27. Nova
“What the fuck was that about?”
“Leave me alone, Jack.” I have to get away from him. I’m so embarrassed, I could crawl underneath the linoleum and never be seen again.
“No, get the fuck back here. We need to talk about this.”
I whirl on him, bridesmaid’s dress flowing and tangling around my legs in a bundle. “You embarrassed me.”
“Oh, so I’m just supposed to let some other guy feel up on my wife?”
“He is my cousin. We were dancing. You know that.”
Jack eyes me up and down like I disgust him. “He’s your adopted cousin. Look at you, you’re blushing talking about him.”
“I’m embarrassed,” I grit, shoving at his arm. “You made a scene in front of my whole family.”
“Yeah, blame me. Do you hear how crazy you sound?”
“Do you?”
“Yeah, I’m the crazy one. I don’t even know why we had to come to this fucking thing.”
“It’s my cousin’s wedding. I’m a bridesmaid.”
“Yeah, well that dress is—”
“Is what?”
“It makes you look easy. You look like a slut. You’re a married woman for God’s sake. Act like it.”
Tears well in my eyes, burning as they mix with the heavy mascara on my lashes.
“You aren’t to speak to him again.”
“My cousin?”
“Whoever he is. And we’re going home, now.”
“I can’t leave,” I argue. I’m a bridesmaid. We’ve not even watched them cut the cake yet. I’ve been looking forward to this night for months. Dancing with my friends, family, a night with Jack. It’s been so tense, lately with him getting a promotion at work and being home less and less. Things are hard, but I thought tonight we could reconnect. Maybe the wedding would remind us of why we got married in the first place.
Now . . . I’m wishing he’d stayed home.
“I don’t care. He wants to fuck you. I won’t stand for it.”
“Oh, like Sophie wants to fuck you?”
The air between us grows caustic. Silent. Deadly. Neither of us moves, both of us staring at each other in a battle of wills.
I have to get away from him. I can’t be in the same room as him right now.
“You aren’t the man that I married.”
His hand connects with my cheek, slapping me so hard my head whips to the side as the sting spreads across my skin.
In a flash, he surges forward, fingers wrapping around my throat and a snarl on his face so terrifying, it’s straight out of a nightmare.
“I am your fucking husband and I will not sit around and watch you whore yourself out to another man.”
“Jack . . .” My voice is strained as his fingers tighten, cutting off more of my air supply. “You’re hurting me.”
He stares at me for a beat longer, his face morphing from a gnarled, angry scowl to a look of horror.
Instantly, he releases me, terror on his face.
“Baby, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what came over me.”
He grabs for me, desperately trying to pull me against him when I fight against his hold, but he’s too strong. “Let go of me.”
“Nova. Sweetheart.” He’s panicking. I can hear it in his voice. I’m panicking too. Are we really that far gone that this is what our marriage has been reduced to? Pain and conflict and constant, incessant fighting to the point that I wake up with migraines?
“Stop,” I whimper, tears swimming in my eyes. My heart feels like it’s ripping out of my chest. Like at any moment, I’ll be pronounced dead and this will all be gone.
“No,” he says softly, pushing my hair back from my face. My hands shake; my skin clammy and my stomach sick. I want to go home. I want to be alone. I want to be with the kind boy who used to braid my hair in the summer. Not this stranger. “Shhhh . . .” He presses his kiss to my temple and I can’t . . . I can’t help but find comfort in his embrace because this is all I know. He is all I know.
Without him, who am I?
“It won’t happen again,” he whispers, almost like he’s talking to himself and not me. “Never again.”
I want to believe him, but . . . Unfortunately, that’s what he said last time.
“Nova?” My dad comes around the corner. His eyes go from the tears on my face to Jack, his gaze darkening beyond recognition. I’ve never seen my father look more terrifying.
“Hey, Dad.” I break away from Jack because his grip on my waist is tightening past the point of comfort and I just . . . I can’t tell my dad what’s going on. He’ll hurt Jack. He won’t understand.
“Everything okay?”
I bat my eyes, hoping it doesn’t look like I’ve been crying.
