Chapter 6 – Michonne

"Michonne, baby…shit. We…oh my god…"

"Mmm…"

"Shiiiiit…"

Eyes closed, admiring the thickness of him, I'm circling my fingers around his cock, and using the saliva leaking from my mouth, to lubricate the glide of my palm over the veins of his reddened column.

"Baby, you're killing me…we need to…ahhhh…" He breathes out a strong gust of air from his mouth, and over the lips of my heated core, as though he is trying to gather himself and redirect his thoughts. That's not what I want though, I want Rick to feel as out of control, crazed with lust as he makes me feel. I continue with my ministrations, eager to get him to cum first. Enjoying the sensations of my mouth and hands on him, he has slowed the prodding thrust of his long fingers inside of me, and the quick flicks of his wicked tongue at my fleshy petals. Instead he now has both of his hands on my ass, squeezing and separating the cheeks, then slapping them together. "You're being a bad girl, Michonne." He groans out, a firm stinging slap to my ass punctuating each word.

"Mmmm…" I utter, my lips rising into a wicked smile as I continue to pump him with my hand, and swallow his cock into my mouth. Over and over and over again, until I can feel his heavy sack in my other hand tighten, his thighs stiffening, and his abs pressed against my breasts ripple with excited pleasure. His pleasure is mine, and the more he graces me with his gruff words of encouragement, and aggressive slaps to my ass, the wetter my mouth gets. The tighter my grip gets. The more I attempt to steel myself against the onslaught of delicious arousal that threatens to overtake me. But, him first. Rick always takes such good care of me, right now I want to take care of him.

Sucking him in as far as he can go, until he's tickling the back of my throat with the tip of his dick, I'm relaxing my gag reflex to try and take in more. But, he's too long, longer than any I've ever had, and it's hard for me to take more, so I keep using my hand to twist and tug along the base to compensate. Waving my tongue, and sucking in my jaws along the curve of him, seems to be driving him crazy, as he is no longer focused on the swift spankings he delivered, and instead is now dragging me backwards on to his face, to ravage me with his lips.

"Oh!" I squeal, on the unexpectedly rough way he's handling me, but thrilled by it just the same. I love this Rick. The aggressive, dominant Rick that likes to take charge of his pleasure and mine. There is something about the way he commands my body, wrests control back into his greedy grasp, that is tantalizing in that all I really have to do is sit back and allow him to have his way with me. That's it. By turning over control, I'm guaranteed to reach an ecstatic peak. For a woman who thrives on being her own master and commander, it is a potent mix of the fear of relinquishing a part of who I am, giving away that kind of power to someone else to do what they will, and the breathtaking yet dangerous sensation of becoming infatuated with the nearly manic excitement of it all. To him.

With his rough, calloused hands gripping tightly around my waist, Rick has pulled me back up his chest, and placed me onto his face, sitting straight up with my thighs on either side of his head. His nose is now buried between my cheeks, his mouth opened wide while his flattened tongue licks a steady, measured path from my clit to my rear hole, with only the humming satisfaction of his deep voice, rasping and rumbling in his chest.

"Taste so fucking good! Mmm…"

"Ah, ah, ah, ah…haaaaa…"

"That's right, grind that little pussy over my mouth!"

It's too much, and yet still not enough. My appetite is poised, ready for his touch, for him, and Rick knows me so well already that he must sense this, because the next thing I feel is the push and press of his wet thumb at the tight knot of my ass, swirling and loosening the ringed muscles. Backing up further, I welcome the erotic sweep of bliss that his intrusion causes, dipping my spine and dropping my head in gluttonous satisfaction.

"Oh god, Rick, oh god!" I shout, the words staggering over my lips, barely audible. Hanging in the air of my heated bedroom. Mingling and mixing with the sultry lyrics and bass heavy music floating from the speakers.

"Let me see you dance
I love to watch you dance
Take you down another level
Get you dancing with the Devil
Take a shot of this
But I'm warning you
I'm on that shit that you can't smell, baby
So, put down your perfume…"

"That little ass is tight."

"Rick…"

"Mmmm…I want you to cum in my mouth, baby. Feed me."

"Ah, ah, ah…"

Immeasurable joy shivers just underneath my skin, warming the flushed dew of sweat making my skin slippery to my own touch, as my fingers skim over my breasts, tugging at my sensitive nipples. With a firm press of his lips to my clit, sucking and pulling at the bundle of nerves, Rick is swiftly sending me over, diving head first into my orgasm. The strength of it pitches me forward on to my hands and knees, my breasts now heaving against his taut abs. Wrapping one arm over my bowed back, his fingers gliding up my spine, Rick uses his other hand to keep me pressed to his mouth, his thumb still massaging my hole as I come down from the high of my climax.

