Take Me Back to the Start #1

19. Teeny

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Teeny

NOW

Vegas became a distant memory. My foot injury scabbed over and healed. And my kiss with Everett stayed in Vegas, right on top of that luxurious goose-down comforter. As soon as we came back to the real world, after a weekend of alcohol, long hours spent in chlorinated water, a tinge of a sunburn, and even more alcohol, my night with Everett turned into a heavy mass I carried around with me. And I kept it at my heels, like dragging a suitcase on wheels, as a constant reminder.

I’m a married woman. I’m still Mrs. Christine Diaz. And yet, it’s taken one moment of weakness for me to realize how little that title means to me now. Fifteen years ago, I wore it like a badge of honor. I introduced myself as Mrs. Diaz to everyone I met. I stood proudly by Leo as his doting wife. As the mother of his child. And now, I’m questioning it all. Did it all mean nothing to him? Was I just a placeholder for him? Someone to fill the role as his wife so that he’d slide perfectly into what he envisioned for himself: a successful man who had it all. A reputable lawyer and a family man. And I played into it all.

With the pending meetings on my calendar with Grace’s lawyer, I knew I needed to talk to Leo. As much as I wish I could just shove a stack of divorce papers into Leo’s face and have my lawyer handle things, I owe it to my marriage to talk to him. No matter his infidelity.

Right now, I have to push all of that aside to meet Everett at Allegra Augustus Gallery in La Jolla. I’d set up the meeting quickly after my return from Vegas, and Everett jumped at the opportunity when I texted him to let him know about the earliest opening.

I’m looking over a large canvas, probably spanning close to fifty inches wide, with abstract florals. It’s just the kind of art I would’ve painted. Something I would’ve drawn up in my head and let it linger there until I finally let my hands talk. But that was a lifetime ago. Something Everett is more familiar with than I am.

Allegra Augustus, the gallery owner herself, is meeting with us today to personally show us the current pieces in her gallery. As I’m perusing the relatively familiar space, I hear the bell on the door trill as it opens and closes. My heart flip flops. There’s that time machine again, plopping me right back into my sixteen-year-old self, giddy with excitement over seeing my boyfriend. Waiting for him to meet me after basketball practice or at the door to Mrs. Fix’s class.

I can’t hold back the completely silly grin on my face. “Hi,” I say softly to Everett, waving a hand in his direction.

“Hi.”

He’d texted me a few times. Simple exchanges asking me how my foot was, if I made it home okay. If there were any more encounters with unmannerly men who didn’t understand the concept of consent. I’ve been responding with one-sided answers, too confused to egg on a more flirtatious banter. And Everett being Everett, he seemed to take my lack of engagement as a silent request for space instead of urging for more of my attention. Something I appreciated with my entire gut.

I hear faint clicks of shoes echo against the stark white walls in the gallery, coming from the back offices away from patrons. “Christine,” Allegra calls, approaching me with a kind smile. “It’s so good to see you!”

“Hi, Allegra,” I say, greeting her with a quick embrace. “Good to see you too.” I turn to introduce Everett. “This is the client I was telling you about. Everett Hayes.”

Everett is all professional and gentleman-like, shaking Allegra’s hand, and I can almost feel his charm radiating off him. My heart does another flip and another flop, reminding me how in love I was with this man at some point in my life.

“Nice to meet you,” Everett says, throwing in a little extra of that charm with an easy simper.

“So, we have some pieces in the back. Ones I usually save for more serious buyers,” Allegra explains. “We can start there and work our way up front.”

Allegra turns on her heels, and Everett and I follow.

“You didn’t tell me this was the gallery,” Everett whispers, ducking his head close to my ear. I keep my eyes on the floor while our steps move in synchrony on the hardwood floor.

He remembered.

I silently nod, smiling at my plum-colored shoes standing out against my white wide-legged slacks. When I turn to look at him, his eyes are on me with that smile I can’t seem to shake out of my head.

“Is your…work still here?”

I nod. “There’s still one piece,” I tell him, my voice shaking. We come to a stop at the back of the gallery, and there it is. It isn’t as vivid as it once was, and the golden tones of the sunset look more canary than the amber color it once was. But the lifeguard tower is hard to miss. Everett sees it, and he veers right into it. He’s not here anymore. He’s at the beach, right next to that tower, his footprints leaving marks on the wet sand just as they once did.

