Chapter 25
TWENTY-FIVE
CANE
The faint sound of beeping stirs me from my sleep, although, on this uncomfortable couch, it wouldn’t take much to wake me up.
Once I realize what the sound is, I shoot off the couch.
It’s Harland’s alarm, signaling that her level is off.
I get to her bedroom door, and even though it’s already cracked open, it feels wrong to just barge in.
If her friends were here, I’d ask them to go in first, but they’re staying at the hotel attached to the airport because their flight home is so early.
And Harland’s aunt, who flew into town, isn’t staying here either, though I do remember her mentioning giving Harland’s mom something to help her sleep because apparently, she’s a nurse practitioner.
And if she did take a sleeping pill to relax her, I guess that’s why she isn’t hearing her daughter’s alarm.
I wait to hear her rustling around in there, but that never happens. Though I do hear a sudden noise of what sounds like a whimper or sob, and that’s all I need to say fuck it before charging into the room.
The lamp in the corner of the room is on, lighting up the room enough for me to see Harland moving subtly under the covers.
I sit on the edge of the bed, cupping her cheek, and my heart drops when I feel how soaked with sweat she is.
I’ve researched enough about type 1 diabetes to understand that if she’s drenched with sweat the way she is right now, her sugar is probably low.
I don’t know how she isn’t awake with the continuous beeping from her glucose monitor, but the expression on her face is pained, and when I run my hand over her hair, even her head is soaked.
“Catch,” I whisper, but when she doesn’t respond, I know I need to be louder. “Hey, Catch. Wake up.” This time, I give her a gentle shake.
Her eyes flutter open, but when they quickly widen to the size of saucers, I know I’ve frightened her, which is the last thing I wanted to do. When I read about low sugar level, it said that it could cause confusion or distortion. The thought that she’s scared of me right now makes me sick.
“It’s okay,” I say, attempting to soothe her when she sits up quickly. “Your alarm is going off.” I glance at the nightstand, grabbing her phone and holding it in front of her.
She blinks a few times, wiping her hand across her dampened forehead. “My head. My head hurts.” She attempts to sit up higher but falls back. “Dizzy.”
“I’m going to open the app on your phone for your monitor, okay?” I tell her, not wanting to just do things without her permission. “Is that okay, Catch?”
“Yeah,” she murmurs, rubbing her temples. “I need … sugar.”
When I look at the screen, she’s right; just like I assumed, her sugar is too low.
“I’ll be right back, okay?” I tell her before running into the kitchen.
Opening the refrigerator, I grab a purple Gatorade and close the door before rushing back to her bedroom, twisting the cap off just before I reach her bed.
I sit down beside her, putting my arm around her body and pulling her against me before I bring the bottle to her lips. She keeps her eyes closed—I’m sure in an attempt to fight the headache—but continues to take gulps of the drink until it’s about half gone.
“That should be good,” she says softly, and I pull it back from her mouth to put the cap on it and set it on the nightstand.
She sinks down again, nuzzling her head against my side, but I stay upright, leaning against the back of the bed, not wanting to take advantage of the situation and smother her.
She’s quiet—so quiet—for about ten minutes.
Her body temperature seems to level out, and I don’t feel her heart racing as fast against my body.
I wonder if she’s asleep, but then she speaks, telling me she isn’t.
“Stay with me tonight,” she whispers, wrapping her arm around my bare abdomen—because when I raced in here, I didn’t have time to throw a shirt on. “Please?”
I swallow roughly and skate my hand against the soft skin on her arm.
“You sure?” I utter, feeling her chin hit my side as she bobs her head.
“Yes.”
Unhurriedly, I sink down into the bed, and her head stays against me, along with her arm around my body.
I have everything I need right in my arms … and she doesn’t even know how I feel.
Time passes, and for the life of me, I can’t fall asleep. Something tells me that Harland isn’t asleep either.
I hold as still as I can, not wanting to wake her in case she is, but having her this close … it’s igniting a fire inside of me. A fire that has no right burning.
Her hand moves against my abdomen. Not much, but enough for me to know she’s not asleep. And seconds later, she moves it again, but this time, she skates it further along my flesh.
“Cane,” she whispers, her voice gruff. “Are you awake?”
I sigh. “Yeah, Catch. I’m awake.”
She’s silent, and once again, I’m scared of what is about to come out of her pretty mouth. Right now, with her in her short sleep shorts and ratty NEU shirt, I’m not sure I could push her away if she asked me for something.