Eyes closed, a few aftershocks of pleasure ease and tingle up my spine, dance along my skin, twitching my muscles in appreciation. Opening them I catch sight of his cock by my face. Bobbing, the head pointed towards me, I take a grasp of it in my hand, tilting it into my mouth. Savoring the heat of his hard flesh sliding against my tongue once again, it doesn't take much for me to get lost in the smell of him, a musk that's all his own, mixed with our comingled sweat, and the scent of sex wafting in the air.

"Your mouth feels amazing… Take more of me." Rick huskily drawls, a sleepy slur to his words indicating that he's close. Jutting his hips forward, he's pistoning deeper into my mouth as he continues to pump into me with his thumb, inviting another orgasm to creep through my core.

"You taste amazing, Rick. You're so long and hard in my mouth, baby. I love it."

"I love you, baby, I do…" he confesses before he inches his tongue from between his lips again, and raises his head to slurp at the juices gathered at the apex of my thighs.

Did he just say what I think he said? Wondering at his admission, my sucking strokes falter a bit, but dismissing such important words uttered at a time like this, I easily pick the cadence back up. It only takes a few more licks and a swirl of my tongue around the blunt tip of his dick, and Rick is tensing, both hands now cinched tight as a vise around my waist. Raising my eyes from the dark thatch of pubic hairs covering his groin, and down the length of his hairy thighs and legs, I take note of the curl of his long toes and steady myself for the impending explosion.

As expected, a heated spurt of cum splashes onto my tongue, accompanied by a series of animalistic grunts and groans, and the spastic tightening of Rick's whole body. Holding his cock tightly in the suction of my mouth, I swallow down every drop of his essence, delighting in the salty tang of it sticky on my tongue.

"Gotdamn, Michonne. I love you so much, baby, shit! Whooooo…" He blows out, dropping his head weakly onto his pillow.

Smiling to myself, a tiny grinning smirk tilting my lips, I can't help but want to latch on to any inkling of truth that may exist in his offered words. Rising from my crouched position, steadying myself to escape to the restroom to hide my delight at his words, Rick doesn't allow me to abscond with my secret grin and instead takes a gentle hold of my arm and pulls me on top of him. His legs are open wide. His left set straight, while the right is bent at the knee. Situating me between them, his cock is pressed to my belly, sticky with cum.

"Where do you think you're going?" He asks, lifting his head from the pillow to drop a kiss to my sweaty temple. Rubbing one hand down my spine to the small of my back, it finds a resting place on his favorite spot, my ass. The other hand caresses the nape of my neck, his thumb brushing back and forth.

"I was going to get cleaned up. We need to leave for Andre's game soon."

"Oh, so now you're worried about getting ready, huh? What about when I was trying to get ready about thirty minutes ago?"

"You took off your clothes, so I thought it meant you were inviting me to take advantage of you."

"Actually I took off my clothes to get in the shower, but you are always invited to take advantage of me. I belong to you, so no shame in partaking of what's yours."

Covering my smile with my trembling fingers again, a niggling tug of my heart strings is begging me to ask him if he meant what he said. Is he truly mine? This man, this handsome, sexy, kind hearted man. My heart needs to know, but my brain is deathly afraid of the answer. Instead of asking, again, somehow knowing me so well after such a short amount of time, Rick brushes my locs away from the shield they have provided my face, and looks down at me with a proud and unvarnished grin of his own.

"I meant it. I do love you, Michonne."

"I didn't say anything."

"I can hear the gears and the wheels spinning in that pretty, big brain of yours. Guessing and second guessing. You know me, sweetheart, I meant what I said. And you don't have to say it back…not if you're not ready. Don't be scared or worried. I said it because it's how I feel, and I want you to know."

"Ok."

"Ok?"

"Ok."

"Good. Let's go shower so we're not late for Andre's game. First time I get an invite and his mama tries his best to make us late. Shameful!" He teases, tickling at my ribs, and kissing me across my forehead and face.

Giggling at the brush of his fingers wiggling against my skin, I can't help but want to return the words that Rick so dearly deserves. I fix my lips to say it, but the words don't come out. They won't allow my voice to speak them, to vocalize the transparent truth of my heart, and I'm not entirely sure why. Is it because deep down I still don't believe this is real? My life experiences have made it so difficult for me to accept happiness, that even now, when I'm looking it in the face, I find it hard to believe. Even though I love him too.

But my lips guard and protect my injured heart from spilling my emotions, and instead they keep them buried, safe and secure where all things wounded, fragile and precious remain. I don't push it; I don't want to force something so important. So I leave it, I wrap my legs around his lean waist and let my man carry me to the restroom in his strong arms so that we can shower and make it my son's game on time.

"Sweet! You guys made it just in time! We gotta get ready to go out on the floor."

