Rough Draft: Forever Ink

"So, Kyle also tells me you've been spending time with my sister?" There it is. I needed to choose my words very carefully. If Anya was close to her brother I needed him to at least respect me. If she wasn't I didn't need to tell him too much of her business.

"Yeah, we've hung out a few times," I put enough caution in my tone that he could hear it. I didn't want him to think I was minimizing the time I spent with her, but I wanted him to understand it was not something I wanted to discuss with him or Kyle.

"Look, my sister is a grown woman. I respect any decision she makes," his voice was low, but not threatening. "If my sister has chosen you, you're a lucky bastard." Well, yeah. I knew that. What was he getting at? "I'm not threatening you and I won't, because you've already seen Anya has a lot of people that care about her. I'm simply asking you for a favor." He looked me in the eyes.

"Sure," because what else was I going to say?

"Please don't play with my sister." It was an honest to God plea. "She's had it rough, especially with men." He cocked his head toward Kyle, who looked contrite. "She's not as tough as she pretends to be, and I don't think she could handle being broken again. Other than that, Kyle tells me you're a good guy, he just hasn't been able to get a read on your intentions." Alexei finished with a shrug. Interesting. I glanced at Kyle. What was his new game? We sat and shot the shit about Nashville and Memphis. Just normal bullshit for the rest of the meal.

I would think talking to Anya's brother answered at least some of the questions I had, but instead it opened up more. Who had broken her? And why did I feel the need to inflict extreme violence on the motherfucker? Was it Kyle? I would hate to kill my employee. Her brother said men, as in plural. Was he just generalizing or had more than one son of a bitch hurt her?

My mind was still reeling with questions when I left the restaurant. I had so many questions, not the least of which, why hadn't Anya called?

It had been four days since I'd heard from her. I almost broke down and called her a few times. I'd even almost asked Kyle if he'd heard from her, but I held off on both. Maybe she just didn't feel the same about it as I did. What did I feel? Other than confused and, admittedly, a little wounded? It was the best sex I'd ever had. Even though it was just a quickie on the bathroom sink. I would swear, I could still feel her tight pussy clamp down on me when she came. I could still hear those little whimpers when I hit that one spot. Fuck, but those whimpers could drive me to my knees.

But, even though Sunday night I'd have argued differently, she must have felt differently about the experience. Or, maybe she thought it was a mistake. She'd said it had been a while. Maybe, I'd been the means to an end. Goddammit! There were a lot of maybes and not enough answers.

"Hey, you wanna come with us to Caddie's tonight?" Kyle interrupted my thoughts. I hadn't even noticed he'd finished with his little ink bunny. "Ben's coming to hang out with Jen."

"Oh yeah?" She might be there. She might be there with someone else. Fuck that. "Yeah. Sure." I shrugged. "Is, uh, is Anya going to be there?"

"Yeah she got back this afternoon," Kyle nodded.

"Back?" What?

"Yeah. She didn't tell you? She had to go to Oklahoma. Family emergency. Of course, she didn't tell me, either. Alex told me." What?

"Oklahoma?" My brain wasn't firing. I couldn't form coherent thoughts or sentences.

"Yeah. Her grandma's there in a home. She had a heart attack Monday morning. Anya left on the first flight. I'm sorry, man. I figured you knew. You didn't ask."

"Why wouldn't she call?" I mean I knew that was important, but she could have least let me know she was alright. I'd been going out of my fucking mind for four days. Shit. I was being a selfish bastard. Her grandma was sick and I was thinking about me and my problem.

"Is she okay?" I finally got my head out of my ass.

"I dunno. I haven't talked to her. She doesn't...talk much about her family," Kyle gave me the weirdest look I'd ever seen. "Look, it's her place to explain, but," he huffed, "fuck it. Anya's dad use to beat the hell out of her." Everything in my line of sight turned blood red. My muscles turned rock hard.

"What?" I said through tightly gritted teeth. I must have looked as dangerously angry as I felt, because Kyle stepped back.

"Take it down a notch, bro," he put his hands up. I started reigning in the rage. I took a few deep breaths. "You straight?" I nodded. "Look, man that's in the past, but of course, it fucked her up. Anyways her family knew. None of them helped. When she had the son of bitch locked up everyone but her brother and grandmother turned their back on her. Her own fucking mother, man," Kyle looked rightly disgusted. "So I wouldn't take it personal that she didn't call. Her head wasn't in the right place. That's what little family she's got left." Something in the middle of my chest hurt like nothing I'd ever felt. I wanted her with me, just to hold her. It was a new feeling for me and it scared the shit out of me.

