Above the Noise (29 page)

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Authors: Michelle Kemper Brownlow

BOOK: Above the Noise
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He smiled and stood. “Ladies, I’m going to head out for a bit. Gonna explore this little town and hit the grocery store. I want to make something special for the two of you for breakfast tomorrow, so you both can just relax and enjoy Christmas without having to lift a finger. I’ll be back in a bit.”

He hopped down the steps, his curls bouncing all over the place. He smiled at us just before climbing into the car and pulling out of the driveway.

“I think you’re going to be okay, sweetheart. Calon is an amazing man. Wise beyond his years, it seems.”

“Yeah, he’s been through a lot in his life, things I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. But, it’s made him so strong and steadfast and sure of himself, which, I guess, is the positive that comes out of all the negative stuff that’s been thrown his way.” I took a sip of my tea.

“Well, that’s a beautiful way of looking at life and all its ups and downs. I’m proud of you, honey. You’re going to be a great mom.”

We hugged and then chatted about all kinds of stuff until it got too cold to sit on the porch. After we headed inside, I curled up under my favorite blanket on the couch and drifted off to sleep. I woke slowly and didn’t open my eyes right away. I heard voices coming from across the room. I peeked through one eye and could see Calon and my mom sitting at the table drinking coffee. They were both smiling and nodding along with whatever their conversation was. I drifted back to sleep with a contentedness I wasn’t sure I’d ever felt.

When the urgency in my bladder woke me, I opened my eyes and struggled to get to the bathroom without pissing myself then said goodnight to them and moved myself up to my old bedroom with the intention of climbing under the covers. Walking through that door it felt like stepping into a time machine. I instantly felt like I was in high school again.

I walked over to my dresser mirror and touched every curled photo I’d placed there over the years. As my gaze glanced over the photos, I thought about how I hadn’t seen any of the people in them since graduation. The realization crystalized how transparent and fleeting those friendships were.

A piece of glass topped my dresser and everything that most girls put in scrapbooks or photo collages was shoved under that piece of glass. There were movie tickets and dried rose petals, cut out cartoons from the Sunday paper, and a couple of birthday cards. Tracing my finger over each item, I pondered how literal that piece of glass was. I could see everything I held dear during my teen years, but I couldn’t touch them. They were set. I wondered what I would have said if the fortune teller downtown had predicted I’d be pregnant with a musician’s baby before I graduated college. I laughed out loud thinking about it. This would never have been my expectation for my life either.

I glanced up at the only part of the glass that was covered and slid my jewelry box to the side to see if I’d stuck anything underneath that corner. My hand flew to my chest as my breath deserted me and dizziness clouded my brain. A photo of my dad and me sitting on what looked to be a rock in a green grassy field shouted at me from under the glass. I touched the glass delicately, almost afraid to lay my hand so close to the person I’d tried so hard to push out of my mind. The man who put doubt in my heart about my worthiness to be loved all this time stared up at me. He was dressed in a short-sleeved white dress shirt and khakis. His dark wavy hair tousled over toward one side. My hair was in high pony tails with big red ribbons and there was a small American flag in my hands on my lap. His arms were around me; his head gently leaned against mine. A split second of my life, one I wished I could remember, caught through a lens but not made permanent in my heart. My fingers brushed my mouth as I looked at his. We had the same smile.

I remembered the day my mom gave me that photo, and I remembered shoving it under the glass and setting my jewelry box on top of it. Not until that moment had I ever considered the devotion it took for my dad to stay with my mom throughout her unplanned pregnancy. I’d always focused on the fact that he left us and not on how long he stayed, trying to make it work. She once told me he worked three jobs to help them get by so she could be home with me. He was devoted to me and my mom, but their relationship just wasn’t strong enough to weather the storms.

