Kick, Push Read online

  “We’re gonna go,” Robby says and my eyes snap open and then shut tight when reality hits. For a moment, I’d forgotten we had an audience. I hide my face in Josh’s neck while he mumbles something incoherent. It sounds like he and Robby high five right before Robby chuckles and says, “It’s cool. Don’t stand up.”

  Josh squirms beneath me.

  And then I understand why.

  We hold our positions, not a single word spoken, until we hear Robby’s truck roar away. Josh chuckles lightly, his breaths shifting the hair on top of my head. “You want to come up and watch a movie or something?” he drawls.

  He doesn’t wait for me to answer, just helps me to stand, takes my hand and leads me up to his apartment. And I let him. The entire time my heart hammers furiously in my chest, but not at all from the reasons I’ve been accustomed to.

  There is no fear.

  No anxiety.

  No shame.

  Just excitement.

  ★★★

  We sit on the couch with the TV on mute. He looks at me. I look at him. A slow smile builds on his beautiful face and I find myself doing the same. “So,” he says.

  “So,” I whisper.

  And his smile gets wider.

  “Is Robby your brother?”

  Turning his entire body to face me, he shakes his head, one arm going on to the back of the couch, the other on my leg. “He’s my uncle. My dad’s stepbrother.”

  I nod slowly, my eyes on him and his smile falters, just for a second. “Can I ask you something?”

  He sighs. “You can ask anything as long as I’m not expected to answer.”

  “That’s fair.”

  He raises his eyebrows.

  “You guys talked a lot about you and Tommy… but you never spoke about your parents. If they’re your family…”

  He clears his throat and looks over my shoulder. “It’s because my parents aren’t really part of my life. They kind of disowned me when Natalie got pregnant.”

  I hate everyone named Natalie.

  I’ve never known one before but I hate them already.

  “They both know it’s a no-go zone for me so they don’t talk about them. Ever.”

  “Okay,” I say with another slow nod. “And they mentioned skating, like it was something—”

  “Something I don’t want to talk about,” he cuts in.

  “Okay.”

  “That’s it? Just okay? You’re not going to push it?”

  “I’ll never force you to talk about something you don’t want to.”

  He smiles. Right before leaning in and kissing me soft and slow. When he pulls back, he lets out a quiet groan, then presses his lips together.

  “What?” I ask, running my fingers through his hair.

  “I think… just the beers and today and being alone with you and your eyes… and fuck you’re ridiculously beautiful. I’m trying to stop my mind from going places it shouldn’t go…” He bites his lip, his eyes trailing down my body. And I’ve never felt more wanted or appreciated in my life. His hand automatically goes to my waist when I sit up a little.

  “What are you doing,” he mumbles, his gaze lifting from my chest to my eyes while I straddle his lap.

  “We’re both adults, Josh.” I drop my mouth to his neck as his hands move from my waist to my ass, pulling me closer to him. “We just have to stop before things go too far.”

  He rolls his head back, giving me access to his neck. “You have to be in charge of stopping it,” he mumbles, his hand on the back of my head.

  Then our lips crash together, our hands everywhere, all at once. His hips push up, and I push down, grinding against the hardness trapped in his pants. The room fills with the sounds of our breaths, our moans, our lips, our tongues. But in my head, all I can hear is the thumping of my heart. His hands are on my back now, holding me to him. His hips keep moving, matching mine. My breath catches when a familiar ache builds in the pit of my stomach. My breath catches and my eyes squeeze shut. “Stop?” he asks, his breaths as heavy as mine.

  I nod, still refusing to look up.

  He cups my face and makes me look up at him. Then smirks as he runs the back of his fingers across my cheek. “What happened?” he asks, but he knows what happened. He thrusts up, just once, and my eyes roll involuntarily. “Are you okay?”

  I try to get off him but he holds me in place. “What? You’ve gone back to not talking to me?”

  I slap his chest and try again, in vain, to move way.

  He kisses me once and finally releases me, but I don’t move.

