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“Touch me,” I practically begged. Law split me with his thumb. I knew I was supposed to be quiet, but when I felt the pad of his thumb open me, I couldn’t help moaning. Law didn’t seem to mind, or else he was too preoccupied because no sooner had I cried out than he pressed a finger inside of me.
“You’re so wet.” Law groaned and I felt the sound like a vibration in my soul. I was beyond wet, I was weeping. Law turned me into a puddle of wanton desire. Without him I was dehydrated. Needy. Unhinged. I grappled for him, desperate, more desperate than I’d ever been.
My mind bifurcated between the woman I had been and the one I was now. There was the past Nami: cold, stoic, and unrelenting. Then there was this one, the one held in Law’s arms. She couldn’t see anything beyond red passion. She begged him. She rubbed against him. She was incessant in her need for Law.
I couldn’t feel embarrassed, because all I had room for in my head was throbbing, pulsing need. It seemed, though, that I wasn’t alone. Law leaned in and seized my mouth. His tongue commanded I surrender and I capitulated easily, because I was already lost to him. My soul was so tangled in his that when he took my body it came without hesitation. Without Law I wasn’t just alone, I would wither. It was beyond craving. It was need.
With his mouth on mine and his fingers inside, I came and I couldn’t keep my cries silent. No amount of lip biting or teeth grinding could keep that orgasm quiet.
“Law!” I begged, trying to get him to stop so I didn’t draw attention. Instead, Law placed a rough hand over my mouth. My eyes popped open in terror. Briefly I remembered Morris. I remembered his hand over my mouth, but then I looked into Law’s eyes. There was no loathing or contempt in them. All I saw in the honey depths was love. I relaxed and let the orgasm wash over me.
When it was over, Law removed his hand slowly. I felt empty without him inside me. I felt cold, but Law quickly pulled me into his chest. He threw a blanket over us and I fell asleep to the deep rhythm of his breathing.
“You just passed my street.”
“We aren’t going to your house. We have one more stop on the Law Apology Tour.”
I twisted around in my seat, as if watching the street name get smaller would suddenly make Law turn back. Instead, he made a left onto a busier street and kept driving. At Law’s gentle tug on my fingers, I turned back and sat correctly.
There was still a part of me reluctant to trust Law. That part wanted to insist he turn back and take me to my house. I smothered that part with a pillow, reminding myself that in the past twenty-four hours Law had shown me more truth than I’d had in months. So wherever he was taking me, it had to be worth it.
Settling into the warmth of the car, I nearly dozed off. We were sheltered from the snow and wind outside. The Weeknd played through the speakers and I let my mind drift away with the lyrics. I barely noticed where we were going, letting myself trust in Law. When the car slowed to a stop, I looked outside the window and registered the destination. The recognition fell on me with as much force as a baseball bat to the head.
It was the same street I’d been coming to for weeks.
“What the fuck is this?” I yanked my hand from Law’s, alternating between glaring at him and the house outside. “How do you even know where he lives?”
Law shrugged. “Contacts in high places come in handy every now and then.”
I released a bitter laugh at his response. “I don’t know what you’re expecting but I’m not going in there.”
“Nami…” Law reached for my hand but I held it away.
“You had no right to do this, Law!” I yelled at him, but my gaze was pinned on the orange brick house we were parked in front of. Snow blanketed the yard and covered the roof. Even though it was early in the morning, I could see lights on inside. Tony was awake.
My heart ached to walk up the steps like I had so many times before. My mom used to keep the house smelling so nice. There was always some kind of candle lit or something cooking. When Mom died, Tony kept buying the candles and lighting them. I wondered what he was up to so early in the morning. Was he reading the news? Did he read about me? Did he ever think about me?
“Nami,” Law soothed, interrupting my thoughts. “I think you should talk to him. There’s a good chance he misses you just as much as you miss him.”
“What if he doesn’t?” The question slipped out in a whisper. I couldn’t tear my gaze away from the brick house. Avoiding Tony had at least granted me the illusion of family. I could pretend he still wanted to see me. If I walked up to him and he disowned me, I would have nothing left.
I looked back to Law. Well, not nothing, not any more. Sighing, I placed my hand on the car door.
“I can come with you,” Law said as I readied to open the door. I popped it open and bitter cold air slapped me in the face—though it still wasn’t as harsh as Boston. I almost welcomed it; the frigid gale cleared my thoughts.
I shook my head at Law. “This is something I need to do alone.” As angry as I felt, it wasn’t really with Law. It wasn’t even real anger. It was anger to mask my fear. If these past months had taught me anything, it was that anger was always easier. It was easier to be angry than to acknowledge how terrified I was to walk up the steps and knock on the door. I looked up at the orange house and back to Law, his face a silent comfort. I gave him a small smile, the most gratitude I could muster at the moment, and shut the door.
Nerves wracked my body as I made my way up the steps. He’s going to turn me away. It’s too early, he’ll be mad at me for waking him up. By the time I got control of my thoughts, I was standing on the welcome mat. It was red, white, and blue and read “Patriots”. At least some things hadn’t changed.
Before I could change my mind I slammed my fist against the door. I glanced hurriedly around. I could still run away. I could leave before he answered—
“Nami?” Tony appeared in the doorway. He looked at me like I was a ghost; I couldn’t read the other emotions. Was he upset? Or was he happy to see me? I rubbed my shoulders, not from the cold, but because I was anxious. “Nami, oh my god. I can’t believe it’s you.” Before I could respond, Tony pulled me into a hug.
On a couch in a house I used to call home, I gripped a mug of hot tea. Tony sat across from me. Wearing a shirt that read “I might be in Utah, but my Sox are in Boston”, he was just like I remembered him. It had been several minutes since the last word was spoken, and that word had been about tea. Awkwardness had settled like a thick fog and I couldn’t navigate it.
“Nami—”
“Tony—” We both said each other’s name at the same time. Time ticked on as we waited for the other to start speaking again, but neither did. Finally, Tony spoke.