"What for, Andre?" I ask, frowning in confusion at my son, decked out in his basketball warm up suit. At about the same height as Rick, Andre is quickly growing into a man every day. Some days I look upon him with pride that we made it this far together, relatively unscathed, happy, healthy, in one piece. And others I'm nearly driven to tears at how the time has escaped through my fingers, it's formless granules leaving behind the years of memories, and a modicum of anxiety for a lonely, childless future that is soon to come. My son will be entering full on manhood soon, and with that he will be thrust into a world of young adulthood that will carry him away from me and into his own life. While I'm filled with pride, there is also an inkling of trepidation for what's next. Brushing away those thoughts, I focus on Andre's words.

"Ma, did you forget it's parents' night? You have to present me when they call my name after warmups."

"I did forget, sorry. Obviously your dad's not here, but I'm ready. Just tell me what to do." Tossing up my hands, I have to fess up that I've been busy and distracted. Things have been easy to forget when I've been wrapped up in Rick's arms so much lately. It's so unlike me to be forgetful, or to let things, important things like this slide from my memory.

"What took you guys so long anyway?" Though his voice is deep, carrying the tones of a man, the plaintive whine reminds me that he is still only 15.

"Uh…"

Saving me from the embarrassment of having to stutter through an excuse for why the sex break Rick and I took derailed our timeliness, Rick steps in and easily offers a truthful explanation, leaving out the sex part. "Your mother's truck needs oil. I saw a leak underneath it when we were about to leave. I didn't have time to fully check it out, but she needs to let it sit until I can take a look and fix it. We had to take a moment to figure that out, delayed us a bit. But we're here now, Dre. It's all good." Rick assures him, placing a hand on his back to soothe his youthful irritation. Somehow he always seems to know how to handle these little moments with Andre, connecting with him in a way that often eludes me. Even with everything my son and I have endured together, it dawns on me in this moment that there are some things I'm simply ill equipped at handling, and that makes me appreciate Rick's presence even more.

"Ok..." He responds with just a hint of disbelief, but tamps down his juvenile irritation in favor of accepting Rick's proclamation that it is indeed all good. "Well, it's time. You guys ready?"

"I'll wait up in the stands for you, Michonne." Rick gestures with his thumb over his back towards the bleachers where the other fans and family members of the players eagerly await the start of the high school basketball game. Andre made the varsity team this year as the starting point guard, and for a sophomore it's a pretty big deal. As such, I never miss a game. Not one. Unfortunately, the same can not be said for his father. Yes, Mike lives in New York now, and that presents a unique issue for these kinds of things. But, he could make a weekend game here or there, if he wanted to. Mike is not the kind of man to miss out on doing anything that he wants to do. Especially if it's important to him. It is an uncomfortable truth that I know very well, and that Andre, having never been on the receiving end of it, is slowly coming to realize.

"No, Rick, it's cool, you can walk me out too. You're kinda like my second dad now right?" Andre proclaims, a little uncertain with his words. But in true Andre form, sticking to his decision, he pats Rick on the back, then gives him a hug. An unexpected hug, that coming from a gangly 15-year-old, who's already just as tall as he is, and seems overwhelmed by the sudden emotional turn of the evening, nearly topples Rick from his cowboy booted feet.

"Alright." Rick nods while Andre releases him from the hug.

Beaming at my guys, joy bursting from my heart while missing the third musketeer, Carl, I see that Rick's face is flushing over a scarlet red, and donning a smile so wide and bright, filled with pride, that he looks as though he might explode. It's a sweet moment, Andre extending what would initially seem to be such an inconsequential thing to Rick. But, it's actually a big deal.

Despite Andre encouraging me to give Rick a chance, there did seem to be the possibility for Andre and Rick to have a roadblock to forming their own friendship and bond. Mike. Andre loves his father fiercely, and regardless of whether or not he's ok with me dating Rick, I assumed he might be hesitant to fully welcome Rick into his world in such a short period of time. But everyday this young man surprises me and warms me over with pride as I see the maturity in him. The growth. He's moving past the scared boy who cried when his parents divorced, and is making an attempt to create space in his life for this man who has stepped in and made his mother immensely happy.

Not without merit on his own, Rick has done his part to foster a bond with Andre also, even past helping me deal with him with a firmer hand when needed. When I once again forgot to take Andre for a haircut, Rick volunteered and just took him. It's the little things like pulling him into the fold with him and Carl. Helping him with learning to drive, teaching him to shave, and most recently talking to him about how to treat a lady. To be careful with her heart, to make her feel as special as she makes him feel. Reciprocity. Not that Mike hasn't done any of these things, I'm certain he has to the extent that he can, but there is something to be said about the consistency of Rick's presence in our lives, serving as a model to his words of advice, that have allowed Andre to gift him with full on acceptance. How could I not love the three of them for extending themselves in this way for me?

Grabbing each of our hands, and leading us towards the hallway that we will enter on to the court from, Andre redirects the moment and takes charge. "Anyway, let's go. They'll announce us in alphabetical order, so they're gonna call me first."

"That was a tough game!"

"It was. Andre's jumper is coming along nicely. Hitting those threes!"

