Use Me (Caldwell Brothers)

I go and tap on his bedroom door to tell him I will be back later, but he’s not there. Normally, he would tell me he was leaving. He didn’t. Well, maybe he did, but I didn’t notice. Not like I have been present for the past few days.

I write him a note and leave it on the counter, hoping he will see it.

***

I stand in front of the river in the bitter cold that is Detroit, pulling my hood lower to cover my ears, knowing it won’t matter at all. Nothing here warms me. Although it’s winter, it doesn’t matter here; every season feels the same to me—cold, dead, and numbing... until her.

My chest tightens at the thought of losing yet another person in my life.

The snow will forever be a shield, the cold a blanket, both covering your heart, your soul, like a protective armor. She warmed the cold, made my heart beat faster, exposed my soul, took my armor, and shattered it with words. In doing so, she allowed the heat of her arms, her body, her—just fucking her—warm me enough to allow something to grow. That something was love. Love for a woman who could never grow because of who I am.

I destroy lives and love. I will not destroy her.

Looking up at the eighteenth floor, same as I have for days, I see the light that I know shines from something manmade. But my fucking heart, the one beating for the first time in years, doesn’t believe it, not one bit. It thinks it’s coming from her, her heart to mine. Worse yet, the damn thing beats faster for her and wants nothing but to see her again.

Fuck, I scream from my heart, my soul, and when I hear a gasp, I realize it came from those two places out loud for the entire surrounding area to hear.

I look down at the ground, away from their fearful eyes. With my heart exposed, shining in her light, it’s fucking raw like it was for so many years, before it took solace in the winter behind the shield, the armor, and the cold.

I see a shadow walk past the balcony window, then back by. Then, for the first time in days, I see her.

Gripping my hoodie that seems to be shrinking, causing me to feel caged, contained, and making me want to break away, I try to breathe in deeper, try to calm myself. I can’t. It fucking hurts.

She walks by again, and everything hurts—my heart, my head, my cock that is painfully strained against my pants.

When she stops, pushes open the curtain, opens the balcony door, and walks outside, I see her hair is pulled up, and she is wearing what I think is one of my gym shirts. I am wrapped around her body. Not literally, but my dick and heart don’t seem to know the difference.

It takes all I have to stay put, and then I swear she sees me.

I step back quickly out of the light, and she leans forward. I want to yell at her, to tell her to be careful. She’s too far out of my reach, though. I couldn’t even save her if she fell.

But she has, and so have I.

Fuck!

She steps back and walks inside. I know I should feel relieved at that, but I don’t. I want to see her, even if only from a distance. I want to see her strength, her smile, her body pressed against mine. I want to smell her, taste her, fuck her over and over again. I want my cock shoved so far inside her that it fucks her soul like she’s fucked mine.

But I can’t.

I won’t.

I will ruin her life.

That’s what I do.

I wait for the light to turn off, knowing it’s what happens next.

Fucking cold, I pull up my hoodie up again and blow into my hands while looking down at the ground.

A watched pot never boils, I tell myself, willing that fucking light to turn off so I can go beat off to her image.

“Angelo!”

I look up when I hear my name.

Tatum is crossing the street, running toward me. I didn’t think my heart could beat any faster until it does. And it doesn’t fucking hurt this time, not at all.

“What are you—”

“You can’t lean over the railing like that, Tatum,” I tell her, grabbing the front of her t-shirt and pulling her against me.

“Okay,” she whimpers then licks those damn pink lips.

I lean down to take them, wanting to own them, but I stop myself when her mouth opens to me.

“Please,” she whispers.

I don’t answer her. I take her hand and walk her back to the hotel. I open the door and quickly walk to the elevator. I hit 18 and wait for the door to open. When she steps back, I try to pull her toward it.