"Why the change of heart?" I asked Kyle.

He didn't pretend to not understand, "I want my Anya to be happy, right now, that's you." I could respect that, though I didn't like his possessive pronoun usage or the limited time of right now, but at least he seemed to be stepping back.

"Thanks," I mumbled, he gave me a nod and a sad look. "So her dad? He's in jail?"

Kyle shook his head, "Dead."

"In prison?"

"Yeah apparently they don't take too kindly to child abusers," Kyle gave a sadistic grin. Shit I agreed, if the motherfucker wasn't already dead, I'd kill him.

A thought hit me like a punch in the gut. I literally felt I might get sick. I wanted to ask Kyle about it, but it was way too personal. It would explain the fear I saw though. What if that son of bitch raped her? I closed my eyes to will down the bile I felt rising. Kyle didn't say that, he said 'beat the hell out of her', which was bad enough. God, my poor girl.

I was overcome with the need to hold her again. Not even for her sake, for mine. To make sure no one tried to take her from me. Who was I kidding, I had to have her for someone to take her. I didn't. Just because I knew more about her, it didn't change anything.

Kyle, Ben and I rode together to the bar. Kyle was his normal talkative self. Ben was nervous as I'd ever seen him, he must've really liked Jen. I needed to get out of my broody shit and talk to my boy. This wasn't like him. After the bullshit he left in Nashville, I wouldn't blame him if he became a monk.

I was quiet. I'd learned something about Anya today and I wasn't sure what to do with it. One thing was for sure. I needed to know where I stood with her. This maybe bullshit had to end. If she wanted me, fucking awesome. If not, well I'd need a damn good excuse.

Right when we walked in, Jen bound up to us. She jumped on Ben and kissed his cheek. "Hey come on, y'all are late. Anya's up. She's doing a song she hasn't done in, like, forever." I swung my head around to the stage. She looked better than I remembered. How did someone get more beautiful in four days?

She was talking to the emcee and hadn't noticed our arrival. She had on a black tank top and a pair of black jeans that must've been sewn on. Damn she looked good enough to eat.

As we sat down, she took the mic and started swaying. A song I know I'd never heard came on. It was slow and heartbreaking. When her voice rang out with the first lines, my jaw hit the table. Her voice seemed ethereal in the confines of the bar. The screen said it was 'Don't It Make My Brown Eyes Blue' as sung by Crystal Gale. It was beautiful. Anya's voice singing such a heartbreaking song was just incredible.

When she sang the last note, everything went completely silent. My girl had stunned a whole bar into silence. After what seemed like forever, noise erupted. People stood and cheered and whistled. Anya gave a small smile and came toward the table. My feet moved toward her of their own accord. My mouth must've still been gaping because she gave me a sheepish smile. I walked straight to her, and wrapped her in my arms. I didn't care that we were in the middle of a bar full of people, or that all eyes were still on her, I hadn't seen her in four days, and it had seemed like a fucking lifetime. How had I made it nine years? I kissed her with every emotion I'd felt since Sunday. I was vaguely aware of the catcalls and jeering around us. Her hands wrapped around my neck and I pulled her body flush to me. If I never moved from this spot it'd be too soon. She whimpered into my mouth. I tasted tears on her lips. My poor little firecracker. I squeezed her tighter still. I wanted to pull her into myself and keep her safe there.

Too soon she pulled back. I brushed her tears away with my thumbs. "What's wrong, firecracker?" New tears fell and she buried herself back into my chest. "Shhh, it's okay, baby," I soothed.

I all but carried her to the bathroom so she could wipe her face and regain her composure. I wasn't used to people crying to me or on me, but with Anya I didn't want her anywhere else.

She came out puffy, but better. I wrapped my arm around her shoulder and walked to the table with her. I sat in a chair, and when she tried to move to the bench I pulled her to my lap. She wasn't going anywhere tonight.

"Thank you," she whispered to me. I felt her breath on my cheek.

"For what?" I asked.

"For letting me cry. For not pushing me. For just being you," she said curling herself into me. For being me? That was a first. Most people wanted me to be anyone but me. I wrapped her up as tight as I could. Having Anya in my arms was about as close as I'd probably ever come to utopia.