“Yeah, everything’s fine.” Jack rests his hand at the small of my back, as if sending me a reminder. “We’re actually going to head home. I’m not feeling well.” Dad stays a beat longer, watching me as if he can read my thoughts. The irrational part of my brain causes me to think all kinds of unintelligible gibberish, just in case.
“You’ll come say goodbye to everyone before you do, right?”
I nod, forcing a smile. “Of course.”
His eyes shift back to Jack, standing over my shoulder. Something must pass between them because Jack’s hand drops from my skin, but his presence still lingers like a dark cloud, a demon, holding onto me like a parasite.
Dad nods once, before he steps quietly around the corner without another word.
The breath that leaves me is anything but relieving.
Once he leaves, I attempt to follow after him, but Jack pulls me back into his chest, pressing a soft kiss to my lips. It’s different. Charged with something evil. Something possessive and commanding.
“Promise me you’ll never leave me,” he whispers. “I love you too much to think about losing you. I never want to hurt you.”
In that moment . . . I actually believe him.
“I promise.”
“Have you ever thought about death?”
I pause, unsure what to say. Have I thought about it? Of course, everyone has. Do I like to think about the people closest to me dying? No? Why would I?
“Not really,” I answer, rolling onto my side to watch him. The dim glow of the outside streetlights filters through the blinds, making his cheeks look more hollow than usual. He looks almost sick.
After the wedding, we came home where he ripped my dress off and we had the roughest sex we’ve ever had together. It was brutal. Honest. Dark.
Now, a shiver ghosts up my spine from the adrenaline finally leaving my body. I can’t decide if I liked it, or if it just hurt. My body is sore, my core stinging.
Do some people like this?
What are the rules for this kind of sex? The kind that leaves you exhausted and broken after?
Apparently, our routine is to lay in bed and stare at the ceiling.
I’m so unsure now. What do I do? How do I keep him happy? Is it the rough sex like tonight that he wants? Does he want me to do other things for him? Anal? More blow jobs?
God, I wish I could peek inside his head and read his mind. I feel like I’m chasing him and he’s always a step in front of me.
How is Sophie able to keep him interested where I can’t seem to keep his attention unless I’m in the presence of another man? Like my cousin, whose boyfriend was at the wedding tonight and saw my husband punch his significant other for dancing with me.
God . . . who are we, Jack?
“Why do you ask?”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. Just wondered if you would move on if I died.”
“Well, I don’t think about things like that.”
Jack raises up on his elbow, facing me. He’s so close, I can smell the menthol from the cigarettes he’s been sneaking when I’m not around.
“Come on,” he murmurs quietly, using that voice that will get me to do whatever he wants. I think he’s caught on. “What would you do?”
“I don’t know,” I groan, shaking my head. “What would you do?”
He searches my gaze, reaching up to tuck a curl behind my ear. “I think I’d stay single.”
“Bull,” I scoff, rolling my eyes. “I know you.”
He shakes his head. “Not enough, apparently. I would stay single because you’re it for me.”
I pause, my chest pitter-pattering with my heartbeat racing wildly. Sometimes he says the sweetest things. Sometimes he’s that ornery jackass I met my freshman year of high school. Other times . . . he’s this new Jack. The dark one who absolutely terrifies me.
“Don’t you ever get tired of me?” I joke, but he doesn’t laugh.
“You’re it for me, Nova. I want to be it for you too.”
The gravity in that statement scares me. As if he knows something I don’t. My chest aches because I know it’s not true. I’m not enough for him, now. Why would my death change anything?
God, I used to worship the ground he walked on. He was my high school soulmate and I was willing to follow him to the ends of the earth. I probably still would, but those feelings have morphed into something new.
Is this still love? Is it desperation we’re clinging to under the guise of a happy marriage?
Could I live without him?
“I guess I would probably stay single too.”
“You guess?” he chuckles, placing his hand on my stomach.
“I mean, I would.”
After a long moment of him searching my face, he smiles. “Good. Now go get cleaned up, so we can go to bed.”
I guess, it’s a silly promise to make, but in hindsight, I never actually thought Jack would be gone. I never planned for this outcome, and I certainly never thought I would find my way back to Port Nova, crying in my bed while the rain slips down the window in front of me like a sad, early two thousands’ song.
