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All I want is for you to be happy –it’s not something Rio ever says to her but sometimes Beth wonders if he would, if those are words he’s capable of saying. They don’t communicate like that, through syllables, through dialogue that makes sense once it’s in the atmosphere.
Beth’s always been a talker, someone who’s been able to get through a lot just by saying the perfect string of words together—it’s gotten her through her parent’s rough patches, through school, through her disastrous marriage with Dean and through PTA meetings. It’s what’s gotten her through working with Rio, not so much with communicating with him, but through their patchwork deals and meetings with other undesirables.
Rio seems to be the same way, a silver tongue that curls around language so intimately. His words burrow deep, under skin, double meaning behind simple phrases. It’s gotten him where he is today, it’s one of the reasons she wanted to work with him in the first place. Because there’s honesty in his words, which is why he’s so careful with what he says. He chews over things before he says them, he means it—he’s believable and it feels like tumbling through a dark rabbit hole to trust him.
Despite both of them being so similar in how they talk to other people, they don’t talk to eachother that way. Rio would never say certain things to her and she’s apprehensive over the words she uses with him.
They communicate mostly through touch, because that feels the most true. It’s easy to hide behind words but not as easy to hide emotions through physicality. When his fingers touch her skin, it’s like a language all their own. He doesn’t tell her everything, and vice versa, but they can feel the words like brail when his hands settle on her hips, when her fingers brush over the wings of his bird tattoo, when he yanks her out of harm’s way, when she smacks his chest for being ridiculous, when he kisses her temple, when she grabs his hand and his ring makes an indentation against one of her fingers.
It’s there—it’s tangible.
It’s not exactly what Beth wants or needs to hear but most of the time, that’s okay.
–
Sometimes, however, things are said that leave imprints on skin.
–
Rio pulls up one day in his sleek car, slipping through the streets of her neighborhood like a soundless black cat on the prowl. Beth sighs; can feel him without turning around as she stands in front of her open trunk. She likes having work to do, don’t get her wrong, but she hates the fact that he always turns up whenever he wants.
Unannounced, rain or shine, like some sort of demented postal service.
“Mornin’ Ms. Boland.”
She shakes her head and turns slightly, trying to motion to her groceries. “I’m busy.”
He shrugs his shoulder, “S’alright, I can wait. I’m patient.”
Beth snorts without meaning to, “No you’re not.”
Rio makes a face at her and puts his car into park, leaning back into his seat, as if he’s ready to prove his point. He’s really going to wait for her to carry her things in and put the groceries away? She feels like making a show out of it, taking her time, maybe even whipping up a recipe for dinner when all is said and done…but she doesn’t feel like trying his patience.
She looks up at the sky and lets out a long sigh, closing her trunk and trying to ignore his aggravatingly handsome grin as she makes her way to the passenger door.
“There’s really no one else you can annoy today?”
He hums, putting the car back into drive. “Nah, you’re always on my mind.” There’s a wall of silence that follows, settling over them like a blanket. It wraps in-between their bones and lives along their synapses; breathing in their veins.
Beth distantly realizes that he’s said something important but it doesn’t register until later.
Rio’s eyes are traveling over her face, slipping down her neck and onto her shirt; a quirk of a smile following as he grazes over the too bright, too floral pattern.
“Last thing I want to hear is another ‘partners’ talk in the middle of IKEA.”
She rolls her eyes, putting her seatbelt on as they begin to drive away from her house. “Oh, that was one time.” But nothing follows except a fond chuckle.
–
There’s a lot of blood that her fingers are slipping.
She’s only sewn him up once and it was in her living room, under a controlled environment, with plenty of gauze and disinfectant and bright lights. His wound wasn’t that deep; a bullet graze that he couldn’t do on his own. It needed two stiches, she did it under his supervision, it healed perfectly with little scarring.
She kisses it from time to time.
This is different.
They’re in his car, away from a warehouse but not in the best neighborhood. The windows are dark, the only illuminations are the streetlamps outside and the overhead light on the ceiling.
It’s not enough.
She debates turning her cell flashlight on but Rio makes a guttural noise that she doesn’t like, she’ll have nightmares about it.
“Fuck, just do it.”
“There’s no need to be bossy.” Beth snaps back, brushing her hair out of her face, getting blood on her skin. His blood. Tacky and warm.
She’s got the bullet out, its somewhere in-between Rio’s legs, she just needs to stich him up now. Beth wishes she could open the car door, give herself some space, but she needs to do this fast and the last thing she wants to do is draw attention to them.
God, she can’t do this, she can’t breathe.
Her hands are steady even though it feels like her entire body is shaking. She cleans the area and gets the needle ready. Beth can do this; she’s done it before. She suddenly pictures her kid’s Halloween costumes that she made from scratch like that’ll somehow help and Rio senses her hesitation because he grabs her hand.