“So, this?—”

“Everett is familiar with this piece,” I gently interrupt Allegra. She politely nods, giving Everett a moment, and I walk up to him. “They never sold it,” I tell him. “I offered to take it back so it didn’t take up space in the gallery, but the previous gallery owner said it was okay. And when Allegra bought the gallery six years ago, she decided to keep it on display.”

I don’t know if Everett heard me. He gives no indication that he did. So I stay quiet, giving him a moment longer.

“I’ll take this one,” he says to the piece.

Allegra and I share a look. “It’s actually not for sale,” she explains.

That gets Everett’s attention, and he looks at Allegra with a steel look of determination. “What do you mean?”

“It’s the only piece that came with the gallery when I took ownership of it, and it’s really a part of the space,” she tells him. She looks at him apologetically, her body already angled toward another piece on the opposite wall.

Everett and I follow, and a deep scowl covers Everett’s features.

Allegra explains in a skillful voice, going over the different painting techniques and art styles. We move on to some sculptures, and Everett hasn’t said a single word. I can feel Allegra grow more nervous as we move along the gallery, and I realize Everett hasn’t made a decision on another piece aside from mine.

“Well,” Allegra says, her voice a little defeated. “I’ll give you two a minute to talk things over.”

I reach for Allegra’s arm for an appreciative squeeze. “Thank you, Allegra.” I turn to Everett, his scowl turning pensive and preoccupied. “Did you not see anything you like?”

“Maybe some of the sculptures,” he says, his voice distant and distracted.

“Okay,” I tell him, trying to sound encouraging. “Did you want to look at them again? Maybe you can pick some?—”

“I’m okay with whatever you pick, Teeny,” he interrupts. His tone is clipped, like he’s displeased.

“Sure. I’ll talk to Allegra, and we’ll go over some pieces. See what’ll be a good fit.”

I stop by Allegra’s office and give her some details on the hotel design changes and the entire remodel. I tell her I’ll be in touch with some decisions on the pieces, and we part ways. With that, Everett and I leave the gallery. We’re standing in the parking lot, my back against the door to my car and Everett standing about two feet from me. My eyes are back on my feet, noticing a small chip of nail polish on my middle toenail.

“I should get go?—”

“How are you?” Everett interrupts, ignoring my pending departure.

“I’m okay.” I sound so timid and scared, and maybe I am. Maybe Everett’s presence, while it makes a flurry of butterflies grow rampant in my stomach, also terrifies me.

He nods, and I fidget with my car keys.

More silence sits between us. I finally look at him, and I realize why I’m so scared. I’m scared of my past. I’m scared it’s going to careen right into me when I’ve spent the last twenty years avoiding it. I’m scared that after all this time I spent safeguarding my heart, it was all for nothing. And I don’t know if I’ll survive it again. I don’t know if my heart will survive. People die from a broken heart. I’ve seen it happen in movies, in books, and that could be me. It could kill me.

“I really do have to go,” I say again, my hand already pulling at my door handle. “I’m picking Sadie up from camp.”

“She’s coming back?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I tell him. “Just in time for the wedding.”

He smiles. “That’s good. I’m sure you’ll be happy to have her back home.”

“I am.”

“I guess…I’ll see you soon?” he asks tentatively.

“Yeah.”

I don’t understand the impulse that has me reaching for him, but it happens despite the nagging voice in my head telling me it’s a bad idea. I place my hand lightly on his forearm, giving it a gentle squeeze. He looks at me with an observant gaze, and before he can do anything, like give my hand a reassuring pat or even something as bold as an embrace, I turn and get into my car to leave.

The entire drive to LA is a blur. I don’t remember what roads I took, what street signs I passed. I don’t even notice the usually irritating freeway traffic. All I see is Everett’s face. How solemn his expression turned as soon as he saw my painting. How he looked like he wanted to ask me more than how I’ve been. Maybe he wanted to ask me if I’ve been thinking about him. About our kiss. About those stolen glances in the pool around everyone else, hoping we didn’t look suspicious. And a part of me wished he asked me. Just so I could tell him that it’s all I’ve been thinking about. But also to tell him that I’m still scared.

As soon as I walk onto the campgrounds and head over to Sadie’s dorm room she’s been sharing with three other girls, I go right into mom mode.

“Sadie, your clothes are a mess in here.” I’m sifting through her duffel bag, finding that her clothes have been thrown in there without a care.

“I’m going to wash them all anyway, Mom,” she argues.

I huff, sorting through her things to make room for the rest of her belongings. We finish packing, and she says her goodbyes to her camp friends. They exchange hugs, promising to stay in touch and keep each other updated on their music. Before I know it, I’m filling the three-hour drive back home with a demo Sadie recorded at camp, played through Bluetooth on her phone, and a complete Taylor Swift singalong that she and I duet.

