34. Serena
My journey to consciousness is soft, nothing more than a hand caressing my back and my eyes lifting like a weighted blanket is pressing down on me. It’s slow, like the sizzle of pancake batter on a hot skillet. And it’s hard like a six-foot-six man beneath you, dragging you into the land of the living after the best sleep of your life.
“Wolf, let me sleep,” I grumble, trying to twist out of his hold. When we got to his house last night, I took off my destroyed jeans and slipped into one of his shirts. Thanks to Wolf’s breadth and our height difference, the shirt came to my calves, and I looked like a child playing dress-up with her father’s clothes.
It didn’t help that Wolf laughed at me as soon as he saw my appearance. I told him to fuck off, but that just made him laugh harder. Asshole.
His hand continues running over my back, stroking me like a cat, and, at this point, I’ve given up on sleep altogether. “Fine, I’m up. What are you even doing up this early? Shouldn’t you still be hibernating?” I raise my head to look up at him, noting the quirked eyebrow and smirk on his face.
“You woke me up, princess. I was sleeping, but you started clutching my arms, and then you climbed on top of me like you were climbing a mountain. Far be it from me to stop you from reaching your dreams.”
My face turns red, and I duck my head into his chest, cutting off our eye contact. I’ve always been an active sleeper, so I’m not necessarily surprised that I moved in my sleep. However, I am embarrassed that I seemed to have orchestrated climbing on top of him in my subconscious. “Sorry,” I mumble against his bare, tattooed chest, speaking into the endless lines decorating his body.
“You think I mind?” He flexes his hips, pressing them into me to show his obvious arousal. I wince at the thought of him entering me again; while it’s been the best sex I’ve ever had, I can’t deny that I’m sore.
My body language must betray my thoughts because he chuckles and relaxes into the mattress. “Sore?”
“A little,” I offer, looking back up at him and offering a small smile. “Are you relieved to be officially retired?”
“Mmm,” he hums, his hand stilling at my neck. “I’m relieved it’s over. I’m grateful for what MMA has afforded me, but I can’t say I’m sad to close that chapter.” His fingers knead into my skin, lightly massaging my muscles. “How were the last two weeks for you?”
I tense at his question, debating how best to respond. Sensing my dilemma, his fingers stop their movement and skate to my jaw, tilting my head up to meet his eyes. “What happened, princess?”
Swallowing my nerves, I offer, “I ran into Dylan.”
“That dick who put his hands on you?” Wolf’s eyes turn glacial, betraying all of the anger he must harbor at my omission. “What the fuck did he want?”
“To apologize, but I refused to speak to him. I haven’t seen him since.”
His eyes survey my face, pinging between my eyes until he accepts my answer and nods. “Will you let me know if he bothers you again?”
“Yes,” I reply, pressing a kiss against his chest. “I need to get going. I have to go to my mom’s to help her finish packing up my room before she moves today.”
“Where is she moving?”
I swallow down the fury that always accompanies thoughts of my mom’s forced move. Though she swears she’s fine, happy even, that my dad will no longer be a presence in any part of our lives unless I choose for him to be, anger, guilt, and disgust war for the primary emotion. “She’s moving to a condo in Frog Tree.”
“You don’t sound too happy about that.”
“I’m not. My dad is a dick.”
I can feel Wolf’s confusion. “But aren’t they divorced?”
“Yeah, because he’s a cheating asshole who couldn’t keep it in his pants. But he was the main signer on the mortgage because my mom didn’t have great credit when they divorced. After everything that happened with Devin and Marina, my dad decided to torpedo every part of my life where he still had some semblance of involvement. My mom never said, but from the conversations I’ve had with my dad, he all but demanded she move out or buy him out. My mom has never been one for games or theatrics, so she listed the house herself and told him to fuck off.” Shaking my head against his chest, I feel the tears start to come down, not in sorrow but frustration. “You know the worst part? I begged my dad, cried to him to reconsider doing this. That house was our sanctuary after the divorce. It’s where I learned to cook, where my grandmother would help me with my Spanish homework, and where I felt the safest. He took that away from me, from us, just like he’s taken everything else we’ve ever had.”
Wolf’s hand resumes rubbing my back, having stopped as soon as I started my tirade. Gathering me closer, his other arm bands around my body, hugging me to him. It’s meant to give comfort, solidarity; there’s nothing sexual about the move, yet it warms me all the same.
“Your dad sounds like an asshole.”
