It took me four years to even want to look at a man, let alone go out with one. Even then, I just dated here and there; nothing serious. My body would constantly tighten up the minute they would try and touch me. Until I met Mikel Voskov.
Mikel is a hockey player. We met at an ice skating rink, naturally. His team was there with a group of fourth grade students whose class won a fundraising event, the prize being a night skating with the Canadian Ducks with Mikel as their goalie.
My eyes watched him, the way he bent down to the level of every child he spoke to and smiled, his attention focused on them.
I accidentally plowed him down turning a corner on my skates too sharply, and fell right on top of him. I laughed right along with him, for the first time in years. I had forgotten how good it felt to laugh. I missed it. I missed the longing looks from a man. The feeling of being cherished. A simple touch, a kiss, all of it. Mikel gave me all of those, and so much more.
After going out for several months, he told me he loved me. He wanted me to move in with him, get married. But how can anyone get married when they are still married to someone else?
He was heartbroken when I told him. Who could blame him? I never want to see the look on another man’s face that I did on Mikel’s. I hurt him by lying and betraying him the way I did. Never again. Cain is not worth it.
You keep saying he’s not worth it. Why haven’t you done anything about it before now? Why did you wait until a perfectly good man walked into your life to get a divorce? whispers the charming little devil on my shoulder.
I’m almost twenty four years old and tired of living a lie. I want to live, have a real life; an honest life. I also want to finish law school, move on, and forget about Cain once and for all.
I’ve stalked him online since he returned a year after I left; Google is quite friendly in telling you everything you need to know about a person. He never did fulfill his dream of becoming a cop. He is now the President of his dad’s club, The Sinners of Revolution. A club that was once just that, a club, but now it’s all kinds of screwed up. The Sinners are involved in illegal activities in every sense of the word.
Cain has changed so much; he’s not at all the man I expected him to be, and I want no part of the fucked up life he has created for himself. Pictures of him and his notorious club are everywhere across the internet. He lives and breathes for them. He’s untouchable, they say.
The one thing that hasn’t changed much about him is his looks. He still looks like the young man I fell in love with all those years ago. Dark hair, rock-solid body. That delectable, dipping V. I’ve stared into those eyes for hours on my computer, praying that he is living in a cesspool of regret in the darkest reaches of hell for ruining my life. Fuck. I hate him.
Pulling my car to a stop, I hand the border control officer my documents and tell him I am crossing the border to visit family. He winks flirtatiously at me as he hands me my Visa and passport back.
Pulling back into traffic, my heart rate accelerates as I cross over into Michigan and get on the interstate to head to the one place I dread more than anything. A part of me wishes he wouldn’t even be there, the other part of me hoping he is just so I can shove these papers in his face.
“Keep telling yourself you hate him, Calla. Remember what you saw,” says the angel on my other shoulder.
I love her so much more. I flick that devil off my other shoulder and put a smile on my face, even though I suspect it’s not real.
I come to a stop at the gas station a mile down the road from the compound. I sit for a few minutes, my breathing all kinds of erratic. My hands are shaking. I can do this. I have to, for no one other than myself.
What if he’s with someone else and I walk in on him fucking her like before? What if he’s doing drugs? All kinds of shit starts going through my head. Maybe I should go get my dad. He would be more than happy to shove these papers at Cain.