The Silent Waters (19 page)

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Authors: Brittainy Cherry

Tags: #Romance

BOOK: The Silent Waters
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“You want…?”

Yes.

“What about your parents?”

She dropped another piece of paper, and I couldn’t help but smirk. It was as if she knew everything I’d ask.

At my grandparents’ until tomorrow.

“And Calvin?”

With Stacey.

“And Cheryl?”

She smirked and rolled her eyes, dropping her third to last piece of paper.

Who knows?

Brooks?

“Yes?” The way she swayed back and forth was killing me. She was so fucking beautiful, and I swore she had no damn clue.

She held up the last piece of paper in her grip.

Come undress me now.

I stepped closer to her, running my fingers through her hair. “Are you sure?” I asked. She nodded. My mouth moved to her neck and I licked it slowly, sucking it gently. My mouth traveled down her collarbone, kissing her every step of the way. When I came to her strap, I slid it down her arm, lightly biting into her skin. A slight gasp left her, and the sound alone made me want her even more.

“We’ll go slow. We don’t need to rush,” I said, knowing it was her first time. I moved her other strap down her shoulder and her loose dress slid to the floor. I stepped back, studying her body. Her white lacey bra didn’t match her pink cotton underwear, and somehow it was perfect. Her legs looked lean and long as her arms rested at her sides. “You’re beautiful,” I whispered.

She stepped toward me, took my shirt from the bottom, and slid it over my head, tossing it on top of her dress. As she unbuckled my belt, I stepped out of my shoes and socks. She unzipped my jeans and they fell to the floor.

Maggie studied my body, her eyes moving up and down as I studied hers. Her fingers ran along my chest, moving lower and lower, to the edge of my boxers. My eyes closed as her thumb brushed against my hardness, and she slowly started stroking me through my boxers.

“Mag…” I groaned, feeling her start to stroke harder. Her free hand wrapped around the edge of my boxers, and as she started pulling them down, I opened my eyes. She was lowering herself to get on her knees. Her hands were shaking against me, and my hand flew under her forearm. “Maggie, what are you doing?”

She looked at me, confused.

“I mean…” I snickered. “I know what you’re doing, but you don’t have to…” I pulled her up to a standing position. My fingers combed through her hair. “I know you haven’t done anything before.”

Embarrassment filled her eyes and as she began to turn away from me, I rotated her back, taking her hands in mine. “Who told you to do that? Cheryl?”

She squeezed my hands twice.

I hated that. I hated that she felt she had to do certain things because of what others said. “Five minutes?” I asked, taking a few steps back from her.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and stepped backward. When her eyes reappeared, she smiled and unhooked her bra, dropping it to the floor. I slid my boxers off, tossing them to the left. Her panties glided down her beautiful thighs and she stepped out of them.

Her hand flew up and she nodded. Five minutes.

We stood there, staring at one another. Five minutes to erase any fears. Five minutes to remember who we were. Five minutes to find our own way, our own story.

When five minutes were up, I took Maggie’s hand into mine and led her to lie down on the bed. “Maggie…” I kissed her lips. “We don’t have to do what other people do…” I kissed her neck. “We’re not them. We don’t have to follow their guidelines.” I kissed her collarbone, and she closed her eyes as I moved down her body, kissing every inch of her, tasting every piece. “You don’t have to do things a certain way.”

I spread her legs apart, kissing her thighs. My mouth grazed against her skin and she twisted her fingers into my hair. “And you can always pinch me or hit me if you ever want to stop.”

She arched her hips up toward my mouth, demonstrating how much she wanted me to continue, silently begging me to taste her. Oh, how I wanted a taste. I glanced up at her, and her eyes were on me. She was watching my every move, and I wanted her to see it all. I wanted her to watch me explore her body, to taste her body, to love her body. She and I, we weren’t following anyone else’s rules, no one else’s transcript. We were writing our own story.

Leaning forward, I swept my tongue against her, slid a finger deep inside, and introduced her to chapter one.

 

 

“I cannot believe that! I just can’t.”

The next Saturday night, Mama was having her girlfriends over. The girls had gone to high school with her, and since they now lived in different states, they only came around once or twice a year, which was too much if you asked me. Whenever they were around, I did my best to stay invisible. They weren’t the nicest people in the world. There were five of them, including Mama. Even though they had gone to high school together, I hadn’t a clue why they all traveled to hang out with each other—they couldn’t stand one another at all. Everything they talked about always seemed like a competition. If Loren’s daughter walked at ten months old, Wendy’s drove a car at nine months. If Hannah could run a 5k, Janice could do a 10k in less time.

Their favorite topic of all, though, was me. When it came to my silence, they were all professionals on what it meant to be mute.