  His smile slowly fades as his eyes search mine. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Same rules as you?”

  He nods.

  “Okay.”

  “Why don’t you talk?”

  I drop my gaze and focus on my fingers tracing the outlines of his abs through his shirt. “I haven’t always spoken like this. With this voice, I mean. I hate the way I sound and the way people look at me when I speak. You saw how your aunt and uncle responded when they heard me—”

  “Yeah…” he interrupts, “that’s because I told them you were mute and a germaphobe.”

  “What?”

  “I just didn’t want to make you uncomfortable so I lied. I’ll tell them later that I was kidding. They won’t even question it. I say stupid shit all the time.” He taps my leg twice. “So what happened to your voice?”

  “It was a car accident. I wasn’t able to wear a seatbelt. When the car collided with the tree, I flew forward and the dash flew back and landed right against my throat. I was stuck that way until they were able to pull me out. But it was kind of too late. The damage had already been done to my vocal cords.”

  “Holy shit. Are you okay? I mean, how badly did you get hurt?”

  I shrug. “It wasn’t so bad. I’m alive, right? Anyway, the doctors told me not to talk too much because it can make it worse, so can whispering. But it’s hard to get used to not using it at all, especially when physically I can. But because of how I sound, I whisper more than I talk. It’s not that I don’t have anything to say. Trust me, I hold back a lot. But I don’t know, after the accident, there were just a lot of people asking a lot of questions and I used the whole no talking thing to get out of answering them. Plus, like I said, I sound like a freak so it’s no big deal.”

  His brow bunches and I can see the thousand questions flickering in his eyes. He raises his hand, his fingers gently stroking my neck, and out of all the questions he can possibly ask, he asks the one I can never answer. “What do you mean you weren’t able to wear a seatbelt?”

  “Did I say that?”

  “Yeah.”

  “That’s not what I meant.”

  He nods even though I’m sure he can tell I’m avoiding. Then he asks, “Do you talk to your grandmother?”

  “Not really,” I whisper, glad he’s not pushing me.

  “But you talk to me?”

  “Because you understand. You get that I don’t want to talk all the time. She’s one of those that ask a lot of questions all the time.”

  “So tell her that, Becca.”

  My eyes snap to his and whatever he sees in them has his face falling. “I’m not scolding you. I’m sorry if that’s how it sounds. I just know your grandmother. I know her heart—and I know it would be killing her to think that she’s not helping you or that she’s doing something wrong. And I can see it in the way she looks at you. She loves you, Becca, just like she loves Tommy and I. She was the only one there when we really needed someone to save us. And she did. She saved both of us, no questions, no demands. She’s the only one who hasn’t turned her back on us and up until my aunt and uncle came along, she was the only family we had. She’ll understand, Becca, whatever it is you’re wanting to keep to yourself, she’ll let you do it. I just think you should give her something. Anything. Because having you give even the tiniest piece of you is a million times better than having nothing at all. Trust me.”

 
His eyes fix on mine and I nod because he’s right. And because I’m pretty sure he and my grandmother are the closest thing to family I’ll ever have. “Okay,” I whisper.

  “Good.” He smiles. “So movie?”

  I return his smile. “Okay.”

  9

  -Joshua-

  We’re lying on the couch, the movie’s on mute and she’s fallen asleep. There’s a strand of hair stuck to her lips, but it moves every time she breathes. I know all this because I can’t stop watching her. Then suddenly, her breathing stops and she jerks in my arms. I sit up slightly, waiting to see if she’s okay. She whimpers and exhales slowly and I smile, watching her body relax and her breathing return to normal. But it only lasts a few seconds before she whimpers again, her body shaking now. “Stop,” she whispers, her hands forming fists.

  “Becca!” I whisper loudly, trying not to spook her.

  “No,” she cries.

  I shake her shoulder but her eyes won’t open. “Becca!”

  “Please,” she cries, louder this time.

