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“Sit tight.”
Lorenzo had parked in front of a row of apartments and Katrina’s hand was on the door handle. “Why?” she asked.
“Because there’s always broken glass around here.”
“And you parked my car here, thanks.”
“I’m coming around to get you,” he said, ignoring her comment as he got out of the car. She watched as he walked around and opened her door. “Hang onto me.”
She wrapped her arms around his neck resisting the urge to lay her head on his shoulder as he lifted her with ease. “I can’t believe you can do this after wrecking your motorcycle.”
“I can’t believe you ran that trail with no shoes. Who’s the worse for wear here?”
“Touché.”
He set her down by the door and she winced at the pain in her feet while he fished out his keys and unlocked his apartment. “Ignore the mess,” he said as she limped her way in.
Lorenzo’s studio apartment wasn’t messy, just dark with a few things out of place. She limped past his bed that he had set by the wall air conditioner and made her way to the tiny loveseat that faced the wall where the TV and a couple of movie posters hung.
“I didn’t get a chance to make the bed. Can I get you something to drink? Some water, maybe some coffee?” Lorenzo walked past her into the tiny kitchen area with its small appliances, almost making them look comically miniature as he opened the refrigerator door. “I have some juice, too. I wouldn’t trust the milk; it didn’t taste too good on the Cocoa Pebbles this morning.”
“Still with the Cocoa Pebbles,” she said with an easy smile, one which he returned.
“Always. Um...here. I’ve got the first aid kit.” He opened the cabinet doors under the sink and retrieved the white box with the familiar red cross on it. “I could put some coffee on and it will be ready by the time I have you bandaged up. Does that sound good?” Without waiting for her answer, he was already preparing a pot while she took in her surroundings.
The door to the closet was slung open, revealing a set of plastic organizers which must have contained clothing. A second leather jacket hung in the closet along with his jeans. Before she could inspect further from her spot on the loveseat, Lorenzo had pushed the door shut and was kneeling before her, inspecting her feet.
“I’m going to get something to wash them off with.”
She looked around the room, not seeing another door. “Ren, where’s—”
“It’s off the kitchen area. Do you need to use the restroom?”
“No, I’m just curious.”
He stood and nodded in understanding. “Gimme just a sec, I’ll be right back.”
While he went to grab a washrag, she picked up a magazine off his table, noting it was for business and probably not anything she would understand. There was a stack of mail there, but on top of it was a picture.
Miranda.
This must have been the picture that Emily gave to Lorenzo.
“I’ve wondered all this time why she was so eager for me to know, you know?” Lorenzo said. “Emily, I mean. She went out of her way to make sure I knew about my daughter.”
“Who knows when it comes to Emily.”
“True.”
“I can do that.”
He glanced up at her from his spot where he had knelt once more. “I’ve got this, Trina.”
She didn’t doubt that he could take the best care of her, especially having most likely to have cared for cuts and scrapes of his own with his fighting. Still, there was something so intimate about having him wash and inspect her feet, and not just because his touch still burned.
“You do this a lot, don’t you?”
“I rarely wash the feet of damsels in distress. This is going to sting a bit.”
“Ha ha, you’re so funny. I meant...your fighting. You have to do this a lot.”
“Yeah, well, it paid the bills for a while, so...yes.”
“Ow!” She tried to pull her foot away as he used an alcohol pad on a cut. “Is that alcohol? Why would you do that?”
“Why would you run barefoot over rocks? Stop fidgeting. I don’t want these to get infected.”
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you? Torturing me this way.”
He paused, peering up at her through his bangs that had fallen into his eyes. “Is this torture?”
Her breath caught in her throat, and she found herself unable to answer. Instead, she shook her head, and he continued.
“You’re not driving yourself home,” he said as he pulled out the gauze pads and wrap and began to bandage her feet. “Justin and Judith will be by to pick you up as soon as they can.”
“When did you talk to Justin?”
“I didn’t. Judith called when I was helping Martin load the bike. They were worried about you.”
“Getting cozy with Judith?” Katrina teased.
“Yeah, well, we have shit in common that we shouldn’t.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be.” He attempted to grin as he moved from one foot to the other. “It’s fucked up in more ways that I can count, but it helps. She gets it.”
“And I don’t?”