I sat at the top of the stairs, listening to them discuss me that evening. I wished Brooks were over, but he and the boys were off watching some super indie underground band play at some hole-in-the-wall venue. He kept sending me videos of the space, where they were packed like sardines and it was loud as ever. Whenever the camera faced him and I saw his giddy smile, my heart fell for him just a little bit more.

I wanted to be there with him, feel him holding me in his arms, completely losing myself to the sounds. In the video, I saw Stacey swaying back and forth to the music with Calvin, and I felt selfish—selfish for not being there for Brooks, selfish for not being able to do the things normal couples did.

“She really has a boyfriend?” Loren questioned, finishing off her glass of wine before pouring some more. “How is that even…possible?”

“Who is it?” Wendy hammered.

“Brooks,” Mama said nonchalantly while eating chips and salsa.

“Brooks
who
?” Wendy hammered some more.

“Griffin.”


What
?” all four girls screeched at once.

“No way,” Janice said. “But Brooks is… He’s pretty popular with the ladies, isn’t he? I get that he visited her every day out of the kindness of his heart, but
dating
? That can’t be true.”

“Is that even healthy?” Loren questioned. “You know, with Maggie’s…condition?”

“Her condition?” Mama asked.

“You know, her…trauma. I’m just saying. I read an article once—” Loren started.

“You’re always reading articles once,” Hannah cut in, her tone a bit feisty.

“Yeah, but this one had actual scientific statistics. It said individuals who suffer traumatic incidents as children struggle with relapses in their healing when placed in relationships.”

“Loren,” Hannah scolded.

I liked Hannah. Mama should’ve stayed friends with her and ditched the others.

“What! It’s true. Her being with Brooks could trigger some kind of relapse, and really, what are they going to do? Date in Katie’s house forever? All I’m saying is this doesn’t seem like a good idea. It could really backtrack any progress, no matter how small, that Maggie has made. Plus, it doesn’t seem like a fair trade for Brooks. What does he get out of the equation?”

Shut up, Loren. He gets me.

I didn’t want to hear anymore, but I couldn’t walk away.

“You know what? I say que sera, sera,” Hannah chimed in. “They’re kids, let them live a little.”

Right on, Hannah!
Hannah was the least dramatic of the group. If anything, she only showed up for the pizza and wine. I couldn’t fault her—Mama always ordered pizza from Marco’s, which was the best in town.

“That’s stupid thinking, Hannah. ‘Live a little.’ That’s the kind of thought that got you married three times and divorced three times.”

“I’m going for my fourth in both arenas, too.” Hannah poured herself some more wine, smiled, and started singing, “Que sera, sera.”

“You know how your mother feels about you eavesdropping,” Daddy whispered, walking up the staircase to sit beside me. He had a bag of peanut M&Ms in his hand and handed me a few. “Plus, these women are vipers. You don’t need to be brainwashed by their crazy.”

I smiled at him and rested my head on his shoulder.

“Are they talking about you again?”

I nodded.

He frowned. “I told your mother to change the subject, or to stop inviting the four horsemen to our house. It’s really not a big enough property to be the headquarters of the apocalypse. Don’t let them get to you, Maggie, all right?”

I wasn’t worried about them getting to me. It had been made clear to me a long time ago that those women were insane. What I worried about most was how their words affected Mama. Even when she tried to fight against their opinions, they still slipped through the cracks into her unconscious mind. Sometimes when Mama reacted to situations, she wouldn’t react like herself, instead saying things the four horsemen would say. Daddy always said to watch out for groups, that they sometimes turned you into a person you’d never otherwise become.

“I’m just saying, she’s never going to get better if you allow this to go on.” Loren started again. “There’s no way that she should be allowed—”

“Oh, Loren, shut it!” Mama shouted, stunning both Daddy and me. She even stumbled back a bit, shocked by her own sounds. “That’s enough. Yes, my daughter has her issues, but there’s no reason for you to sit here belittling her for an hour straight. I’d never do that to you about your child, and I’d expect the same kind of respect about mine. As far as if my daughter dates, and who my daughter dates, that’s up to her father and me to decide. Now, I respect your opinion—but that’s all it is. An opinion. You’re welcome to have it, but if you could keep it from me, that would be grand.”

“Wow,” Daddy whispered, a small smirk on his lips. “There she is,” he said. “There’s the woman I married.”

The subject changed, and Loren even muttered an apology.

“Joke?” Daddy asked.

Of course.

“Why did the run-on sentence think it was pregnant? Because its period was late.” He laughed, slapping his knee, and I rolled my eyes so hard.

God.

I loved my father.

 

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