  “Becca!” I sit up now, my legs under hers, my heart pounding, struggling for breath while I watch a single tear trickle from her closed eyes. Her head moves from side to side, her hands gripping my shirt. I scoop her up and onto my lap. “Becca.” I run my hand through her hair, rocking her, trying to get her to wake up. But she won’t. She’s crying now—silent cries and broken breaths.

  She gasps loudly, her eyes squeezing shut and I lift her head and bring it to my chest. I keep rocking, keep soothing, all while she cries in my arms. “Becca you need to wake up. Please!”

  But she doesn’t. Her cries grow louder. Her grip gets tighter, pulling my shirt down and away from my body.

  “Stop!” she shouts, the fear in her voice causing a fear in my heart.

  “Becca.” I kiss her forehead.

  Rocking.

  Soothing.

  I don’t know what else to do.

  Suddenly, she tenses in my arms. “You did this,” she whispers, and I don’t know if she’s talking to me or—“I didn’t mean to,” she cries. She repeats this. Over and over. And each time she does the fear in my heart escalates.

  “Wake up,” I whisper in her ear. “Please, baby.”

  Slowly, I feel her body relax. Mine doesn’t. I watch, and I wait, hoping she’s come to. Her cheeks are wet with tears, soaking through my shirt—the shirt she slowly releases. Her eyes stay closed while her hand glides up my chest and to my neck. She whispers my name, and I finally release the breath I’d been holding. But then she starts to cry again, quiet and contained, and it hurts more than when she was dreaming—because she’s aware now, and whatever she feared in her sleep is the same fear she has when she’s awake.

  I kiss her temple.

  I rock.

  And I soothe.

  “It’s okay,” I tell her. “I’m here.”

  She cries harder.

  I stay silent, not wanting to make it worse.

  I hold her.

  She lets me.

  And after minutes that feel like hours, she pulls away, her eyes lowered. Without a word, she stands up and heads for my door. I go after her. “Becca, you don’t have to go.”

  She stands still, hands at her sides and her gaze lowered. She opens the door.

  I follow.

  “Becca.”

  Finally, she looks up, and my heart hurts.

  My emerald eyes should never look so broken.

  “I have to,” she whispers.

  I reach for hand but she flinches and pulls away.

  She’s not letting me touch her.

  “Becca.”

  She turns away.

  And then she walks away.

  -Becca-

  I try not to blink.

  Even that millisecond of darkness brings back the fear.

  And I hate the fear.

  As much as I hate the darkness.

  My grandmother sits up higher on the couch when I enter the house. I check the time. It’s close to midnight. I open my mouth.

  Her eyes widen.

  I want to tell her she shouldn’t have waited. I decide not to tell her anything.

  She sighs and closes the book in her hands, then sets it on the coffee table. She gets up, closes in on me and every single part of me turns to stone. “I’m sorry,” she says, standing a few feet away. Her eyes look tired. And worried. “I know you’re an adult but I’m not used to having someone living with me. I can’t help but wait and worry about you, Becca.” She pauses a beat. “And I guess maybe you’re not used to having someone waiting and worrying about you, either.” She smiles, one that deepens the wrinkles around her eyes. “We might have to work on this.”

  She starts to leave but I grasp her hand—remembering Josh’s words.

  Her breath catches and her gaze moves from my hand up to my eyes. Her eyes are dark, matching her skin. She’s beautiful. I’ve wanted to tell her that before, but I hadn’t known how. I look at the contrast of our skin colors. I’m a shade lighter—a mix of races. Then I lift my gaze and through the fear of the darkness and the aching of my heart, I smile. “Good night, Grams.”

  10

  -Joshua-

  I wait anxiously, my hands on Tommy’s shoulders, while Chazarae runs up the stairs to get her. The first thing he asked when he woke up was to play in the damn sandpit, of course, followed closely by whether Becca could play too.

  Footsteps approach and the louder they become, the louder my heart beats. I’m not sure if I’m excited or nervous or afraid or if possible all three at once. She comes into view, wearing pajamas, her hair a mess and her eyes tired. “Did we wake you?”