“I didn’t mean it like that. But...no. No, Trina, you don’t, and I would never fucking wish for you to.”
“Ouch,” she said slowly.
“Did I hurt you?”
In more ways than one, she wanted to say.
“No,” she said instead. “I get it. And I’m happy that she’s able to help you. She’s helped me, too.”
“Good. Hold still, I’m almost finished.”
“I’m trying, but that’s a ticklish spot you’re holding.”
“What, this one?” He wiggled his fingers and she yelped out in laughter.
“Quit!”
His grin was infectious as he finished up her foot. “There,” he said, and he patted her leg as he stood. “All bandaged up.”
“Thank you.”
“Not a problem.”
“No, it...I have been a problem for you today. And you took care of me anyway. You didn’t have to do this. Thank you.”
He stood there for a moment, the silence stretching between them. “I’ll get you some coffee,” he finally said. “Take it the same?”
“Don’t use the sketchy milk,” she teased, and one corner of his mouth lifted.
“No sketchy milk. Got it.”
While he prepared her coffee, she picked up a stack of photos that were sitting on his coffee table. “Oh,” she breathed as she looked at them. “These are...”
“Us,” he finished for her when her voice trailed off.
And they were. Photo after photo, memory after memory, the nostalgia washed over her.
***
“Do you think these will turn out?” she asked as she snuggled in closer, placing a kiss on his cheek as he snapped another photo.
“Either they will, or we have a roll of wasted film.”
“Ren, shut up and kiss me.”
Another click as he turned to her, his arm still outreached snapping photos as he kissed her.
Soon, the camera was dropped, forgotten as he traced unseen patterns on her skin while their kisses grew in passion.
“I love it when you do that,” she breathed against his lips.
“I love you, Trina.” The sincerity in his eyes caused her stomach to dip, and she cradled his face in her hands.
“I love you,” she said in return.
“For real?”
“This is as real as it gets.”
***
“I remember that night,” she said, placing the photos back on the table.
“So do I.”
He held her gaze as he stood in place, her coffee in his hand. With a shake of his head, he moved, handing her coffee to her and taking a seat beside her.
“Ren—”
“You said she knows. Miranda, you said she knows about me.”
“Yes.”
“What did she say?”
“She said her mother told her that Emmett wasn’t her father.”
“And she told you this when?”
Tears threatened to consume Katrina once more. “When I was braiding her hair.”
He nodded and looked at his hands. “Does she...does she know it’s me?”
“Ren...if she saw you, she knows.”
“Do you think she did? Fuck, and I ran.”
“No, that’s...it wasn’t the time or the place for her to meet you.” Katrina looked around the tiny studio apartment and added, “Ren, what are you going to do?”
His sigh was long, shaky. “I don’t know. Find a two bedroom somewhere, I guess. I can’t exactly bring her here.”
“Do you think Emily’s going to fight you?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
“But she’s not a blood relative, so...so you have that going for you.”
He nodded once and crossed his arms, his shoulders curling inward. “I’ll have to get help. I can’t have her at the bar. Or after 11 I can’t. Maybe I can just shift my hours.”
“You are the boss.”
He grinned though it didn’t reach his eyes. “Damn right I am.”
She took a sip of coffee, surprised at the flavor. “This is really good.”
“Cinnamon hazelnut,” he explained. “I saw it and I thought...of you.” He shrugged. “Fuck, Trina, I had this all worked out in my head, you know? I was so sure you were going to be there for me.”
“I am here for you.”
“But you can’t...” He looked down at the ground. “You can’t accept my daughter. And that’s okay, for you. That’s okay, that’s too much to expect of you. But I had this vision in my head, the three of us. It’s stupid. I know it’s stupid. I just thought—”
She hadn’t meant to kiss him.
But she’d moved so quickly, placing her coffee on the table, turning his face towards hers.
She’d only meant to tell him what she’d said before, that Miranda should be theirs.
Instead, she’d watched his bottom lip quiver.
And she’d covered his lips with hers.
He’d hesitated for one moment.
In the next, his arms were around her, pulling her to him, kiss after kiss opening up, their first touch of tongues igniting the flame that always lingered between them.
“Fuck, Trina,” he murmured before kissing her again, deeper, his hands in her hair, holding her to him. She moved with him as he leaned back at first, and then forward, pressing her into the arm of the loveseat.
