Charade

              “You’re right. What could I be thinking?” She laughs and I laugh. I wonder why I didn’t do it more often—before her.

              “What time do you go to work?” I ask.

              “Four. I’m going to hang out with Andy for a little while first.”

              They’ve been hanging out a lot lately, which I’m pretty sure Andy is stoked about. She tried to get close to Chey before, but my dancer never really let her. She’s getting better at it now.

              I lean in and almost kiss her, but know if I do, I won’t stop. I never want to stop when I touch her. Most of the time I don’t.

              “I want to go see Mom before I head out to your aunt and uncle’s.”

              Cheye

              I do kiss her this time. I pretend it’s to shut her up, but it’s really because I just like tasting her. She’s so familiar now. We know exactly how to move and I’ve memorized her taste. I’m hard in about two seconds, but really know we don’t have time for that.

              “They’ve done a lot for me, Tiny Dancer. I want to pay them off.”

              They took care of my hospital bills. They paid for Mom to be held until I could be there to tell her goodbye. Her uncle agreed to be my lawyer in my court case, but they ended up dropping the charges since I hadn’t had that much weed on me anyway. Of course they also have some stipulations and they want to make sure I’m doing what I’m supposed to do. Not dealing. Being good to Chey. How the hell do you pay someone back for that?

              “I know… I get it.”

              “I’m good. No worries.” I left school and enrolled part time at the community college. I’m still going, but I’m doing it because I want to be something. Not because I have to, but I also have bills to pay. School’s not going anywhere. I can handle doing both.

              “No headaches or anything?”

              I groan and push out of bed. I know she worries, but it’s every day. “No, dear. No headaches. I still know my name, birthday and who you are too. Do you want to go to the doctor with me next time to make sure?”

              She gives me a dirty look which tells me I’m being a prick. That’s nothing new. It’s better, but that’s just who I am. I’m lucky she puts up with me…but it’s not like she’s always easy to get along with either. I think that’s one of the things that makes us work. I’m glad she stopped bugging me about Gregory though. I hate the motherfucker and don’t want to ever hear his name again if I can keep from it. She wasn’t happy I didn’t want to press charges, but that’s not my style. I hate him, but I also know he didn’t try to kill me. I pushed him first. Told the cops as much. There’s not a whole hell of a lot they could do at that point.

Plus… fuck, I’m tired of fighting. Tired of being a quick trigger. That’s been my biggest lesson. I need to learn to think before I act.

Greg’s daddy pulled him out of school here and that helps too. Knowing he’s not around Chey.

              “I’m being such a bitch. I can’t believe I care about you.”

              She goes to pout, but I crawl back into bed and straddle her. “I’m glad you care.” And I am. We didn’t look for this to happen. To fall for each other, but it did and I’m glad. I don’t plan on screwing it up.

              I take her mouth again, which she gladly lets me.

              “Want me to go with you? I have time before I see Andy,” she asks.

              I nod, knowing exactly what she’s asking, and needing her to be with me.

I get up, passing the picture on our bedside table of her mom. It used to be under her mattress. It’s cool that she has it up now.

              I brush my teeth while she takes a shower. When I put her toothbrush up, I accidentally knock over the bottle for her anxiety meds. It feels pretty full. The good thing is she takes them when she needs them, but it’s also good it doesn’t happen very often.

              We get dressed before heading out to the cemetery. It’s cold and even thought I know it doesn’t make sense I worry about Mom being cold this time of year.

              Chey’s fingers are laced with mine. I look down at them, again surprised at how we got here. This never would have been me before her. Needing someone. Giving a shit about anyone.

              Cheye

              I don’t really talk to her when I’m here with Chey. It feels weird for some reason, but I talk to Chey. We talk about Mom and I know that if she was here, she’d love to just sit and listen to us. She probably never thought I’d end up with one girl, living with her and willing to admit I love her. Or maybe she did. She always saw stuff in me I wasn’t willing to see.

              “You can take the car to my aunt and uncle’s if you want,” Chey’s laying on the blanket with her head in my lap.

              “Nah. Adrian’s letting me take his. I don’t want you without a car.”

              “Aww. It still shocks me when you’re sweet,” she teases.

              We’re both quiet for a few minutes. I look at Mom’s headstone. The dates. Her name.

Survived by her son, Colton

              Cheye

              Mom

              “You know…I almost felt bad wishing you’d survive.”

              I look down at her, wondering what she’s talking about. Her eyebrows are creased and I smooth them out with my finger, making her laugh. “That doesn’t sound real good, Tiny Dancer.”

              “It was almost guilt…because I wanted you with me so much, but I knew if you went, you’d be with her. I was selfish enough to want you with me though.”

              Her voice sounds so sad. I hate it. We’ve had enough sadness to last a fucking lifetime. From now on, we should only get the sunshine.

              “Come here,” I pull her up and she fits in my lap. Her arms wrap around my neck and she buries her face so I can’t see her.

              “I want to be here with you. I love my mom and I wish like hell she was still here…but she’s gone. There’s no getting her back and…” I squeeze her. “You make me want to live. Fuck that. Not just live, you make me want to enjoy it. To fucking love it. I don’t pretend anymore. Don’t play games anymore.”

“The games were more my thing than yours.”

I shake my head because we both played them, just in different ways. “She wouldn’t have wanted me to go with her.” I kiss her head. “I’m right where I belong and where she wanted me to be. Where I want to be… With you.”

~THE END~

Acknowledgement:

As always, huge thanks to my wonderful hubby and awesome girls. I know you hear a lot of, “just one more minute” and it turns out to be fifteen. Thanks for understanding and for all your support.

Mom for always believing in me.

My mother-in-law for being probably the best mother-in-law in the world and for your love of spending time with your grandkids.

To my beta readers who gave their time to Colt, Cheye

Steph Campbell for being awesome and for the hours you were willing to spend drinking coffee with me while I vented about everything under the sun. I miss you hard. When are we pla

Sebastian Hawkins. Maybe it’s silly to thank one of my characters, but you started this journey of boy POV for me and you will always hold a special place in my heart for it. Colt is better because of you.