Chapter 15 Mae
I’m not going to sleep with a client.
I can't sleep with a client.
I won’t sleep with a client.
Fuck, I’m going to sleep with Cody Cameron, aren’t I?
Cody walks to the kitchen of his beautifully decorated apartment in the heart of the city and pours two glasses of whiskey at my request.
To me, wine has always been an intimate drink—one that encourages deep conversations, where you purposefully catch up, relax, and unwind.
Whiskey, on the other hand, is for the messy. It's for heartbreak, grief, and healing. Difficult conversations and dirty sex. It isn't a celebratory drink like vodka or tequila; it's for those who are broken and in need of forgetting - or remembering.
I've done lots of healing over the past few years.
Healing from the control that my parents wielded over me for most of my life.
Healing from Vance's abuse and the regret I felt in allowing myself to be manipulated into marrying him.
Healing from an unexpected, unplanned pregnancy.
And healing from a lost picture of what my future should have looked like in my mind.
But none of that included healing from the way that Cody Cameron broke my heart when I was just a young girl. When he'd given up on us so easily at my parents' demands and the way it felt to say goodbye one year later the summer before leaving for college.
He’d said it’d be better that way for both of us. A clean slate since we were both leaving for college.
I’m realizing now that I haven’t had a chance to properly grieve our love after we parted ways and maybe this, this last night spent together with him, is the closure that I’ve been seeking for all these years.
“You want to sit on the porch? Sometimes I sit out there and look at the crazy bachelorette parties that run up and down the sidewalks. I swear Nashville is the hub for that kind of thing.”
I laugh easily. “Sure. That sounds nice.”
We settle into two chairs that he has situated on the balcony as we sip our whiskey in silence, enjoying the laughter that’s filtering up from the street below us.
"It's hard to believe that so much time has passed since we last saw each other,” he says, breaking the silence.
I nod, remembering our last days together and how my heart broke wondering if we’d ever see each other again. But then life happened, I met Vance, got pregnant, and he was pushed towards the deep recesses of my mind. A faded memory of my youth, gone way too soon.
"Did you ever ask about me when you left for college?" I ask, nervous to know the truth.
He sets his glass down and turns to face me.
"The summer after we graduated and spent every day together, I couldn't stop trying to figure out a way to make things work long distance.
But I knew you were staying in Texas, and I was going to Michigan.
There was no way we could have made things work while your parents were bankrolling your education and controlling your decisions. "
He sighs and I feel that familiar squeeze in my chest. The same one that I get anytime I remember the way my parents controlled my every move back then.
"The fall of my freshmen year, I heard through a friend I'd made in college that the new rookie signed to the Thunderhawk's was marrying a girl from Lonestar Junction.
Something in my gut told me it was you. One night, I googled Vance's name to find a photo of you draped on his arm, wearing his jersey.
It absolutely crushed me to think we'd just been together, and you were already marrying some other guy, let alone a player in the NFL.
It made me feel like our love had been dispensable. "
I swallow and nod my head, realizing now how terrible that must have made him feel to see that practically immediately after we split.
When I’ve looked back at those photos of myself from the early days, the hollowness and sadness behind my eyes makes me unrecognizable.
My hair was shorter, my face caked with makeup to cover up the stress acne from all the worries I had around being pregnant by a man I hardly knew, and didn’t trust, and my eyes were empty and dull.
I'd been in a dark haze, pressured into the marriage and struggling to come to terms with Elsie’s pregnancy.
They were some of the darkest days of my life.
"I swore to myself I'd never look into you again and I kept true to my word." He shifts back to look over the city streets and takes another sip of his whiskey. “It was just… too damn painful. Life moved forward and I never asked anymore questions. I figured the love we had would just be a memory.”
"I couldn't look at those photos of myself during that time either," I say, and his eyes find mine again.
"That wasn't me back then. That was the weak Mae who feared for her future if she didn't comply.
