The Song Remains the Same (2 page)

While a shift change had been going on, Kyle Whitestone had slipped out of the nuthouse and headed straight to a storage unit stashed with his homemade pyrotechnics. The motherfucker had had no plans on coming out alive. He’d sewn that shit into a vest and detonated it while bear-hugging Rita.

The woman had essentially vaporized. The only things the search-and-rescue team had found of her were her legs from the knees down, preserved by her designer boots.

The second explosion had killed Charlotte. The ceiling had come crashing down in her room, crushing her. Her remains had been recovered and identified through dental records two days later.

Lucy had died when the last explosion threw Kenna and Gavin across the street. Kenna had told me how Lucy had pulled them into her chest, shielding them from further injury. That shit gave me goose bumps every fuckin’ time I thought about it.

In all, fourteen other staff members of the Center for Radiant Health along with a handful of clients had been killed.

Day four after the shit had gone down, the battle between Kenna and me began. My Baby Girl refused to take any more pain meds.

“I don’t need them. I can’t tell how well I’m healing if I’m fucked up on those things.”

I grabbed the notepad we’d been using and wrote:

It’s to help keep you still, so you won’t overdo shit!

Tossing the notepad at me, she stubbornly replied, “I don’t need them to not overdo anything,” she snapped. “I can smoke weed instead. I’m not taking them anymore.”

It’s killing me that you’re hurting! Please just take them. It won’t be for forever.

“No.” Kenna chucked the notepad across the living room.

I stormed out to the back porch, feeling fit to break something. There was no satisfaction in having a fight when I had to fuckin’ write everything down—and not when Gavin was sitting next to her on the couch, watching the fuckin’ Food Network with the closed caption on. Gavin was one badass motherfucker though. He’d insisted on coming over to be with Kenna. By the third day, we’d just told his brother, Frank, to pack up what he’d need, so he could stay with us. It was good for Kenna and Gavin to have one another. They really understood each other.

“You all right, man?” Connor asked, coming out onto the porch.

“Naw, man. I’m not.”

“You know how she is.”

“Yeah, I
know
she’s a stubborn little shit! But it’s been four fuckin’ days since she was nearly killed—”

“Like that makes a difference. Dude, you just gotta pick and choose the battles from here on out. If she doesn’t take the pain meds, it ain’t the end of the world.”

“She needs to rest, and the meds knock her out.”

“She hates the way they make her feel. To be honest, I think she’s been taking them this long for
you.
They’ve been keeping her in a mental fog, suppressing her emotional pain, and she knows she has to face it.”

“Can’t she do that when she’s better?” I asked, exasperated.

Connor shook his head. “She wants to meditate, Phil. She can’t do that while she’s on the meds. They fuck up her frequencies.”

“What the fuck does that even mean?”

“She can’t seek her inner space when she’s that doped up on synthetic garbage.”

“You fuckin’ hippie kids,” I muttered.

Connor shrugged. “We are what we are.”

Rolling my eyes, I said, “Right. I gotta get rid of this energy. I’m hittin’ the weights and shit. I’ll be back later.”

“I’ll tell her,” he said, copping a squat.

At home in my gym, I worked out until I could hardly move. Dripping sweat with my heart pumping and muscles aching, I felt a hell of a lot better. At least I would be ready to face Kenna without wanting to spank her.

Fuck.

Sex hadn’t crossed my mind since I’d sweet-banged her in the shower before the bombing. Kenna was broken, inside and out. That was a sure-fire guarantee for me to not think about having sex with her. Now that I was alone and not gazing lovingly into her Sith Lord eyeball, I could see her as she had been before getting blown up.

Her injuries didn’t make her any less beautiful to me, but it’d squashed the shit out of my sex drive—as it fuckin’
should
have. Hell, I couldn’t even remember the last time I had whacked off. But I was gonna fuckin’ do so now.

Blasting the hot water, I sat on the stone bench.

Yeah…

I thought of the first time in here with her after we had waited for the right time to fuck, and she’d dropped to her knees, wrapped her lips around me, and taken the whole fuckin’ thing…the first time I’d sunk into her, feeling my balls tap her ass…

“Oh, fuuuck…” My head banged back against the tiles.

The sweet fuckin’ taste of her sugary slice, how tight she grips me when I’m buried inside her, that tiny little heartbeat that makes my dick tingle, the noises she makes in the back of her throat—it all drives me wild.

“Baby…” I moaned, working my fist up and down my dick, wishing it were her tight little cunt.

Kenna could ride me for hours. She had the strength and stamina to do it and loved every fuckin’ second of it.

“Fuck yesss…” I groaned as the thought of her punishing me in LA danced its ass through my head.

My dick swelled, and my balls drew up, my tailbone sparkling with tingles. Fuck, I was so close. Just thinking of her wet pussy hovering right above my face, her fingers rubbing
my
sugary slice—

Cum shot out of me, full fuckin’ force, and there was
a lot
of it. Heart pounding, legs shaking, I was blissed the fuck out. The next time I fucked my Baby Girl, I was gonna bang her so hard that we’d both be walking funny.

The breath froze in my chest.

Kenna was so badly beaten already, her body full of bruises and scrapes…there was no way…

She was the only person in the whole fuckin’ world I could lose control with.

