I Stand Before You (Judge Me Not #2) (31 page)

Chapter Seventeen

Chase

“There’s nothing to forgive, sweet girl. You’re not to blame for what happened.”

I tell Kay this, again and again, but she continues to try and stop me. “No—”

I place one finger on her lips and cup her chin in my hand. “Shh…” I shake my head. “There is nothing you can say that will ever convince me you’re responsible for what happened to Sarah.”

“But I left her alone, Chase,” Kay protests. “I didn’t protect her.”

“That wasn’t your fault, baby. I told you, if anything, it’s that asshole’s fault. He took advantage of your fear of your mother and your fear of him. He forced his way into your house, he wouldn’t leave, and he trapped you upstairs. How were you supposed to fight him?”

I get all those words out in what I hope is a soothing voice. But it’s far from easy, since what I really feel like doing the entire time I’m speaking and comforting Kay is finding that dick, Doug Wilson, so I can lay him the fuck out. Fucking prick, putting my girl in a position like that—playing on her fears, on her insecurities, all the weaknesses that plagued her back then.

She’s so much stronger now, and that’s what I tell her. I know it still tears her up that her mother disowned her after finding out the truth. But I tell Kay it’s her mother’s loss that she chooses to stay turned away. It’s true. That heartless woman’s firstborn is a beautiful, kind, and caring woman. Kay is the polar opposite of the heartless bitch who bore her twenty-three years ago. Her mother is only cheating herself by not speaking to the only daughter she has left. Of course, I keep these thoughts to myself, as the last thing I care to do is upset my girl any further.

As the night wears on, we remain on the back porch. My girl curls up and nestles under my arm, her head against my chest, while I keep the swing swaying. After a while, Kay asks me to play more music. I choose a song I’ve been listening to a lot lately, a song from one of my dad’s albums that reminds me of my girl. It’s a U2 song, aptly titled “The Sweetest Thing.” I share my feelings about this song with Kay and she smiles for the first time since confessing her perceived sin.

That smile is so precious to me, because it’s the first step of Kay forgiving herself, which is really all that matters.

The next night, the Fourth of July, we are once again out on the back porch, but things are much more lighthearted. I have Kay laughing and smiling, all due to my sorry attempt at making dinner an hour earlier.

“Okay, so I’ll never be a chef on TV,” I concede as I lean back against one of the posts.

We are outside getting ready to watch some Independence Day fireworks. Tonight is the last night of the carnival down at the church and their fireworks display is set for nine thirty. I check my cell, five more minutes. And then the black night will be lit up with more than just the blinking fireflies hovering around.

Kay plops down on the swing, a dish of vanilla ice cream in her hand. Yeah, dessert I had no problem with. It was easy, just scoop from the carton and you’re done.

“Chase,” my girl begins, laughing as she dips her spoon into the ice cream, “the cheese on a grilled cheese sandwich goes in the middle, not on the top.”

“I was trying to make it fancy,” I explain, defending my culinary faux pas.

This earns me more giggles, and I am so glad I messed up dinner after all. It’s worth it to get my girl back to carefree. We’ve had enough heavy-heartedness the past two days.

A loud boom sounds off in the distance and the fireworks commence. And though they’re not exactly close, the fireworks extend high above the tree tops, so we’re given a pretty damn good show.

As the first spectacular sprays of color brighten the dark horizon, Kay sets her dish down and comes to stand next to me. I wrap an arm around her shoulder and she leans into me. A huge burst of pink and silver explodes high in the pitch-black sky. The colors sparkle and remain suspended in the air for a few seconds, before shimmering back toward the ground. The next explosion is even bigger—gold, purple, and green light up the sky. And then another firework goes up and bursts into a huge shower of red.

I “ooh” and “aah” like a damn eight-year-old as each pyrotechnic goes off, which elicits soft laughter from the girl under my arm. Without warning, Kay lifts to her tiptoes and kisses my cheek with her warm, soft lips.

When her lips remain, I turn my head so it’s my mouth, not my cheek, she’s kissing.

“I love you, mmm, so much,” she murmurs, her words muffled somewhat by our mouths moving against one another.

