Chapter Thirty-One
MONROE
Crew and I leave my parents’ house and walk over to his bike. We’ve been inseparable since the night he showed up at my house, but I don’t know if he wants to go home alone.
Crew swings a leg over his bike, the pink and black chrome making me smile.
“Why pink?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “I guess some part of me was hoping for something bright and good to come rescue me from the darkness.” And just like that, I manage to fall even more in love with him. “Do you trust me, pixie?”
“I do,” I answer without hesitation.
“Then get on, but you’ve gotta trust me.”
Nerves flutter low in my stomach, but I get on the bike behind him anyway, scooting close and wrapping my arms around him under his T-shirt. I love his bare skin, and I want to feel it under mine now.
The bike rumbles under us as he slowly pulls out of my parents’ driveway and takes the turn heading out of town. My heart drops. My breathing picks up. And I know exactly where he’s going.
Lookout Lake.
I grip Crew tighter, resting my cheek against his back, letting the wind whip past us. We lean together up the winding roads, heading straight up on the familiar path that I haven’t been up since the night we all lost our lives.
Breathing through the impending panic, I squeeze my eyes closed, trying with everything I have to not relive the moment the elk came into view, the squeal of Tyler’s tires as we spun and flipped, the crunch of metal, the scent of burning rubber.
But then I hear it, the worst part of all of it.
It was Nora’s screams, it was holding onto her hand with everything I had, and having it ripped from my grip anyway.
Her screams that I hear now as Crew takes us up farther and farther to Lookout Lake.
When he makes it to the top, I feel like I can’t breathe.
Crew must feel my turmoil because he carefully pulls me into his lap, easily picking me up like I’m a doll, and it’s no big deal.
My legs wrap around him, like the first time he tried to take me up here, unknowing that it was the place of such trauma.
His hands cup my neck and jaw, dwarfing my face. “Breathe for me, pixie. You’re safe. You’re breathing. I’ve got you.”
He drops his head to mine, our breath mingling. Then he places his hand over my heart and puts mine over his. “Focus on the beat. Ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum.”
I close my eyes and breathe in his fire and rain scent, feeling the beat of his heart under my palm. It’s calming, steady, and the panic starts to ebb.
“You have no idea how grateful I am that your heart is beating, Monroe. It’s the best sound I’ve heard in my life because it means you’re here. You’re living. We’ll never be able to explain why some people get to live on while others leave, but we can’t stay stagnant anymore.”
“I know. I want to live, Crew. I want out of this rut.”
“Then live. Look around with me, you can’t feel guilty for surviving anymore, pretty girl. Release yourself from that. Forgive yourself for that.”
Tears stream down my face, and Crew is right there, kissing every single one away.
Crew reluctantly drops me off at work at the mortuary the next day, but I know he’s with me through whatever means he’s been watching me.
When I walk into the preparation room, that familiar caress slides over my body like an old friend.
Knowing that it’s Crew behind that feeling makes it all that much more heightened.
After George has left for the day, I stay late, deciding that I want to test the waters a bit. The idea came to me before lunch while I was working in here and has made me deliciously giddy all day.
I’m not sure where the cameras are in the preparation room, but I know they’re here. I feel them the most when I’m standing at the table, so that’s what I go off of and hope for the best. I know I’m playing with fire by tempting the devil, but it’s too alluring not to.
I slowly run my fingertips up my arms, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth, as I gently push the thin strap of my dress off my shoulder. Then the other side. With a little help, the dress cascades down my body, falling in a heap at my feet.
I step out of the material, climbing onto the preparation table and lying down on my back.
The stainless steel is freezing on my bare skin, and I instantly shiver, breaking out in goosebumps.
I can’t believe I’m actually doing this: lying on the table where I prep dead bodies every day.
My eyes flick to the coolers, and I know four of them are occupied.
All of this should bother me. I’m smart enough to know these things should be alarming. But they aren’t. It’s the opposite. I feel like Eve in the Garden of Eden, being tempted by the serpent with forbidden fruit. And I greedily accept it, consequences be damned.
I tease myself, running my fingers over my stomach lightly, letting my mind slip into the place where it’s Crew’s hands instead. I move up to my breasts, grasping both and squeezing, letting my lower back arch slightly as I pull the cups down and twist my nipples.
I can feel the wetness pooling from the heat at my center, my breathing coming faster as I work myself up. Slowly, I slide one hand down my body, slipping it into the tiny lace panties I’m wearing, until I sink between my lips.
I hope he’s watching from wherever he is. I hope he’s so turned on that he can’t think straight. It feels powerful, it feels wrong, but so right at the same time.