Kane Richards Must Die (8 page)

“T
rust me,” she whispered against my lips before brushing hers lightly against mine. I felt the same fleck of electricity go through my lips and down my body as the last time I’d kissed her. Sighing into her mouth I lifted my other hand, cupping her face as my lips moved with hers. I needed this right now, and she seemed to know. The hold this girl had over me was baffling at the best of times. But at times like this I was glad for that shit. When I had gone home earlier that day, I’d tried once again to get my mind off of her through other chicks. I thought about calling a hot blonde to let her try all her best techniques on me but that wouldn’t suffice.

I needed her. Suranne.

Even if my mind wanted to deny it, there was no denying the fact that my body wanted her.

And only her.

I knew that meant I had to go all out. I had to man up and tell her shit that I hadn’t told anyone. Well, apart from that other bitch . . . but she just—

No, Kane. Don’t go there.

I knew this was going to be difficult and tried to prepare myself as best I could. Allowing my mind to drift back to the place I had pushed away for so many years ripped a painful hole through me. And it was just at that moment Suranne decided to put her hand on my arm. The whole reason why I didn’t want to tell people in the first place was because I didn’t want to see the sympathy and pity in their eyes.

I shouldn’t have snapped at her but hell, I couldn’t help it, and then I knew it was over, and I had blown it. I sounded like a dick and I was expecting her to run away just like the other bitch had. To leave me dealing with this crap on my own.

Again.

But she stayed.

Jesus Christ, she stayed.

She took her hand away, and she sat there . . . silently . . . waiting.

For me.

Had this been any other day I would have been grinning from ear to ear at that. But the pain I was in had such a strong hold on me from being kept inside all these years that now, as I let it out it, it became its own force, rearing out and swallowing me whole. The pain in my chest and in my mind was taking over and I needed her to understand. I needed her to help. I needed her to reassure me that she’ll be there once she realizes how messed up I am. I needed her to accept me, and the shitload of baggage that was my life.

I just needed her, period.

Her kiss told me everything I needed to know. Her kiss told me she trusted me, that she wasn’t leaving yet, and that she needed me as well.

It told me that she was mine, and that once I told her everything, I would be hers, too.

But I knew that already. I guess deep down I should have known that I had become hers the second I saw her face. I shouldn’t have tried so hard to fight it.

I pulled away from her, still cupping her face in my hands and gave her a weak smile. The pain of my father’s death was still wracking through me, making it difficult to breathe. But I was still gonna try and smile at my girl. She deserved it.

“I trust you,” I murmured, silently thanking her through my eyes. Taking a deep breath I sat back, letting the memories of that night wash through me and possess every bone in my body. I wasn’t even aware that I was speaking, could hardly feel my lips moving, but I knew they were. The only thing that was happening in my mind was that night.

All over again.

“Hey Dad, what’s up?” I had said lightly over the phone. The line was weak and crackling, but I could hear his heavy breathing.

“Kane, look after your mother and your sister, son. Don’t let anything or anyone distract you from them, y’hear?” he wheezed, the noise of other voices shouting rang through the line.

“Dad, what’s going on? Who’s shouting in the background? . . . Dad?!” The line crackled more and my heart thumped unevenly as my chest constricted. I glanced at the clock, it was nearly midnight. He’d be over the ocean now.

“Put me on loudspeaker, son . . .” Dad croaked amongst the shouting and crying I could hear in the background. I yelled for Mom to come into the living room, and she ran in, followed by a nine-year-old Ash, eyes all wide and anxious.

I put the phone on loudspeaker and the room abruptly filled with the sounds of crying, wailing, and my father’s heavy breathing. Every few seconds the line would crackle and cut out before reconnecting.

“Sal?” My father cried. “Something’s wrong with the plane . .  I don’t know if I’ll be home . . . Kiss Ash goodnight for me, sweetheart.” We could hear his voice break at the mention of Ash. My mom burst into an uncontrollable fit of tears, while I clenched my jaw, gripping the phone tightly, praying over and over that I wasn’t about to lose my father.

