Chapter 11 Este
ESTE
I think Nico’s avoiding me.
Sloane
What did you do?
What you told me to.
WHAT
TELL ME EVERYTHING
Well no, don’t, because you’re my sister and I actually don’t want to know
Why do you think he’s avoiding you?
Because I woke up alone, and he hasn’t come near me all day. He leaves the room anytime I appear.
Huh
Do you think he didn’t like it?
Oh, he liked it.
He just doesn’t like that he liked it.
In an attempt to make things a little easier for Nico to come to terms with, I’m wearing pants. Not that it means much, if he won’t allow himself to be in the same room as me for more than five seconds.
Needing space is understandable. Avoiding me like I’m contagious in such a small space is less so. Still, I respect the space he clearly wants and stay out of his way. It’s not easy. I’m more rested than I have been in months; I should be relaxed. Instead, all I can think about is him.
Is he okay? Is he freaking out? Obviously, he’s freaking out. Is it my fault? Obviously, it’s my fault. I’m the one who seduced him. Though, indirectly, it’s Sloane’s fault, and what are little sisters for if not to blame for our… mistakes?
It didn’t feel like a mistake in the moment.
Last night was… What the fuck was that? Who was that? Not the man I expected to find when I arrived here, that’s for sure.
“Show Daddy where it hurts, angel.”
“That’s a good girl.”
“Show Daddy your pretty pussy, angel.”
He puts every man I’ve ever read about to shame. How the hell am I supposed to go back to how things were?
Space or not, I can’t spend the next few weeks hiding in my room. Especially since I left my Kindle and my water bottle downstairs. I need to de-stress a little, and the giant bathtub in the primary bathroom has been calling my name since I got here.
I’m not surprised to find bath salts in the bathroom cabinet—Nico probably needs to soak his muscles regularly after hauling around wood—but the bubble bath takes me by surprise.
I squeeze some into the tub, breathing in the eucalyptus and lavender as I fill the tub, and I feel more relaxed already.
Usually, I read in the bath, but I’m not sure reading a book that makes me picture Nico doing filthy things to me is in the spirit of trying not to think about him. Being left alone with my thoughts also won’t stop that. A movie it is.
I carry my laptop through and try to set it up on the ledge at the end of the bath, but it’s too big to be stable. My iPad would be perfect, but I didn’t bring it. Nico has an iPad, but that would involve talking to him.
Talking to him for less than a minute versus sitting in silence in the tub and thinking about him for an hour… I’ll take the minute.
Nico is sitting on the couch when I walk downstairs, but the second he sees me, he jumps up. “I’m taking the dogs out.” Where’s the man who fell to his knees at the sight of me? I’m going to get a complex if he keeps this up.
“Before you run away, I have a favor to ask,” I say, and he pauses by the door.
“Yeah?” He sounds wary, and I do feel a little guilty, even though he’s a forty-seven-year-old man who could’ve walked away at any point last night and didn’t.
“Can I borrow your iPad? I want to watch a movie in the bath, and my laptop is too big.”
“Oh. Yeah, of course.” Nico walks back to the couch and grabs it from the side table before handing it to me, taking great care not to let his hand touch mine as he does. “Password’s ‘mice.’”
“Thanks. Mice? Like your tattoo?” I ask, my gaze drawn to his arm where I know the mouse is inked beneath his sleeve.
He nods. “Shay has the same one.” I remember him mentioning his dad calling him and his sisters his three little mice when they were kids.
“To honor Georgie?” I ask, and he blinks, like he’s surprised to hear her name out loud.
I’ve noticed he stumbles over it when he speaks.
He probably doesn’t hear it often. Hell, before I showed up here, he probably wasn’t used to hearing anyone else say anything often.
I almost apologize, but I stop myself. Just because things are hard to say or hear doesn’t mean we should stop saying them.
“Yeah. We got them just after her… her funeral.” He stumbles over that, too.
I might not have known him long, but I can tell he hasn’t come close to processing or coming to terms with losing his sister.
And who could blame him? I can’t imagine a world in which Sloane doesn’t exist anymore.
But how do you come back from losing a twin or a triplet?
“It’s beautiful. And I’m glad you and Shay have that together.”
For the first time since I woke up this morning, it feels like he’s really looking at me. I want to use this to ask if we can talk about last night, but I know he’ll only run faster if I do. It’s like he sees me considering it, because he takes a step back.
“Got to take the dogs out,” he mumbles, and he’s out the door, the boys following behind him, before I can open my mouth.
I sigh and trudge upstairs with his iPad.
He has a generic device wallpaper, and when I type in the code, he only has a few apps.
The standard photos, calendar, weather, emails, plus a couple of streaming services, music, and the Kindle app.
I resist the urge to open it to see what kinds of things he reads on here.