I wanted to be alone with her. I had to. I prepared myself to be shot down and took the plunge, "Come home with me?"

She raised her head and looked into my eyes for, well it seemed like hours, it was probably just minutes. Either way it wasn't a blatant no. She looked contemplative. That was good she was at least thinking about it.

Finally, after holding my breath until I was damn near blue, she nodded. I couldn't help the grin that split my face. She looked unsure. I didn't want to give her time to change her mind. I stood with her still in my arms and kissed her neck. Reluctantly I set her down.

We said our goodbyes. Kyle gave her a concerned glance, but that was it. I let Ben know to keep a low profile if and when he came home. He just smirked and went back to his beer.

I took her hand as we walked out and noticed she furrowed her brow in that cute way. She looked at our combined hands and acted like she wanted to say something. I wanted to kiss those little creases in her forehead and make her forget any questions she had.

"Did Kyle tell you what happened?" She asked when we were heading toward my house. I pulled her across the bench seat of my truck. I wanted her close.

"Yes. Is she okay," I asked.

"Yeah. She will be. They put in a pacemaker," she blew a piece of hair from her face. It was so cute. "I'm sorry I didn't get a chance to call you."

"Hey. I won't lie. I didn't know until today. I thought you ditched me, but now I know and its straight," I smiled at her. She smiled back, finally. It was only for a second, though then her face fell again. She didn't cry, she just looked...'so' fucking sad. I reached over and put my arm around her as best I could and still drive. She snuggled into my side, and...sniffed me? Did I stink?

"Um, did you just smell me?"

Her face turned bright red. "Yes," she said in a tiny voice.

"Do I," I raised my arm.

She cut me off. "No. I like the way you smell."

Oh? Ooohhh. "I like the way you smell too, firecracker. All honeysuckle and sweet."

"Thank you," her cheeks flamed again. What was with the shyness? I'd had my cock in her pussy. It was a little late for all that.

"So you gonna tell me what's wrong?" I said glancing at her.

"I'm just nervous," she shrugged.

"Why? Is it me?" I asked.

"No. Yes," she shook her head. "It's complicated and you need to know so when we get to your house, I'll tell you," she blew out a breath, "everything." I felt like I needed to tell her Kyle already told me, but for some reason I didn't. Something inside was telling me that what he had said wasn't the whole story.

We walked into the house and I led her to the living room. She was visibly tense, though I couldn't discern if it was me or what she was going to tell me. Probably both. I needed to put her at ease somehow.

I didn't think touching her right now would help. "Anya, sweetheart, relax."

"I just haven't been to a guy's house by myself in a long time, it just makes me jittery," she said.

"Baby, we don't have to 'do' anything, okay? I just wanted to be able to talk to you without yelling over music. So if all you want to do is talk and then go home, that's fine. Okay?" I left out the part where I would have to take a cold shower...again...and have a silent fit, like a toddler...again.

She relaxed a little and nodded. "Jack? What I'm going to tell you...it's painful. To say, but also to hear. And it's also scary. It shows just how fucked up I am. I just want to say up front, if it in any way changes what you feel, you can tell me." What the fuck did that asshole do to her? How could any person cause such a beautiful, bright, sexy woman to question her self worth? The thought made me fume, but I kept it inside.

"Anya? Very little could change how much I want you," I said hoping it was the right thing to say. It wasn't; she went white and looked like she might pass out. I rushed to her to steady her. "Do you need something? Water? Uh, Coke? What can I do to make this easier, baby?" She looked up at me with tears still pooling in her eyes. There was something there. Gratitude? Hadn't anyone ever wanted to or tried to protect this girl? To help her? To take care of her? She was so precious I didn't see how any of that was possible.

"Whiskey, straight. If you've got it." I kissed her forehead and went to make her drink.

When I got back to the living room she was standing by the window looking out at the backyard. She looked far away and that painful feeling in my chest came back. She turned to look at me with some sort of ancient sadness on her face.