Still, he held her, his hands moving to her back, beneath the hem of her shirt as he kissed a trail down her neck, evoking sighs of contentment, of longing.
With his hands around her back, he stood, lifting her with him, her legs wrapping around his waist as he did. Perhaps he’d meant to take her to his bed, but instead, he pressed her against the wall, kissing her with abandon, taking her breath away. He leaned in, letting her feel exactly what she was doing to him, and her own hands moved between them, undoing his jeans, pulling them down as he tugged at her dress pants. She set her legs down and they fell to the floor with a swoosh.
“Fuck, Trina,” he growled once more into her ear when she wrapped her legs around him once more, as he moved against her, as she shuddered and sighed.
“Yes,” she breathed.
And with one swift thrust of his hips, he was inside of her, pushing her up the wall, his hands pulling her hips further into him as he moved.
For the first time since that fateful prom night, she knew what had been missing from her life.
This.
Him.
Each thrust of his hips had her gasping against his lips, had her clinging to him helplessly as he pushed her closer and closer to that edge that she’d only reached with him.
“Don’t stop,” she pleaded. “Please don’t stop.”
He turned them as one, laying her on the bed, pushing deeper still. Their kisses grew frantic, their bodies sung in rhythm as they moved together reaching for that final bliss. He reached for her hand, pressing it into the bed, holding on to her as she cried out in ecstasy, holding tighter still until his last shudder and sigh within her.
And he laid there for a moment, his lips against hers, the sounds of their heavy breathing filling the room. He pulled back and she noticed the troubled look in his eyes.
“Ren—”
And then a swift knock came at the door.
“Shit,” he muttered, moving off her quickly and pulling his pants up. “Just a minute!”
It took her a little more time to move, even as Lorenzo handed her pants to her. Her hands were shaking as she pulled them on, and another knock sounded. She stood, smoothing the tendrils of hair that had fallen from her braid as Lorenzo answered the door to Justin and Judith.
“So,” Judith said as she walked in, “what did we interrupt?”
“Nothing,” Lorenzo and Katrina answered in unison.
“Mmm hmm, sure.”
“Hate to do this, but are you ready to go, Trina?” Justin asked. “I’ll drive you. Judith, can you follow us?”
“He has a big thing with work,” Judith explained with a wave of her hand. “Jesus, what happened to your feet?”
“Rocks,” Katrina said. “Just...let me get my bag. The keys are...where are my keys?”
“Here.” Lorenzo handed the keys to Justin. “I’ve got to shower and get to the bar, make sure everything is ready for tomorrow.”
“Shower, huh?” Judith quipped, but Lorenzo ignored her as he turned to Katrina.
“See you tomorrow,” was all he said.
“Tomorrow,” she repeated, letting him know she’d be there, then she limped her way out of his tiny apartment, leaving a piece of her heart behind.
Justin helped Katrina into the passenger’s side of her car, where she noted no glass was present, then slid into the driver’s seat. “Wanna talk about it?” he asked.
She shook her head as fresh tears made their way to the surface.
“Well, sis, let me tell ya.” He looked over his shoulder as he pulled out of the space, then faced the windshield again, adjusting the mirror so that he could see Judith behind them. “That little girl thought you were the bees knees.”
Katrina sobbed as she searched for and found her tissues.
“She told everyone that you’d braided her hair. Emily was not impressed.”
“When is she ever?” Katrina finally spoke, her voice tight as she cried.
“She asked if Lorenzo was her father. She saw him. She was so excited, it was kind of cute.”
“I’m sure Emily had a fit over that.”
“What happened?”
Katrina looked at him, confused for a moment, then back down at her tissue. “Nothing,” she lied.
“Then why are you crying?”
“Can we not do this now?” She looked out her window, watching the passing scenery. “I know it’s a long drive, and I’m just tired, Justin. I’m just tired.”
He reached over and placed his hand over hers. “And I’m here when you’re ready to spill.”
“You have a work thing.”
“No, I don’t. I have a sister who’s hurting.”
Hurt wasn’t even the right word.
She was torn, confused, elated, and devastated all at the same time.
“Trina?”
“Please not now,” she said, and she closed her eyes, feigning sleep the rest of the way home.