I don’t bother to say it back, showing is better in this case. So I back baby girl over to the swing until she has no choice but to sit down on it. I kneel before her on the wooden porch slats, and position my body between her knees.

“What are you doing, mischievous boy?” Kay asks, lounging back as I settle between her legs. “I know you’re up to something.”

“Always,” I respond with a wink.

Kay is wearing a dress, one of those sexy, lacy ones I fucking love. So it’s with joy that I drag the material up along her legs, slowly. Sweet girl lets out a little gasp, and I hoarsely say, “Watch the fireworks, baby.”

Loud booms echo off in the distance, so I know the light show is still going on behind my back. Of course, I plan to do things to Kay that I guarantee will cause her some fireworks of her own. So it’s really up to her which display she prefers to view.

When I glance up I see my sexy girl prefers to watch me at the moment. She’s biting her lower lip and keeping her caramels on my hands as I slide her panties down her legs. I toss them behind my back. She watches as I kiss a path from the inside of her knee and up the length of her inner thigh. And she’s fucking mesmerized when I pick up the dish of ice cream she set down earlier and spoon some onto my tongue. I close my mouth and arch an eyebrow at her as her eyes widen.
That’s right, you’re going to fucking love this, baby,
my wicked grin hopefully conveys.

I softly touch Kay’s oh-so-ready core with my ice-cream-coated tongue, giving sweet girl a dose of very cold and very hot, delivered in one long, languorous lick. Her head lolls back. Baby, who’s less shy about sex every time we’re together, pushes her pink and swollen against me roughly. I slip my hot and cold tongue inside her and am rewarded with the sexiest moan I think I’ve ever heard.

And this is just the beginning, I am just getting started.

In fact, eating ice cream right off of Kay’s pussy sounds like a delicious plan, so why delay? I’m sure she’ll like it too—very sure, in fact—so I scoop up a big spoonful. The ice cream is melting, so I angle the spoon above her swollen sex and drizzle a little sweetness right onto my already-so-sweet girl’s little clit. Baby girl gasps as vanilla drips down to where I plan to be very soon. I lap every drop up slowly, teasing, and savoring all the sugary sweetness combined with my sweet fucking girl. I cover her sticky pussy lips with my sticky lips, tasting and nibbling. And when every last bit of vanilla is gone, I circle her clit with my tongue until my girl comes undone for me.

When Kay rasps out she wants me inside her—like right fucking now—my cock is out of my pants in three seconds flat and I slide into heaven. The swing rocks unevenly as I thrust into my girl fast and rough. Kay shifts until she’s practically lying down, and I shift with her, still on my knees. I hook my fingers under her right knee and hoist her leg up over my shoulder. This angle allows me to go so deep.

Shit.

My girl must like this new angle too, she’s panting and moaning and asking for it harder still. That, I can do. I fuck so hard that the chains holding the swing up protest loudly. But when I slow to an almost stop, baby girl moves against me, keeping her little movements hard and rough. “More, more, more,” she chants as she fucks my cock all on her own. “Please, Chase, more.”

Fuck the swing. I give my girl what she wants. And though the fireworks down at the carnival are have long since finished, our own fireworks continue well into the night.

The next couple of weeks are amazing. At the risk of sounding completely whipped, I have to say being in love makes every day—every fucking hour—worth living.

Kay is happy and I am too. We take long walks on my property and talk about everything under the sun. More often than not, when we return either to my house or her apartment, we end up naked and loving one another for hours. We savor this happiness that we, two broken people, have somehow found. For the first time in a very long time I feel like life is good, very, very good.

Another bright spot is that my relationship with my brother is continuing to mend and improve. Will and I talk every few days, and we text even more. Little bro sends me more samples of his work and updates me on the progression of his comic book. More importantly, he shares his feelings, like how strongly he feels about his girlfriend, Cassie.

Just as I suspected early on, my little brother is really into this girl. He e-mails me a picture. His little girlfriend is cute—long and pale hair, ethereal features. She’s very waif-like. But also, upon closer inspection, I note this girl appears kind of sad.

I recall my brother mentioning that Cassie’s mother works all the time. He’s since told me his girlfriend’s absentee mom is an executive at some hot-shot company out in Vegas. Cassie has all the money she could want—including the new car Will mentioned before—but is it worth it? From Cassie’s lost expression, it doesn’t seem so.