I know I couldn’t.
She turns her body so that she’s almost on her stomach, looking up at me.
“Would you … would you tell me no again if I asked you to be my first?” she whispers, her eyes staring up at me with absolute fear. Not fear of me, but instead fear of me telling her no. Fear of being embarrassed.
I drag in a deep breath, knowing damn well that I’m at my wits’ end of patience when it comes to keeping her at arm’s length, trying to do right by her and be the good guy.
“Harland,” I rasp, “don’t … don’t ask me for something like that if you’re going to regret it.” I glide my hand up her body, ruffling her shirt before stroking my thumb along her cheek. “I’m not that strong of a man to tell you no twice.” I cringe. “Once almost killed me.”
She presses her tits against my body, and I feel her nipples straining through her shirt.
“Something good has to come of this week,” she whimpers.
“I know we’re just friends. I know what I said—about not needing a distraction from softball at NEU.
” Her hand is between us, skirting along my abdomen, dropping damn near to the band of my sweatpants.
“But right now, we’re not at NEU. So, for now, until I go home tomorrow night … there is no softball.”
My cock strains against my pants, and I swallow harshly. “You’re asking me to—”
“Fuck me …” she croaks, and for a virgin, I never expected those words to fly from her mouth so boldly.
“Yeah. You’re asking me to fuck you, Harland, and then to pretend like it didn’t happen when we get back to campus.” My eyes narrow instinctively. “What? Are you saying you don’t want to be my friend when we get back tomorrow night?”
“I want to be your friend always, Cane.” She looks down regrettably.
“But I made my dad a promise a long time ago that I wouldn’t lose sight of my dream.
I want to keep my promise to honor him.” She looks at me again.
“Even though I may want you in ways I swore I wouldn’t allow myself to, I know if I let myself completely fall for you, I’d never come up for air.
And I’d throw away all of my hard work just to be with you. ”
“I’d never let you do that,” I say, irked. “Ever.”
She shakes her head. “You wouldn’t have to, Cane.
You’re the type of guy who would be all-consuming without even meaning to be.
” She smiles sadly. “Because you’re that good.
” She inhales sharply, and suddenly, her face changes to something more daring just before her nails dig against my flesh.
“But before we get back there, won’t you please take something from me that I’ve been carrying around?
Take it and give me something to look back on from this week and smile about. ”
My dick is rock hard, and that probably makes me a piece of shit, but when a woman as beautiful, strong, and talented as Harland Meadows is looking at you with her big green eyes, practically begging you not only for your dick, but also to be her first …
how the fuck am I not supposed to be hard right now?
Every bit of control I have is disappearing into thin air, imagining being the first one ever to be inside of her.
She’s trusting me with that.
“It’s going to hurt,” I tell her, stroking her cheek. “I’ll do my best to make it okay for you, but … it’s not going to feel good at first.”
“I’d rather have that pain than the pain I’m feeling right now,” she whispers, pushing my sweatpants down slightly. “But I don’t know what I’m doing … so you’re going to have to show me.”
At that, a whimper rips through my throat. This woman? This fucking angel … she may just be the death of me.
“I don’t have a condom,” I say, knowing that’s likely a deal-breaker. I mean, it is for me normally. But with her, I’d make an exception.
“I’m on the pill.” She darts her eyes away. “Not because of sex—obviously. But because it helps with my cycles.”
My head fucking spins, imagining fucking her bare, with absolutely nothing between us. What a fucking dream that would be. Before I can say anything, she does.
“I want to make you feel good, Cane.” She peeks up at me through her thick lashes. “I need to make you feel good.”
Fucking hell.
How am I supposed to say no to her right now when she’s looking at me with those innocent fuck-me eyes?
When she pushes my sweatpants down further, my steel cock springs free, and right away, her eyes widen, and she gulps.
“You’re huge …” She gasps, biting down on her lip. “I—can I … take all of you?”
I’m somewhere between groaning in need and chuckling from the look on her face, but the energy in this room, it’s too thick right now for laughter. Because deep down, I know she’s asking me to put a Band-Aid over a bullet hole.
A Band-Aid that won’t hold for long and could end up doing more harm than good.
“Are you sure this is what you want?” I ask her thickly. “Like, one thousand percent sure?”
“Yes,” she promises. “Please.”