Page 49 of Second Chance

23

Broken Hearts and Doors

[Denton]

What a shitshow. First, the bee sting on Cora’s back turned out to be nothing more than something poking her. Mother’s nurse checked it out. Dramatic much, Cora? After the diagnosis, I decided to jump in the shower and rinse off the sweat and leaves stuck to my body. It seems Mati and Cora would be staying a while and I wanted to clean up. As I stood in the clawfoot tub, the curtain pulled around me, a knock raps to the door and hope spikes as did another part of me that Mati has followed me. The fantasy plays out where she removes her clothes and joins me without announcing herself, soaps me up, bringing me to the brink, and when I can’t control myself any longer, I spin her around to bend her over, balance on the lip of the tub, and…

“Denton, I just want to put the antiseptic back in the medicine cabinet. Nurse Vivian says it goes in here.”

The fantasy disappears when Cora calls out my name instead. I freeze, holding my dick in my hand. I feel like I’ve gotten caught with my fingers in the cookie jar which would be less embarrassing. A strangled tone escapes as I question, “Couldn’t it wait?”

Cora chuckles and admits, “I guess it could have.” Yet, the medicine cabinet mirror swings open, the creaking noise added to the running shower. I laugh nervously, nearly choking with the sexual energy of my hand on my hard-on while a woman stands on the other side of the thin curtain. The wrong woman.

Then another knock taps at the door.

“Cora?” Mati’s sweet, hesitant voice forces me to release my dick, feeling the weight strain as it sticks out stiff and achy.

“Was that Mati?” I hush-whisper and panic strikes. This. Cannot. Be. Happening. The situation with Cora in the bathroom has all kinds of wrong written on it, so I call out, “Don’t come in.”

My fingers grip the curtain, and I stick my head out to see Cora’s wide eyes shooting from me to the door.

“Oh, my heavens.” A well-manicured hand comes to her pink lips, and a tense giggle escapes.

“What happened?” Did Mati walk in and notice Cora—or worse yet—see the outline of my body through the thin fabric giving away my hard-on?

“I think she ran away.”

“What?” I reach for the faucet, turning off the taps, and spin for the curtain. Forgetting about Cora, I tug back the barrier. Cora stares at me, her eyes widening even more than moments before.

“Cora,” I snap, leaning forward for the towel on the edge of the sink. I ignore her admiring gaze and gaping mouth to wrap myself in the threadbare towel. Stepping out of the tub, I slip on the loose rug and almost do the splits, landing the family jewels on the rim of the raised claw-foot. Righting myself, I press Cora out of my way as I race for the front bedroom—the one without a boarded-up window— overlooking the front lawn.

“Mothertrucker,” I mutter, watching Mati run for her truck. I spin for the door, take the stairs two at a time, holding onto the towel at my waist, and reach the front screen door too late. Mati peels out of the gravel drive and takes off in the opposite direction of town. My palm slaps at the open front door to my side and the wood cracks. A loud snap reverberates around me and the ancient door splinters in the middle. A few ants scramble through the hole I’ve made, and I step back.

Curse words curse more words.

The stream of ants through the severed wood seems endless, covering the chipped paint along with the large splinters I’ve made. My shoulders fall as I realize I can’t chase Mati.

“This house needs a wrecking ball,” I mutter.

“This house needs some love,” Cora counters behind me. I spin to face her, holding my towel while losing my pride after facing her naked, shampoo still dripping from my hair, and a semi-wood pitching the terrycloth at my waist.

“Yeah, I’ll get right on that,” I grumble, feeling no love for the house or my situation. I’ve been cooped up again, waiting, waiting, waiting, although I don’t know if what I’m waiting for is my mother’s passing or Mati’s attention. Maybe it’s both entwined together. Each day I sing softly to my mama while I also pine away, wondering when Mati will realize we did nothing wrong. We kissed. That’s not a crime. And if it were, I’d steal more from her.

The sin lies in how much I liked it, how much I wanted more from a woman clearly not ready to go further. And if kissing were all I got from her while I stayed here, I’d take each lick, each suck, each nip, and store it in the memory bank along with the first one.

But for now, I have a front door to repair as I can’t leave a house of women exposed out here. I really should move to the farmhouse, but I didn’t want to leave Conrad Lodge yet. The resort room gives me respite from things I still try to ignore—my mother dying and my feelings for Mati.

After a call to Duncan Hardware—and a second shower—a new front door is delivered. Breaking the door with so much force reminds me of conversations I had with Mati as a teen. Staring after the busted door as Kent Duncan removes it, my stomach twists.

“You’ll never be like him.” She exhaled as if astonished I thought such a thing.

“But what if I am? What if I have a child and I get angry because he didn’t pick up his shoes? Will I hurt him?” The genuine concern filled my head.

“You’ll be a great dad one day, and you’ll never hurt a child because of what Kip did to you.”

I never had kids, though.

The current owner of the hardware store and somehow a cousin finishes the door install complete with a new handle and lock as the latch on the original door didn’t work with the modern one. A big burly guy glances around the front entry and the parlor off each side of the extra wide hallway and whistles low.