Epilogue
Coralie
I grunted as I dropped the last box to the floor.
The hair that had fallen out of my bun was clinging to my damp face and neck, annoying me.
Sweat was making my clothes stick uncomfortably to my body.
It was a very disgusting ninety-seven degrees outside with a humidity percentage so high, it felt like Satan himself was blowing hot air across my body.
Mila looked up from the floor, where she was unpacking one of the boxes.
She’d started out helping me, but after the third time of her tripping and almost falling down the stairs, I’d put her on the living room floor and told her to empty boxes so we could begin putting things away.
I could not deal with an emergency room trip on top of this fucking dreadful heat.
And seeing Mila hurt would send me over the proverbial ledge.
It was so hard to believe that she and I were living in our own fucking apartment.
Two years had gone by so fast. She was finally off probation, no longer having to make trips to see her probation officer and get drug and alcohol tested.
She and I had busted our asses working and attending classes to afford this place.
The rent was cheap, considering the apartments were only for student-use, but money would still be tight for us.
Still, this was everything we’d wanted. And we finally had it. Our own space. Just for us.
“Did you talk to your parents yet?” I asked her.
She shrugged, which was enough of an answer in itself.
Her parents had moved out of the small town we grew up in, and they hardly spoke to Mila anymore.
I thought it was stupid as hell to abandon their daughter over something like a weekend stay in jail and getting arrested.
Mila wasn’t a troublemaker. Honestly, she stuck to herself most of the time.
But one mistake had been too much for her parents, who had worked so hard to raise the “perfect, docile daughter”.
I’d almost punched her dad in the face when I overheard him say that to her on the phone. Mila was attending therapy, and her therapist suggested she open up to her parents about how she was feeling. She thought it might open up communication a bit more. So, she’d tried it.
It’d done the opposite. I would never forget those heartbreaking sobs as I held Mila in my arms after that phone call.
She got drunk, ate her weight in potato chips, and passed out on my chest, snot running down her nose.
I’d gently cleaned her up, vowing to never let anyone hurt her like that again.
She still tried to have a relationship with her parents, but I had a feeling it was futile. Maybe they just needed time. Maybe they would never come around. But I knew Mila had to make the decision on her own to stop trying to connect with them. No one could force her to.
Even if it made me internally rage every time they broke her fucking heart, which was quite fucking often.
I used to love her parents. Her home had been a safe space for me away from my own broken home and neglectful parents who hardly even realized I existed.
But now… her parents fucking disgusted me.
I wasn’t sure I’d ever respect them again, even if they did come around.
I toed off my shoes by the front door and then pulled my tank top over my head, leaving me in shorts and a sports bra.
I smirked when Mila’s eyes lingered on my body for a good minute before she went back to pulling dishes out of the box in front of her.
Without needing to be asked, I began carrying them into the kitchen and putting them away.
About three hours later, we had everything unpacked and put away.
Our bed was made, and our desks were set up in the living room facing each other.
I dropped onto the couch next to Mila and pulled her into my arms, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.
“Best thing about this place,” I said as I flipped through the streaming app and settled on Shrek, since it was her favorite movie, “is that we didn’t have to buy furniture.
Thank fuck for fully furnished apartments. ”
She nodded in agreement. “I think I would have died if we had to carry furniture up those stairs.”
I chuckled and squeezed my arms around her after I set the remote down. “Literally.”
She huffed as Shrek began pulling the wedgie out of his ass after kicking open the outhouse door. “It’s not my fault those stairs aren’t made for short people.”
I laughed quietly. “So grow a few inches, baby.”
She elbowed me lightly. “You like me small.”
I squeezed her to me and nuzzled her neck, while Shrek began showering in mud—which was fucking gross.
“I do like you small. You’re the perfect fucking size, baby.
” I nipped at the skin of her neck as I slid my hand down her belly, teasing along the edge of her shorts. “Want me to show you how much?”
She shivered and hooked her leg over mine, parting her luscious, soft thighs for me. “Yes, please.”
Fuck, I loved it when she so openly told me what she wanted. She was so beautiful when she was taking what she wanted from me, even if I was doing all the work. But that was fine. I was a giver, especially when it came to her. I loved worshiping her.
“Watch your movie while I get you off,” I murmured in her ear. Then, I dipped my hand beneath her thong, smirking when she moaned, her eyes fluttering shut, her favorite movie long forgotten.