I think about how Will also mentioned Cassie’s stepdad. He’s some younger guy her mom married not too long ago. My brother calls him “a piece of shit” and an “asshole,” quite often, but he never elaborates much beyond these dispersions. It doesn’t take a genius to suspect this guy is probably making moves on Cassie.

I’ve mentioned to Will that Cassie should talk to her mom and report any inappropriate behavior, but my brother always changes the subject. I don’t think the dude’s actually done anything yet, but it’s probably only a matter of time. Will and Cassie both have trust issues with adults, so I’m sure that’s where the hesitation comes in.

My brother’s way of protecting Cassie is to be around her all the time. They certainly spend a lot of time together. It seems every time I speak with my brother he’s either just returning from being with Cassie or he’s waiting for her to pick him up so they can go somewhere. They also hang out a lot at Mom and Greg’s house, sometimes I hear Cassie in the background when Will and I are talking.

But not today. No, today I have Will all to myself. But he’s just surprised the shit out of me. He just told me he’s staying over at Cassie’s house tonight, like overnight.

“Mom’s okay with that?” I ask.

“Well, not exactly,” he admits. “I stay when Cassie’s mom is out of town, but Mom has no idea her mom’s not there.” He hesitates. “Hey, you’re not going to tell on us, are you?”

“No.” I sigh. “I won’t say anything. But make sure you’re being careful.”

Last thing I want is for my fifteen-year-old brother to knock-up his sixteen-year-old girlfriend.

“We’re careful,” Will says all huffy-like. “I’m not stupid, you know.”

“Not saying you are,” I reply.

We’re both quiet for a few seconds, but then Will starts to share with me details of his sex life.

“Hey, hey, too much information,” I protest.

I have no interest in hearing all the ways my little brother is giving it to his girlfriend.

“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.”

Will then softly adds, “It’s not all about sex, though, when I stay over. I stay there mostly to protect Cassie when her mom’s not there.”

“What are you protecting her from?” I carefully ask.

“Her stepdad, Paul,” my brother quietly responds. “When I’m there he never says anything to Cassie. He keeps his fucking sick mouth shut.”

Concerned, I try to get more out of Will, but as always he clams up and changes the subject.

“Hey, bro, can you loan me some more money?” he abruptly asks, catching me off guard.

Fuck.

He asks for only fifty dollars, so I give in.

This all happens on a Monday.

Two days later, Wednesday, late afternoon, I am walking into my house after work and my cell buzzes.

I glance down to the phone in my hand. It’s my mom calling. I press
answer
and say, “Hey, what’s up?”

“Chase,” Mom begins on an exhaled breath. “Sorry to bother you, honey, but I think we have a problem.”

We? Okay.
“And what would that be?” I cautiously venture.

Mom sighs. “Sweetie, have you been giving money to Will?”

There’s no reason not to be honest, so I admit I have.

Another long sigh and a loud huff, I guess for good measure. She’s obviously not pleased with my answer.

“Don’t give him anymore, okay?” Mom doesn’t give me a chance to respond, she simply adds, “Your brother used that money to buy drugs, Chase.”

I swallow, hard. The last thing I’d ever purposely do is enable my little brother. But I guess I did exactly that by agreeing to his requests for cash without asking questions. I had a feeling, of course, but still.
Fuck.
I guess I was hoping for the best, hoping Will was on the up-and-up. Damn, I should have told the kid no. I don’t want Will going down the same path I so unwisely followed.

“What did he buy?” I hesitantly ask.

“Weed,” Mom says. “I went through his room earlier today when he was out and found his stash.”

I am not thrilled to hear this, but I breathe a sigh of relief that she didn’t find anything hardcore, like coke, meth, or motherfucking heroin. Mom, however, is far less calm than I. She’s going off like she just discovered a meth lab in Will’s bedroom.

I try to put things in perspective for her. “He’s fifteen, Mom. He’s bound to experiment.”

“Ha,” she snaps, “look where experimenting got you.”
She’s got me there.

“Did you punish him, then?” I ask.

“You bet your ass I did. He’s grounded from seeing any of his friends for the next week. And that includes that girl…his girlfriend…whatever.”