes his head. “No problem.”

  “Good. There better not be.” Neil shoves the key into the wall panel, turns it, and calls the elevator.

  The three of us are silent as we make the short ride to the top floor. The doors open and Neil grabs my hand, his fingers tight around mine, pulling me along with him out of the elevator ahead of Josh. I peek up at him from the corner of my eye, trying to read his abrupt change of mood. He’s pissed off about something. What happened downstairs? I don’t want to be a problem with the guys. I don’t know why I should be, but it feels like I am.

  I drop my purse on the table beside the door and kick off my flip-flops.

  Neil points at my duffel and the small carry case next to it. “Is this all you’re taking to Seattle?”

  I nod, watching Josh sink onto the couch. I smile at Josh. “Do you want something to eat or drink before we hit the road?”

  Stoic and reluctant, he shakes his head. I beat a fast retreat to the kitchen and write the instruction note to the management company and the movers.

  When I return to the living room, the guys have already taken downstairs Neil’s boxes of shit. I sit on my knees in the center of the living room, wondering if there is anything I should take other than the small collection of clothes and personal items I packed. I don’t know how long I’m going to be gone or what I’m going to need. Oh well, I guess pretty much everything I own can go to storage in Santa Barbara to be dealt with later.

  I stare at the condo, feeling teary again. It looks so stark, so unhappy without everyone’s junk everywhere. A part of my life over. An ending, and perhaps it’s time to make the ending complete.

  I debate with myself and brush at a tear.

  “Are you ready to go?” Neil asks.

  I look up, startled to see him standing over me. He

  starts to collect my bags. I make a fast decision.

  I point. “Take the duffel, but leave that one.”

  He sets down the small black bag, a quizzical arch to his brow. I smile.

  “Go load my stuff,” I say. “I’ll be right behind you in a few minutes. I need to take care of one more thing.”

  Neil leans over, kissing me. “We’ve got to hit the road, Chrissie. Don’t take all day.”

  “I won’t. I’ll be fast. I promise.”

  I watch Neil disappear through the front door and then I pull my black bag across the floor and unzip it. I rummage through my things, collecting the little tokens I kept from each time I went to Alan: room keys, his t-shirt, some little knickknack that caught my eye.

  I fish out my journals, the ones with my Alan entries and then the photo of us holding each other as we sat on Alan’s terrace our first spring together. That picture I cut from the newspaper before I left him in New York.

  I jump to my feet and go to the moving box I haven’t sealed yet. I take out the old cookie tin with his letters, lay my keepsakes of Alan carefully within, then I seal it with mover’s tape. I bury it deep within the other things in the box, then I seal the box and write across the top storage.

  I brush at my tears, and will my feet to follow Neil out the door. Downstairs I find him and Josh waiting by the van.

  “You got everything you need, Chrissie?” Neil asks.

  I smile, staring up at him and I can feel my eyes are sparkly and round. “I have everything I need.”

  He looks at me, a touch confused, and opens the door as he takes my bag from me. I fi
ght to get breath in and out of me as Neil waits expectantly for me to climb in.

  Neil drops a kiss on my lips and I climb into the passenger seat. An end of a life. The beginning of a new life. Another fast turn on the road and I am lost again.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Inside the van is so quiet it is nerve-racking. Neil hasn’t spoken a word since we left Berkeley, there is a hovering feeling of conflict between him and Josh, and there isn’t even music on since Josh is sitting on the mattress in the back, guitar in hand, working through whatever sound he is hearing in his head.

  I stare out the window at the endless, ugly miles of road. Crap, who would have thought Northern California looked like this? The freeway between Sacramento and the Oregon border isn’t really a freeway. It’s more like two lanes cutting through nothingness where people drive fast.

  I lean my cheek on the door, letting the air from the open window tease my hair as I watch Mount Shasta pass me by. Well, that’s a little cool. It’s kind of pretty, still covered with snow on the top in June. Ahead of me I start to see more trees. Giant trees. Redwood? Jeez, is the drive all the way to Seattle going look like this? Barren. Unpopulated. Boring. Why aren’t there people here?

  I shift in my seat until I’m facing Neil. “How long will it be until we reach Seattle?”

  “Another 10 hours, if we drive all the way through.”

  My eyes widen. “Ten hours? You mean we’ve got 10 hours more of this?”

  Neil laughs. “Ten hours if we want to make it to Seattle tonight. What do you think being on the road is? It’s road, Chrissie. Haven’t you ever been to Northern California and Oregon?”

  I crinkle up my nose. “Nope, I’ve lived a pretty deprived life.”

  Neil flicks on the turn signal and looks in the mirror, readying to change lanes. “Somehow I don’t think deprived covers it.” His eyes settle on me for a brief moment, serious, then back to the road. “Not having second thoughts are you?”

  I shake my head. “Nope.”

  Neil smiles at me. “Good. This is just the drive to Seattle. When we go out on tour, the travel will be more comfortable, more interesting for you.”