Will post more soon. :) Crane's part is coming.
After her drink, Abbie reorganizes her desk; Ash escorts her to the mostly empty parking lot. They are the first ones here and the last ones to leave.
"Do you have any place to be?" she says, not wanting to faceoff with Crane so soon if she goes home.
"Going for coffee."
"The new spot?"
He nods. "I don't mind your company."
"Lead the way."
She trails him in her car.
She enjoys another glass of rum and delights in a spicy chicken and bacon croissant. The coffee shop is dim, lighthearted. A rainbow of people connect in this little hub. Two bright-haired lovebirds pass each other a mocha while reading a thick novel. A group of college kids play Jenga near a window, holding breath at each player's move. One man quickly types at his laptop and pulls faces while his headphones are on his head. Three black women, with long box braids, softly hum and harmonize to the smooth jazz song selected from the cornered jukebox. People sway to the music, either by themselves or with lovers. She likes how free from stress and pain they are and wishes she could be, too. Her eyes stick to them.
"You want to dance." Ash sips green tea out of a mug that's smaller than his large hands. It's a sight.
"Doesn't mean I should."
"Why is that?"
"Don't have a partner."
He sits his cup down, tugs her from her seat with a smirk. She doesn't mind smelling the tea on his breath or letting his arms bind her waist. She finds some place to put her hands. They are never this close. The most he does is hold her hand, but she likes it. Being held. Her and Crane are too fumed to hold each other nowadays. She misses it.
"Thanks for letting me tag along," she says.
"Anytime. How do you feel?"
She shrugs.
"That's not an answer."
"It's all I have."
"You normally go home. This is the first time you haven't. He really set you off."
"Stop analyzing me, Ash."
"These are only the facts."
"I'm not a damned suspect."
"Defensive."
"Ash."
"How do you feel?"
He's persistent in the interrogation room. She's seen it. There's no point in her harboring the truth. He'll get the answers.
She sighs. "Sad. Pissed. Hurt."
"At Crane?"
"At Crane."
He waits.
"Most days, I feel inadequate for him and Mel. Like a shitty wife and mother."
Crane expects her to be at the hospital all the time. Her schedule doesn't provide the flexibility his does. He stopped understanding that.
"You are as you are. I see you trying to be Superwoman. You protect this town and support your family as much as you can. I'm proud of you, Abigail. You are more than enough."
That's all she wants to hear from Crane, from the man who vowed to be there through pale sicknesses and lush health. He used to tell her he was proud of her, that she was doing such a great job being a mother, a wife, and saving the world. It all ceased when she couldn't be there for Mel. Crane wasn't being fair to her.
"Show me."
Superwoman makes smart choices. If Abbie was her, she wouldn't be here in Big Ash's bed, with her legs spread open, with a gaping mouth, and with fingers that wouldn't stop tangling in his long, black hair. She shouldn't be in this position.
His mouth shouldn't kiss her lips like that. He shouldn't feel so sturdy and sure in her like he knows her. She shouldn't scratch down his back and stick her nails in his skin the way she did. Nor should she squeeze her knees against his hips and curve her back. His tongue shouldn't lick and taste her clit like that. She shouldn't moan and wrap her legs around his shoulders. He shouldn't push her further into his mouth and suck her harder. And her lips definitely shouldn't call his name and her body shouldn't remember her undoings because of his doings. But he does and she does. And they do plenty more they shouldn't.
Abbie slips in her panties and jeans.
"It's raining," Ash says.
"I can't stay." She buttons her shirt, throws on her jacket.
He nods. "I understand."
He put on his pants and his t-shirt, finds his shoes under the bed, says, "Do you have an umbrella?"
"No." After she slides on her flats, she grabs her purse.
"You can take mine. I'll walk you outside."
They stand by her car; Ash holds the umbrella over their heads. She doesn't want this to be awkward.
"Thank you for tonight, for reminding me."
It's Crane's job to do this, to love her, to tell her she's sufficient for him. She used Ash, and he let her, didn't once refuse her. A small part of her feels guilty, that she's gone too far, but the rest of her carries scars near her breastbone. Lugging all that creates a wild riling in her that makes her want to hurt him for all the shit he says to her.
"You're a lovely woman, Abigail."
She kisses his cheek, thanks him again.
He opens her door for her. She gets in and drives off, feeling herself suit up in Superwoman's costume.