Out of the Blackness (34 page)

I take a sip of the coffee, find it cold and push it away in disgust. I look up at Sam and sigh heavily. “What am I gonna do, Sam?”

He shrugs and smiles slightly. “This is a conversation you need to have with Noah, little bro. He may be perfectly happy letting you figure it all out on your own time, or he may need you to make some sort of decision pretty soon. But he’s the only one who knows what he needs, just like you’re the only one who knows what you need.”

I nod, a bit shaken.

“What do you need, Aves?” Sam questions softly.

I meet his eyes and, without a question in my heart, say, “Noah.”

***

Two weeks later, Noah makes me put Sam on speakerphone and the two of them work together to convince me an afternoon of swimming at Noah's mom’s pool is the only way to spend a lazy August day off. I assure them both that I will not be getting wet with them, but in the end, I can’t say no to the two most important men in my life.

That’s how I find myself sitting in a chaise lounge poolside in the blazing summer heat, wearing a cream-colored t-shirt emblazoned with a logo and dates from Cher’s Farewell Tour (Noah's) and a pair of blue-and-white flower print board shorts (Luke’s), both of which are at least a size too big. The two giants clown around in the pool, dunking each other, racing laps and tossing a ball back and forth. In short, they’re acting like a couple of kids and I can’t help but smile slightly as I watch them, my heart expanding in my chest.

“Is it wrong that I find this boyish, playful side of Sam sexy?” Kira asks from the lounger beside mine. Unlike me, she’s soaking up the sun whilst I cling to the shade cast by the large umbrella above me. Very unlike me, she’s barely clad in a skimpy but not trashy bikini. She’s utterly comfortable in her skin and, just like the overgrown boys in the water, she looks fantastic.

I chuckle. “I was just thinking the same thing about Noah, so I’m gonna go with no.”

She rolls her head to look at me. Although I can’t see her eyes behind her enormous sunglasses, I can read the mild surprise on her face. “So you do see Noah that way? Sexually, I mean?”

I frown. “Of course I do. You’ve seen him, right? The man’s practically a poster boy for sexy.”

Kira grins widely. “I knew you’d come around eventually.” She nods at the pool and keeps her voice quiet. “I’ve known Noah since I was six, Avery. I’ve never seen him like this about anyone before. His feelings for you are very strong.”

My eyes cut to the scene in the pool where a widely grinning Noah has just dunked Sam for the hundredth time. I see the expression of surprise flash across his face seconds before he disappears beneath the water. Sam surfaces and lets out a triumphant “Ha!” and I laugh at their antics. I look back to Kira and smile. “I don’t understand what he sees in me or why he puts up with me, but he’s an awfully terrific guy.”

She nods. “And he’s all yours. How does that feel?”

A liquid head radiates out from my chest. “Scary but incredible.”

Kira laughs. “That sounds about right. Oh, Avery, I’m so happy for you two. You’ve both needed someone to love you for so long. I’m so glad you found each other.”

I blush fire engine red and look away, embarrassed. It’s one thing to know I love Noah, but it’s weird hearing it from someone else. I desperately wish I could talk to her about what I feel for Noah and what that means, but it feels wrong to confess my love for him to someone else first. Noah deserves to know before anyone else does.

Luckily I’m saved from responding by the men climbing from the water. I watch, transfixed, as the muscles in Noah's arms, shoulders, chest and abs bulge and flex as he lifts himself from the pool. Rivulets of water cascade down his glorious, tanned skin. The urge to lick the water from his skin takes me by surprise in its intensity. It’s almost a need. He flashes a dimpled smile and moves toward me, his predatory gaze never leaving mine. He dips to press a quick kiss to my mouth and I lap at his lips, tasting a bit of the water on his skin.

He grins, eyes dark, and, without moving away, shakes his head like a wet dog, spraying both me and Kira with water. We yelp protests but he just laughs.

Noah sits at the end of the lounger and hands me a bottle of lotion over his shoulder. “Would you do my back, please?” I know the innocence in his tone is purely for Sam and Kira’s benefit. Feeling their eyes on me, I swallow hard and reach for the bottle. My mouth dries and my hands shake in anticipation of touching Noah's sun-warmed skin.

