KNOT: A Wake Family Novel by M. Mabie Page A

this.”
    He pulled out of me. Coincidentally, I felt dirtier not fucking.
    His hands flew into the air as I rolled over.
    “Woman, what do you want from me?”
    My hands pawed at the blanket to pull it over myself. “I fucking told you earlier. I don’t want a damn thing from you.”
    I’m too ungrateful for the things you’ve already given me, what would I do with more?
    He’d always been a brooding sort of man, but he’d always been kind. Did he not know how much I suffered, too?
    He was turned away leaning against the wall. The muscles rippled through his back with every ragged breath.
    I didn’t know if it was the emotional cocktail having sex with him shot through my veins or the typical burst of adrenaline from a fight with him, but I braced myself for war.
    “Then why did you show up, Nora? Tell me. What did you want to get out of this?”
    How could he ask me that question? There were many ways I benefitted just by being in the same room as him, but where did he get off asking me a question like that?
    It was too deep. Too far inside to wind out.
    Furthermore, he’d never answer it himself. The prick.
    I fired back. “What do you get out of letting me in? Answering your phone? Replying? You can’t stop either.”
    He pulled at his hair and spun around. “You don’t get it, do you? You never fucking get it. I don’t want it to stop! Fuck!”
    He was still naked. As was I, but he was less a blanket. That didn’t seem like a fair fight, and I always rooted for the underdog. His nakedness was an advantage.
    “Put on a fucking robe if you’re going to fight with me instead of fucking me. I’m not going to argue while your dick is out. It’s still wet.” I crawled further up the bed and leaned against the headboard.
    In search of the hotel robe, he stalked off to the bathroom looking so much larger because he was worked up. Maybe he only appeared bigger since I felt so small.
    It was sexy how he wore the robe—but also his signature intensity—and it was absolutely him, as he marched out of the bathroom, tying the terrycloth belt in the front. His skin a beautiful olive, never fading, natural tan and his hair freshly cut, even though they never even tried to tame the thick, black top that much. If possible, his cowlicks were more stubborn than he was.
    True to our history, our fires raged as fast as they turned to dust, and my temper quieted.
    He sat at the end of the bed, but the same old expansive space and distance remained between us. Nothing ever changed.
    Many flavors of disappointment lingered on my tongue.
    I hated how the moment had been spoiled—it had been among many other good ones that ended the same way. I’d been harsh with him. He’d been rude with me. But what happens in a lover’s quarrel when you have no arms left to swing with? No legs left to stand on?
    You fall.
    I’d fallen. Truthfully, it had been a while since I was up.
    It was manic being in a relationship with him. In? That didn’t feel like the right word. Around? Near? Within reach? Even that was optimistic.
    I wanted to go back to those days when it didn’t seem so far-fetched. When he still had a plan and still looked for ways we could work, before all we had was two calendar’s worth of regrets. Twenty-four months of failure.
    We sat there for a long time not saying anything. It felt foreign, but still like home because I was with him.

 
    Reggie—Saturday, February 16, 2008
     
    I could have gone home. I should have gone home. That was the most expensive cab ride of my entire fucking life. It was a bold move, admittedly, but I was daring her to feel what I had. Daring her to give a sign, something—anything—that what I was feeling wasn’t just anxiety.
    I thought that she’d probably been staying at the Harbor, so I sat in a place where I could watch the elevators in the reflection on the glass windows at the front of the building.
    It didn’t take long before I saw her, and the time let me mull things