I fell in line like I always did. I felt like I didn't have a choice.
I didn't realize that all along I had the power within me to make it on my own until after I left Vance for good.
The years were a struggle as a single mom with no familial support, but I quickly realized that nothing worth fighting for is ever easy. "
Cody nods, taking another quiet sip of his drink, "You did what you had to in order to protect yourself and look out for Elsie."
“I did… but sometimes, I wish I’d fought to keep in touch with you. I wish you’d fought harder, too.”
He sighs. “Yeah, me too.”
We're silent again as the traffics buzzes quietly below us.
"Do you think things might have been different, had I not gotten pregnant and married so fast after we split?" I ask.
"I sure as hell hope so,” his gaze is intense, eyes full of heat and longing as I find the boy that I fell for long ago somewhere in the mist of the swirl of his green eyes.
I know I shouldn’t sleep with him tonight. I shouldn’t. But that doesn’t change the fact that I want to. That some part of me believes this might be the closure I need.
Some people would argue that sleeping with him doesn’t sound like closure at all—how could it be? But for me, this feels like the only way to end what we once had. Something beautiful. Innocent. Raw. A final moment before the past fades into something we can both move on from.
Slowly, I rise from the chair, my fingers trailing along the hem of my skirt as I walk toward his bedroom. I reach for the zipper, pulling it down, letting the fabric slip off my hips and pool at my feet.
Cody stays where he is, leaning lazily against the doorway, whiskey glass still in hand, watching me with those sharp green eyes—heated, intense, taking in every inch of me like he’s memorizing the sight.
I lift my hands to the buttons of my blouse, undoing each one with deliberate slowness. The silk slides from my shoulders, joining my skirt on the floor, leaving me bare except for the lace of my bra and the anticipation curling low in my stomach.
He inhales sharply, draining the last of his whiskey before setting the glass down on the dresser and stepping forward.
His fingers skim up my back, tracing along my spine, warm and certain, before expertly unhooking my bra.
The straps slip from my shoulders, and then I’m pressed against him—skin to skin, breath to breath.
And just like that, we’re lost. We both know we’re doing this and there’s no backing out.
"You sure about this?" he asks as his hands meet my breasts, testing the weight of them and rolling my already hardened nipples between his fingers.
"No," I respond, "I'm not sure about anything right now."
He nods in understanding, then slowly cups my cheek, his touch warm, grounding.
His lips lower to mine, soft at first—achingly familiar yet somehow brand new.
Heat surges through me as I press closer, my body molding against his while his arms wrap around me, holding me like he never plans to let go.
His hands slide down my sides, fingers skimming over my waist before slipping lower.
A sharp inhale catches in my throat as he pushes my panties aside, his touch deliberate.
He drags a finger through my slickness, stroking over my entrance before dipping one inside, his thumb circling my clit with practiced ease.
I moan against his mouth, my nails digging into his shoulders as his hard cock thickens against my stomach.
He backs me toward the bed, never breaking our kiss like a pro, until the mattress hits the backs of my knees. Then, with a smooth drop, he’s kneeling in front of me, his hands gripping my hips as his teeth catch the waistband of my underwear, dragging them down inch by agonizing inch.
“I want to taste you again, Mae,” he murmurs, his voice rough, needy.
That one word—again—hits me like a current. Because Cody has tasted me, years and memories ago. I nod eagerly, watching as he lowers his head. His tongue is flat when it makes the first slow, wet pass up my slit, stopping at my clit before he sucks it between his lips.
My legs tremble. My hands tangle in his hair looking for something to steady my heart.
Oh, wow.
His tongue is warm and soft, yet precise.
He kisses me there, like he’s savoring the moment, taking his time.
He’s always been like this—patient, thorough, passionate.
Something that all cowboys seem to have in common.
He lets me grind against his face, lets me set the rhythm as he laps me up, drawing me higher and higher until the pleasure curls tight in my belly and I know this orgasm is going to wreck me.