I handed her the drink and she swallowed the whole thing in one gulp. "I was supposed to be a boy," she stated out of the blue. I didn't respond just watched her. She continued, "My parents were very upset that I wasn't. My father especially. He blamed my mother. And so for the first two years of my life, my mother blamed me for the wedge that it drove in her marriage." She stopped and stared at the ground for a minute. "She would leave me alone all day, when I was just a baby. Once, my grandmother came over and I hadn't been changed in so long I was bleeding. The diaper rash was so bad, they couldn't lay me on my back." My mouth gaped open. Who would do that to a baby? Especially their own child? "When my brother, who I hear you've met, Alex was born, it got better. Dad had a son, mom was the golden wife, all was right in the world. Until I turned nine. That was the first time my father hit me. He backhanded me. It wasn't too bad. Bruised my cheek, that was all." That was all? What the fuck? They had her so screwed up, she thought her father bruising her face 'wasn't too bad'. I felt the blood rushing through my head.

"Jack?" Her voice was so vulnerable, so small. I looked at her and while the protectiveness was still there, the rage flowed out.

"Come 'ere, firecracker," I sat and opened my arms to her. The way she hastily burrowed into my hold made a lump rise in my throat. "You can hold on to me and keep talking or you can wait for another time, okay? Thank you for telling me what you have so far."

"No there's more you have to know," she said to the collar of my shirt. She was pulling on a loose thread there. "When I was eighteen, before I graduated. I put my father in jail. He got three years. The scar, the one you covered, was from him, that's why I wanted it gone. That part of my life was over." She looked up at me, then burrowed back down. "You know, I wanted you that first day," she smiled against my neck.

"Me too. That was the hardest tramp stamp I've ever done. I was uncomfortably...erect," I chuckled. "God, you were so sexy in those ratty pjs and that mess of hair."

"I was turned on, too, but, and don't take this wrong, it wasn't all you." Her eyes darkened and she looked far off again. "When I started having sex I was young. Fifteen. By the time I got to college I had discovered an alternative lifestyle that met a specific need. I don't know if it was the abuse or if it was just me," she furrowed her brow. Alternative lifestyle? "I needed pain. I found sadomasochism and it met my need. When I was twenty I met Rob." Rob? Rob? Kyle mentioned a Rob at the cookout.

"He was everything I though I wanted. A dominant man, that would give me what I wanted and still tell me he loved me. Then something changed. He started getting more and more brutal." She clutched me tighter and hid her face under my arm. I had to consciously keep breathing. I felt murderous. "He said hearing my screams made him hard." Her voice was a whisper. I felt the need to vomit. I squeezed her to me, more to keep myself in check, but also to make sure she was still there. The thought that someone could have taken her not once, but twice cut a valley through my rib cage. "One night, it got really bad. He took a single tail and whipped me until I lost consciousness."

"Oh my God," I said on an exhale. My whole body was shaking.

"I'm sorry," she whispered.

"What?"

"I needed to tell you. That's," a sob broke from her and something in me broke for her. "That's why I couldn't go home with you. I was afraid." Her nails dug into me. "There are scars. From the whip. They're on my chest. They're so ugly."

"Baby, nothing about you could ever be ugly." She silently cried into my chest for the second time that night. We sat like that for over an hour. I didn't know what else to say to her, so I just let her hold onto me.

"Anya?" She whimpered in response. "Why did you agree to come home with me tonight?"

She took a deep breath. "I feel safe with you. For the first time in a long time I feel unequivocally safe." With those words I was done. I would would give this girl anything she wanted. I would give her everything I had.

I lifted her up, and placed her straddling my thighs. I cupped her cheek and just looked at her, really looked at her. Her almond shaped hazel eyes, her full heart shaped lips, her pert slightly upturned nose, her high cheekbones. I looked at the way her brow creased and her dark eyebrows turned in like slashes of ink over her eyes.

"God, Anya, you're so fucking beautiful." I brushed my finger down her cheek. A shiver ran through her, then she shook her head.

"You haven't seen all of me," she protested.

Well, I was going to have to fix that. I ran my hand up her shirt, and leaned into her ear like I loved to do. "Show me," I whispered. I had no idea what I was going to be faced with, but I knew she would be no less beautiful to me. She nodded at me and helped me pull her shirt off.

There were five of them. Raised, white, thick scars. Three started at the swells of her breasts and disappeared under her bra. Two peeked out from the underside and stopped midway down her abdomen.

I unclasped her bra and slid it down her abdomen. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked away.

Hell no. "Uh-uh, firecracker. Show me." She slowly moved her arms away. She still averted her eyes, but I would work on that later.