“Yeah,” she says softly, her cheeks turning that signature shade of pink I love. “But your clothes are more comfortable.”
After a moment of silence, she says, “Are you mad at me?”
Closing the top to my laptop, so I can give her my full attention, I ask, “Why would you think that?”
“Because I wasn’t ready to get naked in the shower.”
“Come here.” I nod toward the bed and set my laptop on the nightstand. Without needing to be told twice, Nevaeh scurries over to the other side of the bed and climbs in. She bunches up the blankets and gets comfortable like she’s planning to stay awhile.
“I’m not mad at you,” I tell her once she’s settled down and ready to listen.
“You ran out of the bathroom like your butt was on fire.” Her bottom lip juts out in an adorable pout.
“I was caught up in the moment,” I admit. “Your innocence… is new to me.”
“Because the women you’re usually with would’ve undressed you themselves,” she says with a frown, looking away. “You must think I’m so lame.”
“Hey.” I bring her face back to me. “Don’t ever be ashamed of your innocence. It’s part of what makes you who you are.” I twist my body to face her. “I don’t think you’re lame. I think your inexperience is refreshing.”
“Then why did you hide away in your room?”
“I was trying to give you some space.”
“I don’t want space,” she says, shaking her head. “Every time I’m alone I think about my brother and I get sad. When I’m around you, you distract me.” She curls her arm around a pillow and lays her head down on it. “Can I… maybe sleep in here tonight?” Her eyes are hooded over and she’s halfway to falling asleep.
“Sure,” I tell her, feeling like shit that I’m partially the reason she’s lost her brother and is sad.
“Thank you,” she says through a yawn. “That orgasm really wiped me out.” She laughs softly.
When I reach over to grab my laptop from my nightstand, she says, “What does your tattoo mean? ‘Never forget’.”
I glance down at the tattoo she’s referring to, realizing I’m shirtless, and memories come flooding back.
Twelve Years Ago
“And… it’s a girl!” the doctor announces.
“Really?” Kelsi gasps, tears of happiness in her eyes.
“Yes, see those three lines?” The doctor points at the screen. “They confirm it.”
My eyes leave Kelsi’s face and go to the screen.
Kelsi is officially halfway through her pregnancy. She’s twenty weeks today, which means an ultrasound. We saw the baby when she first found out she was pregnant, but the baby was only a blip on the screen. Now she’s bigger. She has a head and a body. I can see her fluttering heart. Her legs and arms. It’s as if she’s a real person.
“Did you hear that, Ethan? We’re having a little girl,” Kelsi gushes.
“I heard,” I tell her, my eyes flitting between the screen and her protruding belly.
“I hope she has your eyes,” she says through a watery smile. While her eyes are a bright green mossy color, mine are boring brown.
“My eyes are just brown,” I point out.
“They aren’t just brown,” she argues. “They’re bright and refreshing…” She takes my hand in hers. “Like nature after it rains. When everything has been cleansed. Like a fresh start.”
I swallow thickly at her description. Kelsi comes from a fucked up home. Her dad is a crackhead and her mom is a prostitute. When we met in school, she admitted she hated going home, so I brought her home with me, and my mom doted on her like the daughter she never had.
Kelsi continued to come over every day until she was at my house more than her own. Then one day when she did go home, she found out her parents were gone. Literally gone. They left without their own daughter to God knows where. Instead of Kelsi being upset, she was relieved.
We packed up her clothes and a few items that were important to her, and I brought her back to my house. Of course my mom told her her home would be with us. The first official night she moved in, we lay in bed and Kelsi told me I was her second chance… her fresh start.
“That’s what this baby is, Ethan,” Kelsi says. “Our fresh start.”
“Ethan,” Nevaeh says, shaking me from thoughts. “Are you okay?”
My heart is beating against my rib cage, and it’s hard to breathe.
“Ethan,” she repeats.
I swallow thickly, pushing my emotions back into the tiny box I keep safely tucked away. “Yeah, I just remembered I have work I need to do at the club,” I say, climbing out of bed, so I can get dressed.
“You’re leaving?” she asks, sitting up. “Right now?”
“You’ll be fine here.” I throw on a collared shirt and slacks, then slip on my socks and shoes. I usually only go to the club in a suit, but I don’t have time. I need to get the hell out of here. “Don’t wait up.”