"Oh yeah, he's at the gym practicing at least three nights a week. Between that, Cyndie, and his studies he's keeping busy."

"Well he's coming along." Taking a brief pause, Rosita leans in closer and asks in a hushed voice, "So, I don't want to pry, but…your friend? The guy who came out for parents' night introductions with you and Andre?" she asks, tilting her head towards Rick who is standing by the gym door with her husband Gabriel. Cyndie is their daughter, and we've grown closer as friends since the kids started dating, but Mike and I have known them for years. It was Rosita and Gabriel who talked me into moving into their neighborhood after the divorce. In a conspiratorial whisper she mouths the words, "He's cute." Raising her eyebrows in appreciation and question.

"Rick. Yeah, he is." I laugh, uncertain as to what else to say, maybe even a little uncomfortable with the possible scrutiny of this new love affair by someone who knew Mike. Outside of Aaron, no one really knows about me and Rick. I haven't even told my parents yet. It's not because I'm ashamed of him, but it's really for the same reason I was hesitant to tell Aaron. I want to enjoy him. To enjoy this little happy world we have built around us and our boys, before the world comes knocking at our door, coloring our joy with questions, scrutiny, comparisons to the ones who came before us.

"Rick? I guess that explains why you haven't been available for our weekend shopping excursions and brunch huh? Cyndie told us you had a new friend. Good for you, chica."

"Thanks, he's…pretty amazing."

"And Andre had him come out with him for parents' night? That's big!"

"It is. They get along very well, and Mike isn't here, hasn't been to a game all season. I think Andre is kind of hurt about that. But Andre invited Rick tonight, and I suppose it was for this. It's just too bad Rick's son Carl, the one who who likes your other daughter, couldn't be here too."

"Oh yes, that Carl is a sweet kid. Is that how you guys met? Through the boys?"

"Kind of."

"Good for you. And hey, I get it, ya know. It's Mike's loss, Michonne. Of both you and Andre. You both deserve to have something good in your lives again." She shrugs, dismissing any issues she might have had with Rick's presence. "And you're simply glowing. Like you have this look about you now. Love looks good on you, and it's really nice to see you happy again. It's been a long time coming."

"Yeah, it has."

"You know Gabriel and I were worried that you didn't seem to be moving on, you know getting your mojo back after the divorce. Gabriel even thought about setting you up with his Gareth, but I had to shut that down cause that guy is creepy as hell. But, Rick? Yeah, he seems like a definite step in the right direction."

"He really is. I didn't think I could feel like this again after Mike, and my divorce broke me into so many pieces, but…it's kinda crazy how easy he's made falling in love with him. It's all very unexpected." I admit, thankful for my dark skin to hide what I'm sure would be a bashful blush coloring my face at my pronouncement of being in love. Looking over at Rick, seeing the smile on his face, I get a giddy sensation of sheer joy at the relaxed way he's interacting with Gabriel and a few other dads, fitting in like he's been here all along. In a blue jean button up, dark jeans, his ever present cowboy boots, hair trimmed and brushed back from his face, and a fresh shave, he's the epitome of handsome. He's all mine. And dare I admit it, if only to myself and Rosita, I do love him. I simply do.

Pulling my attention back into the conversation, Rosita asks, "What happened to the guy you said your parents tried to hook you up with?"

Giving it some thought I'm trying to come up with a delicate way to explain that Rick tongue fucked the very thought of Shane out of my mind. That's what happened to the guy my parents tried to hook me up with. But of course that is obviously too vulgar a way to put it to my friend, but it's the honest truth. The way Rick took charge at the wedding, then took me home and punished me with the nastiest, naughtiest sex I've ever had, literally removed any thought of a possible romantic future with Shane. How could I even consider him with Rick searing my lips with his scorching kisses? With his palms hungrily gliding across every inch of my skin, slapping and squeezing my ass in punishment for an innocent parting hug and kiss for Shane? With him laying claim to a part of my body that no man had ever touched before, not even my husband, as he entered me from behind. Fucking me with painstakingly slow and precise strikes, gifting me with an explosively new way to make love.

And after our date, one of the very best nights of my life, all I can think of is Rick. That's it. And so in the most succinct and truthful way I can, I form an answer to Rosita's question.

"Rick happened to him. I haven't spoken to him really since our one and only date."

"Well I think you chose wisely. Rick seems like a keeper."

"I certainly hope so, Rosita. I really do." I admit, catching Rick's attention across the hall, and the smile and flirty wink he throws my way.

"How's your current case going? You were just getting into it when we had brunch a few weeks ago. Is it as bad as you thought it would be?" Rosita redirects my attention back to her with her question.