Sam clears his throat, breaking the spell. “Uh, Kira and I are gonna go inside and make those sandwiches now,” he says, dragging Kira to her feet and scampering off.

Noah just chuckles and leans back a little. “Think we scared him off?”

“You know darn well you did,” I admonish him.

Noah laughs again, turning around to drag me into another kiss. His forehead resting against mine, he whispers, “You’re so cute when you almost curse.”

I narrow my eyes at him. “You’re not funny.”

His grin tells me he knows better. “Sorry. Are you having a good time?”

I shrug, our foreheads still touching. “I’m okay. Looks like you and Sam are trying to kill each other out there.”

“Nah.” He smiles, flashing those dimples again. “Just a little roughhousing between friends.” He pecks my lips again and draws away to lay face down on Kira’s abandoned chair. “If you want to come in, I promise we’ll keep it to a minimum.”

I shake my head climb on top of him, straddling his hips. “That’s awful nice of you,” I say innocently. Before he can respond I squeeze a line of lotion up his spine, the cold against his warmed skin causing him to arch his back and hiss.

“Brat,” he says.

“Jerk.” I laugh and bring my hands to his back. It is so easy to touch him. Feeling his muscles under all that smooth skin is almost addictive. I take my time rubbing the lotion into his back and shoulders, enjoying his soft noises of appreciation. The feel of his skin against mine, even this innocuous touch, ignites that increasingly familiar desire in me. Out of sheer spite, I rock my hips a few times against his buttocks, laughing at his answering growl.

***

The next day, when it’s just the two of us, Noah is in full-on convince Avery to strip and swim mode. He’s gentle about it, begging and cajoling and teasing without making it feel like I have no choice. Truth is, I would love to get in the water. It called to me all day yesterday, but with Kira around, I wasn't about to chance her seeing through my shirt to the ugly scars beneath. I don’t want Noah to see them either, but they’re part of me. They’re evidence of all I’ve been through, who I was, how I was treated. I don’t want to see the change in Noah's eyes when he sees them, don’t want to face the possibility, as remote as it is, that he may reject me when confronted with the physical proof of my past. But I also know deep down that our relationship can never grow beyond what it is now if I’m not honest with him about it.

It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. I summon every ounce of my courage, all the positive lessons learned from Kendall, and focus on the fact that I love this man more than I ever thought possible. If I lay all my cards on the table, let him see me and actually tell him all of my history… Well, if he turns his back then, at least I’ll know now. It’ll hurt more than all the beatings, but at least I will know I tried.

“Noah,” I croak out around the competing lumps of fear and hope in my throat.

“Hmm?” he lazily turns his head in my direction, eyes still closed as he basks in the sun on the lounger next to me.

“I—we—” I sigh and look away, unsure how to continue.

He sits up and faces me, his long muscular legs entering my view. “Aves? What is it?”

His tone betrays his concern and a rush of love fills me. I smile at him with trembling lips. “Honesty,” I say out of nowhere. “I have to be honest with you.”

“Okay….”

“We’ve never talked about…about what happened to me.” I can’t meet his eyes no matter how hard I try.

“Baby, you don’t have to do this.”

“I do, though.” My eyes fill but not all because of the pain of reliving it in my mind. Most of these tears are of gratitude to this gentle giant who knows me so well, cares for me enough he doesn’t want to put me through the emotional upheaval of remembering. How could I have ever thought he would hurt me?

Haltingly, I begin to tell him about my childhood. About the few happy memories I have before my dad died, about mom meeting Carl, about him moving in with us. It’s the most difficult conversation I’ve ever had, as one-sided as it is. Noah watches me, his body still and tense, but he makes no move to speak or touch me. When I tell him about the first time mom hit me and how a thorough beating from Carl followed, the words start tumbling from my mouth before I can think about them. Noah learns about mom dropping me off at the first station six days before my eighth birthday, how she told the firefighter that she knew the law had recently changed and she could leave me with them because she didn’t want me anymore. I tell Noah how I cried and pleaded and begged Mom to change her mind, how I promised I would be the best little boy in the world if she just gave me another chance. I told him how she looked at me with disgust and contempt in her eyes and walked away without a word or a look back.