When I pull into my driveway, I’m surprised to see Leo’s car there.

“Dad!” Sadie squeals as she bolts out of the car before I’m even able to put it in park.

“Whoa, kiddo,” Leo exclaims, embracing our daughter in a tight hug. “You go away to camp for the summer and suddenly I’m ‘Dad?’”

Sadie rolls her eyes, the only appropriate response from an angsty tween, before she helps me with her bags from my car.

“I thought we could go out for burgers,” he tells me, eyeing me cautiously. “It’s been a while since we’ve had a milkshake from Ruby’s.”

“Yes!” Sadie exclaims. “I’m so hungry.”

Leo’s eyes don’t leave mine. “Why don’t you get your things inside,” he instructs Sadie. “I need to talk to your mom for a second.”

“Okay.” She takes her guitar from me as I remove it from the trunk, and she walks into the house through the open garage.

“Sadie told me she was on her way home,” Leo explains. “She texted me when you two left camp.”

I nod.

“Anyway, are you okay with some burgers? Or we can go to that sushi place you like.”

“You can go with Sadie,” I tell him. “I’m sure she’s excited to see you. You know, since you missed her showcase.”

“I’m sorry about that.”

I huff. “Tell her.”

Leo awkwardly rubs his knuckles into his palm. “I, uh, talked to James a few days ago.”

I already don’t like where this is headed. “And?”

“He told me you guys went to Vegas.”

“For Mina and Josh’s bachelor-bachelorette weekend, yeah.”

“And he, um…he mentioned that your old boyfriend was there.”

My body stiffens. “Yeah, he was.”

There’s a long pause of silence. I can tell he wants to know more. Not the details he already knows. Like that Everett was the one who got away. That he was the one who had my heart in shambles when Leo and I met one weekend during the summer after junior year when James brought him over to the house. That when he saw me moseying around the house in a state of grief and misery, we bonded over my heartbreak and his incredibly welcoming shoulder to cry on.

“Is that all? You came here to tell me what James passed along to you?”

“Is there something going on? With you and him?”

I scoff. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”

“You’re my wife?—”

“Your soon-to-be ex -wife,” I spit back. “Your soon-to-be ex-wife who you cheated on. Or did you forget that little detail?”

His hands fist at his side, and I can see his face flush red with anger and frustration. “I don’t care what I did. You’re still my wife, and if you’re cheating on me to get back at me?—”

“I am not cheating on you!” My voice raises, and I see him taken aback by the brazenness of my words. “I’m not cheating on you, because we aren’t together anymore. We are done. I don’t know how else to make things clearer, but this—” I point a finger back and forth between us. “It’s over.”

“Teeny, don’t say that.”

“Why?” I throw my hands in the air, looking for the last bits of my will as I search for the words that’ll finally make him understand how far we are from reparable. “You’re going to honestly say that this is worth salvaging? That there’s something there worth fighting for between us?”

He responds with silence, and it’s the answer I need. “But you’re…we’re married. You’re the mother of my child. What…what am I going to do without you?”

“Maybe you should’ve thought of that before you cheated on me, Leo.” I start to feel tears prick at my eyes, and my throat tightens, making me near speechless. I didn’t want him to see me like this. Hurt and suffering from his betrayal, but I don’t know how to hold it back any longer. I wipe at my cheeks, trying to hide the evidence of my tears before Sadie comes back outside, and Leo takes a step closer to me.

“Teeny, please.” I feel the emotions swell in his voice, his eyes on the brink of his own tears. All I can do is shake my head, too tired and weary to fight anymore.

The door from inside the garage opens, signaling Sadie’s exit from the house. I quickly wipe at the last bit of my tears, smoothing it over with a forced smile in Sadie’s direction. “Don’t have too much ice cream. You know all that dairy makes your tummy ache.”

“You’re not going?” Sadie asks, a hopeful look on her face. And under different circumstances, I might have changed my mind. I might have pushed aside my hurt and resentment from Leo’s betrayal for the sake of our daughter. But I couldn’t. Not after everything we’d just said to each other.

“No, baby,” I tell her apologetically. “I have to make some calls for a client, but you enjoy your time with Daddy.”

