25. Everything We Never Said
EVERYTHING WE NEVER SAID
CAIN
I glance at her. The truck’s interior glows pale from the dashboard, illuminating the gentle curve of her cheek and the way her arms fold protectively over her stomach. Every few seconds, she turns her head, eyes catching mine in the rear-view mirror, as if she’s weighing her next breath.
“You angry about Paula?” I ask as we drive home.
I caught Paula leaving Nectar when I got there, but instead of chasing her, I checked on Faith.
“I’m fine ,” she said, but I’m not sure.
“No, I’m not angry,” she replies immediately.
“Then?”
She lets out a long sigh. “I feel sorry for her. She’s so…I’m sorry to say this, Cain, but she’s dumb .”
Laughter chokes out of me.
“She thinks she’s living some other life than the one she has.
” She taps a finger on the dashboard. “I think she thought she’d marry Kyle and life would go on.
Now she’s having trouble adjusting to the fact that he’s done with her.
And you and your parents are as well. Yet, instead of getting on with it—finding a job—she’s still hoping you’ll take care of her.
” She pauses and looks at me helplessly. “It’s… dumb .”
“I know.”
“And”—she wags a finger at me—“you’re not to blame for this. Neither are your parents. Sometimes people just do stupid shit.”
We drive quietly, and as we get close to her place, she turns in her seat. “Cain?”
“Yeah, sweet thing?”
“Can we go to your place?”
Her words steal my breath away. “Yes,” I manage to whisper.
I drive past her apartment to Main Street, feeling joyous. I don’t ask her why. I don’t force an answer. I simply steer us forward, tires whispering on the asphalt.
When we pull into the narrow driveway where I park my truck, I kill the engine and climb out.
I open the door that leads upstairs. She goes ahead of me. The wooden floorboards creak under her weight, and for a heartbeat, I see the flicker of memory in her eyes—of the last time she stood here, when everything splintered.
I wait.
She keeps going. I’m in awe of her bravery.
“You want something to drink? Tea?” I offer, moving toward the kitchen.
She trails after me, then lifts a hand to my arm, warm fingers against my sleeve.
“I don’t want tea,” she says. Her voice is low and certain.
My pulse drums at my temples. I turn to see her step into my space, the hush of the house pressing in around us, cocooning us.
Her eyes meet mine without wavering. “I want you.”
The simple confession echoes. I’ve pictured this moment a thousand times since I lost her, but reality is richer than any daydream.
She goes on tiptoe and kisses me—slow, exploratory, as if mapping the curve of my lips. When I wrap my hands around her face, she grips my shirt, and something inside us both gives way.
“Come.” I take her hand and lead her to my bedroom. My bed. The one that has been empty for so many months. The bed I lay in, missing her.
We undress each other with reverent slowness, peeling off layers like petals falling from a flower— he loves me, he loves me not , whispered between heartbeats, not lips.
Her skin is warm under my fingertips, each inch alive with soft goosebumps.
I press my lips to her shoulder and she exhales—a soft surrender—as though she has finally come home.
She leads me to my bed, sits at the edge, pulls me closer. My cock is close to her lips. She looks at me, her beautiful, honey brown eyes full of desire.
“You want to taste me, sweet thing?”
She licks her lower lip. “Yes.”
She’s so sexy. Her breasts sway.
“Then take me inside your mouth.”
She wraps her fingers around the base of my erection and squeezes gently.
I groan. Precum seeps from my tip.
She licks it and then the underside of my cock.
I hiss in pleasure. My hands dig into her silken hair. I let her keep pace. I don’t demand anything. This is slow pleasure.
Pristine beauty .
I bump up against the back of her throat.
“Faith,” I groan.
I hold my hips still. If she keeps at this, it’ll be over before it starts. I gently pull her mouth off my cock.
“Cain,” she whines.
“Next time, you can swallow me dry. This time…sweet thing, I need inside you.”
She pulls me down with her, on top of her.
I reach to turn on the bedside lamp. Its amber glow throws our shadows on the wall, and there’s nothing hidden here.
Every movement is deliberate, every touch an affirmation.
This isn’t the frantic hunger of the first time; it’s the profound, unhurried truth of two people who have learned what it means to trust.
I crawl down her body, kissing all the way.
I suckle her nipples.
Plump.
Hard.
Beautiful.
I kiss her between her legs. She watches me. I lick her slowly, and her eyes turn languid.
We haven’t made love many times, just twice in one night, all those months ago. Our bodies don’t know each other. But I know her . I know what’s inside her . I know.
I suckle her clit, holding her still with a hand on her stomach.
She writhes, crying out.
Just as she’s about to come, I race my way up to slam my mouth on hers.
I grab a condom and slide it on. Fast, fast, fast.
I enter her, feeling her spasms.
I pinch her clit as I move inside her, she finally comes, hard. It’s glorious to feel her milk me.
I’m gentle. I want this to last.
She traces my chest with her fingertips, as if memorizing my skin.
“I love you,” I tell her.
“I love you, too.” She gives it back to me, bigger, stronger, so much more.
Together, we make love like survivors who have reclaimed their stories.
Our breaths come in slow waves, our sighs low and certain.
“Don’t leave me again,” I plead as I pour into her.
“I won’t,” she promises.
In the aftermath, our touches are soft like gossamer, like the wings of a butterfly. She curls into my chest, her hair fanning across my collarbone. Her hand drifts in lazy circles over my ribs, and for a long time we lie motionless, listening to our hearts.
She sighs. “I didn’t think I’d ever feel safe again.”
My heart splinters in a hundred silent ways.
“But I do. With you,” she adds, and somehow, those words stitch every broken piece inside me, between us, back together.
I press my lips to the top of her head, inhaling the clean scent of her shampoo. “With me, you are always safe.”
She exhales. It’s the sound of a burden lifting.
We drift into sleep, tangled together—limbs intertwined, hearts finally beating in harmony, a steady rhythm.
There are no grand declarations. No lingering fears.
Just the hush of a silent night.
Finally, peace .