Part of me misses Jack. The other part is scared of the person he became.
My mind feels like it’s been knocked off the tracks. I’m struggling to understand the cold reality of my marriage and I can’t get what Reid said out of my head.
Did I turn Jack into a martyr after he passed? Maybe. Did I erase all the bad he did because I felt guilty when he drowned and I didn’t?
Maybe at the end, I couldn’t love him anymore. Not really. Not after everything.
The two halves of my brain run parallel to each other, both set in their decision. Reid’s right. Reid’s wrong. Either way, I know that Jack is gone. I am not and now, I have to learn how to live with the guilt, no matter how unreasonable it may be.
When I lay the two options out in front of me, I know which the clear winner is. Jack turned into a person I hated. Something happened to change him from the happy, loving boy he was before, to the cold, indifferent man he was in the end.
He was abusive. He could be cruel. He was my husband.
And now, he’s gone.
“My God, Nova,” Tara chirps, cutting through the angry thoughts swarming around my head like a rabid swarm of birds. “Cheer up.”
“I’m fine.”
She shoots me a look, her hands on her hips.
“You’ve been sulking all day.”
“I have not.”
“You have. You and Reid fighting?”
“Oh my God, why does everything have to involve him?”
“Maybe because he hasn’t been here today and you’ve been watching for him.”
“No, I haven’t.”
“You have,” Beth interjects, stepping through the kitchen doors.
I shoot her a glare. “Traitor.”
“What?” She feigns innocence. “It’s no secret.”
“What isn’t?”
“You two are seeing each other,” Tara answers for her.
“We aren’t.”
“So, why is he at your house every night?”
“Because I cook him dinner.” It’s a bold-faced lie. They both know it. I know it. I refuse to admit it.
“Is that the only reason?”
Well, shit.
“So we’ve slept together. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Sure . . .” Tara jokes.
I slam the pan down that I’ve been angry drying for the past five minutes, so hard that the stack of plates next to me rattles.
“Sorry,” I murmur as soon as I’ve done it. I’m not an angry person. I never lash out, but now, in the cold, harsh clarity that I’ve brought to my life, I’m angry and I kicked the only person I want to see right now out of my house and I haven’t seen him since. It’s been less than two days and I feel like I’m going through withdrawals. What will it be like when he leaves?
“Nova?” Beth cautions, but I look at the clock on the wall.
“I’m sorry,” I repeat. “I have something to do.”
Both of them are silent as I stride from the kitchen and out into the back hallways of the inn toward the stairs.
This is technically illegal, but right now, I have something I need to get off my chest.
And I have my own set of master keys.
Room B-4
Stepping into Reid’s room, I’m overwhelmed by his scent. The woodsy scent that seems to follow him and that has become a source of comfort in recent weeks seems to hang in the air. The bed is made neatly, his boots in the corner of the room and the clothes tucked away in the dresser, exactly as they should be.
I pass it all and head to the bathroom where the shower is running.
Steam fills the air and through the glass door, I can see a naked Reid in all his glory, washing away the day’s work and looking every bit of the sex god he’s shown me he is in recent weeks.
My body thrums for him, aligned with the ache in my chest from missing him the last forty-eight hours. It’s been a day and a half, but yet, it feels like a lifetime since I shoved him out of my house after what had to be the best night of my life.
After he set me free.
He sees me the same time my eyes meet his face. He pauses, watching me through the foggy glass with a guarded expression.
Neither of us says a word, but we don’t have to. He knows why I’m here. I know why I’m here.
So, holding his gaze, I reach down and pull my shirt over my head.
Reid’s nostrils flare and his gaze travels over my body, searing my skin when I reach back and undo the clasp of my bra and let it fall to the ground. Then I remove my shorts and underwear, all the while holding his gaze.
He doesn’t kick me out, but he also doesn’t beckon me forward.
Still, he watches me, not bothering to hide that he’s staring at my body like he owns it. Right now, it feels like he does. Like I gave him the key and he’s been guarding it with his life.
Slowly, like I’m approaching a wild animal, I step up to the shower and open the door. He doesn’t move out of the way as I step in, so our bodies brush as I join him in the heat.
