IN THE BRIGHT LIGHT OF MORNING, here on the porch, there are so few traces of the night Rhyson and I shared out in that shed. A fresh beginning crisps the air. The heavy, velvety pre-rain cloak has been shed. No breeze stirs the chimes out back, and only the faint caw of a bird here and there disturbs the quiet. If it weren’t for the puddles lining the graveled driveway, I wouldn’t even know the rain had come and gone.
One thing remains. The intimacy bred between our bodies still grips us. I stand in the strong circle of Rhyson’s arms, and every time I look away I’m afraid I’ll miss something. The last few days have drawn us impossibly, inexorably closer, and it’s hard to imagine anything that could separate us. Except I know there is something. A nasty secret that could crack the very connection walling us away from the rest of the world every time we’re together. Love, fear, regret, guilt stir inside of me. I’m as at odds with myself as early Spring, with its morning frost and afternoon heat. One thing is clear. I don’t want him to go.
But a discreetly designer duffle bag rests on the top step, and there’s a plane idling somewhere until Rhyson arrives, ready to take him back to LA.
“Two days.” He leans down, cupping one side of my face and kissing the other. “I’ll be back in two days.”
“When are you taking me on that vacation? And where did you say we were going again?” I ask, faking innocent as best I can.
“You think that works?” He binds both my wrists in one hand, pulling me closer until his words mist my lips. “You think you can just bat those pretty eyes and I’m putty in your hands, don’t you? You think you have me wrapped around your little finger, huh?”
That’s the furthest thing from what I think since Rhyson is always trying to boss me around and control every aspect of my life, so I just stare at him, slightly stunned, even though he has to be joking.
He bends to whisper in my ear, dusting kisses down my neck.
“You’re right. I’m totally wrapped, but I’m still not telling you.”
“Just a hint?”
“Okay. I can guarantee you it’s somewhere that won’t require clothes and allows for a lot of open air fucking.”
A laugh cracks my face open, and I throw my head back.
“You make it sound like a sport.”
“Once you get your wind back, it will be,” he says, his voice a husky promise.
I laugh into his neck, committing to memory his clean scent and the warmth, the strength of his chest under my hands. Clinging to the impression of his lips on me. I tip up, angling my mouth under his, opening him up for me. Sliding in to deliver the wordless message of how much I will miss him while he’s gone. These last moments we have together are a cup, both bottomless and full, with this kiss running over the side, spilling out, dousing us with need and love.
The screen door opens behind us, and Rhyson jerks back, breaking the sweet, heated contact. He looks over my head, running his fingertips over his mouth, chagrin all over his face.
“Shit.” He rolls his eyes at himself. “I mean, shoot. Morning, Aunt Ruthie.”
I can’t bring myself to tell him Aunt Ruthie doesn’t really care much about swearing, except in the house of the Lord. She and I are having too much fun watching him struggle with it. I glance over my shoulder to find her standing at the screen door entrance, and sure enough, her mouth sets in a firm line, but if you know her like I do, you see full-on mischief in her eyes.
“Morning.” Aunt Ruthie steps out onto the porch, looking between the two of us. “Didn’t hear you two come in last night.”
Before I can answer, Rhyson starts stammering and umming.
“Um, well, we . . . we just kinda . . .” He looks at me for help. No freaking way am I helping him. Rhyson doesn’t let anyone get to him, so to see him flustered by my harmless little Aunt Ruthie is too good to pass up. “I guess we just fell asleep in the shed, right, Kai?
“Did we sleep?” I ask innocently, pressing an inch closer. Swear to God, he jumps back like I’m a hot poker, giving me “what the hell” wide eyes.
“You slept in that old dusty place?” Aunt Ruthie shakes her head and shrugs. “Well there’s some eggs and grits in the kitchen if you want to grab some.”
“I just had some coffee. Thank you.” Rhyson gestures to the duffle bag on the step. “I need to get back to LA for a couple days, but I’ll be back.”
“Be safe then.” Aunt Ruthie turns her attention to me, most of the laughter at Rhyson’s expense gone. “I’m going into town to run some errands. Thinking of clearing out some space in the office, giving some things to Goodwill. You might wanna look to make sure there isn’t anything you want to keep.”
The words run a tiny razor blade across my heart, nicking open places I thought were healed. By “office” she means Mama’s old bedroom, where she drew her last breath. By “some things” she means my mother’s things.