What Calon had just said to my mom a couple hours earlier on the porch, about creating life and it being a tangible miracle that was proof of the depth of our love, made me wonder if my parents ever knew that kind of love, and if they had, why couldn’t they have made it work? The man in my mind, who left his only child behind, never to return, did not have the same look in his eyes that the father holding his daughter in the picture had. Prior to that moment, I imagined my dad as a grumpy, hands-off kind of dad, but I realized he wasn’t hands off. He was providing for his family, which happened to keep him away from us more than I would have liked. I looked back down at the picture of us. There he was, holding me, hugging me, and loving me. Sadly, all that was left of that love was a faded photo stuck under glass.

“Nice digs, Becks.” Calon nodded as he looked around my room. He shuffled over to me with his hands shoved in his pockets and a grin on his face that told me he was fantasizing about the teenager who used to shut the door to hide her secrets.

“Are you making fun of my room? There’s a lot of my life in here. And I know you’re not making fun of me. Do you realize how dangerous mocking a pregnant woman is?” I turned and walked until I bumped into his chest and wrapped my hands around his waist.

“I would never make fun of you—Cheer Captain Becki.” His last three words came out high pitched and obnoxious in a sad attempt to sound like a cheerleader. I looked up at him with a growl as he smirked and nodded his head toward the pompoms that hung on the headboard of my four-poster bed.

“Jerk.” I stomped on his foot. Not as hard as I could have, but he flinched. I felt it.

“So, what’s got you so quiet and pensive in here?” He briefly squeezed me to him then walked over and sat on the edge of my bed.

“This.” I lifted the back corner of the glass just enough to pull the picture out from under it. I walked over and sat on Calon’s leg, resting my feet between his on the floor. His hand slid around my hip, and I leaned my body into his embrace. I held the picture up for him to see. A couple seconds ticked by in which neither of us said a word.

“Your dad?” He hugged me tighter.

“Yeah.”

“Been a long time since you saw that picture?” He looked back at the picture.

“I forgot I had it. I moved my jewelry box just a couple minutes before you came in, and there it was, directly underneath. Hidden.”

“What are you thinking?” Calon squeezed me a little.

“I’m thinking what an amazing dad you’re going to be.” I kissed him on the tip of his nose then stood and pulled my shirt up over my head, unhooked my bra, and slid my sweats down.

Calon’s eyes darted back and forth between me and the door that was slightly opened.

“So, shut it.”

“You’re… you’re not wearing any underwear.” He crossed the room and painstakingly shut and locked my door so carefully he could’ve qualified for a position on the bomb squad.

“Haven’t been all day. Nice of you to notice.” I slid under the covers and smiled at him with a shy sexy smile. As I looked at the man before me, clad in a tight gray Johnny Cash t-shirt, well-worn jeans sitting low on his hips, and black boots, I realized this man could distract me from just about anything.

“Your mom won’t care that we’re both sleeping in here? Together?” He slid off his boots.

“Calon. It’s no secret that we have sex. She’s not the overbearing kind of parent. She would think it was weird if you
didn’t
sleep in here.” My body squirmed a little just thinking about him starting to undress before me.

“So, this is where you slept growing up? It’s kind of sexy to be in here with you. Feels taboo or just a little wrong in all the right ways.” He undid the button on his jeans but then stopped. The wheels turned in his head, and I knew his horny brain was up to something.

“Yeah, Calon. This is where I slept every night of my life before going off to college. Well, the nights I actually came home.” I winked at him because I knew he was turned on by the bad girl side of me.

“So, did you touch yourself in that bed?” He crossed his arms, which pulled up his shirt just enough that I could see his dark hair that grew just below his belly button. He leaned back against my dresser and crossed his ankles.

“Nope. Not once.” I kept a straight face.

As the sudden look of disappointment fell across his face, I burst out laughing.

“Yes, Calon, of course, I did. All girls do it, just most of them lie about it. Hell, girls probably do it even more than guys do.” This conversation had my body in knots. My legs squirmed as a dull ache settled deep in my core.

“Will you do something for me?”

“Anything.” My lips stayed parted. This was so hot.