I gasp, barely coherent. “Do you have a condom?” Because I want to come on him, not on his face. I want this closure to be with him at the same time.
His tongue stills, then he pulls back, his lips and beard glistening as he exhales a heavy breath. “Yeah.”
He rises, unbuckles his belt with deft fingers, kicks off his jeans before stripping his shirt over his head. My eyes rake over him, drinking him in—the way his muscles flex and shift, the broad expanse of his chest, the solid cut of his abs. Boxy, strong. All man.
Not just my first love.
The one who got away.
He digs into his wallet, pulling out a condom, tearing it open with his teeth before rolling it down his thick length. Then, holding my gaze, he teases my entrance, dragging the head of his cock over my clit before pushing a finger back inside me again.
“You’re so wet,” he murmurs. “I can’t wait to feel you.”
I swallow thickly, my chest heaving. What I should say is, don’t be too tender. I’ve changed. Hardened. Grown thicker skin. But something about the way he looks at me—like he still sees the girl I used to be—unravels me. If he’s gentle, and passionate, I don’t think I can handle it.
Thankfully, Cody doesn’t wait.
In one smooth thrust, he sinks into me, bottoming out, stealing the breath from my lungs as my pussy squeezes around him, trying to adjust to the intrusion.
“Oh—” I whimper, my fingers clawing into his shoulders as he pulls back, dragging his cock almost all the way out before pushing back inside to the bottom again. My thighs tighten around his waist, my body clinging to him, remembering him, knowing him.
By the third thrust, he stills deep inside of me. His hands flex on my waist. His body tenses and he pulses there for just a few seconds.
I blink up at him, confused, just as he reaches down and swipes a tear from my cheek—one I hadn’t realized had fallen. He stares at it for a beat, then brings it to his mouth, tasting it, his brows furrowing.
“Mae,” he whispers, his voice wrecked with pain, “am I hurting you?”
“No.” My voice shakes. Because it’s not pain that’s breaking me. It’s this.
Being with him again. The way our bodies fit. The way this connection pulls at something deep inside me—something I’ve buried since I was a kid.
He still doesn’t move. He’s waiting. Always waiting for me.
So, I lift my hips, pressing myself onto him, guiding him deeper inside of me, rocking myself back and forth on his length as I chase my release. My freedom. My closure.
His jaw clenches, the muscles tick in his throat. “Are you sure? Baby, I can stop—”
I shake my head, managing a wobbly smile. “Don’t stop.”
And that’s all he needs.
A groan rips from his throat as he grips my hip, setting a rhythm—long, deep thrusts that send fire curling through my veins.
He moves faster, rocking into me, his abs flexing, his breath ragged.
Then, with a rough sound, he brings his thumb to his lips—the same one he just wiped my tear with—wets it before pressing it against my clit, rubbing tight, deliberate circles in a rapid motion that makes me see stars.
I shatter.
“Cody—” My head tips back, vision blurring as heat floods my stomach, my orgasm crashing into me like a highlight reel of my life.
“Fuck, Mae,” he rasps, his movements turning desperate. “Fuck you feel so good—” With a final thrust, he buries himself deep, his body going rigid, his cock pulsing inside me as he groans against my neck, his release filling the condom.
For a long moment, we just breathe. Enjoying the way it feels to be connected one last time. Then he moves, pulling me against his chest, rolling us until I’m sprawled on top of him. His fingers tangle in my hair, holding me close right against his heart.
“Shit,” he mutters. “You’re so fucking perfect. You always have been.”
I exhale shakily, pressing my face into his chest. And that’s when the tears come harder, silent but relentless. Maybe if this were someone else, I’d be embarrassed but he gets it. He knows.
Cody doesn’t ask.
Doesn’t say anything.
He just holds me.
And for that, I’m grateful.
Because this—this was what I asked for. What I wanted.
Closure.
But now I’m not so sure that it is.
Because it also fucking hurts to be back here with him.