Dampening the mood a bit, our conversation shifts to a subject that I have been trying with concerted effort to not think about when I'm with Rick. It's hitting a bit too close to home, and I'd rather not consider the negative implications it could have on our blossoming relationship. This thing between us is so new that I've been second guessing myself constantly, which is so unlike me. My shit is always together, especially when it comes to my work. But now, Rick has complicated things, my emotions, and I don't know if this tenuous, fledgling relationship between us could withstand the pressure of this case. I hope it will, but everyday, underneath the thrill of this new love, I have to wonder. Will Rick understand why I have to do what I have to do? Will he forgive me for bringing him in to this? All of these thoughts flutter through my head as I attempt to put together another brief but truthful answer for one of her questions.

"Uh, yeah, it's pretty bad, but I'm hoping after depositions go out this week, and those hearings are held, that we might be able to settle out of court. Otherwise it could get messy. Affect a lot of people."

"Oh that's rough. I'm sure you'll figure it all out. You're an excellent attorney."

"Thanks. I hope so too." I offer, my eyes on Rick again, my fingers nervously twisting in the sleeves of the red and black spirit wear hoodie I'm wearing with Andre's name and number emblazoned on the back.

Recognizing that there is so much more than just my own heart on the line here, I watch Andre bounce on his large feet, strolling down the hall towards Rick and dap him up, accepting a congratulatory pat on the back from him.

"You're kinda like my other dad now right?" The memory of Andre's words to Rick echo in my head as I watch them. Rick standing proudly next to Andre, as Andre excitedly introduces him to his teammates and his coach. Basking in his attention, and taking in all of the gratuitous compliments that Rick is heaping on him. In this moment, seeing the joy on each of their faces as they move so seamlessly together as a father and a son, I pray with everything in me that this time I can be enough to sustain this feeling, this dynamic. That nothing I have to do for this case, or any personal failures of my own, will ruin this for any of us. Not this time I pray. Never again.

"Shane! Hi." Opening my parents' front door, I am a little startled to find him standing there, his hands pushed down into the pockets of his wool coat.

"So, we meet again. Ya know I thought you certainly must have ascended back to the heavens from whence you came. You just disappeared." he smirks, a hint of sarcasm in his words.

"Uh, hi. Sorry. No, I'm still here. Just busy…preoccupied." I offer in weak apology. Not that I've been busy, but that I suppose I could have been more transparent about what caused it. But, perhaps given my hasty departure at the wedding, while Rick looked on from the doorway, was explanation enough? Did he realize what happened between Rick and I?

"Right. Your parents home?" he responds dryly, seemingly uncaring of the briefly uttered answer I provided.

"No. I've been calling and waiting on them for about an hour. I have no clue where they are actually."

"Ah. Well I just stopped by to bring this club back to your dad. He let me borrow it the other day at the driving range. I was out this way so I figured I would stop by."

"Oh. You are welcome to wait, if you want to come in?"

"Sure, I'll wait for a little bit if you don't mind." Looking down his nose at me, he focuses those seductive dark eyes on me, and I remember with stark clarity our last time together. Not just the way Rick surreptitiously swept me off my feet, but also the way that Shane tried to gift me a revealing piece of himself. In the warm hum of his deep voice, the sway of our bodies together, the kiss of his lips on my neck, and the firm grasp of his hold on my body. Shane may not be the man for me, and it's clear that the feeling between us doesn't compare to the dynamic electricity that always crackles between Rick and I, but there is something, and I do feel an initial inkling of shame at the feeling it stirs in me.

"No, I don't mind." I respond, shaking my head, dismissing any notion of he and I together, but recognizing that whatever it was, I think it's harmless now.

Following me into my parents' home, Shane removes his coat, revealing a well fitting, black V-neck sweater, that stretches over and hugs the plains of his wide chest. Instantly the scent of his cologne, the same scent from before, hits my nostrils. Damn, he smells good.

Taking a seat on the couch across from me in the living room, he drops his eyes to give my body, clad in a black wrap around dress, a head to toe sweep as I settle into my father's La-Z-Boy chair, tucking my legs underneath me.

"What are you doing tonight? You're a little dressed up to be just hanging out all alone at your parents' house on a Saturday night. You look like you should be going out or something."

"I was supposed to meet a friend for dinner, but it got cancelled. A work thing came up. So, I'm just here hanging out at my parents' house, waiting on them to return." I shrug my shoulders, disappointed that the date that Rick and I had planned for tonight got cancelled. He called right when I was about to pull up to his house, letting me know that he got tied up with something at work, and wouldn't be able to make our date tonight. I hate the idea of being alone tonight, as I've gotten used to being with him every weekend. After Andre's game last night, Andre went out with some team mates, and Rick and I headed back to my house for movies and snuggling. That has kind of turned into our thing, and I like the simplicity of it, taking time to just be in each other's presence. It's a part of what I enjoy about Rick. The uncomplicated way things seem to just fit, and fall right into place with him.

With his legs set wide apart, his heavy boots planted into the plush carpet, Shane is leaned forward with his elbows on his thighs as though he is now interested in everything I have to say. "Now what person is fool enough to cancel on you?"

