18. Cici
18
CICI
I watched Porter climb out of Buck’s truck, immediately sensing something had changed. It hadn’t been more than a couple of hours since I last saw him, but I didn’t remember him looking so bone-deep exhausted before he and his brother left.
“Everything okay?” I asked as he approached the porch, where I waited.
“Yeah. Just handling some things.”
I studied his face, noting the red puffiness around his eyes that suggested he’d been crying. Porter Wheaton, who faced down charging bulls without flinching, looked like he’d been through an emotional war. The urge to wrap my arms around him, to somehow ease whatever burden he carried, was almost overwhelming.
“Come inside,” I said softly. “You look like you could use some coffee.”
He followed me into the kitchen, and I felt his eyes on me as I navigated the space I was getting used to sharing with him. The sun streamed through the windows, and while everything looked the same as it had two hours ago, my gut told me it wasn’t.
“Did Buck get what he needed?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual as I poured coffee for both of us.
“Something like that.” Porter’s hand trembled slightly as he took the cup I offered. Our fingers brushed, sending electricity through my skin despite my growing unease.
Porter leaned in closer to me. “There’s something we should talk about. Upstairs.”
My eyes opened wide, and I nodded, following him up the steps and into the bedroom when he took my hand.
He shut the door, and I sat on the bed. “The other day, Stetson mentioned a falling out between your dad and his.”
“I knew they had. I mean, Dad talked about it. I wasn’t very old when it happened. Maybe two or three. What I remember most is that my dad regretted the loss of the friendship. Look, if Stetson has a problem working here?—”
Porter shook his head. “He was afraid it was the other way around. That his being here would make you uncomfortable.”
“Why would it?”
“I think he just wanted to make sure you didn’t think he or his family held a grudge.”
“Of course I don’t. Plus, he’s here to help, right?” I fell back on the mattress. “I need all of that I can get.”
Porter lay beside me and took my hand in his.
“Remember that conversation we had about me taking off and lying on a beach somewhere?”
He chuckled. “Yeah, but I don’t think I’d call it a conversation.”
“Whatever. Anyway, it’s sounding damn good right now. Wanna go with me?”
He brought my hand to his lips and kissed the back of it. “I’d like nothing better, and when the time comes that you’re serious, I’ll be all in.”
I turned to look at him and caught him flinch. “What was that about?”
“What?”
“You don’t have to pretend you want to do something you don’t. It isn’t like you thought I was serious.”
When I tried to pull my hand away, he held on tighter. “There’s just a lot going on right now.”
My mouth gaped. “I wasn’t suggesting now. Jesus.”
He rolled to his side so he was facing me. “I know you weren’t. I just”—he took a deep breath and let it out slowly—“wish we could escape for a while too.”
“I couldn’t leave Mav.”
He nodded. “Neither could I. Listen, this goes against the tenets of the organization, but I’ve been taking Mav to?—”
“Don’t tell me. If you aren’t supposed to tell me, I don’t want to hear it.” I turned to face him. “I know that whatever you’re doing is helping.”
“One day at a time,” he said under his breath.
What I was about to say—to suggest—might backfire on me in a spectacularly mortifying way, but I couldn’t help myself. “Later, when it’s time for bed, I want you to get under the covers with me, Porter.”
He studied me. “Cici…I…”
I rolled to my back and looked up at the ceiling. “Forget I said anything.”
When Porter shifted off the bed, I expected him to leave. Instead, he stretched his body out on mine. “Am I hurting you?” he asked, propping himself up with one arm.
“I like feeling you on top of me.”
“You should never doubt how much I want to be with you.”
I wriggled my hips and giggled. “I can tell.”
“But there are things you need to know, not all of which I can tell you right now.”
My eyes scrunched. “I knew you were keeping things from me.” When he shifted a second time, I stopped him. “Stay where you are.”
He leaned down and kissed me. “You know this is torture, right?”
“Like it isn’t for me?” I put my finger on his lips to stop him from saying more. “Tell me this much. Will whatever it is hurt me?”
This time, when he rolled to the side, I let him. “You will be hurt, Cici, but not because any of it is meant against you. Does that make sense?”
“I’ll be hurt that you kept whatever it is from me.”
“That’s right.”
I thought it over for several seconds. “If you could tell me, would you?”
“So fast your head would spin.”
“That’s good enough for now, Porter. Just don’t keep it from me forever.”
“I promise I won’t.”