Chapter 11
FISHER
I didn’t pay a bit of attention to the show we went to. I was too focused on the warmth of Ebba’s body beside mine. The smell of her perfume; sweet and floral. The soft caress of her long curls against my arm any time she moved slightly. The feeling of her leg against mine.
It’s after three in the morning and even though we’ve been back at the hotel for at least two hours now, sleep evades me.
Sitting up, I reach for the remote and turn the TV on. I can’t get my mind off of Ebba.
I’m sure a lot of people would tell me I’m pathetic for not moving on from her. But Ebba isn’t like anyone else.
There’s not much on TV, but I do find some superhero movie playing so I put it on for background noise.
Normally I’m better at reining in my feelings for Ebba. She, rightfully so, hates me. I knew this trip and the proximity to her wasn’t going to help things for me.
I let out a sigh and cross my arms behind my head.
I’ve never stopped missing her. The warmth of her body curled into mine.
Her laughter when I tell a really bad joke.
I wish desperately I could do things over—that we hadn’t kept things a secret, that I had seen her frantic calls and texts in time to get to her at the hospital, so she wasn’t alone.
I’ve never forgiven myself for not being there.
She shouldn’t have had to go through the loss of our child by herself.
It’s not like I ignored her on purpose, but I’m not sure that makes it any better.
I often wonder what things would be like if we hadn’t lost the baby.
They’d be five, almost six years old now.
It's hard thinking about those what ifs.
A bang and immediate curse in the room next door has me sitting straight up. I’m out of the bed and moving to the door adjoining our rooms before I can stop myself.
I unlock the door on my side and knock on hers. “Ebba? Are you okay?”
“Shit,” she curses again. “Did I wake you?”
“I was already up. You gonna open up the door?” I ask, hoping she doesn’t sense my pure desperation.
I smile at her annoyed sigh, but a moment later the door opens. “I stubbed my toe,” she replies. “Guess I shouldn’t have had to get up and pee.” She bites her lip and looks down.
Her toenails are painted a sparkly teal color and her big toe on her left foot is bleeding a little bit.
Before I know what I’m doing, I scoop her into my arms. She lets out a little squeal and flails. “Put me down you giant oaf.”
I put her down—but not until I reach the bathroom counter in my room.
“You’re bleeding,” I tell her.
She exhales, her breath feathering against my neck where I’ve lowered my head to take her foot in my hand. Goosebumps pebble my skin, and I wonder if she notices that something as simple as her breath has me in a chokehold.
“Really?” Sarcasm coats the word like sticky syrup. “I hadn’t noticed.”
Shaking my head, I reach for my travel bag and dig around until I find antibacterial ointment and Band-Aids. Laying that stuff on the counter, I grab a cloth and wait for the water to warm before I dampen it.
“Tell me if it hurts.” I carefully clean the blood off her toe. She’s silent as I work and I tap her ankle. “Are you okay?”
“I’ve had worse than a stubbed toe.”
I graze my finger over the long scar that starts at her knee and goes down. “You have.” When the blood is all cleaned up, I smear the ointment around and then stick the Band-Aid on. Tapping her calf to let her know I’m done, she slides away from the sink, and I wash my hands.
“Why did you ask for your room to be next to mine?” she asks softly.
Her eyes drop to her lap, and she fiddles with the bottom of her t-shirt.
The oversized collar slips over her shoulder and I right it.
A shiver wracks her body at the touch of my fingers, and I can’t help but smile.
She wants to pretend she’s not affected by me, but she is.
“And don’t try to tell me again that you didn’t. ”
I take a deep breath and plant my hands on my hips. “The truth?”
She nods. “Always.”
“After your ex attacked you and Whimsy, I find myself paranoid when it comes to you. I … I didn’t like the idea of you being by yourself if you decided to bring a guy back to your room and he turned out to be a piece of shit.”
“And you would’ve been okay with that? Me bringing a guy to my room?”
I clench my teeth, the grind of my molars audible in the small space.
“I don’t have any right to be bothered by it.”
“Just because you have no right doesn’t mean you wouldn’t be,” she counters, scooting forward and letting her legs sway back and forth.
“So, tell me, Fisher, how would you feel if I was next door right now, screaming some other guy’s name?
How would you feel hearing me begging him to fuck me harder?
” She stretches up and it brings her mouth dangerously close to mine.
“What if you had to hear me screaming his—”
I slam my mouth on hers, desperate to silence the next words out of her mouth.
I start to pull away, fully expecting her to not be pleased with me, but her fingers wind around the back of my neck and she pulls me in tighter, deepening the kiss with a tiny little moan that nearly brings me to my knees.
Bracing one hand on the mirror, I grab the back of her head with the other.
The kiss is intense, soul-stealing in a way that if I didn’t already belong to her heart, body, and soul then I would now.
Another small sound leaves her and I’m all too eager to swallow it. I’ll take whatever she gives me and then some.
She scoots closer to the edge of the counter, and I groan when she wraps a leg around my hips and pulls me into her. She gasps when she feels how hard I am and rolls her hips against me. Sliding my hand down to her hips, I still her before she can keep that up and I end up embarrassing myself.
“Fisher,” she moans my name, and fuck if it doesn’t nearly drop me to my knees.
I pull away slightly from her, cupping her warm cheeks between my hands. Our noses press together, and neither one of us seems capable of catching our breath.
“I-I should go back to my room,” she stutters, her fingers flexing against the cotton fabric of my t-shirt.
“Probably,” I agree, but neither of us makes a move to separate. “Are you hungry?”
She leans back and I hate the loss of contact with her as I let my hands drift back to my sides. “I am actually.”
“I saw a diner down the street.”
A hint of a smile is there and gone on her lips. “Burgers and fries?”
I nod. “And a malt if they have one?”
“Only if it’s chocolate.”
I smile. For a moment it feels like I’m twenty-three again and things are good between us. “You have yourself a deal.”