"I don't think it was intentional, Shane. Work is work, can't help that."

"I can't imagine anything being more important than you. Even work."

"If you say so." He grins, leaning back into the cushions of the couch, with his arms spread wide, riding along the back of the cushions, his eyebrows raised in apparent disbelief.

"It's ok. I'll live. I was actually going to just head back home, but my car wouldn't start. I've been having an issue with it leaking oil, and I probably shouldn't have been driving it anyway. But, I did. Now I'm stranded until my dad can help me out."

"I can help you. What you need?"

"Oh no, I'm fine. Either my dad can take a look, or I will probably have it towed to a shop and get a rental in the morning."

"Guess you couldn't depend on your friend who stood you up, huh?"

"He didn't stand me up, he had work."

"Right. Have you eaten?"

"No, I was going to fix myself something. I'm starving actually."

"How about this. Since you're dressed up so nicely, why don't you let me take you to grab some dinner. Make up for the date you ditched me on."

"I didn't ditch you, Shane. I told you I wasn't feeling well."

"Listen, you don't have to apologize or explain to me. I understand."

"What do you understand?" I ask, honestly interested in his assessment of things between us.

"I understand that it must be difficult for you to trust someone again. To date after being married for so long. That's why I didn't want to pressure you into something you might not be ready for. That would be self-serving. What kind of guy would do that? I just want to get to know you, spend some time with you. Let you get to know me with no strings attached. I thought we could both enjoy each other without all of the pain and drama of relationships, and all of those…emotional entanglements."

"Shane-"

"I get it, Michonne. I know why you left me that night. Why you haven't returned a call since." Tilting his head to the side, just a bit. Drinking me in, he's got me in his sights, and I don't know why but I have that familiar feeling with him again. Like he's the wolf, and I'm his prey.

On a hard swallow I attempt to gather myself to say the right words to more truthfully explain. I feel like I owe him that at least. "I-I met someone."

"Is that right?"

"And I'm just trying to see where it goes."

"Seems like this is the season for everyone to move on and find someone."

"Why do you say that?"

"No reason really. I just saw a friend of mine who went through a bad divorce, with a new someone as well. I think you know him, Rick Grimes?"

"Rick Grimes?"

"Yeah, remember him? Parents live next door to yours?"

"Yeah…"

"Saw him in the driveway of Jessie Anderson's house about a half hour ago. Kissing her. She lives in my neighborhood. Nice lady, had an abusive dick for a husband, but Rick is a good guy, and she's his type so I'd say it's a good match. He'll take good care of her."

"Kissing Jessie? You think they're together?" I stutter, then try to heave down a heavy gulp of air. Something to halt the weighty sensation of asphyxiation pressing down on my chest, crushing my lungs. My eyes bounce over his face, anxiously awaiting his answer.

"Well I assume they're together since they were kissing outside of her house at 9 o'clock on a Saturday night, and from the way they were dancing and cuddled up together at the wedding. So…" Raising his eyebrows in a suggestive manner, Shane's lips hold a cruel, smug leer, and I can tell it's because he can see how hard this bit of information is striking a blow against me. He's viciously hit his target, because right now all I can see is red. Red everywhere. My vision is clouded by the crimson covered thoughts raging in my brain, like blood spewing from my wounded heart. Rick is at Jessie's house? He kissed her? What happened to work? He cancelled on me to be with her?

"How do you know she's his type?" I eek out, a glutton for punishment, I need to hear everything that Shane knows. Everything.

"She's kind of like his ex, Lori. Needy. I went to high school with him, remember? Rick likes those down home, country girls. Always has, always will."

"Oh." Looking down at my hands, I'm trying to hold back the tears that bubble, hot and angry, swelling behind my eyelids. But, I've been here before, at the intersection of disappointment and disgust. Anger and sorrow. We're old friends, so I know exactly how to repress these dangerous emotions. How to keep it together behind a mask of cool and fake decorum. All the while falling apart inside. My once fledgling feelings of love for Rick now crumbling like decayed autumn leaves.

"Anyway, what do you say to dinner? I'm hungry, you're hungry. Just two lonely friends enjoying a meal and each other's company. We can do that right? Shane and Michonne part two."

"Part two, huh?" Pulling my lips inside of my mouth, I press them down between my teeth, tamping down the urge to scream.

"I'm sure your friend who cancelled on you would hate the idea of you being hungry and alone tonight." Rising from the couch, Shane reaches out and stretches his hand to me. A lifeline from the anguish of realizing I've been a fool again. Instantly I'm reminded of imagery of the devil, offering you what you think you want with one hand, while hiding the other one full of deception behind his back. I'm no fool, and I can tell that Shane knows. He knows about me and Rick, and he knows what he just told me is not as innocent as he may have tried to make it seem. No. Shane is not innocent at all, but the anger rising in my veins at Rick's own brand of deception animates me to take Shane's offered hand, and allow him to help me to my feet.