I bark out a laugh, grateful for the blatant honesty. “He is. But I haven’t been able to make it home in the last few weeks, so my mom has been doing everything by herself, though she swears she doesn’t want me there anyway. Part of me believes her since this is more difficult for her than it is for me, but I still wish I would have been able to help.”
He hums in response, squeezing me one last time before shifting me off him and standing from the bed. Moving to his closet, he grabs a pair of gray sweatpants, a black T-shirt and matching hoodie, a pair of briefs, and white socks. “Give me five minutes, and then I’ll bring you to your apartment, okay?”
Swallowing any disappointment down by his lack of response, I nod my head and push the comforter off of me. Grabbing my ruined jeans from the floor, I slide them on and thank God that Wolf’s ridiculously long shirt covers my vagina and all potentially offending parts of my body. I push my feet into my shoes, pull on my jacket, and then straighten up Wolf’s bed. Wolf’s place is almost uncomfortably neat, and I know from my experience in my apartment that he hates any form of disorganization or things out of place. I fluff the strangely high number of decorative pillows before arranging them in size order.
True to his word, Wolf walks back into his room five minutes later, fully showered and dressed. “You ready to go?”
“Yep.” I nod, picking my bag up off his dresser and following him out the door.
—
Wolf pulls his truck in front of my apartment complex and shifts it into park, idling at the curb. “Go up and change; I’ll wait down here for you.”
Whipping my head to Wolf, I shout, “What?”
He gives me a bored look like I should have known that he was coming with me to my mother’s house. “What kind of dick would I be if I let you pack shit up by yourself after you just told me how upsetting today was going to be for you?”
Furrowing my brow, I replay the words spoken earlier. “I never said today would be upsetting.”
“Princess, you cried on my chest when you spoke about your mom moving. You think packing up your bedroom is going to be a fucking laugh fest? Please.” He rolls his eyes, not hiding his opinion. “You’re wasting time. Go,” he orders, leaning over me to pop open the passenger side door.
“You don’t want to come up? I’ll be a few minutes; I need to shower.”
“Absolutely fucking not. If I go into that apartment, I’m either fucking you or rearranging your pantry. Probably both. We don’t have time for that, so go.”
“I—uh. Okay.” Hopping down from the truck, I race across the pavement, relieved that it’s early on a Sunday and not many people are out. Rushing up the stairs and into my apartment, I give myself a body shower and don’t bother washing my hair. After putting on a light coat of makeup, I survey my appearance. Normally, I love how short my hair is, but on days when it needs a wash, not being able to pull it up into a ponytail is annoying. Unfortunately, today, it needs a wash.
Power walking to my room, I throw on leggings, a tank top, and an oversized sweatshirt before grabbing a baseball cap and pushing it over my head. Grabbing my purse that I discarded on the entry table, I look at my phone and pride myself on taking less than twenty minutes to get ready. I may have created a small flood in the bathroom and a tornado in my bedroom, but I’ll just clean that when I get back this afternoon.
Throwing my front door open, I race out of the apartment building and into Wolf’s waiting truck. I’m ashamed to admit that I’m winded from my rush out the door.
“Okay,” I pant. “My mom lives fifteen minutes away. Give me the phone, and I’ll plug in the address.”
“Calm down, Serena. You sound like you’re out of breath.”
“Shut up, Wolf. Give me the phone.” I hold out my hand, waiting for him to deposit it in my palm. He shakes his head at me but hands over the phone. In no time, I have my mom’s address programmed into the phone, and we’re on the road.
I don’t let myself dwell on introducing Wolf and my mom, nor do I think about how Wolf will react to some of the very juvenile things in my room, like my old One Direction poster. Instead, I watch the trees pass by and try to silence all thoughts.
Wolf’s throat clears, eviscerating my hopes of a thought-free ride. Though his eyes are on the road, I can feel him watching me through his peripheral.
“What?”
“We’re exclusive.”
I squint at him, unsure of what he’s saying. “What?” I ask again.
“There are no other men. There are no other women. Boyfriend, girlfriend, whatever fucking name you want to call it, we’re exclusive.”
He’s not so much asking me as he is telling me. “I didn’t think there were other people, but okay. Thanks for clarifying.”
“Good.”
“Good,” I repeat. I turn my head back toward the window, thinking about the bizarre way he just confirmed the status of our relationship. A hand trails over my wrist, pulling one of my hands off my lap and resting it inside his atop the center console. I turn my head and stare forward at the road. From the corner of my eye, I can see a smirk flit across Wolf’s mouth, and I can’t help the one that breaks across my face.