Sweet Rome
I slowly worked us down, my mouth sucking at the damp skin of her shoulder, a large red mark forming, evidence of my roughness left on her body. I didn’t worry about what she would think; she liked it like this as much as I did.
Kissing and licking at the skin of her back, I whispered, “I love you, baby.”
Relaxing into her exhausted body, I thought back over the day, and despite the shit we’d been through, right here, right now, holding Molly in my arms, I couldn’t help but be thankful. The events of today had forced us to share our feelings with one another; it had brought us both to a better place.
After lighting a fire and lying back down on the couch, my girl draped over my chest, she asked, “Are you okay, baby?”
“I will be. I have you,” I whispered. It was true. If I had Molly by my side, I could get through anything: psycho parents, delusional exes… anything.
Smiling at me shyly, she looked straight into my eyes and stated, “You chose me.”
How the hell could she think I’d do anything else?
“And I’d do it again in a heartbeat,” I assured, running my hand down her cheek.
“Have your parents ever been nice to you?” she asked, her fingers tracing lazy circles on my chest.
I ran my younger years through my mind, then miserably shook my head.
“Were you ever happy?”
“No.”
“Are you now?”
This one was easy. “Completely. I finally know what it is to love and to be loved. But I’m scared as all hell that it’ll end. My folks won’t give up that easy.”
“I’m staying with you,” Molly said with authority, showing the determination of a little pit bull.
“Do you swear that to me?”
“I swear. I love you. I’m yours.” Fuck, I couldn’t speak at those words, at her unwavering certainty, so I just kissed her fingers, the palms of her hands, anywhere I could.
“So what now? Football? Greatness? World domination?”
“I guess so.”“What do you want, Romeo? What do you desire most from life?” She pushed, nodding her head encouragingly.
There was only one thing keeping me sane, so without thinking, I responded, “You.”
Eyebrows drawn, she shook her head and said, “No, really, baby, what do you want? It’s there for you to take.”
I was unmoved. “Just you, baby. You feel like home to me.”
Moving above me once again, she assured, “You have me. All of me, for as long as you want.”
“Really? I’ve got you forever? Because I pretty much just cut myself off from the only family I have.”
“Romeo, you’re my family. You’re it. You and my crazy friends are my entire reason for being. How can you not know that?”
I let out a pent-up breath. “Because I can’t believe it’s true.”
“It’s you and me, Romeo.”
And it was. Some folks may think the way we were with each other was unhealthy, but what they didn’t know was that it was Mol that had stopped me from going over the edge so many times. She diffused my anger, helped me focus on the good. She was my good, and I shouldn’t have to explain that shit to anyone.
Molly leaned in for a kiss after all the talking was done, and that kiss turned from innocent to a whole load of not. I pressed myself between her legs and just like that, I wanted her again.
“Romeo,” Molly moaned immediately—and that was us, for the rest of the night, giving each other what we needed and then sleeping in each other’s arms. Or at least she slept. I just worried about what the future held as I gripped on tight.
Turned out the next few months would be some of the happiest of my life. I heard nothing from my parents, Shelly stayed well away from both of us, and the Tide sailed through the football season undefeated.
The closer my girl and I got, the more I worried about the future. She wanted to be a professor and could move away to complete her PhD. By entering the NFL draft, I could be sent anywhere in the US, and it played on my mind all the damn time. Molly told me to relax, have fun, and it would all work out. So I let myself do that for the first time in my life.
But nothing ever stays good forever. Molly and I both had pasts that’d taught us that the hard way.
24
Three months later…
“Bring it, baby! Ain’t nothing gonna stop the Tide!”
Walking into the locker room after practice, I was faced with the most f**king disturbing sight I’d ever seen—Jimmy-Don in his funky white briefs on a table, grinding a towel between his legs, his Stetson still firmly on his head… and nothing else.