Off the Record (Off #3)(53)

I revel in the feeling. I use my hands to glide over his skin, trying to show him how much this feeling warms me. I cup his cheeks, I run my fingers lightly over his collar bone. I whisper sweet and sexy words into his ear, just before I bite at the lobe.

We finally both come together and there are no harsh shouts of abandon or groans of satisfaction. Both of our bodies just ripple with ecstasy that seems to go on and on.

When it’s over and our hearts have calmed, I am speechless. I am afraid if I talk, then I may openly confess some deep feelings to him that I am still too afraid to fully admit. For the first time, since my father left, I want to cry. I mean...I want to let the tears fall. But I’m not talking about tears of abandonment and pain. I want to let loose tears of overwhelming emotion brought on by a connection that runs so deep, I’m not sure the root can ever be uncovered.

But the tears never fall because I guess old habits die hard.

We are both quiet, lost in thought. And then finally, Linc gets out of bed and makes up dinner plates for us. He brings them back into the bedroom and we eat while sitting in his bed.

And then we do it all over again.





We are lying naked on his bed, our legs twisted around each other. Our empty dinner plates are on the nightstand tables. Even though the chicken was cold, we both managed to wolf down our meals, apparently famished by the sexual marathon we just had.

Linc is stroking my arm, back and forth, and the action is making me feel sleepy and content.

Linc shifts on the bed and I scoot up a bit so my head rests on his chest.

“Ever?”

“Yeah?”

“Something’s changed, hasn’t it?”

I pull my head off of his chest and meet his eyes. They are hopeful and fearful of my answer.

“Yes. Everything has changed.”

He just smiles at me and pulls my head back down, and we doze.





Something awakens me, but I’m not sure what it is. I glance at the alarm clock and I see we’ve been asleep for a few hours.

Then my brain starts to register and I realize it’s my cell phone. I reach to the bedroom floor and flail about for my pants. Finding them, I pull the phone out and see it’s my father calling. I don’t answer, but watch as it rings twice more then goes to voice mail.

For a split second, I thought about answering. I’m not sure if it’s because Linc has inspired the warm and fuzzies in me, or because I’m tired of avoiding him, but it did flash through my mind to answer. But then the ringing stopped and the choice was taken out of my hands. I stare at the phone and several seconds later, a voice mail appears.

Linc runs his hand down my back. He’s groggy. “Who was that?”

“My dad.”

I can feel Linc sit up beside me and then he turns on the lamp beside the bed. I turn around to glance at him. His hair is sticking up all over the place and he looks adorably gorgeous. I want to throw my phone aside and climb on top of him.

Instead, I say, “He left a voice mail.”

“Are you going to listen to it?”

I shrug my shoulders.

Linc reaches to me and pulls me back against his chest. He lays his chin on top of my head. “Maybe you should see what he has to say.” His voice is hesitant and I’m sure he doesn’t want to anger me.

But for the life of me, I can’t pull forth the anger that normally comes when I think of my the man who sired me. I feel a sort of numbness, and strangely, curiosity. What would my father say to me? How could he justify his actions?

Before I can change my mind, I hit the voice mail button and then switch it to speaker phone so Linc can listen. There’s no sense in hiding it from him as I’d just tell him anyway what the message said.

Ever...I wish you would talk to me. I can hear him sigh into the phone. There are so many things I need to tell you. I just wish you’d give me a chance. Hear me out. Please...just call me. I’ll come to New York if you’ll agree to see me. He hesitates. I love you very much.

Normally, I wouldn’t even bother to listen to his voice mails. Part of me wants to hit the delete button, but part of me wants to listen to it again.

The part where he said he loved me...that sounded genuine. But, then again...this is the man that abandoned his cancer stricken wife and teenage daughter. What does he know of love?

I hit the delete button.

“Are you okay?” Linc asks, his hands massaging my shoulders.

“Sure,” I say with a half-hearted voice.

“Want to talk about it?”

My mind screams at me to say, “No” but for once, I decide to listen to my heart. “I don’t know if I should talk to him or not. I just can’t imagine him saying anything that would justify what he did.”

“Maybe he doesn’t want to justify it. Maybe he just wants to say he’s sorry.”

Sorry? That word seems trite to me. Would sorry be enough?

“I honestly don’t think an apology would change my feelings,” I whisper. Then I sit up from Linc and turn to look at him. “There’s nothing that can make it better.”

“Why?” Linc challenges me. “Why can’t he do something to make it better?”

I have no clue. Why can’t I get past the pain he caused me? Why can’t I reconcile that maybe he was just a weak person? That maybe...just maybe...he wasn’t good enough for me and my mother at that time in our lives.