“Imagine we are far away from each other and you’re thinking about me before you fall asleep. Can you do that?”

“Been there. Done that.” I was determined to make him as hot and bothered as he was making me.

“What do you mean?” He looked sincere in his question.

“Calon, I told you this before; the nights we lay on my bed and talked until we could barely hold our eyes open—as soon as you’d leave I’d—well, I’d fantasize that you hadn’t gone home.”

“How?”

“Like this.” I slowly let my eyes close and tilted my head back. One hand slid under the covers and down my bare stomach. The other reached up and took hold of one of the rungs on my headboard. Picturing him in my dorm pulled up all the feelings I’d had when we were just getting to know each other, the excitement of being turned on by him, having to hold back that excitement, and the longing for him to touch me.

Calon sucked in a deep breath when he saw the blankets that covered my hand move. I slid my hand between my legs and squeezed my thighs together. I was so wet for him already. I knew I’d have to back off on the fantasy thing because I could come in just seconds if I kept doing what I was doing.

“Calon,” I whispered his name and slid my middle finger to the tiny spot that needed more pressure. My skin was so slick, I instinctively started the small circular motions that I knew would propel me further into the sensations that would cause me to unravel in no time. A moan slipped from my lips without my consent, and my eyes flew open and locked on Calon’s. He placed a single finger to his lips shushed me.

“How about some music as a buffer?” He tapped a little on his phone and walked over to the side table. “You’re driving me insane.” He put his phone on the side table before I heard any instruments, Calon sang the a cappella first line of OneRepublic’s “Counting Stars” as he shed his clothes. By the second verse, he’d climbed under the covers and hovered over me. “Sorry, Becks, I couldn’t wait to touch you. The images in my head of you touching yourself while you think of me sends me over the edge.”

“Then make love to me, rock star.” I put my hands on his hips. He dipped down and took my bottom lip between his teeth. He bit down just enough to make me gasp as the gentle pain in my lip shot like lightning down to my core. I wrapped my legs around the backs of his and tipped my hips up. His curls hung around his face and those fucking sexy green eyes stared down into my soul.

“God, I’m so in love with you.” With that he slid inside me. His head flung back, and his mouth fell open as he felt me clench around him. I slid my hands across his back and down to his ass. Hottest ass ever. He clenched it under my fingers as he made sweet, hot love to me in my bed.

We fell asleep sweaty, naked, and sated. I was aware of his hands on me throughout the night. When I rolled over for him to spoon me, he took my hips and dragged them toward him until my ass was firmly against his dick, as though he needed me there. His strong arms around me all night made all my stress melt away.

I woke to an empty bed but a smell that practically lifted me from it. Squinting in the early morning sunshine that poured into my room as I searched for something to throw on, I grabbed black leggings and my favorite oversized Nirvana t-shirt simply because I could get them on quickly while I walked toward the door and out into the hallway.

The house was quiet, except for some noise in the kitchen and Calon’s humming. I couldn’t place the tune, but he hummed the same short tune over and over again. I stood just outside the kitchen archway to listen some more. He melted me.

“Merry Christmas.” I touched his back and he jumped at the sound of my voice. I giggled.

“Merry Christmas, beautiful.” He turned and kissed me on the nose then walked a bubbly casserole dish to the table and tossed the hot pads on the counter. I let my eyes drift across the table. The fruit salad looked like something gourmet you’d see in a cooking magazine. There was just about every color of the rainbow chopped and sliced in a big ceramic bowl. There were bagels and scones, cream cheese, jelly, and even a small jar of lemon curd. The casserole in the center of the table looked amazing. Cheese, eggs, and big chunks of sourdough bread all mixed together in a giant brick of heaven. My mouth started to water, and I looked at him in awe.

“You are amazing. I’m so lucky.” Yeah, it was sappy, but it was the truth and the truth was sometimes mushy. I wrapped my arms around him, and we hugged and swayed next to the table.

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