“Tell her I love her,” he croaked thickly, and I could sense he was crying. That pushed my mother over the edge and she fell to her knees, sobbing into her hands. I refused to accept what I knew was happening.

“What the hell is going on?!” I spat angrily through my teeth, failing at my attempts to control my fear and pain.

“I’m right here, Dad,” Ash sniffled in a small voice, coming up to me. I wrapped an arm around her tightly, closing my eyes as my father’s broken voice filled the room again.

“Oh, Ash, baby, don’t cry, Mommy and Kane are gonna look after you now. You make sure you’re good for them, OK?”

I totally lost it when he said that, so my mom weakly lifted herself off the floor and snatched the phone out of my hands. “Daniel, please don’t!” she begged into the receiver, sobbing and hiccupping. I kneeled down and held onto Ash as she sobbed into my shoulder and my own tears fell into her hair.

“Sally . . . baby, don’t worry,” his sniffled words echoed into the living room and fell over our lifeless, sobbing bodies.

“I can’t do it on my own, Daniel!” my mother wailed and my father let out a weak, broken laugh.

“Don’t be silly, you’re a beautiful, wonderful mom. Funny, soft, gentle, smart, delicate . . . I love you. Please don’t give up on them, baby, they need you. I love you, always have, and always will.”

The screams in the background got even louder and they ricocheted off the living room walls.

“Dad. . . just . . . I don’t know, can’t they fucking
do something
?” I exclaimed, angry that he was on the phone talking to us and saying goodbye when he could be using it to save his life.

“Kane, I’ve told you about your swearing. Stop setting a bad example. Be gentle on your mother, OK? Make me proud, son . . . ” Those were his last words before the phone made a high-pitched noise and the line went dead.

Silence.

The room was thrown into an eerie silence, before the reality of what just happened dawned on us, and all three of us broke down simultaneously. Mom threw the phone at the wall, and Ash and I watched numbly as it crashed into a million plastic pieces. Then she broke down again, slumping on the floor, and clutching her chest tightly.

As her grieving wails filled the room, my father’s last words rang through my mind with perfect clarity over and over.

Make me proud, son.

Make me proud.

My eyes focused once again on the greenery surrounding the bench, and I remained silent as I came back to the present. I was suddenly aware that the wind was blowing across my face, drying the tears that hadn’t been shed since that night. I swiped them away quickly, and sniffed, folding my arms over my chest, unwilling to look in Suranne’s direction. I braced myself for the two words which had became the worst part of telling someone your father died. Those two words had tainted my shitty life, and if she said them I knew I would just explode. People always felt the need to say “I’m sorry,” when I said I didn’t have a father, and every time I had to rein in my anger.

“Thank you,” she whispered into the air and my head snapped in her direction, my eyes immediately locking onto her face. I let out a heavy breath which I hadn’t realized I had been holding when I noticed that her expression wasn’t one of apology, sympathy, or pity.

It was one of gratitude.

She slid up next to me, and pressed her hands firmly to my face, forcing me to look at her as she spoke in a determined voice, her eyes confident. “After what you did just now, Kane . . . I’d say your father would most definitely be proud of his son,” she murmured. I wanted to cry again, and hold onto her for the rest of my life. No one had ever said anything more healing to me. I felt my whole body warm towards her, and I smiled weakly as her words hung in the air, repairing the huge mess that was left in my body from the pain of telling her that story.

I had never felt such relief and took her hand, pulling her up against me so her body was flush against mine. I wrapped my arms tightly around her and pressed my lips to hers once before I pulled away and sighed in contentment.

“Thank you,” I murmured into her hair as I tightened my hold on her and inhaled her irresistible scent.

“I
disagree, I think that Beethoven’s “Moonlight Sonata” also refers to women’s beauty, and their luminosity, not to mention their ever-changing temperaments. I think it portrays hope, love, loss, and sadness all in one,” I argued.