Oh, fuck…there’s no way I’d be able to hold back, not after this long.

There was nothing in the world I loved more than that woman. The way her eyes lit up a fuckin’ room, how her smile made my heart trip up in my chest. Her laugh made me high from just listening to it. The sound of her voice never failed to command my attention. And she asked for nothing. She just gave me her love in the hopes that I’d return it.

I loved how there was always something for us to talk about. I loved seeing how she looked at the world, how she tried to see the good in everyone, how easily she forgave people and their fuck-ups. I loved how I’d catch her looking at me like I was the greatest fuckin’ thing since sliced organic bread. She’d blush and smile her secret smile.

All the things I loved about her, the things about her that made her who she was—that was what I’d never be able to live without.

I’d had the greatest sex of my life with her, and it’d only gotten better the more we had done it. But the sex would always be second. It wasn’t why I loved her. It was as great as it was because of what she meant to me, what she represented in my life.

When it came down to it, I could live without fuckin’ my Baby Girl. But I couldn’t fuckin’ live without her.

Kenna

Pain had become the undercurrent to my existence. I’d made the decision not to take any more painkillers, and I was sticking to it. My body had taken a hell of a beating, but after four days of being out of my skull, I was done. Not even Phil could make me change my mind, and he was probably the only thing that actually could. The way he looked at me sometimes…it tore at me in weird ways.

From experience, I knew that masking the pain didn’t help. Even the physical aspect could teach me a lesson. I needed to know how I was healing, how quickly, and what I could do to speed up the process.

When I was on Vicodin, I could hardly move, and that in itself was no good. The first few days had been fine, but I’d hardly eaten, and I had been growing weak. I needed to be able to eat without wanting to vomit.

I had weed in large supply, so I was able to relax without drifting off into a coma. The Vicodin sucked me down so hard that it would make me dream and relive the nightmare. When I wasn’t on it, my dreams would be light or wouldn’t reveal themselves at all.

Gavin and I had lost good friends—Lucy, Charlotte, Rita. Everyone had been such a permanent part of our lives for so long that it was hard to believe they had simply ceased to exist.

Once the drug fog had cleared from my head, I was able to practice meditating with ease. I would sink deep inside myself, passing the physical pangs and twinges of a healing busted body into a state of peaceful consciousness.

“Hey, Baby Girl.”

How I missed that voice. I had no way of listening to Phil unless I was
here
—where a part of me was a part of him. He would tell me what was in my heart because it was in his. I could see it in his eyes whenever I looked into them.

Days lapsed, and I’d find myself in deep meditation more and more. Phil would leave, and I’d feel so lonely without his energy that I would be compelled to just leave the world behind. He’d come back, freshly showered, and find me in the backyard in lotus pose. Upon ascension, I’d open my eyes, and he’d be sitting next to me, quiet, his hand in mine. He might not be meditating himself, but he would tune his energy low and simply relax with me.

Phil looked thinner. When he took off his clothes before we would go to bed, I could see it. He’d keep his boxers on, and he wouldn’t let me get naked either. It would make my heart twinge, knowing he didn’t have much of an appetite.

The shadows had returned in his eyes, and I knew I was the one who had put them there. He was frustrated, hurting, and wanting to have a simple conversation with me without having to write an essay.

When it came time for the memorial service a week and a half after the explosion, I was feeling a lot stronger, in both body and mind. It was a bright and sunny Tuesday, a little cool. It reminded me of Lucy. She would’ve remarked on what a beautiful day it was.

Alys drove her SUV with Lili and Lewis. Gavin rode with Frank, who would be taking him back home afterward. Tim chauffeured the rest of us in the black band van.

I wasn’t crushed with my grief like I thought I should’ve been. If I could hear how bereaved everyone else was, I might have been able to feel it more. Then again, I’d spent the last week mourning deeply. Gavin and I had wept together for hours. I’d wept in Phil’s arms throughout the nights when I thought I had no more tears left. Perhaps I’d faced the pain and come out of it already.

As I sat in a pew toward the back of the Baptist church, watching those who had lost loved ones weep and wail, I felt…at peace. The people who were gone had enriched my life. I loved them. That wasn’t about to change just because they weren’t here. I was happy to have had the privilege of knowing them, working with them, and learning from them.

On my right sat Gavin, his shoulder pressed into mine. He’d taken a Vicodin before coming in, and he was a bit fuzzy in the eyes. On my left sat Phil, holding my hand, twisting my engagement ring between his callous long fingers. He had beautiful musician hands, strong and graceful.

Phil had shaven and trimmed his sideburns. He smelled utterly divine. Dressed in his charcoal-gray vest and suit with a pale gray button-down shirt and black tie, he looked fucking
fine
. His cheekbones appeared sharper, his jaw was more defined, and his mouth was a full-lipped soft contrast.

When was the last time we kissed? I mean,
really
kissed.

I wanted to kiss him right then and there, which would be extremely
inappropriate.

Rachel, Lucy’s pretty older sister with golden hair, was giving a heartfelt speech about the loss of her only sibling. At least, I was sure she was as I sat here, fantasizing about Phil’s gorgeous mouth.

Sensing my gaze, he turned and looked into my eyes, and we
connected
. It had been a while since something powerful zipped between us, and I could see he felt it, too.