Chloe took a slug of vodka from the bottle as she put the DVD in the player. The party she had just left had been lame, so she left and came home via her favorite dealer’s. She’d been glad he was home tonight; he always had the best shit. Leaning over the coffee table, she did another line of coke. Definitely the best shit. And today, she needed everything she could get. Leaning back on the couch, she tried not to remember
“Goddamnit, Chloe, again?!” Beca had walked into the bathroom while she was busy doing lines. Enraged at her umpteenth relapse, the music producer had knocked the mirror over and flushed what was left. “How many times? How long am I supposed to put up with it? Tell me, Chlo, I’ll do it. Give me an end date.”
“Jesus, Beca, calm down. I paid cash this time.” She wasn’t above paying with sex, but she’d had the cash this time.
“Oh, well, I guess that makes it okay, then,” Beca snapped back sarcastically.
Chloe pinched the bridge of her nose. She was tired of Beca yelling. It was almost half of what they did anymore. If they weren’t fucking furiously, they were fighting. Always over the drugs. Chloe didn’t see the big deal. So she did some coke on rough days; who cared? Except Beca cared. Beca worried. Beca loved her. And part of Chloe loved Beca. But part of her resented Beca’s unrelenting love. No matter how much Chloe pushed her away, Beca was always there.
Snarling at her defiant memories resurfacing, she did two more lines and took another drink of vodka. She didn’t need Beca fucking Mitchell to take care of her. She didn’t need anyone. She had told Beca that time and again. She had almost believed Beca would really never leave. But that night last year – a year ago today, in fact – she had finally pushed hard enough.
“There is no end date, Becs. You’re delusional if you think I’m giving up half of what makes me feel human.” She stepped forward and pulled Beca into a rough kiss. When Beca tried to step back, Chloe followed, reaching under Beca’s shirt. “You’re the other half, Beca. You know that,” she whispered vehemently.
Chloe draped an arm over her eyes. She could still see the look in Beca’s eyes. Pain. Fear. Love. And a chasm of sadness. So intense, so powerful, it was burned into her mind and she didn’t think she’d ever be rid of it.
Beca took her wrists, gently for a change, and stepped away. “Not anymore. I can’t, Chlo. I can’t handle it. The drugs, the cheating.” She took Chloe’s face in her hands. “I forgive you, for all of it. But I’m done. I’m done being… whatever I am to you these days.” Softly, she kissed the ginger she had loved for 15 years, walked away, and never looked back.
Chloe took a long drink from the almost empty bottle, ignoring her streaming tears. Dammit, why was she crying? She had pushed and fought until Beca gave up on her, the last person who had stayed. So why was today so hard? Why did it still matter?
Angry, at herself, the world, and everyone in it, she stood and stumbled to the kitchen. Leaning on the counter, she surveyed the array of liquor she had. They were all partial bottles, since she drank whatever came to hand whenever she wanted. But this was the last of the vodka and the liquor store was closed.
She had just settled on whiskey when her phone rang. She looked at it and saw a name she never thought she’d see again. Without thinking, she answered. “Hey, Bree. Been awhile.”
“Over a year. Figured I should check on you tonight.” Chloe was amazed to hear genuine concern in Aubrey Posen’s voice. But first, she had a question.
“Why tonight?”
“You know why, Chlo. Did you really think she wouldn’t talk to any of us after that?”
Of course, she would have. She carried the phone into the living room, put the TV on mute, and started the DVD. “I’m fine, Bree. She’s the one who left.” She watched the screen, where she and Beca were kissing fiercely. This was the last video they had made, about three months before Beca left. She opened her robe, putting the whiskey aside.
“You didn’t give her many options, Chlo.” Now, Aubrey’s voice was sad.
Still watching the screen, she replied, “I don’t know what to tell you. It’s been a year. She could have called on any of the last 365 days, but she didn’t. Neither did anyone else, for that matter. Did you draw the short straw?”
Aubrey sighed. “Call me when you hit rock bottom and you’re ready to climb back out.” She hung up without waiting for an answer.