 For a couple of hours we had been sitting there, or rather lying there lazily sipping from our bottles; I was casually sprawled across his chest as we talked about some of the greatest compositions.

After Kane told me what happened to his father, I knew that there was nothing that would stop me from loving him. I had felt such a wave of immense pride and gratitude that he had trusted me, let go, and opened himself up. Trusted me so deeply that he even let me see him cry, see how vulnerable he actually was.

He had held me for a few minutes before he mentioned that he was hungry and we went to get some Chinese and some fizzy drinks before returning back to our spot. We opted for the ground instead of the bench and Kane retrieved a blanket from the boot of his car, spreading it across the grass before we dug in to our food.

“Yeah, right!” Kane scoffed, “Why does everything have to lead back to women? Why can’t it just portray the beauty of the moonlight?”

“Because it has too much of a romantic edge to it to just be about the moon, Kane,” I sighed. “Have some perspective, man.”

“I agree that there is . . . something romantic about it. But then sometimes anything to do with the moon can connote signs of some . . . romanticism shit,” he replied nonchalantly.

“Yes, I’m sure that when Beethoven composed his piece he, too, agreed that there were indeed some signs of
romanticism shit
,” I snickered, only to be playfully swatted on the arse by Kane.

“I think that last remark was uncalled for, Miss Williams,” he stated in a low husky voice, before removing my bottle of drink and setting it on the ground next to him, only to roll us both over so that he was hovering over me slightly, holding himself up on his elbows. “You’re beautiful,” he whispered, his breath lightly fanning across my face. Then he ducked his head and brushed his lips gently against mine. I wrapped my arms around his neck and deepened the kiss, eliciting a low moan from him, and parted my lips, granting his tongue entrance as it explored my mouth.

“Damn it . . . Suranne . . .” he rasped in between kisses, “You’re so hot, I can’t deal with this shit.” He moaned against my neck, licking towards my collar bone. The feel of his lips on my skin drove me wild with lust. Kane grunted roughly just as I felt a familiar buzzing in my jean pocket. I groaned in frustration and Kane rolled off of me, his breathing heavy, and his eyes considerably darker as he watched me take out my phone.

I flipped it open and was greeted with my aunt’s voice. “Where in the world are you?! One minute you’re home and then the next you’re just gone!”

I rolled my eyes and mouthed “My aunt” at Kane, to which he sighed and nodded before I spoke into the receiver.

“I did actually tell you I was going out, but you were too engrossed in your cooking show,” I replied nonchalantly. My eyes flickered to Kane instinctively and I bit my lip as I took in his ruffled hair, his swollen lips, and his creased black shirt.

“. . . and I just don’t know what to do with you these days.”

I remembered that I was in fact in a conversation with my aunt, but Kane had distracted me from what she had been saying.

“Sorry, what?” I asked, blinking and trying to concentrate. But every time she spoke, my eyes ended up unabashedly creeping back to him. After the fourth time, Kane smiled crookedly at me and chuckled as he ran a hand through his hair before he snatched the phone and pressed it to his ear.

“I’m sorry to bother you, Miss Williams; it is my fault that Suranne has been distracted lately. I will be driving her home shortly.” The words slid off his tongue like melted butter and his velvet voice once again hugged my ears as he spoke to my aunt reassuringly. I couldn’t concentrate on their conversation. My eyes were still surveying every inch of his body, from his creased and rumpled black shirt, to his jeans, which were falling low on his hips. A sliver of his stomach was peeking out and I could just make out the soft brown hairs of his happy trail as it disappeared underneath his jeans.

My breathing had become heavy and my eyes were transfixed.

Out of nowhere I was pushed down onto my back and Kane was on top of me, looking deeply into my eyes.

