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He swallowed several times and nodded.
I grabbed his shirt. “Oh, God, Jake! How bad is he? What hospital have they taken him to?”
“Honey, I—”
I looked past him and saw his car, a dark sedan, parked haphazardly at the curb.
“I’ll just get my purse and we can go to him. Please, God, let him be okay.”
Feeling more afraid than I’d ever felt before, I started away. I’d only reached the living room door before Jake grabbed me and turned me to face him. “Honey, I don’t know how to say this, but—”
I tried to pull away. “Jake, we can talk later! I just need to get to him now.”
His grip on my arms tightened and part of me died as I saw the tears welling in his eyes. “Honey, honey he didn’t make it.”
“What!”
“I’m so sorry, but he…he died at the scene.”
“No! You liar!” I tore myself away from him and began hitting his face with my fists. “You lying bastard! He’s not dead! He can’t be! He said you had his back! Why are you still alive when he’s dead? Why are you still alive? You bastard!”
He made no effort to stop me from hitting him and I continued pummeling his face until I collapsed, sobbing hysterically. Then he was on his knees beside me, crying with me and trying to hold me in his arms.
“Take your hands off me!” I screamed. “How could you let him get killed? Where were you when he needed you?”
He stared at me, tears mixing with the blood I’d drawn on his face. “Honey, honey, please—”
“Don’t you ‘honey’ me! Don’t you ever call me that again! You get out! I never want to see your white behind again!”
“You don’t mean that! You can’t mean that!”
“I do! I do! Get out! Now!”
The following days passed in a blur. The house was filled with family, friends, and police officers offering condolences and just sitting with me and JR. I couldn’t feel anything. I’d seen Steve’s body, but I couldn’t accept that he really was dead until I saw Jake again. Then it all came back. I felt a wave of hate wash over me that he was alive while my lover was dead.
“Get out of here!”
He spread his hands helplessly. “Honey, please, I would have died to save him. You know that!”
“Then why aren’t you dead, too?”
I heard the gasps of the others gathered and knew they were shocked, but I couldn’t help hating the sight of Jake.
“Tasha, baby, you don’t mean that.” Mom squeezed my shoulders and looked at Jake. “She’s upset. She doesn’t mean—”
“I do mean it!” I pulled away from Mom and stormed over to stare up at Jake.
His face still bore the traces of bruising from where I’d battered him. I had to clench my hands into fists to keep from clawing my nails down his face. “Get out and don’t come back! JR and I don’t ever want to see you again.”
“Mom!” JR grabbed my hand in protest. “Mom, we need Uncle Jake.”
“He’s not your uncle, JR. He’s the man who let your father get killed!”
Jake blanched, then turned and walked out of the house. I didn’t see him again until the funeral. I allowed him to be a pallbearer because I knew that’s what Steve would have wanted, but I refused to allow him to come back to the house afterward.
The months following Steve’s funeral were horrible. I fell asleep every night reliving our last night together. I savored the memory of the feel of his thick, heated cock repeatedly torpedoing into my slick, pulsing pussy, sending delicious chills and shivers of bliss and lust through every nerve ending in my body. Knowing I’d never experience that joy again was almost more than I could bear.
Jake called often, but I couldn’t talk to him.
