But I knew, so very deep down on the inside, I’d never leave Riot, and I couldn’t imagine ever not being there for our future children. That realization, that level of love I had for Riot, only made the lack of love my father had for me hurt all that much more. Every soft touch of Riot’s hand, every tiny display of physical affection, made me wonder why my father hadn’t loved me enough.
As best I could, I’d dealt with my father’s absence when I was younger. I’d spent countless nights wondering where he was, who he was with, what kind of life he was leading that was better than the one he’d had with my mother and me. Growing up without a father sucked. It scarred me on a level no one would ever understand. But the scar was leftover from a wound that had healed. I had lived, Mom and I had moved on, and we’d managed to build a pretty good life. Kevin coming to me years later and trying to make contact with me, well, that was just the same as opening up old wounds. He’d lost all rights to know how I was doing on my seventh birthday when he’d left and not looked back.
“I don’t know what to do with all these feelings,” I cried, completely lost in what seemed to be a bottomless pit of anger, fear, sadness, and loss.
“Just cry it out, Kal. Give them to me. I’ll take care of it.”
If I hadn’t already been sobbing, his words would have thrown me over into the abyss. There had been a time in my life where I’d convinced myself I didn’t deserve the kind of love Riot gave me. I’d told myself I wasn’t worthy of that kind of selfless, all-encompassing love. And perhaps I wasn’t. Maybe that was the secret to it all. If I knew I was lucky to have him, maybe I’d never take him for granted. I never wanted him to feel anything like what I was experiencing in that moment. I never wanted him to wonder why I hadn’t cared enough about him.
Suddenly, and maybe it was the lack of love from my father staring me in the face, but my love for Riot had never been clearer to me or more tangible. It filled the hole that had been gaping most of my life.
“I love you,” I cried into the stubble under his chin, my hands coming to pull his neck closer to me, wanting to smell his scent, feel his heartbeat through the thin skin there. The panic was still there, but now I was panicking that I’d never be able to show him how I loved him, to apologize for pushing him away like I had. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
I was exactly like my dad. I had run away. I had left him behind. It had been months, not years, and I hadn’t abandoned a child, but I’d let Riot love me, then I’d taken that love away. I was just as bad as Kevin.
“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, baby,” he said quietly, rocking me back and forth, his hand running down the back of my head, smoothing down my hair.
“I’m just like him.”
My face was quickly brought level with his, his eyes searching mine, his hands gripping my face with gentle fierceness.
“You are nothing like him, Kalli,” he said in a deep, gravelly voice. “I never want to hear you say something like that again. He’s a coward. A man who abandoned his child and the woman who gave him that child. He was selfish and a poor excuse for a man.” His eyes grew darker, darting back and forth between mine. “He left because he didn’t want to take responsibility for his family. You are nothing like him.”
I couldn’t respond, couldn’t find any words to argue with him, even though I was sure he was wrong. He had to be. I was a runner.
“You’ve spent the last chunk of your life caring for your brother, the most selfless thing I’ve ever witnessed. And you didn’t leave me, Kal. I know that’s what you’re thinking.” He pressed his mouth to my forehead. “People respond to grief in a million different ways and your reaction was perfectly acceptable. You’ll never have to apologize to me for that. What your father did was inexcusable.”
Without thinking much about it, I pressed my lips to his. My cheeks were wet from tears, my hands trembling from adrenaline, and my chest was heaving from the ragged breaths I was taking in, but all I wanted to feel was his lips pressed against mine. I loved him with everything I was, and I wanted to feel that love.
“Please,” I whispered against his lips, pressing my body up against his. He kissed me back, his lips and teeth gently tugging on my mouth, but I could feel his hesitation. “I need you,” I said, this time moving my mouth over his cheek and down his jaw. “Make me feel something besides this emptiness.”
Those words brought him over the edge with me. Suddenly I was beneath him, one of his hands on my face, the other sliding around my waist. I arched up into him, my hands running through his hair, gripping the strands, holding his mouth to mine.
His hand slid up under the hem of my shirt, grazing over my breast, and I suddenly needed to be bare with him, to have nothing covering me except him. I reached down and tugged off my shirt, throwing it on the floor beside the bed. I was frantic. I reached for my leggings, starting to pull them down my thighs, when his hands covered mine.
“There’s no hurry, baby. I’ve got you. Let me make you feel good.”