"Ok, Mr. Walsh. Where are you taking me?" Blinking away my tears, I give him a wry smile, attempting to muster the nerve to move past the bomb he just dropped and salvage some of my dignity.

"Where do you want to go, pretty lady?" He asks, a self-satisfied smile lifting his lips and lighting up his handsome, dark features.

"Wherever you want to take me."

"Don't tempt me." He licks his lips, then raises my hand to kiss my knuckles. "You're not ready for that yet. Maybe someday, but tonight it's late and the King County Diner is the only thing still open, we can go there. Grab a bite and then see where the night takes us. You in?"

"I'm in."

"You've never had chittlins? Woman, what the hell?"

"Oh my god my mother would rather die than even have them in her house. My father's mother used to make them for Thanksgiving and Christmas when I was little, before she died. And my mother would always like hide them away from the rest of the food when she set the table. So my dad would have to get a secret plate of them that he ate in the kitchen. They smelled so awful, and looked disgusting! Yuck!"

"Nah, you don't even know what you're missing." Shane shakes his head and barks out a peal of laughter that fills the entirety of his car. Sitting in my parents' driveway, we've been talking and laughing like this for the past half hour. Taking me to the little diner in town, we enjoyed a meal consisting of greasy cheeseburgers, fries, milkshakes, and good conversation. So good that he has successfully distracted me from whatever the hell is going on with Rick, and I've only thought of his odd absence a few times during our little date. It honestly makes me wonder how differently things would be if Rick hadn't followed me into the hallway at that wedding. Could I have just as easily fallen in love with Shane instead of Rick? Would I be at this heartbroken place yet again if I had taken that path?

"How the heck did a country boy from King County taste chittlins anyway?"

"I went to the University of Alabama, and my first year there I met this black girl in my calculus class. Tanisha. She was from Huntsville, had the cutest little Alabama accent, little small thing. Tiny, barely five feet tall. Tough though, and smart. Smartest girl I ever knew. Anyway, I think she took one look at my dumb ass and took pity on me. She tutored me in calc, then in statistics, then in chemistry. I was just in awe of her, and followed her from class to class. I was a political science major, I didn't need to take chemistry. But I liked her. And for some strange reason she liked me. Took me home with her once to introduce me to her family, who were not pleased to see my white ass with their daughter. But, before they sent me away they did feed me some chittlins, and I gotta tell you they were good as hell! Made that awful little trip worth it." Reciting the memory, Shane's voice sounds almost wistful as he recalls a time long gone.

"Why did you say it like that?"

"Say what like what?" He mumbles around the piece of chewing gum in his mouth, turning to me as though he got lost and just remembered I was still here.

"That she took pity on you? You're a nice guy, handsome, charismatic. I'm sure lots of girls like you."

"What about you? Do you like me, Michonne?" Blinking at me in the darkness of his car, he fixes me in his sights. I can barely make out his long lashes sweeping over his dark eyes. Half of his face is cast in a beam of light filtering in through the car window. Stock still, serious, he's calm as he awaits my answer.

"I do." It's the truth. Regardless of whatever is going on with me and Rick, I won't lie to Shane. There's simply no need. I do like him. And a small part of me would like to explore what that means, but…

"Why you give me such a hard time then?"

"I don't know, I just... I have to be smart this time, Shane. My husband really did a doozy on me. I'm just trying to not allow it to happen again is all. At least I did try."

"He ever hit you? Your ex?" Grit rasps his deep voice, as his eyes soften and warm, brimming with sympathy as he probably assumes the worst. Given his background in law enforcement I don't blame him.

"No! No. But you know emotional abuse and neglect can be just as bad sometimes." I blow out a breath, not wanting to rehash my miserable history with men. Instead I send the conversation back to Shane, focusing on him. "What happened to your girlfriend? To Tanisha?"

"She died in a car accident our senior year. Drunk driver hit her car. She died immediately, at the scene."

"I'm so sorry. You loved her?"

"I did. And she loved me. She was going to be a doctor and I was going to be a lawyer. We were going to be a flip flopped Cosby Show, despite the fact that her family hated my lily white guts. She chose me, and I loved that girl more than my own life. I finally had love that was all mine. Meant for me. After graduation I came back here, worked as a deputy for awhile, fucked around. Then my parents suggested I go ahead to UGA for law school, try to get back on track. Now I'm back, trying to do just that. Not sure I'm doing too much better than before though to be honest. What do you think? How am I doing?"

"I think you're doing just fine, Shane."

"How am I doing with you? Change your mind about me yet?"

