Broken, page 20
“Damn it.” She pulled her cellphone out of her purse and dialed his number, even though she knew he couldn’t answer her. Once it went to voicemail, she said, “I know you’re hurting, and I know that you’re angry with me. But I’m on your side, Ren, always. You’re doing the right thing. Please tell me that you’re doing the right thing now. If you don’t call back, I understand, but I will be there tomorrow. I wouldn’t miss it.”
After hitting the end button, she looked down at her swollen, bleeding feet. “Fuck it,” she muttered, tossing her shoes in the back seat, driving barefoot towards her home. She passed fresh skid marks at the entrance, their lines showing her it was most likely Lorenzo’s motorcycle that had made them. She shook her head, willing her tears at bay.
She could cry when she made it home.
She pulled over for an ambulance roughly a mile into her trip home, and a sinking feeling hit the pit of her stomach.
“Not again,” she whispered as she pulled out and followed it, passing the turnoff for her home and continuing the path with the ambulance. Another mile or so ahead, and she could see it.
The remnants of a wrecked motorcycle.
“Shit, shit, shit.” She pulled over, her racing heart causing her to break out into a sweat. Carefully, she exited her vehicle, her hands covering her mouth at the trail of debris on the road.
“Relax,” she heard him call out from the back of the ambulance. “I’m fine.”
“Fine?” She stomped up to the ambulance, ignoring her aching feet. “You call this fine?”
“I call it I flipped over the handlebars into the grass.”
“It’s illegal for people to blow their grass out onto the road,” the paramedic was saying as she examined Lorenzo’s eyes. “You got lucky you landed on the lawn. You’re going to be sore for a few days. Let’s get you loaded up so the doctors at the hospital can take a look at you.”
Lorenzo shook his head. “I’m fine.”
“Ren—”
“I said I’m fine,” he cut Katrina off. She crossed her arms as he stubbornly refused any more care, promising the paramedics he would go to the hospital if any unusual symptoms popped up.
“You’re crazy, you know that?”
“Yeah, well...” He stood on the side of the road messing with the hair on the back of his head. “I can’t drive it like this.”
“No shit.”
“I’ll have to call someone to pick me up.”
“What the hell do I look like?”
He glanced over at her and let out a long sigh. “You don’t mind?”
“No, I don’t.” She glanced over where the owner of the house was being issued a ticket for blowing their mowed grass out into the street and shook her head. “That’s twice you cheated death.”
“She’s bound to catch me sooner or later. Can we wait here until the bike is picked up?”
“Yeah,” she said, wincing as she began her walk back to the car.
“What’s going on?”
“It’s nothing,” she replied, though now she had to limp.
“What the...where are your shoes?”
“In the backseat.” She opened the driver side door. “Are you going to get in?”
“Let me see your feet,” he said as the ambulance pulled away, its lights on, going to another call.
“Why?”
“Trina.” His voice was softer now, tugging at her heartstrings, reminding her of the boy she’d loved and lost. He stepped closer and reached out, tugging one of the pant legs up, exposing her swollen and bleeding right foot. “Did you fall?”
“No, I ran after your dumb ass.”
He almost smiled. “No way are you driving with that foot. C’mon.” He held out his hand. “I’m in much better shape to drive.”
“You, who just wrecked your motorcycle, in better shape to drive than I am?”
“I’m fine, Trina. Give me the keys.”
“No.”
“Do I really have to throw you over my shoulder to put you in the passenger seat?”
She crossed her arms, her keys in her hand.
“Fine, have it your way.” He easily swooped her off the ground and she yelped in surprise, dropping her keys beside the car.
“Damn it, Ren—”
“You’re hurt,” he said.
“You’re being unreasonable.”
“Your feet look awful.”
“Thanks, I love you, too.”
She hadn’t meant to say it.
Especially not like that.
Especially not when it made him pause before depositing her into the passenger seat of the car.
“Ren—”
“Relax. I’ve got this.”
But relax was the last thing she was able to do as he scooped the keys up off the ground and moved the driver’s seat back before easing into her car.
“Who are you calling?” she asked as he pulled out his phone.
“Martin.”
“Always Martin?”
“Or you,” he said, and her heart skipped the tiniest of beats. “Sit tight. Once Martin has the bike, I’ll get your feet taken care of.”
“Ren—”
“I have a first aid kit at my apartment.”
His apartment.
He was taking her to his home.
“Okay,” she finally said, and after his phone call, they waited for Martin, an uneasy silence between them.
CHAPTER 33
“Sit tight.”
Lorenzo had parked in front of a row of apartments and Katrina’s hand was on the door handle. “Why?” she asked.
“Because there’s always broken glass around here.”
“And you parked my car here, thanks.”
“I’m coming around to get you,” he said, ignoring her comment as he got out of the car. She watched as he walked around and opened her door. “Hang onto me.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck resisting the urge to lay her head on his shoulder as he lifted her with ease. “I can’t believe you can do this after wrecking your motorcycle.”
