Paradise Fought: Abel (41 page)

“Let me make this up to you.” He folded to his knees and forced me to open my stance. His mouth hit me before I realized what he was doing. Warm tongue spread through abused folds in a tender lap. The worship was a ministration for forgiveness. The tender swirl of tongue was an apology. Too shaken by how quickly things had happened, I couldn’t say it was my greatest orgasm, but I let Abel have his way with me. He needed me in that moment and I could give myself to him.

When we finished, he offered me a shower. I hadn’t had one yet. I didn’t know if he needed a minute alone or I did, but I took my time to wash away any doubts. I didn’t have them really. I trusted Abel.

He waited only as long as I was ready and then we left The Belfast. He’d borrowed Cain’s SUV somehow, and we drove off across the desert for California. Before we could leave the area, I needed to make a stop. Abel followed my directions as we pulled into the dusty gated cemetery and drove the winding path to the back of the property. In a plot hardly worth his grand stature, my brother was buried under a simple stone. Joseph Arnold Montana. The Mountain lay under a slab not higher than a mole hill. My heart ached as I approached. I hadn’t been back since we moved last spring. One year had passed.

I stood over the brown earth and the dusty plot marker, reading Joey’s name. It didn’t seem real that he was under there, and yet, the reality of my life proved he was. I’d lost my brother and my mother. I was truly an orphan and truly homeless, but I had no more tears. Abel squeezed my hand and it was a reminder that I had him. While I thought all I wanted was my life back, the ease of luxury, what I really wanted turned out to be love. I had that instead and it was richer than anything I’d owned before.

I stood for several moments, silently letting my mind wander. I didn’t have anything left to say to Montana. He had done what he thought best for us. While I couldn’t condone all his decisions, I understood why he’d done it. It was Joey, my brother, I needed to forgive. He did what he did for love, too, in his own way. He took on a responsibility, and he worked at maintaining it. My heart ached at what he must have sacrificed to keep up the ruse. He could have had the love of Lindee, but it wasn’t enough for him. I leaned into Abel, grateful that I hadn’t lost him after all.

We were quiet as we rode on toward California. As we crested through the mountains and the dusk of night was approaching, Abel pulled over into a secluded lookout point. Hidden from the slow traffic on this route, he parked and silently pulled a large fleece blanket from behind the driver’s seat. I exited the cab of the SUV and crawled into the open hatch. We lay staring out at the growing dark of night as slowly one star after another began to shine like tiny pinpricks in a dark silk canvas.

I casually traced over the tattoos on his arms in the darkening of day.

“What do these mean?” I asked, tracing slowly over one colorful arm and then reaching to outline the other. A bright orange koi and an iridescent blue betta swirled around one arm. A glowing yellow sun shone down on turquoise waves that rolled over a large sea creature in vibrant violet.

“The koi is strength and perseverance. The betta is a symbol of chance.”

Abel certainly had each of those things. Chance was like taking a bet, a risk, and Abel had done that. Sometimes you win; sometimes you lose, like Montana. But a chance was also an opportunity, and I was laying all my chips on Abel. He was determined. I believed he’d conquer whatever he fought against, and suddenly the sea creature fighting waves made sense, or was it the waves were struggling against the creature? It didn’t matter. No matter what swam his way, Abel was going to hold his own. I was betting on him.

I was curled into him, until the night was black enough. Then he peeled off my clothes and showed me once again how bettas mate. He wrapped around me like he had on so many other occasions, encircling me with his arm over my stomach and drawing me closer to him when we were finished. He nuzzled into my hair, whispering, “I love you.” I realized as I repeated the words back to him, I might have been the first person to ever say them to Abel Callahan.

We returned to Preston University sometime during the early hours of morning. Abel was quiet for about a week. He tried to explain to me that being a solitary creature all his life, he was used to working out things on his own. I tried to assure him he wasn’t alone any longer. He had me and he’d just have to learn to swim with me, not against me. This discussion took place as we watched his blue betta dart around the large tank. I imagined his fish was a mirror image of the betta warrior who lay next to me each night. He was at war with himself over what happened with his father.

In my own struggles, I had an appointment with a financial aid advisor on Friday. I needed to apply for assistance, if I wished to remain in school. I decided to take a class during the summer. Abel needed to finish his classes. He’d applied for an extension in hopes to complete the spring semester in the two weeks before summer started. He’d asked me to move in with him. I worried that it would be difficult with Creed, but Abel assured me that it would be no imposition on his roommate. Plus he wasn’t charging me rent. We argued about this issue, and agreed to disagree until later.

“I see here your family income dropped significantly last year,” the advisor began the meeting.

I went into the explanation of my brother’s untimely death and how he was our family’s sole income. I didn’t want to explain that while my mother was still young enough, she didn’t get a job to take over our meager needs. Nor did I wish to describe my mother’s unacceptable expenditure of my college funds set aside by my brother. The truth didn’t matter. The fact was simply, I had no money.