I tell him of the kindness of the firefighters and the Child Protective Services worker who took me to my first foster home that night. I tell him how I cried myself to sleep every night that first week because I missed Mom and Carl and my little brothers so much. I even missed the sound of them yelling at each other over the loudness of the television.

I stumble when I start to talk about Joey. I remember how Joey’s big blue eyes lit up when he saw me for the first time. I tell Noah how Joey and I immediately became friends and brothers. Even when we couldn’t trust anyone else, it was always clear Joey and I would look out for each other forever. The tears come hard as I describe the first time I watched Tommy beat Joey, how Tommy’s sadistic posse of preteens held me tight even as I fought to get to my very best friend.

It was a bitter cold December day. Tommy had only been in the facility about a month when Joey and I took a shortcut through the park between the school and the group home. Tommy and his gang intercepted us. He took his time beating Joey, trying to get him to cry or fight back, but Joey did neither. My brave little friend just kept getting back to his feet and asking—not begging, but, even as blood flowed down his face, soaking his favorite shirt, calmly asking—Tommy to stop. I was the one begging and pleading and crying for Tommy to stop, for his hooligan friends to release me. When Tommy had finally had enough, he turned and pointed a bloody finger in my face. “You’re next,” he promised and spat in my face. His goons released me and I collapsed to the ground in exhaustion and relief. I crawled over to Joey and we cried together, holding each other. I tell Noah that Tommy made good on his threat the very next week.

I dare a glance up at Noah and see him surreptitiously wiping a tear from his cheek. With that gesture I know telling him about my past is the right decision. He doesn’t judge me. He doesn’t pity me. Like he has since I’ve known him, he hurts when and because I hurt and celebrates my successes because they make me feel better about myself. This amazing, wonderful man in front of me is the absolute opposite of my childhood. He’s someone who genuinely values me for me, who cares about me regardless of anyone else’s opinion. He’s the man who has taught me that, even though it is as scary as facing down Tommy again, I can feel love, real romantic love.

Gathering my thoughts and strength, I continue my tale. Joey’s suicide trips me up again, but Sam’s arrival signals a slight upturn. The boy I was finally felt safe thanks to the man I now call my big brother. I skip forward in the story, past the last few years with Sam as basically normal. I tell him about last August, how I was too afraid and ashamed to admit to anyone that it was Tommy who beat me again. I tell him that Sam knew and tried desperately to get me to press charges but I was too scared. Even though he was there, I tell him how I felt about going to Tommy’s sentencing hearing for his attack on Sam and admit how healing it was to see Tommy looking so powerless in his shackles and orange jumpsuit. “And in between August and the sentencing, I met you.”

Noah slowly reaches out and cups my wet cheeks in his big, rough palms. “Thank you for telling me,” he says softly, emotion making his voice raw. “I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you trust me with your past and all that pain.” His thumb brushes my cheekbone instead of my lips and it feels like the first stage of rejection. Does he not want to see me now that he knows everything? My chest seizes around the thought of losing him and I deflate, slumping at the shoulders and dropping eye contact.

Noah notices the change in my mood as he notices everything. “Hey, none of that.” He tilts my face up so our gazes meet again. “You’ve survived an incredibly difficult childhood and you’ve grown into a wonderful, interesting, funny and sexy man. You should be proud of how much you’ve overcome. I’m extremely proud of you, baby. I’m so glad something in you let me through your defenses. Knowing you has changed my life in so many ways, all of them for the better. I can’t imagine my life without you. I don’t want to.”

Tears spring to my eyes again. Somehow that sounds so much different than when Sam said something similar to me at Christmas. My hands grip Noah’s wrist and forearm and squeeze tight, my capacity for words gone. He leans across the space between us and presses a soft, tender kiss to my lips, then my nose and my forehead. I push him away with a laugh. “Dork.”

The man I’m so crazy in love with smiles sweetly. “Let’s take a dip and wash all those bad memories away, huh?”

I tense. “I—I can’t.”

Noah nods. “Okay, tell me.”

Once more, my eyes find the concrete beneath us. “I don’t remember how to swim.”

“That’s okay. We can stick to the shallow end. But there’s more, isn’t there?”

I nod, slightly ashamed. “I—I’m not beautiful like you.”