2. Leo （Then） #4
After a while, she was aching and demanded more than his mouth. He reached blindly into his nightstand for a condom. Thank God he found one fast. She was kissing his shoulder and stroking him the whole time, not helping at all.
When he finally eased inside her, he stilled, his forehead pressed to hers. He needed a second to savor this feeling. Her smell, her touch, all the little sounds she made.
She tightened her fingers around his shoulders and whispered, “Please,” and that one word brought him back to life.
Leo moved with a tenderness that bordered on worship, each thrust a careful mix of restraint and hunger.
She met him, matched him, until their rhythm synced and their whispered curses tangled together.
Lynne went over the edge first, and she wasn’t quiet about it either.
The sound of her crying out his name nearly finished him on its own.
He’d never felt wanted like this before, never felt someone take him in like she was starving for him. It made him come harder than expected.
When it was over, they stayed in their embrace.
The heat between them finally cooled with gentle touches and slowing heartbeats.
She curled into his arms, head pressed under his chin, and eventually fell asleep.
He stroked her hair until he dozed off, too.
But every hour, it seemed, either of them would wake and rekindle that fire with a kiss or a fingertip brushing along a hip bone.
And every time it got better. Less rushed.
More confident and exploring. Lynne was insatiable.
Being with her felt instinctive. But there was nothing performative about her either, and he loved that.
They’d had each other so many times by the end of the night, he was sure they’d both be sore in the morning.
Then, as he woke to the first glimpses of sunrise, he turned over in bed and found Lynne wasn’t there anymore.
Her warm spot beside him was already cold.
His insides turned to ice. He reached for his phone on the nightstand, expecting to see a text.
Maybe she’d gone out for coffee and would be right back. But there was nothing.
He knew she had his number. He had hers from a couple years ago when his mom hosted a March family reunion.
O’Donnell’s had catered the booze, and it was his job to intercept it.
Lynne’s cell was the number given to him then.
But he felt a slight shudder of panic when he considered that may not be her phone number anymore.
Had she ghosted him? Could she even do that in a town as small as Autumn Ridge?
He lost his appetite for sleep. He got up and brushed his teeth and prepped a little for his next firefighter training day. Then a message lit up his phone.
Hey, Leo. It was Lynne’s number. Sorry I left without saying goodbye.
A wave of relief swept over him. You get in trouble with Dale? he texted back.
No, she texted swiftly. Then a few moments later—I didn’t tell him about us. But it’s okay. I got it covered.
He didn’t quite know how to reply to that. As he drafted a couple different messages, Lynne texted him again.
I don’t know how else to say this but … I don’t think it was a good idea, what we did last night. I’m sorry if I took advantage of you. I got caught up in the moment.
He wanted to text back that she didn’t take advantage of him—that he wanted this—and then he wanted to ask her how she could accidentally get “caught up in the moment” so many times with him last night. Was she saying all those times were just mistakes?
Instead, he took three deep breaths and remembered what Chief Bob had told all the trainees on their first day. Fire talks. If you hear it change its voice—crackling to a hiss, a roar to a whistle—don’t ignore it. That’s the sound of something about to go very, very wrong.
He should have known. He did know. There were more reasons for her to write this off as a mistake than there were to keep it going. He’d just chosen to ignore it.
Okay. Sure, he texted back. And then, I get it, even though he didn’t.
If she wanted to act like last night hadn’t changed things between them, he couldn’t do anything about it. Not right now. She’d seen him once. All he could hope was that she’d see him again that way someday.
He’d also been on Lynne’s side of this kind of post-one-night-stand communication before. Now he knew how the other side felt. Lesson learned.
He called up one of his buddies to ask what happened with the butterflies and lie about how the rest of his own night went.
He knew better than to mention Lynne to them.
But when that was done, he was left alone with the memory of last night again.
He stared at the ceiling, the taste of her still on his lips, and tried to shake it off.
What he didn’t know yet was how this night would come back to haunt him every year. Worse than any ghost. More like a wolf that couldn’t help but howl at the full moon every time it circled back around.