Chapter 12
Everly
While all of this made for an unusually quiet holiday, I’m relieved I don’t have to explain the awkwardness between me and Julian—especially since I’m still trying to navigate and understand it myself.
Julian’s here but he’s not. That’s probably the simplest way to explain it.
He’s beyond polite, but he barely touches me—like it physically hurts him to do so.
I don’t know how much more I can take. We open presents on Christmas morning, just the two of us.
Shared a normal dinner that evening. In between, we tiptoe around each other like strangers.
It’s been a week and not much has changed.
Tonight is the Lanterns and Lights Festival.
Julian told me how excited he gets for these events.
He and Allie have worked them together since he came here, but this year she’s down south and he’s .
. . I don’t know, checked out. He turned all the planning over to Pete and Shelley this year.
If he’s not working out, here in Allie’s home gym because he hasn’t left the house since the incident, he’s on his laptop “working.” We’re back to his avoidance routine of rising before me and coming to bed after me.
Aside from his plethora of apologies and asking if I’m okay, we haven’t discussed his parents or what happened.
I should be more freaked out at being taken at gunpoint, but thanks to the Kyle Davis genes, I’m solid.
At least on the surface. Thanks, Dad. Julian’s stoicism, on the other hand, is messing with my head.
The longer he shuts me out, the less patient I become.
When I’m ready to flip my shit on him, I remind myself those were his parents that did the heinous shit.
When I can’t take the confines of the house with him ignoring me, I go for a run.
I realize that what once made a perfect pairing of two avoidance souls is now imploding in a communication—or lack thereof—breakdown.
After my runs, he’s there waiting just inside the door for me—like he needs to assure himself I’m okay.
Then he makes some excuse about getting back to work or some other bullshit task.
Our therapists would have a field day with this circus.
In fact, I have wanted to suggest maybe he hit up his old therapist, but if I even broach the topic his response is the same.
Heavy sigh first, then, like he’s talking to a polite stranger, he thanks me and asks if we can not talk about it.
As the perfect no-drama military daughter, I concede.
I’m reaching the end of my tolerance rope, though.
My seething lies just below the surface ready to blow.
When I think I can’t take it anymore, I make myself picture that trailer that was supposed to be a home and those two people who were supposed to be parents.
I think about the boy who grew up there and became the man who has been the only person to ever make me feel seen and loved, and I let him pull away from me, ignore me, shut me out.
I don’t know who or what I’d be if I’d grown up like he did.
That he is the sweet and beautiful man he became is either luck or sheer force of will.
Either way, he is, despite all he saw and experienced.
So I suck it up and go for runs and talk to Lilly as if everything is fine.
Tonight I’ll light and release a lantern and make a wish for my haunted man that he can pull himself out of this and let the people who care about him love him again.
I’ve tried so many times over the last five days.
Sometimes I just start by rubbing his shoulders when he’s sitting at his desk—the desk in the guest room he used before we made this our home.
He lets me at first, but if I kiss his neck or give him affection of any kind, he pulls away.
Nicely. He takes my hand, kisses my palm, holds it to his cheek, then gives me one of his flimsy excuses about work or whatever.
I’m this close to disgracing the memory of my ever-composed father, may he rest in peace, because I’m one more platitude away from flipping my shit on this wounded man.
Something’s gotta give or we’re going to end up in flames like the goddamn bonfire tonight.
“Baby?” He’s standing behind me in the mirror.
I didn’t realize I’d paused brushing my hair, lost in thought. I didn’t see him come up behind me either. That he called me baby gives me hope.
“Hi, Julie. I didn’t see you.” The smile he gives me is sad and makes my heart ache.
“Are you okay?” He lifts his hands like he’s going to touch me, then drops them to his sides like they’re weighted.
“Yeah.” I smile and try again. “Yeah, totally. How are you?”
He pushes his smile to spread across his face more. “Good. Busy. I was thinking maybe you could go to the bonfire with Lilly and Noah and I could—”
“No.” I throw the brush in my hand across the bathroom counter.
It bounces on the tile, knocks over a bottle of dry shampoo and clangs into the sink.
I spin around to face him and shove him in the chest. “No, Julian.” I didn’t expect to budge him one inch, but I must catch him off guard because he steps back, momentarily losing his balance and knocks into the shower doors.
True to his training, he recovers quickly and plants his feet, smile wiped from his features. “Ever—”
“Don’t ‘Ever’ me. Stop this, Julian. Fucking talk to me. Touch me. Kiss me.” My fist slams against my chest with each plea. “We’ve never gone five days without you touching me.” I clench my shirt in my fist as the first tear spills.
He doesn’t reach for me and instead fists his own hands at his sides, his shoulders shrug with a deep sigh. It dumps gasoline on my flames, igniting an inferno.