  Without looking at me, she shakes her head and bends down to Tommy’s level.

  “Come play in my sandpit?” he asks.

  She smiles the saddest smile I’ve ever seen and slowly shakes her head. She holds her palms together and puts both hands on the side of her face, indicating that she’s tired.

  Beneath my hands, Tommy’s shoulders slump. “Little bit?” he asks.

  She stands to full height, her head still lowered.

  “Becca’s tired, bud. Why don’t you go ahead?” I release him and motion to the back yard. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

  “Okay,” he mumbles, before leaving us alone.

  I wait until he’s out of earshot before speaking. “Are you okay?”

  “Tired,” she whispers.

  “You didn’t sleep well?”

  She sighs and finally looks up. She starts to speak but my phone rings—cutting her off. She raises her hand in a wave and slowly closes the door in my face.

  “Fuck,” I whisper, reaching into my pocket. Chloe’s name flashes on my screen and for a moment I panic. I hit answer. “Everything okay?”

  “Jesus Christ, Shitstain, I’m in remission, not on my deathbed. You don’t need to panic every time I call.”

  I chuckle under my breath. “You’re bright and chipper this morning. I’d call you names, but it’s not nice to tease girls. Besides, your life sucks enough. You’re married to Hunter.”

  She cries out in pain.

  “What? What happened? Chloe!”

  She cackles with laughter. “Sorry, I was just reacting to your epically shitty burn.”

  I shake my head and make my way over to Tommy. “What do you want?”

  “Well… I’m here visiting my parents.”

  “Oh yeah? Hunter’s playing away this week, right?”

  “Yup.”

  “So what’s up?”

  “Tommy.”

  I laugh. “What about him?”

  “Can I come and play?”

  A half hour later she shows up with gifts from her and Hunter—mainly Duke merchandise and a little Duke jersey with Hunter’s name on the back. We’ve been to his games a few times and Hunter always manages to get us all access tickets, locker rooms and all. I don’t think Tommy fully understands how much of a big deal his Uncle Hunt really is.
“You didn’t have to get him all that,” I tell her, walking her from her car to the back yard. I glance up at Becca’s window for the tenth time this morning. She’s not there. She never is.

  ★★★

  “So what’s been going on?” Chloe asks, catching me distracted by my phone.

  “Same old, C-Lo. You know me.”

  “No,” she says, standing up and walking over to me while wiping sand off on her jeans. “Something’s going on. I can tell.”

  I figure fuck it. I have no one else to talk to about Becca, at least no one who’s not going to give me shit about it like Rob and Kim. So, I spend the next fifteen minutes talking while she listens and Tommy plays. I don’t tell her everything. I keep out the parts I know are too private or personal. She smirks at first and I know deep down she wants to tease, but she doesn’t. She just nods and tells me to go on. I tell her about last night, about Becca’s nightmare and how she hasn’t spoken to me since. And as each event, each word, leaves my mouth, I can see Chloe’s frown deepen.

  “So that’s it,” I say. “And I don’t know what to do now.”

  Chloe clears her throat, her eyes on Tommy. “You know, I get it. I mean, you were there from the very beginning with Blake and I. You saw me push him away, afraid I’d hurt him with the whole cancer thing. You remember what you said to me?”

  I shrug. “Honestly, no. Did I call you a bitch?”

  She punches my arm and laughs so loud it frightens Tommy.

  I add, “Because I’m pretty sure that’s what I was thinking at the time.”

  “Shut up!” she whines. “I’ve had cancer. Don’t be mean.”

  “You can’t pull out the cancer card whenever you feel like it. It doesn’t work like that.”

  “Bullshit, I can’t. I can do whatever I want.”

  I laugh. “So what did I say?”

  “You said that if he wanted to spend time with me—that it was his choice. But I had to let him make it.”

  “I don’t see how that’s at all relevant.”

  “Make your choice, Josh. You want to see her…” She points to the main house. “…go see her. But be ready to get turned down—because if she’s anything like me—she’ll keep pushing. Don’t give her the chance.”