Chloe dropped the phone on the couch and slouched further down. She unmuted the TV in time to hear both of them groan as their fingers slid into each other. Reaching down, she stroked herself gently, moaning quietly. She listened to the sounds getting louder on the screen and closed her eyes to relive it in her mind as she drove herself higher and higher.
There was a pounding at the door and she lost her train of thought. Growling, she paused the video and yanked her robe closed to answer it, her mouth already open to yell. The tirade died in her throat when she saw who it was.
A very drunk Beca fucking Mitchell leaning her hand on the doorframe. “Chloe…” she slurred quietly.
“Beca.”
“Please… let me in. I’m drunk.” Deep blue eyes looked up at her, overflowing with pain and sadness.
“I can tell.” Chloe took her arm and helped her to the couch, not thinking about the TV. This was a bad idea, having Beca here. Already, the producer’s presence was seeping into her, past the booze and cocaine, down deep to the places even the coke couldn’t numb. “Beca, why are you here?”
Beca picked up the whiskey bottle and took a drink. “It’s been a year. Exactly a year. I don’t know how I stayed away so long.”
Chloe snorted as she took the bottle and sat, taking a long sip. “I guess you wanted to stay away. I never asked you to.”
“I know,” Beca murmured. “I miss you.” She laughed wryly at herself. “For all the cocaine, vodka, and cheating, I still miss you. I still love you, Chlo. This year has been hell.”
“So what are you gonna do about it? Besides drink all the booze in New York?” Chloe handed the bottle back just as Beca noticed the TV screen.
“What the fuck are you watching? Is that…” She peered at the screen.
Chloe smirked and pressed play. Beca jumped when she heard Chloe’s voice call her name in the video as she writhed with a powerful orgasm. “God, we were so good together,” Beca whispered.
The ginger chuckled. “Sex was never our problem. Your judgments were the problem.”
Beca frowned. “Your habits were the problem. Even ignoring the coke, you literally fucked other people while we were together. Not just once. Not accidently. I was supposed to be okay with that?”
Chloe ran a hand through her hair. “If you came to relive old fights, I’ll call you a cab. I’m so deeply tired of you yelling at me.” She reached for the whiskey, but Beca caught her wrist.
“I don’t want to fight. I want you, Chloe Beale. You’re all I’ve ever wanted. Can’t we talk? Nicely?” There was a desperate plea in Beca’s voice, making it shaky.
Chloe sighed deeply. She turned off the video. “What, exactly, do you…”
She was cut off when Beca surged forward to kiss her fiercely. And just like that, their year apart had never happened. Chloe was lost in the tidal wave of love and desire for Beca Mitchell that always swept her off her feet. She knocked the bottle out of Beca’s hand to the floor and took her face in her hands. “Don’t tease me, Beca,” she growled against her lips. “Don’t kiss me like this and not follow through.”
Beca shoved her back to lie down, crawling on top of her. “Have I ever not followed through?”
Everything after that was a blur. Teeth closed hard on soft flesh. Nails clawed. Lips crashed together and tongues danced. Hands roamed and touched, operating on muscle memory even after a year.
Chloe was awash in sensation as Beca proved she hadn’t forgotten a single detail about what she liked and how she liked it. And for the first time in years, she saw through the haze of cocaine and booze and recognized what had brought them so far in the first place. When she cried out, it was Beca’s name, and the tears she’d held in for a year escaped her control.
She felt Beca gather her in her arms and buried her face in her shoulder as she sobbed. The producer didn’t speak, just held her and stroked her hair. “Beca… please… I need help. I need your help. I want you back. I want us back. I’ll do anything, just tell me what to do.”
“Shh, it’s okay, baby. We’ll figure it out.” She kissed her head. “I never should have left.”
“I don’t… I don’t think I would have stopped if you didn’t. I don’t know how to stop.”
“We’ll get you help, anything you need. I’ll take care of you; that’s all I’ve ever wanted to do. We can do anything. Together. The way it was always meant to be.”
Chloe raised her head, sky blue eyes a maelstrom as they met Beca’s deep blue. “I love you, Beca. I never stopped.”
“Neither did I, Chlo. I will always love you.”