I’m sulking away on my chair when there’s a knock on my door. With a sigh, I push myself up and prepare for the worst. Visitors haven’t exactly been friendly lately. When I see my mom’s warm smile, I smile back. Thank God.
I pull the door open and she hugs me. Now, for most families this may seem normal, but then again—not all families have an estranged felon living in the apartment above the garage.
I hug her back. “You miss me or something,” I joke into her ear.
She pulls back and slaps me lightly in the chest. “Can’t a mother check on her son from time to time?” She steps in and begins picking up clothes spread around the room. “Even if he is grown.” She turns back to me. “You do know how to do laundry right?”
I laugh. “Yeah, I’m a little behind, I guess.”
She grabs a laundry basket from the corner and continues around the small apartment until it’s filled to the hilt.
“Mom, did you have something you needed to tell me or are you just here to do my laundry?”
I itch to grab the cigarette perched on top of my ear, but I don’t. I don’t need that lecture along with whichever one is coming.
She sets the basket down by the front door and brushes her caramel-brown hair from her face. My little sister Mack looks so much like her.
“Perry, I would like you to come down and have dinner with us more often. It would be nice for you and your father to talk more.”
My eyes roll to the heavens. “Be serious, mom. I work with him eight hours a day, sometimes more—shouldn’t that be enough?”
Her eyes turn to the floor for a moment and I already feel like a dick. She’s been trying so hard to get us to find some common ground, but what she doesn’t realize is that we never had any. It’s always been difficult between us, which was only amplified by my time in the pen.
I place my hand on her shoulder. “Hey, what are you making?”
This causes her lips to turn up. “Chicken and potatoes. Your favorite.”
I hold my hand over my heart. “You know just how to get me in the feels.”
“You’ll come, really?”
Her eyes are now hopeful and I lean down and kiss her cheek. “I wouldn’t miss it.”
With an extra spring in her step, she grabs my laundry and practically skips down the stairs. Now if only my dad would have the same reaction.
I spend the rest of the day scrolling through social media. I still don’t understand most of this shit, but I keep going back to one page in particular. I’ll never get tired of seeing Sloan’s face.
No matter how much she tortures me.
The next time I look at the clock, it’s almost six. Running back to my bedroom, I grab the only clean pair of jeans I have and a fitted black tee. I need to go shopping soon. The only two looks I have are everyday thug, or court appearance. I need some everyday casual. With a final glance in the mirror, I decide I look respectable enough to have dinner with my parents.
As I’m rounding the corner into the living room, the face that greets me through the glass front door isn’t one I expect. She must have her socials rigged with GPS or something. My stomach knots and I consider jumping out of the window to avoid her. On the flip side, the really fucked up part of my brain wants to run to her. Hold her against me and never let go. Currently, I’m somewhere in the middle.
Sloan fumbles with her dress and tucks her hair behind her ear while she waits for me to make up my mind. With a deep breath, I walk over and pull the door back halfway.
I lean on the doorframe. “What are you doing here, Sloan?”
Her large grey eyes meet mine and I almost break. It’s been two years since she looked at me like that, but I still see them every time I close my eyes.
“I was worried about you.”
I scoff. “Worried about me, huh?” I cock my head down to her. “Is that why you never once came to visit me or wrote me even one letter?”
She looks down at her hands. “I tried, I just…”
I clap my hands in mock applause, cutting her off. “Thanks, Sloan. So fucking considerate of you while your boyfriend rots in prison.”
She looks up at me again. “You told me not to.”
“And it was so easy for you.”
Her nose scrunches and I can tell she’s getting pissed.
I nod, my features rigid. “Okay, so get the fuck out.”
I move to slam the door, but she steps in between. “Perry, please.”
The hand that is clutching mine has a new addition on it since I’ve seen it last. I grab it and push it up into her face.
“Congrats, baby. Sorry I didn’t send a card. I’ve been busy.”
Sloan sighs. “God, Perry. What did you want me to do?”
“Oh, I don’t know. Fucking wait for me?” I throw my arms up and she continues to have a passive look on her face. It’s like her heart is made of blackened souls.
She bites her lip and turns her head. I can tell she’s thinking, or more so regretting coming here. Or maybe she’s being sneaky and doesn’t want to get caught. When she turns back to me I see the familiar tears in the corners of her eyes.
“Can I come in?”
I step back without another word, and she slips past me. I close the door and watch her set her over-sized handbag on the counter. She pauses, taking in the place, before turning back to me.
“I miss you.”
I squeeze my eyes tight. “Sloan, please don’t do this. I seriously can’t fucking handle it right now.”
With my eyes closed, I don’t see her walk over to me until her hands are on my arms. Slowly I open my eyes and her lips are inches from mine.
“What do you want from me?” I whisper.
Instead of responding, she wraps her arms around my waist and lays her head on my chest. Instinctively, I begin the run my hand down her hair. She hums against me and I fight with everything I have left to hold it together.
When I pull back, she tightens her grip. “Not yet,” she whispers. “I’ve waited so long for this moment.”
I lean my cheek against the side of her forehead and release a sigh. “I’m never going to get over you if you keep doing things like this.” I pull back and hold her face in my hands. “My heart can’t take it.”
While I wait for her rebuttal, she does something unexpected. She kisses me. It’s soft and measured at first, but then her hands travel up my neck and pull me into her deeper. Our tongues dance together like they never stopped, and before I know it, I have her lifted into the air and am walking backwards towards my bedroom.
Breathlessly, she pulls away, and I set her on her feet. I take in the cinched waist of her dress and those long, tanned legs that I would have gladly suffocated for.
She bites her lip. “What now?”
I reach behind me and pull my shirt over my head. I catch her chest rise quickly when she takes in my bulkier form. One thing prison is good for is getting stacked.
I nod to her. “Take off your dress.”
She doesn’t hesitate to lower the zipper and let it fall to the floor at her feet. She steps out of it and stands in front of me in only a black bra and matching panties. As tight and perfect as her body looks, something is distracting me.
My eyes drift to her left hand. She followers my gaze and shifts it behind her back.