Blackbird (a Sometimes Never novella) Read Free

motives.”
          She purses her lips and runs her fingers over the hem of her damp tee shirt. “Don’t judge me.”
          I close my eyes and place my lips against her dripping hair. “No judgment. Just show me.”
          Her eyes are glossy when I lean back. She lifts her arms and I slide the shirt off slowly, afraid to see what’s waiting underneath. I don’t see anything on the front except her pale, smooth skin. She shifts uncomfortably and I catch a streak of purple skin in the mirror behind her.
          I bite down on my tongue to keep myself in check. “What happened?” I ask carefully.
          “Therapy wasn’t very fun.”
          I clench my jaw so hard my teeth hurt. My fingers curl into fists. “What happened?” I repeat. The tension in my voice is evident even though I try to hide it.
          She slips off the counter, pressing into me. As she trails her fingertips over my stomach, I know she’s trying to distract me. Normally, this would work. I can never seem to get enough of Hope, but I can still see the bruise across her back.
          As weird as it may sound, I love her too much to have sex with her right now.
          I hold her face in between both of my palms and kiss her softly. “Tell me what happened, Hope.”
          She holds my gaze before finally reaching up to wrap her hands around my wrists. “I don’t like Veronica.”
          Veronica. That’s the therapist. “Okay,” I say. “Fill the gap between the time you decided Veronica was a bitch to the moment you ended up at my front door.”
          She takes a step to the side and wiggles out of her jeans. I take the towel off the shower rod and wrap it around her. She shrugs.
          “I don’t know if I can do this, Mason. It’s too hard.”
          I don’t know what the right thing is to say here. She has to do this. She has to get healthy. But I know better than to tell her she has to do anything. That is one of the most frustrating things about Hope. It’s also one of the best things. She makes up her own mind, the hell with what anybody else thinks.
          I brush my mouth over her neck and pull her into my chest. Tomorrow we can talk this out. But tonight…tonight I’ll just hold her.
          “It’s after midnight,” I whisper against her ear. “Happy birthday.”

4 Hope
          
          
          Mason comes over for my birthday dinner, which goes well. The plan is to tell everyone I’m moving into Mason’s tiny apartment. I’m not looking forward to the actual telling part, but I can’t wait to spend the night with my boyfriend. The thought of sleeping in his arms has me bouncing with excitement.
          As Jenny starts clearing away our plates, I decide to help her—soften her up for the bomb I’m about to drop.
          She pulls the cake out of the fridge and hands me a handful of forks. “I have candles,” she says. I can tell she’s watching me from the corner of her eye, gauging my reaction.
          “Okay.” I’ll blow my germs all over the cake I’ll be sharing with the family if it makes her happy.
          “Eighteen of them.” She sighs and turns to face me. “I can’t believe you’re an adult. I know you’re not mine, but I love you like you are.”
          That catches me off guard and I feel my breath hitch. My heart pumps frantically. I’m not good at these things. But Jenny knows this.
          She turns back to the counter and busies herself placing the small candles strategically on my cake.  “I know you’ve had a rough time. I just want you to know I’m proud of you.”
          I swallow tightly. Ever since Mason’s mom called her and told her—told her that I hurt myself—Jenny’s had this haunted look in her eyes every time she looks at me. It’s part of the reason I want out of here.
          “How can you be proud of me?”
          She whirls around and holds my gaze. “It took a lot of courage