When I first got here, he was reading a mystery book that he clearly wasn’t enjoying, and when I asked, he said he and Shay were reading it together.
But since then, he’s been reading on here, and he hasn’t volunteered any information about what books.
Granted, I haven’t asked, because if I ask him, he’ll reciprocate, and telling him about the kind of books I read would just make him uncomfortable.
Sure, I could just answer my default: “Romance.” But, in my experience, people either roll their eyes when I tell them I read romance because it’s “not real literature,” or say something along the lines of “I could never read that kind of filth.” And, in my experience, I don’t handle either reaction well.
I’m awfully defensive over the things I love, and books are no exception. I’ve learned to keep it to myself.
Since the accident, I’ve found a lot of comfort in watching the movies I loved as a kid. I can switch my brain off and not think too much, since I’ve seen them before, and I know the good guys always win.
I sink into the soothing bubbles, hit play on the screen, and watch princesses twirl around in ballgowns in shades of pink and purple.
Life was easier when what I wanted was to be whisked away into a fairytale by a prince and showered with diamonds.
Now, I want my dad’s best friend to throw me down and use me however he—oh, for the love of god.
I’m not supposed to be thinking about that.
I rub my face, pressing my palms into my eyes to try and squeeze some sense into my skull.
Have I ever been this fixated on a man? Definitely not. I wish I could blame it on my dry spell, or just on the building tension, thanks to being stuck together. But it wasn’t—it was just that good. Nico was that good.
For the first time since the accident, I was entirely focused on something other than my racing thoughts. I trusted him enough to switch off and focus on one thing: him. The closest I’ve gotten to doing that in months is… falling asleep beside him on the couch.
The common denominator is Nico, and I have no idea what that means.
But I don’t particularly want to give it up anytime soon.
Which means I need him to stop avoiding me.
I understand if sex is out of the question—I don’t like it, but I get it.
But I can’t handle him not talking to me, so I’m going to have to talk to him.
As soon as I’m finished in here, because the longer I put it off, the longer we’re both going to be overthinking—and spiraling never did anyone any good.
But since I have a plan, I can relax a little longer. I let the water ripple across my skin, warm and soothing, tune into the movie, and think about—well, shit.
“Never mind,” I grumble. The water rushes down my body as I stand, but all it does is make me think about Nico’s fingertips dancing over my skin. I wrap a towel around myself and catch a glimpse in the mirror; my cheeks are flushed.
“You have got to get a grip,” I tell myself before turning out the light and marching downstairs.
Except, Nico isn’t down here. His boots are by the door, and the boys are curled up by the fire, clearly drying off.
Earl opens one eye and points his nose toward the stairs.
Whether he’s telling me his dad is upstairs, or just telling me to leave them alone, I’m not sure, but the cabin is only so big.
If he were down here, I’d be able to tell.
My storming around seems a bit dramatic now, so I’m quieter as I go back up. I pass my room, and, sure enough, Nico’s bedroom door is cracked. I raise my hand to knock, but accidentally nudge the door with my elbow as I do. It opens a crack.
And my jaw drops.
Nico is sitting up in bed, completely naked, with one hand wrapped around his cock. The other… He’s reading my Kindle.
What the fuck?
He’s clearly so engrossed in the book that he doesn’t hear me. I lean against the doorframe, my heart pounding, and watch as he draws his fist up and down, his breath ragged and eyes glued to the screen.
He’s a work of art. Which is not an excuse to stand here and watch him like a creep, but I’m mesmerized.
He runs his thumb over the head of his cock and shudders, the softest whimper slipping from his lips.
I almost echo him. He’s not touching me, but I swear watching him makes the memories of his hands all over me even stronger, and I think I could come apart at the seams just like this. But touching him would be better.
“You know, if you wanted some alone time with my Kindle, you could’ve just asked. You didn’t have to be so frosty with me this morning,” I say, and he jumps. He drops my Kindle on the bed and looks up at me with a distinct “oh shit” expression.
“This isn’t what it looks like.” I’ve watched this man chop wood without breaking a sweat, so whatever he’s reading must be good to have him this out of breath.
“It looks like you’re reading on my Kindle while jacking off.”
He closes his eyes, pinching his lips together, before sighing. “Ah. Yeah. I guess it’s exactly what it looks like, then.”
His cheeks are crimson, but he makes no move to cover himself.
It’s a bad idea to cross the room and lie across the bed. I came here to talk, not get distracted. But I didn’t expect to find him naked, and I’m only human, for fuck’s sake. So, crossing the room and lying on the bed is exactly what I do.
Nico opens his eyes, and the gaze that falls on me is hungry. Desperate. Tortured.
“So,” I begin, dragging my eyes from him to my discarded Kindle. “What are you reading?”