“I can’t believe you ran that trail with no shoes. Who’s the worse for wear here?”
“Touché.”
He set her down by the door and she winced at the pain in her feet while he fished out his keys and unlocked his apartment. “Ignore the mess,” he said as she limped her way in.
Lorenzo’s studio apartment wasn’t messy, just dark with a few things out of place. She limped past his bed that he had set by the wall air conditioner and made her way to the tiny loveseat that faced the wall where the TV and a couple of movie posters hung.
“I didn’t get a chance to make the bed. Can I get you something to drink? Some water, maybe some coffee?” Lorenzo walked past her into the tiny kitchen area with its small appliances, almost making them look comically miniature as he opened the refrigerator door. “I have some juice, too. I wouldn’t trust the milk; it didn’t taste too good on the Cocoa Pebbles this morning.”
“Still with the Cocoa Pebbles,” she said with an easy smile, one which he returned.
“Always. Um...here. I’ve got the first aid kit.” He opened the cabinet doors under the sink and retrieved the white box with the familiar red cross on it. “I could put some coffee on and it will be ready by the time I have you bandaged up. Does that sound good?” Without waiting for her answer, he was already preparing a pot while she took in her surroundings.
The door to the closet was slung open, revealing a set of plastic organizers which must have contained clothing. A second leather jacket hung in the closet along with his jeans. Before she could inspect further from her spot on the loveseat, Lorenzo had pushed the door shut and was kneeling before her, inspecting her feet.
“I’m going to get something to wash them off with.”
She looked around the room, not seeing another door. “Ren, where’s—”
“It’s off the kitchen area. Do you need to use the restroom?”
“No, I’m just curious.”
He stood and nodded in understanding. “Gimme just a sec, I’ll be right back.”
While he went to grab a washrag, she picked up a magazine off his table, noting it was for business and probably not anything she would understand. There was a stack of mail there, but on top of it was a picture.
Miranda.
This must have been the picture that Emily gave to Lorenzo.
“I’ve wondered all this time why she was so eager for me to know, you know?” Lorenzo said. “Emily, I mean. She went out of her way to make sure I knew about my daughter.”
“Who knows when it comes to Emily.”
“True.”
“I can do that.”
He glanced up at her from his spot where he had knelt once more. “I’ve got this, Trina.”
She didn’t doubt that he could take the best care of her, especially having most likely to have cared for cuts and scrapes of his own with his fighting. Still, there was something so intimate about having him wash and inspect her feet, and not just because his touch still burned.
“You do this a lot, don’t you?”
“I rarely wash the feet of damsels in distress. This is going to sting a bit.”
“Ha ha, you’re so funny. I meant...your fighting. You have to do this a lot.”
“Yeah, well, it paid the bills for a while, so...yes.”
“Ow!” She tried to pull her foot away as he used an alcohol pad on a cut. “Is that alcohol? Why would you do that?”
“Why would you run barefoot over rocks? Stop fidgeting. I don’t want these to get infected.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Torturing me this way.”
He paused, peering up at her through his bangs that had fallen into his eyes. “Is this torture?”
Her breath caught in her throat, and she found herself unable to answer. Instead, she shook her head, and he continued.
“You’re not driving yourself home,” he said as he pulled out the gauze pads and wrap and began to bandage her feet. “Justin and Judith will be by to pick you up as soon as they can.”
“When did you talk to Justin?”
“I didn’t. Judith called when I was helping Martin load the bike. They were worried about you.”
“Getting cozy with Judith?” Katrina teased.
“Yeah, well, we have shit in common that we shouldn’t.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He attempted to grin as he moved from one foot to the other. “It’s fucked up in more ways that I can count, but it helps. She gets it.”
“And I don’t?”
“I didn’t mean it like that. But...no. No, Trina, you don’t, and I would never fucking wish for you to.”
“Ouch,” she said slowly.
“Did I hurt you?”
In more ways than one, she wanted to say.
“No,” she said instead. “I get it. And I’m happy that she’s able to help you. She’s helped me, too.”
“Good. Hold still, I’m almost finished.”
“I’m trying, but that’s a ticklish spot you’re holding.”
“What, this one?” He wiggled his fingers and she yelped out in laughter.
“Quit!”
His grin was infectious as he finished up her foot. “There,” he said, and he patted her leg as he stood. “All bandaged up.”
“Thank you.”
“Not a problem.”
“No, it...I have been a problem for you today. And you took care of me anyway. You didn’t have to do this. Thank you.”
He stood there for a moment, the silence stretching between them. “I’ll get you some coffee,” he finally said. “Take it the same?”
“Don’t use the sketchy milk,” she teased, and one corner of his mouth lifted.
“No sketchy milk. Got it.”
While he prepared her coffee, she picked up a stack of photos that were sitting on his coffee table. “Oh,” she breathed as she looked at them. “These are...”
“Us,” he finished for her when her voice trailed off.
And they were. Photo after photo, memory after memory, the nostalgia washed over her.