“How the hell can I think clearly when you’re looking at me like that?” he questioned huskily into my ear. I was too breathless to form a response. He chuckled and lifted his head, pressing his lips down onto mine, kissing me hungrily as he fisted his hands in my hair. I moaned quietly as his lips moved against mine before he broke the kiss and rolled off of me again.

“Come on, time to go,” he said, his voice still rough, and his eyes still dark as he started cleaning up the empty Chinese containers.

“Oh, but why?” I whined, pouting up at him with a reluctant look on my face. He turned his head to look at me and his lips parted to speak. But as he took in my expression his face softened, and he smiled down at me before leaning down and kissing me sweetly. He held out a hand to help me up. “Because I promised your aunt that I would get you home safely, and before seven, and it’s now . . .” He dug into his pockets for his phone and glanced at it briefly “Six forty-five.” I gave him my best sad pleading look, pushing my brows up and together and pouting my lips, and I saw his deep brown eyes flash as he let out a shaky breath.

“Come on, Suranne, don’t give me that look; it’s seriously killing me,” he muttered, running his hand through my hair softly.

“That’s the idea,” I sang teasingly as he released my hair and picked up the blanket from the ground. We walked over to his car; my hand in his and I glanced down, wondering how many girls he ever held hands with. I frowned at the thought of my being the only girl he’d ever opened himself up to. He couldn’t have always been known as a womaniser.

“Have you ever actually been in a relationship?” I asked softly, looking back up at his face to gauge his reaction, expecting to see some clue as to what his answer would be.

He didn’t disappoint.

Kane’s face became clenched and dark. His whole body looked stiff and his movements seemed forced as we approached the passenger side of his car. He let go of my hand and kept it still by his side. Staying silent and avoiding eye contact, he opened the door, waiting for me to get in.

“Kane, wh—”

“Just get in the car, Suranne.” He spoke slowly, his voice tight and distant. I cringed at the sudden coldness in his voice, slowly nodding my head as I got in. He shut the door softly and I clicked my belt, watching as he walked round to his side of the car. He seemed to be muttering to himself, his brows furrowed before he opened his door and got in, started the car, and peeled out of the car park.

As he drove, his fingers clenched the steering wheel and a tense silence hung between us. He kept his attention solely on the road and I kept my eyes glued to my lap, twirling my thumbs nervously and wondering what was so bad about his last relationship. Just before we pulled up to my aunt’s he sighed and loosened his hold on the steering wheel. He parked in the drive and turned off the engine, the car becoming deathly quiet apart from our breathing. I kept my eyes on my lap but I could feel his stare on me even though he stayed quiet, watching me.

“Suranne,” he murmured, and I flinched at the sudden sound of his voice after the silence that had occupied the car. I kept my eyes on my lap, not quite ready to look at his face.

“Suranne,” he murmured again. “
Look at me
.”

I slowly lifted my head to look at him, and saw that his face had completely softened and no longer had its hard edge. His chocolate-brown eyes were shining with deep emotion and he gave a small smile in apology.

“I’m sorry, OK?” he said softly, reaching out to caress my cheek and I sighed and leaned into him, smiling absently at how touching him always made me feel at ease. He smiled back warmly, and leaned over to press his lips gently to mine. I wrapped an arm around his neck to keep him closer, causing him to groan and pull away.

“You should go, before I take you right here, right now,” he said in his seductive low voice, his eyes shining dangerously as they raked over my body. I smiled sweetly at him.

“What if that’s what I want, Kane?” I asked innocently, biting my lip and looking up at him, smirking as his eyes darkened and his fists clenched on his lap.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow.” He jerked his head towards my door, a silent signal for me to get out of the car and I grinned at him, giving him a small chaste kiss on the lips and lingering there for a while. “See you tomorrow,” I whispered against his mouth and he inhaled sharply.

I leaned back and smirked once more. Then I got out of the car, gave a small wave over my shoulder, opened my front door, and closed it behind me. I leaned against it and sighed, closing my eyes with a happy, dreamy grin on my face.

I wished that tomorrow would just come already.