The advisor turned toward her computer and began scrolling through screens, updating my current housing information. She remained quiet as she clicked and rolled the mouse. Her eyes travelled the screen. Then she paused. She lowered her head closer to the screen then glanced up at me in frustration.

“Ms. Montgomery, I don’t quite understand your application. It shows here you’re paid for the summer session in full, with a pending scholarship sponsored by an anonymous donation. I don’t see why you need an educational loan, nor do I think you’ll receive one under the circumstances.”

I stared at her in disbelief. My mouth fell open and dried.

“I…I…” I couldn’t speak and I swallowed hard, hoping to moisten my mouth so the words could slide out. “I don’t understand,” I choked, leaning forward as she turned the computer monitor to face me. On the screen, a financial balance was tallied with a final statement of zero. I owed nothing for the summer semester. She clicked and the screen forwarded to the fall semester. It showed a scholarship in the name of my brother was paid in full to me. She clicked again and the spring semester registered with the same information. It made no sense to me. I worried that there was a computer glitch, but I stared at the name on the screen.

The Joey Montana Scholarship, $20,000 per semester, awarded to Elma Montgomery

When I asked the advisor to clarify the official donor of the scholarship, she couldn’t find a name for the sponsor. She suggested I research the information online. Scholarships come from a variety of places, she explained. I clarified that I hadn’t applied for one yet, that was the purpose of my meeting with her. With quizzical eyes, she looked at me with distrust and asked me if I wished to decline the scholarship. I choked on a laugh as I asked her where I signed on the dotted line to accept it.

An hour later, I met Abel at the townhome.

“Abel, you did it again. You took care of me.” My voice came out in a huff. I wasn’t actually upset, but I was frustrated. I didn’t want to feel like I owed him. I didn’t want him to feel I was beholden to him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he teased, as he tugged me toward him on the couch and I straddled his lap.

“The scholarship,” I said, resting on his knees.

“What scholarship?”

I stared at him, his expression as puzzled as I felt.

“You really don’t know?” I questioned.

“Haven’t got a clue.”

Then he thought about it a moment. Shaking his head, he replied.

“Well, I might have a clue, but then I’d have to kill you, my rúnsearc.”

I smiled slowly. His mood had slowly changed with each day. Each night he was still loving and tender.

“You won’t kill me,” I taunted, as I wiggled down his thighs to rest closer to the bulge growing against his zipper. Reaching for me, he pulled me tight against him.

“Might torture you with sex, per our rules,” he threatened without any conviction.

“As if that would be torture,” I laughed.

“I’d make it painful. Drag it out,” he warned, leaning forward to lightly set kisses on my neck.

“You wouldn’t hurt me,” I giggled as his tender lips tickled. Abel stopped. Pulling back from me, he drew serious.

“I wouldn’t, you know. I would never hurt you like that.” His tone expressed his apprehension; he needed me to believe him. I had complete faith that Abel would never raise a hand to me.

“I know,” I said, leaning forward to kiss him.

“Do you? Do you know how much I love you?” he pleaded, between kisses.

“Yes. Yes, I do, and I love you, too. My secret love, my rúnsearc,” I teased playfully. I couldn’t pull off the Irish accent of the endearment as well as Abel. He drew back again.

“It’s not a secret anymore,” he whispered, drawing his lips back to mine and pressing me firmly against him.

“No, it’s not.” We were together constantly. Abel held my hand or wrapped an arm over me wherever we went. It was as if he wanted to proclaim to everyone that he was with me, or rather I was with him. He still had some fans, and we’d have to deal with them as the fight season continued. Abel was going to be a popular opponent, and Mr. Jacobson and his team had plans for his future.

“Now you know all of them,” he said, as he moved down to my neck again and tugged up the hem of my dress.

“Not all of them,” I sighed, as his mouth worked over my collarbone and his hands reached closer to where I wanted his touch.

“What am I missing?” he questioned, without skipping a beat around my neck.

“What did Cain say to you about Sofie? You know she was gone after the fight, and later that night I heard she was taken to his room.” We hadn’t talked much about what happened the next day. I knew it would take time for Abel to open up with more details of his upbringing, but we had time. I wasn’t going anywhere. We had, however, discussed Lindee and Creed, and Cain’s interest in Sofie.

“Ah, that would be Cain’s secret.” He continued to move his fingers forward, brushing lightly over damp panties under my dress. He trailed his mouth upward and whispered in my ear.

“His what?” I shrieked, but able fingers slipped around elastic and slid inside me. His mouth covered mine. All talk of Cain was suspended. My thoughts were flooded with only Abel.

There are always so many wonderful people to thank. I always start with those who help make the book lovely: Karen Hrdlicka for edits; Kari Ayasha for covers; and Brenda Wright for formats. I also need to thank Eric Battershell for his patience while I took forever to decide on a photo and Chase Bergner for being the perfect fit for Abel.