Billy
After learning that Kat had stayed in contact with my dad and Sarah for all those years, I felt drawn to her, protective even. It touched me that she cared about them, that she worried about them and still wanted to know about their lives. Her love for them felt big, like even though I felt deserted by her for a decade, she was still out there wondering and worrying about things that were important to me. She didn’t leave us all behind, just me. And I was mature enough now to see that it was complicated but back then I felt lost. I could see her leaving and I couldn’t stop her. I didn’t know how to explain to her that I knew there were no choices. She couldn’t have her music and have me, so maybe I chose for her because I couldn’t bear not being chosen. Maybe we deserted each other. Maybe all this time I just needed someone else to blame.
The snow was coming down hard, and there was no way that I was gonna let Kat walk back, no matter how awkward it would feel to sit in the cab of my truck together. The gentleman in me just couldn’t fathom it. So, rather than cutting out like Wyatt, I rolled up my sleeves and got down and dirty in a whole lot of soapy dishes. Kat and Sarah dried. When the dishes were done, there was no room for excuses. It was time for us to go back to Kat’s old house, my current one.
While we put on our coats, Sarah stood at the door with us. She was bouncing from one foot to the other. She emanated this weird restrained energy that might just pop like a soda can that you dropped before opening. I put my hand on her shoulder to quiet her movement and said, “You got something you need to say, kiddo?” Sarah was always my baby sister, no matter how old she got—always a kid to me.
“It’s just... it’s really nice to have you two be nice to each other. Try not to screw it up, okay?” This wasn’t directed specifically at me. She was talking to Kat too.
Kat hugged her. Then held her shoulders at arm’s length looking Sarah right in the eyes. “We will do our best.” Kat looked at me. “Right?”
I nodded and winked at my kid sister. Then I pulled the door with my left hand and held it open near the top, allowing Kat to duck under my arm and head out onto the porch. As she grazed by me, I caught a whiff of her shampoo. Same scent as always. I was transported into the past, a flash of my hand in her hair pulling her head back to kiss her neck. She was naked on my lap, her skin sweaty and plush in my hands as she slowly rode my cock. The memory stirred up a current physical response, and I was suddenly pretty damn hard beneath my jeans. Whoops. I tried to subtly adjust myself. Then, as I closed the door, I gave my bigger head a good shake, trying to unring that particular bell.
Kat had already started to head down the porch steps. Those silly shoes of hers were absolutely useless. She was gripping the banister as if it were a lifeline, rightfully so. A snowstorm like this would create icy surfaces. Even still, she looked hot from behind. Her jacket stopped just above the curve of her ass. I imagined that she had personal trainers and chefs on her payroll, but I swear to god that was the same sweet fleshy bottom I chased as a teenager.
I followed her down the steps. She got to the yard just fine and then turned around and did a little celebratory dance. It was the jig that got her. That and those stupid red-bottomed heels. Since I often took the steps three at a time, I was able to catch her. My only choice was to crush her to my chest before she hit the ground. Kat in my arms minutes after I remembered her naked and ogled her ass was complicated.
I had her lifted off the ground, her lips inches from mine. I could feel her breasts pressed against my chest. I didn’t know if it was because I was holding her or because she nearly fell, but her breath was coming out fast and hard.
My heart pounded, and as expected, there was less blood in my brain than usual. When I spoke, my voice came out deep and rough with need. “You okay, Kat?”
She bit her lip. I would have bet the ranch she was wet. She swallowed and took a deep breath, her chest heaving. Even though I couldn’t feel them through her coat, I knew she was pushing her nipples tighter against my pecs. One more deep breath to regain composure and then she nodded, signaling that she was okay, and I could put her down.
I set her on the ground gently but kept my hand on her arm, leading her to the truck. I pulled the door open and lifted her up into my cab by wrapping my hands around her hips and then I settled her into the seat. Like a homing pigeon on autopilot, I buckled her seatbelt, something I used to do a long time ago. Something I’d never done for anyone else. I used to kiss her too, sometimes get carried away enough to unbuckle the seatbelt I’d just buckled. Thankfully, I was in control enough not to do that. Instead, I shut the passenger door and trudged over to the driver’s side of the truck.
The drive was only a couple of minutes, and we were both quiet. As teenagers whenever she was in my truck I’d rest my hand on her thigh, and I was aching to do that, even though I had no right to. I stopped the car in the driveway to the house. Kat looked out the windshield at her old home. Her granddaddy built it. It was part of her history, which was why I couldn’t bring myself to change it.
“She’s still a pretty old girl,” she said wistfully.
“Sure is,” I said.
She gave me a flirty look. “Don’t talk about me like that, Billy Morgan. I’m not old yet.”
I smiled at her stupid joke.
She looked back out the window. “Thank you for tonight. I missed them all so much.” She was sad. Her loneliness was billowing around us like a cloud. “I don’t laugh like that anymore.”
“It was fun,” I said lamely, not knowing how to tell her that I loved it too. I huffed out a breath, and nodding to the passenger side said, “I’ll come around.” I popped open my door and jumped out. The air was cold on my cheeks.
She undid her seatbelt before I got there, and instead of lifting her out, I just supported her when she climbed down on her own. I held the crook of her elbow as we headed to the house and climbed the steps to the door. I felt weird pulling my key from my pocket, like I’d locked her out of her house. Once inside Kat hung her jacket on the coat rack and then stood uncomfortably in the hallway.
“Can I get you anything?” I asked.
“I’m good,” she said. “I think I’ll just head up to bed.”
“You know the way. Bed’s clean,” I offered.
“Really? The bed’s clean?”
“We have a woman who cleans, Kat. It’s not a museum. It’s a guest room.” That no one had ever stayed in.
“Of course,” she confirmed. She headed towards the stairs, and I got to look at her ass one more time before she turned and said, “Night, Billy.”
Kat was the only one who ever called me Billy.