“You were right,” I whisper, so quiet, I’m not sure he heard me, except for the feathering of his jaw.
Before I can lose my nerve, I shut the door behind me.
Then I drop to my knees in front of him.
My heart is racing so hard, I worry he might be able to see it beating the inside of my chest like a battering ram and my hands feel sweaty, even though I’m in a shower.
His expression remains aloof, but it’s hard to deny he wants me with his cock hardening in my face and the way his teeth clench together the moment I look up at him.
Those chocolate eyes scorch my face, turning me to a puddle at his feet the moment I take his cock in my hand. I have to say, at this angle, it’s much more daunting.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper, looking up at him through my lashes as I stroke him slowly from root to tip.
His pupils dilate, filling with lust I know he’s trying to hide behind his anger with me for our argument.
“You’ve come to show me how sorry you are?” he drawls, voice husky as he finally takes control of the situation, just like I need. I haven’t done this in four years. I want to give to him, like he’s given to me. I want to show him I’m strong enough to overcome anything that’s happened.
I may have made Jack a martyr after his death, but that doesn’t mean I’m blind.
I nod, stroking him again and working up the courage to put him in my mouth. Water runs from his cock down my arm to my breasts and there’s something so erotic about it, my thighs clench together involuntarily.
“Show me how sorry you are then.”
Holy hell.
Closing my eyes, I bring him into my mouth, running my tongue over the head of his cock and circling the end. The plan is to go slow, but the moment I move him past my lips, I get lost in the feeling and swallow him whole. He tastes like the earth and him and something so masculine, it feels like I’m doing this for the first time again.
“Fuck, Nova,” he grits, his hand coming up to rest on top of my head. “Slower. You’re going to make me come and I’m not ready to.”
I force myself to slow down, to savor him the way he has with me. I work my tongue over the vein on the underside of his cock, stopping to circle the tip and suck the spot that draws a sharp hiss from his lips.
“That’s it, little bird,” he urges, his voice softer, laced with lust as I pump him in and out of my mouth. “Fuck, that’s so fucking perfect. Swallow me.”
Happy that my nickname is back, I oblige, swallowing him past my lips and hollowing out my cheeks. I bring my hand up, cupping his balls at the same time, loving the way his fingers tighten in my hair to the point that he’s pulling on the roots.
I love Reid like this. Unhinged. Dominating, but always giving me an out. Always making sure I know I’m still in control, even if I’m trusting him to hold it in the palm of his hand for me. It’s what I’ve come to need.
And that’s a real problem I’ll have to think about later, but for now . . .
“That’s it, baby,” he hums, his other hand coming up to caress my cheek—a stark contrast from the roughness of his fingers in my hair. “Look at me, Nova.”
I open my eyes, flicking my gaze up to his and he curses out a silent fuck.
I suck him desperately, my mouth struggling with his size, but the shuddering of his breath is all I need to drive me forward.
At some point, his hand tightens in my hair until he’s driving the pace, moving me over his cock fast and deep until I feel tears prickling in the corners of my eyes. Still, I don’t stop him.
“Such a fucking good girl,” he rasps, eyes live with fire. “You going to swallow my come?”
I nod, though I can’t speak and work against my gag reflex when his length pushes against the back of my throat. His cock grows impossibly thicker, longer against my tongue and I feel like he’s going to erupt the moment before he does, coming down my throat with a deep, shuddering groan.
I swallow it all, like I agreed, and just when I think I’m going to gag from his size in my mouth, he pulls back, releasing me with a grunt.
“Fuck,” he pants, running a hand over his face and blinking up at the ceiling for a moment, as if he’s going to pass out.
Then, that dark gaze locks on me.
“Get up here,” he murmurs, gripping me under the arms and pulling me up until I’m flush with his front. He takes my face in his hands, studying me, like I’m some priceless artifact he’s desperate to find the meaning of. As if he’s disturbed by my presence.
As if maybe, I’ve cracked through that indifferent, cold exterior.
“Fuck, what are you doing to me?”
It’s not a question. Good.
I don’t have the answer.
Maybe then, I could get him out of my head. Out of my heart. Maybe even out of my soul. . .
But probably not.