“Fine.” I grab his shirt with both hands. “You don’t want to touch me, kiss me, be with me, then fucking end it. Put us both out of our misery.” I try to shove him out of the bathroom.
He doesn’t budge now, his balance intact.
“You think it was hard believing your girlfriend died? Well try living with a ghost. You’re here but you’re not.
I have to see you walking around all day, every day, but I can’t have you.
It’s breaking me, Julian.” I press my forehead to his chest. “I can’t do this anymore.
You have to fix this.” The dam breaks and I sob, wailing inconsolably like I can’t recall doing since I was a child.
When his arms fold around me, I cry harder. “Shhh, Ever. Shhh. I got you.” He pets my hair and whispers to me, but his body shakes. I don’t look up. I don’t want to know if he’s crying, too. It would undo me more. He sniffles, and that sound quells my crying jag.
Sniffling, I wipe my cheek on his shirt and take a deep shaky breath. Hooking my hands on his shoulders, I tilt my head and peek at his face under my lashes. Wetness glistens on his cheeks, reflecting the bathroom light. I place a light kiss on his jaw.
His lashes flutter closed on a soft moan, and he leans into the kiss, so I kiss him again. His chin this time. He lowers it so it lands on his lips instead. The kiss sears, scorching us both.
Within seconds we’re devouring each other. He drops his hands to my hips and scoops me off my feet. Wrapping my legs around his core, I mold my body to his.
The kiss is water in a desert, and we’re dying of thirst.
He lays me down on the bed and I don’t remember him moving.
All I feel is his lips, now his hands, as they move over me, dragging my shirt over my head, peeling my leggings down my hips.
He rains kisses down my body, my chest, my abdomen.
As he moves lower, I snag a handful of his shirt and yank it up as his body slides down.
He breaks his kisses long enough for me to pull the shirt over his head.
Like a magnet, they fall back onto my skin, trailing down my body until they find their destination.
The heat of his breath meets the heat of my already hardened bud through the thin fabric of my thong. Pulling it aside, he wraps his lips around me on a low groan.
My moan matches his the second I feel the suction of his mouth. “Ugh.” Water in a desert indeed. His touch is a baptism washing over me. “Yes, Julie. Please.”
He pauses long enough to answer me. “I know, sweet girl. Me too.” With a tug, the string of my thong snaps and his groan sends a rush to my already dripping center. His fingers are sliding into me now, filling me, and I’m not sure anything has ever felt better.
I pull the tufts of hair on his forehead that tease the skin of my belly as his kisses devour me while his fingers drive me higher. He crooks his middle finger and that’s all it takes. I erupt and cry his name, holding his lips tight to me, my body throbbing.
As my body comes down from the orgasm, he lays his cheek on the soft skin of my belly and slowly removes his fingers from inside me.
I try to move to lie beside him but he clamps his arms around me and just holds on so tight.
I find my voice. “Julie.” I pet his hair, and he swipes his cheek against my stomach, the dampness unmistakable.
I shift my weight and roll till he’s flat on his back and I’m draped over him.
He’s naked. I don’t remember him taking off his pants.
I slide my body down until I feel his hard-on against the vee of my thighs.
Grabbing my hips, he stops my motion. Is he not going to make love to me?
That thought extinguishes the afterglow of my orgasm.
I reach for his hands, lace our fingers, and flop them onto the bed at the same time as I drop my weight onto his erection, burying him inside me.
The swift motion and the sensitivity of my insides from my orgasm rip a cry from my throat and a grunt from his.
I squeeze my eyes shut at the intensity.
I lift myself and do it again, this time watching him.
His eyes are glassy but they stay on mine.
I set a fast, wicked pace, afraid to give him time to stop me. I don’t free his hands and he doesn’t try. I’m determined and a little angry. He lets me ride him until I feel him swell inside me, stretching me, and his breaths grow shallow.
The crease on his forehead tells me he’s close. Still he watches me. Our skin slaps together with each thrust. Him letting me drive, control our pace, is reigniting the flame in me.
I’m going to come.
“Ugh, fuck, Ever.”
His groan and his words send me over the edge. I’m convulsing around him, coming again.
He tugs his hands free of mine and shoves me down on him one more time, holding my hips tight while he empties himself deep inside me. “Ugh, ungh, mmm.” He closes his eyes now as he pants through the rest of his orgasm.
I collapse, my cheek resting on his chest, and catch my breath, tracing my fingernails up and down his bicep. I could stay like this all night, but almost right away he’s rolling us to our sides, scooting away from me. I reach for him, but he dodges my touch.
“I . . . I’ll be right back.” He kisses my forehead, gets up, grabs his clothes and walks to the bathroom, closing the door behind him.