13. Ambrose #5
“Let go for me, Rosie,” Zeth huffed against my cheek with a fiery breath.
Part of me didn’t want to, because I knew as soon as I let myself go with him, that would be it.
That would be the end of us . I wanted this moment to last. But that part of me was already building up, and after hearing Zeth’s command, I grabbed the back of his head and pulled him to me as hot release rolled through me.
I turned my face to the crook of his neck to muffle my cries of pleasure while Zeth shook above me with his own release between us.
“Amby…” Zeth kissed my ear. It was sloppy and harsh but surprisingly intimate.
My lips brushed against his neck as I panted, kissing all the places I’d bruised as I held him tighter to me.
I didn’t want to let him go. And Zeth stayed as still as his harsh breathing allowed above me, maybe wanting the same.
My fingers caressed the back of his neck gently before I ran them through his hair, massaging his scalp.
I wanted Zeth to hold me, to talk to me about what we shared. I wanted to ask him if he also felt connected. Perhaps we could laze around like this for the rest of the afternoon, making up for lost time until the sun set. And even beyond then, every day.
“You okay?” I whispered after another minute, trailing my nails lightly along his back.
Zeth shivered against me. Then he nodded and sat on his knees to tug up his trousers.
I dug in my pocket to pull out a handkerchief and held it out to him so he could clean off, but Zeth shifted to my side to take it and carefully cleaned me first. My heart sang from his care.
I watched as he wiped himself then crumpled the handkerchief to tuck it into one of his pockets before buttoning his trousers.
When he was done, he offered me a hand with a fleeting grin.
I took Zeth’s hand and let him help me to my feet.
I smiled, but quickly realized how quiet he was.
How quiet we both were. Suddenly, the air felt awkward, especially when Zeth began buttoning my shirt, and not once did he meet my gaze.
I wanted him to look at me, to notice me.
Didn’t he see me standing right in front of him, yearning for his attention?
I frowned as it hit me. This was all over now. We had our responsibilities to return to.
“It’s alright,” I told him, moving his hands gently out of the way so I could button the rest. Turning, I closed my trousers and bent to grab my glasses. I set them on my face with shaky fingers.
“I… should meet up with…” Zeth started.
“Right.” I nodded before making my way out of the stall, feeling a little dizzy, and stood at my work bench.
Zeth came out a moment later with his clothes mostly in order. He raked a hand through his hair to scatter any hay and joined me to reclaim his cap. He tugged it on and looked outside. “Guess… I’ll see you around.”
Something shifted in my universe. It was as if a giant wave came crashing over me, enough to extinguish all the heat from my body. A lump rose in my throat as I stared down at the bench. I picked up my chisel and nodded.
Anger and jealousy swelled inside me. At my father, at Zeth for leaving Everdeen in the first place and now coming back to pour salt into old wounds. For using me, though I’d let myself be used. I was pathetic. I was lost. Full of regret.
I was a piece of shit.
Despite this, I took a deep breath, eyes on my tool, and choked out, “Goodbye, Zeth.”
He said nothing. I listened as he walked out.
It wasn’t until I heard him mount his horse and ride away that I glanced up.
Tears blurred my vision as I watched him go.
I scanned all the pieces of furniture I’d built, then looked over at the stall where Zeth and I had handled each other a moment ago.
Proof of his kisses were marked all over me, just as he’d wanted.
I could still feel his hands holding me down, the sound of his voice as he purred my name reserved for his lips only.
I pinched the corners of my eyes to stifle my tears, but they fell anyway.
Damn Zeth Washer.
No, damn me . I let him into my life again.
As soon as he walked right back into it, it felt as if we’d never parted.
I could have walked away at the picnic instead of tagging along with him and Annabelle.
I could have stayed home rather than gone to her house the next day, knowing he’d be there.
I could have delayed delivering the letter to his house and never helped with the dresser or given a damn about what kind of suit he wanted, or that he only had water.
I could have told him to leave my barn. Instead, I let him stay and talk, let him sit in that chair he loved so much, and then I indulged in him. And I fucking loved it.
How dare he come back here and stir up feelings that took years to bury, only to abandon me again?
But I had never completely buried them, had I?
I knew it when I dreamed about him. When I looked up at that hayloft every time I came into the barn and thought about what we used to do there.
Perhaps that was why I continued to work in this barn.
It always brought back memories of Zeth.
I had been holding onto him this whole time.
His laughter, his affection, his determination. All of him.
I let out a painful whimper and sniffled. It hurt so much to be around him, to endure his touch and smile. He’d taken my heart with him to the City and held it there, and when he brought it back, he crushed it.
Clenching my fists, I eyed one of the extra chairs I’d built that appeared perfect, but the legs were loose.
I stormed over to it and peered at the crafted wood, hating the way it sat there doing nothing but collecting sawdust. So perfect on the outside, but waiting to fall without the proper support.
Grabbing it, I upturned it and kicked at each flimsy leg until they all broke. Then I pulled off the back, yanking so hard I strained, red in the face, until it finally flew off, and a long nail jabbed my arm.
I stepped back, panting heavily, to look at the pile of broken wood.
I closed my eyes against the sting on my arm from where the nail pierced me, feeling the blood running along to my wrist. It felt good to release all the pain I’d been holding in for years—from trying to please my father, to losing a sense of who I was, to losing Zeth once, and now losing him again…
I had taken my anger out on something I had created. That’s when it struck me.
I was angry at myself.
And now… I had two broken chairs.