"Shane, I have been made a fool of enough for a lifetime, I'm just like you. I'm trying to get my life back on track too. We're in the same place, you and I. We want the same things I think." Inching my hand across the front seat to his that rests in his lap, I place my hand over his and rub my fingers against his hard knuckles. "I never thought anything bad about you, I just met someone who made me think things could be different for me. But…I was maybe wrong about that too I guess. And now, I'm just…a mess!" The cathartic proclamation of how things really are for me now, humbles my spirit, and breaks my heart at the same time. Releasing and exasperated breath, a few tears fall from my eyes, and I'm instantly ashamed of the rush of emotions so blatantly making themselves known in front of him. Wiping at my eyes with my fingers, I give up and just drop my face into my upturned palm.

"Hey, you don't have to hide your tears from me, Michonne. We all fuck up." Turning his hand upwards to take a hold of my hand that was resting on his, he takes a tight hold of it, squeezing it in quiet assurance.

"This is so stupid. I'm too old for this shit. I'm just so emotional lately. I'm a mess right now, sorry."

"Listen, I'm a mess too. Hell about a little while ago I really fucked up, lost my best friend over a woman. Stupid shit. But crying, it won't fix it for us. Me and you, we're the same, we're tough. We're survivors. Even through the ups and downs, the wins and the losses, we're gonna be ok. I promise you that. Ok?"

"Yeah, ok. I just want something to be good, to be right for once…and to stay that way!" I grumble through my tears, my emotions tumbling from my lips in a confession to this man. This…friend?

"I wanna get it right this time too, Michonne. You feel right. I don't know why, but there is something about you that feels so good, and easy, and right. And I know you have your heart set on someone else right now-"

"I don't even think that's going to be a thing anymore." I drop my eyes to my phone in my lap, noting that I have no calls or texts from Rick. Nothing. Before Shane and I left my parents' house I tried to call him again, and it went straight to his voicemail. I even sent him a quick text to see if he would respond. That was nearly three hours ago, and still nothing.

"Whatever the case may be, I'm here for you. For…whatever. Whenever. No pressure, baby. I want to forget all of the bullshit we've both been through. Make you feel good."

Leaning across the seat towards me, Shane caresses his thumb across the fullness of my bottom lip, following his own movements with his eyes. Lowering his hand, he tilts my chin up, then dips his head to meet my lips with his own with the tiniest brush of a kiss. So soft and quick, it's like a dream, as though I imagined the feeling of the slight press. Then he does it again, this time allowing his lips to linger on mine for a moment longer, sipping at the pants of my unsteady breaths, nervous at the feeling of these foreign lips on mine.

His kiss is nothing like the fiery ravishment of Rick's kisses, which are always so dominating and powerful, erotic, setting my body ablaze with lust, desire. No. Shane's kiss is whisper soft, timid almost, as though I would punish him for even daring to come so close. Or push him away. But I don't. His touch, his kiss is the reassurance and comfort that I need in this moment, when my fragile heart feels weighed down with so much despair. It drives away the familiar depressed feeling of failure that was creeping through my veins, replacing the fleeting joy that had been a constant high just a few brief hours ago. I cling to the tender sweetness of this moment. I regret nothing.

"Shane…"

"Michonne, don't say it. Don't…"

"Thank you. I was just going to say thank you. I needed this. You know Rick is um…"

Gritting his teeth, a grimace changes his handsome face, and he grinds out, "I don't want to talk about him. He always gets what he wants, you know that? His ex-wife was my girlfriend first, back in high school. Then everything after. And now you. But, right now, Michonne… My sweet lady, right now you belong to me. If only for the briefest of moments. Thank you."

And that confirms it. Just like I thought. He knows about me and Rick. Is that why he came to my parents' house tonight? Did he lie about Rick being with Jessie, and kissing her? I should be angry, and maybe deep down I am, but I'm also intrigued. And confused. But maybe so is he. Regardless of his misdeeds, it seems that none of us are innocent on this night.

Possibly realizing that I'm putting some things together, he quickly retreats from me, then calmly exits the car. Heading around to my side, he opens my door for me, and takes my hand in his, then walks me to my parents' front door. It's late, and the chill in the air captures his hurried breaths and turns them into puffs of smoke that waft and die in the space between us.

Catching Shane off guard I lean my body into his, and hug him. A firm embrace that I hope conveys the thankfulness that no words can truly communicate. I did have a good time with him tonight. It was better than spending it alone. Completing the hug, he wraps his arms around me as well, holding me close, warming me with the heat of his body.

Dropping a kiss to the top of my head, he whispers again, "Thank you." Releasing me, he turns and heads back to his car without another word.

Watching him depart, his car leaving plumes of smoke in its wake, my phone finally vibrates in my pocket. At this point I don't even care, and instead of rushing to answer it as I have so many times before, I ignore it, and walk into my parents' house.

That night, instead of wallowing in thoughts of what Rick was doing with Jessie at her house, realizing that I may have inadvertently trusted my heart to the wrong person…again, my fingers trace the lines of my lips where the ghost of Shane's kiss is still powdery soft.