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After all of that, when the wound is this big, it’s no wonder a complete amputation is what many recommend.
I miss feeling cared for, feeling precious to someone, and the self-loathing that this actualization brings me is a daily dose of acid, burning and sour.
“Oh, sorry Deliverance, I left all my dueling banjo tunes back home. Are you for real? It’s fucking music!”
oh but still be fun, can’t seem high-maintenance or anything. Heaven forbid the guy knows I have a functioning butthole.
When someone’s gotten to know all of that and still wants to get to know you more as you change and grow—to figure out the changing you, and you them. That’s the most intense and best feeling.”
I’m not sure why it feels pervy to touch her jacket and neatly put in the top basket, but it does. Probably because you have pervy thoughts about her, and touching her clothes reminds you of those thoughts, you pervy fucking pervert.
“When someone betrays you, you don’t have a chance to lose feelings. You’re left with all that leftover love, plus anger right alongside it, with nowhere for it to go and no one to give it to. It’s like a phantom limb or something, I guess,”
“Oh. Thank you. Won’t the eighty-something-year-old woman probably need them more, though?” I say, letting a smile pull up my lips. He laughs as he grabs a few of my grocery bags. “No, she shouldn’t. Her deal with Satan means he keeps her core temperature regular.”
I put my head in my hands and feel the dread morph into something else that crawls beneath my skin, a monster trying to take hold. The idea of putting in extra effort to get to know anyone, when they never wanted to know me, fills me with helpless rage.
year void with a fucking sandwich. “You know, I can’t tell you the last time I saw him smiling and laughing this much,” Charlie says with a nod in Henry’s direction. “It’s nice to see that he’s made a … friend.” I don’t miss the question implied.
Because, when it comes to Charlie, I fucking deserve to know why. I shouldn’t have to move forward until I get some goddamn answers to things, shouldn’t just be expected to be happy because of some obscure scale of blessings and hardships I’ve built for myself in my head. Because I haven’t let it go. And if I did, then I want it back. I want to know why he didn’t try to stay in our lives, and I want to figure out if I want the Logans in it going forward.
to. I was a kid, sure, but I abandoned even the notion of wanting to reconnect with my family. It was born out of self-preservation, but I bore it nonetheless.
To slides my hands up the back of her thighs, kneading them as I go, until I could sneak my thumb in and slide those bottoms all the way to the side, to see just a peek of her pussy. That is probably a bit too friendly.
“Everyone has their ‘not porn’ … a certain type of video or thing they have to look at online—something that’s not porn, but still addictive—because it makes them feel something.
If you left it in that plastic pot, in that compacted shape it’s in, the roots would grow around and around in a tangled mass until it’d choke the life from itself. It would become too rootbound to grow.”
His beard/scruff combo looks like it’s been trimmed, but I thank Jesus, Mary, Joseph, and all their carpenter buddies that he didn’t cut it entirely.
“Honey, they’ve all been dates to me. I’ve just been waiting for you to catch up.” Oh.
“I wish you could see how you glow. How you brighten a room every time you enter it. I can’t imagine anyone, ever, losing sight of that with you.
His lips and tongue crash into mine and it feels like I can finally breathe, despite him stealing my air.
“God, look at you.” “It’s Tait, actually, but feel free to worship all you’d like.”
Wait—“Are you talking to my tits?” “Shhhh, we’re in the middle of something,” he admonishes, placing a finger over my lips. I bark out a giddy laugh, the motion making me bounce, and his playfulness disappears. He swallows once. Twice. Then clenches his jaw and closes his eyes. “Fuck. I am overstimulated.” “I’d like to be,” I tease,
“Take me to bed?” I ask. “You don’t want me to feed you first?” “No, Henry, I want to you fuck me.”
She feels inevitable to me, and I have the desperate need to make her feel the same. To prove to her that this, whatever the hell it is between us, is worth seeing more of.
She beams at me, then slides her hands to my waistband, swiftly pulling down my briefs and freeing me. “Jesus Christ!” she exclaims. “There you go, again. Woman, it’s Henry. Hen-ry.”
Also, how do I keep you? Is it way too soon to feel like this? I think you’re my soulmate and I never thought that was a real thing before I met you. You’ve turned my thoughts into an endless stream of cheesy romcom lines that are somehow applicable and understandable now. You had me at hello.
“This is some Jerry Springer shit right here.” “Maury, dear. You’re thinking of Maury,” Emmaline says from her wheelchair. Scary Dr. Who has brought her out without us noticing, a dumbfounded expression on his face. “… You know, Maury? ‘You’re NOT the father!’” Em elaborates. “Jerry Springer was the one where all the people threw chairs.”
Just hold my hand and I’ll hold yours, and we’ll both get to where we’re headed together, okay?”
I think she very well could be enough of a reason for me, though. I think if she asked me to go with her, I couldn’t deny her. And that realization terrifies me enough that I need to get out of the same room as her; I need to breathe.
Then we are kissing again, wiping cake from eyelashes and eyebrows, and I’m untucking his shirt as he peels down my dress and then he’s inside me and it feels like too much, like every time will feel like too much, too heartbreakingly good.
As much as you make me want to be a better man for myself, you’d be the main character in my life, Tait, whether you like it or not. I don’t think those things are mutually exclusive. I’d make sure you’d never forget how fascinating you are, always. If you’d let me, I’d cherish you. I love you.
All love, at some point, is going to be devastating, isn’t it? We all just choose to be brave, to go after what we want, who we want … even if it means potentially losing a piece of ourselves. Even when it means being intensely vulnerable. I chose to let in my family, to let in friends again, to let in Henry.
It only takes me that hour, in that house that used to hold the smallest pieces of me, to realize what a complete, utter, total fucking idiot I am.
Fennec and I have a heart-to-heart about his humping ways. I make it clear that she is mine, and that I don’t share well, and I’m loath to admit it, but his ridiculous grin and ears are growing on me quickly.
“What I mean is that this is a risk I’ve calculated, and I’ve decided that it’s not even a risk. This place feels more like home because it’s where I’ve been able to grow back into myself again. You helped me do that, and I’m happy about that, Henry. And a house or a state, a career, or even this ranch isn’t home, just because of its location. My life is me, and you, and this chaotic family that I don’t even have to worry about scaring you off with, since you already know how insane they are and love them anyway. My home, my life, is with the ones I love.
“What I also mean is,” she continues, heaving a deep sigh. “Even if this ends up being forever, at some point something will happen and it will end—even if that end really is the whole ‘till death do us part,’ thing. It will end, somehow, someway, and it will be devastating. So, I’m not afraid of heartbreak again. What makes this worth it is that there will be heartbreak, because of how damn good it will be until that happens.” Her eyes fill and when she smiles a tear spills. “Even if this fails in a less than spectacular fashion, Henry, I want to love you until then. I want to love you until
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“I want to put down roots here: beside you, across a pond from you, somewhere new with you, I don’t care. You’ve made me want to do that, t...
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