***
“Do you think these will turn out?” she asked as she snuggled in closer, placing a kiss on his cheek as he snapped another photo.
“Either they will, or we have a roll of wasted film.”
“Ren, shut up and kiss me.”
Another click as he turned to her, his arm still outreached snapping photos as he kissed her.
Soon, the camera was dropped, forgotten as he traced unseen patterns on her skin while their kisses grew in passion.
“I love it when you do that,” she breathed against his lips.
“I love you, Trina.” The sincerity in his eyes caused her stomach to dip, and she cradled his face in her hands.
“I love you,” she said in return.
“For real?”
“This is as real as it gets.”
***
“I remember that night,” she said, placing the photos back on the table.
“So do I.”
He held her gaze as he stood in place, her coffee in his hand. With a shake of his head, he moved, handing her coffee to her and taking a seat beside her.
“Ren—”
“You said she knows. Miranda, you said she knows about me.”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“She said her mother told her that Emmett wasn’t her father.”
“And she told you this when?”
Tears threatened to consume Katrina once more. “When I was braiding her hair.”
He nodded and looked at his hands. “Does she...does she know it’s me?”
“Ren...if she saw you, she knows.”
“Do you think she did? Fuck, and I ran.”
“No, that’s...it wasn’t the time or the place for her to meet you.” Katrina looked around the tiny studio apartment and added, “Ren, what are you going to do?”
His sigh was long, shaky. “I don’t know. Find a two bedroom somewhere, I guess. I can’t exactly bring her here.”
“Do you think Emily’s going to fight you?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
“But she’s not a blood relative, so...so you have that going for you.”
He nodded once and crossed his arms, his shoulders curling inward. “I’ll have to get help. I can’t have her at the bar. Or after 11 I can’t. Maybe I can just shift my hours.”
“You are the boss.”
He grinned though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Damn right I am.”
She took a sip of coffee, surprised at the flavor. “This is really good.”
“Cinnamon hazelnut,” he explained. “I saw it and I thought...of you.” He shrugged. “Fuck, Trina, I had this all worked out in my head, you know? I was so sure you were going to be there for me.”
“I am here for you.”
“But you can’t...” He looked down at the ground. “You can’t accept my daughter. And that’s okay, for you. That’s okay, that’s too much to expect of you. But I had this vision in my head, the three of us. It’s stupid. I know it’s stupid. I just thought—”
She hadn’t meant to kiss him.
But she’d moved so quickly, placing her coffee on the table, turning his face towards hers.
She’d only meant to tell him what she’d said before, that Miranda should be theirs.
Instead, she’d watched his bottom lip quiver.
And she’d covered his lips with hers.
He’d hesitated for one moment.
In the next, his arms were around her, pulling her to him, kiss after kiss opening up, their first touch of tongues igniting the flame that always lingered between them.
“Fuck, Trina,” he murmured before kissing her again, deeper, his hands in her hair, holding her to him. She moved with him as he leaned back at first, and then forward, pressing her into the arm of the loveseat.
Still, he held her, his hands moving to her back, beneath the hem of her shirt as he kissed a trail down her neck, evoking sighs of contentment, of longing.
With his hands around her back, he stood, lifting her with him, her legs wrapping around his waist as he did. Perhaps he’d meant to take her to his bed, but instead, he pressed her against the wall, kissing her with abandon, taking her breath away. He leaned in, letting her feel exactly what she was doing to him, and her own hands moved between them, undoing his jeans, pulling them down as he tugged at her dress pants. She set her legs down and they fell to the floor with a swoosh.
“Fuck, Trina,” he growled once more into her ear when she wrapped her legs around him once more, as he moved against her, as she shuddered and sighed.
“Yes,” she breathed.
And with one swift thrust of his hips, he was inside of her, pushing her up the wall, his hands pulling her hips further into him as he moved.
For the first time since that fateful prom night, she knew what had been missing from her life.
This.
Him.
Each thrust of his hips had her gasping against his lips, had her clinging to him helplessly as he pushed her closer and closer to that edge that she’d only reached with him.
“Don’t stop,” she pleaded. “Please don’t stop.”
He turned them as one, laying her on the bed, pushing deeper still. Their kisses grew frantic, their bodies sung in rhythm as they moved together reaching for that final bliss. He reached for her hand, pressing it into the bed, holding on to her as she cried out in ecstasy, holding tighter still until his last shudder and sigh within her.
And he laid there for a moment, his lips against hers, the sounds of their heavy breathing filling the room. He pulled back and she noticed the troubled look in his eyes.
“Ren—”
And then a swift knock came at the door.
“Shit,” he muttered, moving off her quickly and pulling his pants up. “Just a minute!”
It took her a little more time to move, even as Lorenzo handed her pants to her. Her hands were shaking as she pulled them on, and another knock sounded. She stood, smoothing the tendrils of hair that had fallen from her braid as Lorenzo answered the door to Justin and Judith.