He squeezes, gaining her attention.
Despite being shot, he doesn’t look that bad—annoyed about the inconvenience and clearly in pain but not trying to show it.
“I trust you,” He licks his lips. “Give me a badass scar, yeah?”
I trust you. Her breath catches in her throat and he lets go of her hand.
The words repeat against her eardrums and drown out every other sound as she gets to work.
–
Beth searches through Rio’s kitchen cabinets for chocolate and finds nothing resembling it. For someone who has a kid, who lives in this apartment when he’s not with his mother, she expected more sweets to be stashed about.
Nothing, nada.
She sighs, leaning her elbows against the counter and tapping her fingers against her cheekbones. Yeah, it’s ten at night and she should be going to bed instead of trying to find dessert when they’ve ate dinner hours ago but…can’t blame a girl for trying.
“You have no chocolate, seriously?”
Rio pads into the kitchen in a pair of grey joggers and black t-shirt, letting out a soft huff to let her know he’s heard her but not dignifying it with a real response. He doesn’t really eat sweets, she knows this, but still…
“Nothing?” She asks again, turning to look at him. He’s opening up the fridge to grab water, taking a long sip. Beth kinda hates how distracting it is, the muscles in his throat working before he puts the bottle back. “I’m not asking for much, I love chocolate, okay? I’m craving it in the worst way right now—”
And suddenly, Rio opens up the freezer and pulls out a small tub of chocolate ice cream. Wait, not just any chocolate ice cream; double fudge chips. He slides it over to her in a long gesture, putting a spoon on top.
“I know.” Is all he says; the simplest of two words. There’s the smallest smile on his face as he leans against the counter and watches her rip off the lid and dig into it…even when she nearly bends the spoon.
–
Beth cleans her gun, watches how Rio does it.
It’s calm and calculated and she had no idea that a gun could come apart in so many pieces. That so much of it would need cleaned. She sighs and rubs the back of her neck, biting her tongue on saying something like I don’t use this thing often enough to clean it but figures that will only cause some sort of backlash.
He’s always encouraging her to use her gun, even when she doesn’t want to. She’s fired it before, of course, but it’s never felt very necessary.
Her eyes wash over Rio’s face, his jawline, the stubble on his chin. She memorizes his bird tattoo, the lines there, the hollow of his throat, follows his sharp curves down to his hands holding onto his own gun.
She’s felt those hands before, on her, inside of her, pulling her close and pushing her away. Beth feels a little silly cleaning her gun, keeping it on her at all times, because…the words are out of her mouth before she can stop them:
“You make me feel safe.”
Rio goes still, pauses in a way where she wonders if he’s even breathing. His jaw clenches as he bites down on the inside of his cheek, putting his gun down, the metal clanking noisily against the tabletop.
“Don’t,” He says quickly, shaking his head at her. He holds her gaze for a long moment, until she realizes he’s serious, until his words burn into her skin like a brand, “One day I’m gonna get you killed,” Rio looks down at her gun and picks it up, presses it into her hands,
cold metal and warm skin.
“It’s just not today.”
–
Beth yawns, stretching her arms over her head as she leans back into Rio’s couch. “Alright, that’s it. Last book is done.”
Rio sits up next to her, flipping through a file of paperwork, cars in her backlot that haven’t made it through their process of searching them yet. There’s still a few they need to work on and hash out clients for.
Right now, they’re just trying to make the books match the car inventory. The last thing she wants is another Turner situation where she’s hiding in the bathroom trying to get rid of evidence either in the ceiling or toilet.
“You sure? My eyes feel like they’re permanently crossed.”
She smiles a little and puts the book on top of some others in the corner, pulling her hair back into a messy bun. “Might improve your looks.” Her voice is warm and teasing despite how tired she feels and Rio picks up a pillow only to tap her side playfully.
“Bed?”
Beth nods, putting the pillow to the side as she stands up. “Bed.”
She makes her way over to his bedroom, moving to pull the sheets down. He presses up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist as his hands squeeze her hips. His mouth comes down onto her neck, a shiver coursing down her spine as his stubble tickles her skin.
“Am I not going to get a thank you?” She pouts. “You could have easily done that on your own.”
Rio turns her in his grip, pressing her down into the mattress, blanketing her body with his. “I like havin’ you around.” She smiles, the words sinking into her pores and living there, warmly, before he kisses her.
It’s deep and intimate and his tongue slips between her lips, making her moan, his hands working their way up her shirt. Then, too suddenly, he’s gone—moving down her body.
Beth lets out a soft huff, clearly displeased that he’s disappearing, that his mouth is gone from her own. “Where are you going?”
He looks up at her through his eyelashes, “I’m thankin’ you.” and pulls the string of her joggers loose before sliding them onto the floor.
–
Words are like touch, but they don’t fade with time.