I can feel Leo watching us, his presence suddenly unwanted in a way that feels unsettling, but I ignore it. I said what needed to be said, and as much as it disturbed what little truce we silently settled on, I meant it. I should at least look him in the eye and bid him farewell before he leaves, if not out of politeness, then at the very least for Sadie, but I don’t. Instead, I embrace Sadie in a tight hug before she scampers off into Leo’s car. And I walk right into my house without a second glance.

I start picking up the mess in my house. Loose shoes strewn in the entryway, empty coffee mugs in random parts of the house, small bits of littered trash on the floor. I do that while I try to process the reason for the aching twinge in my heart. Wondering if it’s a spasm of guilt or if it’s a cluster of anger building and growing into something hard to ignore. I start to become exasperated and irate toward Leo. At his assumptions, his hypocritical accusations. And then that pain shifts completely into anger. I start stomping around the house, muttering under my breath all the things I wish I could say to Leo’s face. That he has no right to go around still calling me his wife. That he should start getting more familiar with the term ex-wife or mother of his child instead. And how dare he accuse me of cheating on him! As if he has the right to even question something like that. And yet, there’s a lingering guilt brewing in my gut. Because I couldn’t deny his question, asking if there was something going on with me and Everett. Not after that kiss. And maybe the fact that the guilt that should’ve been pointed in Leo’s direction is now teetering a little toward me has me more hot and bothered than I should be.

I try to stay busy, washing Sadie’s clothes, tidying around the house, putting away all the little toiletries I still had stashed away in my makeup bag from the Vegas trip. Before I know it, Sadie’s home. Leo doesn’t walk her in, and I take it as a sign. Maybe he finally got the hint that his actions caused all of this. This rift, this tension.

As I’m folding Sadie’s laundry while she’s fast asleep in her room, that guilt starts to claw at my chest. Leo’s right. I am a married woman. And Everett should’ve respected that. My mind starts to play this violent tug of war, unsure of what I should be feeling. And by the time it hits one a.m., I’m still stewing. I’ve moved on to sorting through the clothes in my closet, filling a garbage bag of items to donate to Goodwill, when this nagging voice tells me I need to talk to Everett. I need to clear this up. Because if that kiss meant more than just a kiss, more than some form of closure I’ve been convincing myself that it was, then it makes me no better than Leo.

“Teeny?” Everett answers on the second ring.

“Were you sleeping?” I ask, suddenly realizing the time.

“No.”

“Okay.”

There’s a pause, and I hear the rustle of bed sheets. “Is everything okay?”

“Mh-hmm,” I answer, giving nothing away.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” I hesitate before saying, “I don’t…really know why I called.”

“That’s okay.” I don’t know how to explain it, but he sounds so…understanding. I feel like I can confess my darkest, deepest sins and he’d somehow convince me I’m at no fault.

“Leo came by,” I finally tell him. “James told him that you’re in town and that you were in Vegas with me.”

“How did he take it?”

“He asked if there was something going on with me and you,” I answer. “He…knows about you. He’s known about you for a long time.”

“What did you tell him?” I can hear the cautious tone in his voice. It’s there in the hesitating pause and the quietly whispered question.

“I told him no,” I say firmly. “I told him it wasn’t any of his business. And he told me that he didn’t care because I’m still his wife.”

He lightly scoffs instead of the expected string of curses directed at Leo, showing some restraint on his end. “It doesn’t change the fact that he still cheated on you, Teeny.”

“I know,” I tell him. “And I reminded him that I won’t be his wife for much longer.”

“Good.”

A smile that feels completely foreign in place of the perpetual scowl I’ve been wearing all day tugs at my lips. “But…after what happened, it doesn’t make me any better than him, Everett. I stooped down to his level.”

“Was that what that was? Trying to show him up? Or get back at him?” he asks. His voice isn’t threatening or accusatory. He sounds like he’s genuinely asking. If not out of pure curiosity, then to clarify what our kiss meant.

“No!” I answer quickly, and I can almost hear him smile. “No, Everett. That’s not what that was at all. Me and you?—”

“Then you haven’t stooped down to his level,” he assures me.

“Okay,” I say, sounding unsure of myself. “I should go,” I tell him after a pregnant pause. “I’m sorry I called you so late.”

“It’s okay, Teeny. You can call me anytime.”

My heart squeezes inside my chest, and I want to fall into a heap of tears. “Good night, Everett.”

“Night, Teeny.”

I hang up, and as soon as my phone lands on my bed, the tears start to flow. I can’t pinpoint why I’m crying. If it’s because of Leo and our broken marriage. If it’s because I miss Everett so damn much and crying is the only way to express the pain I’m feeling from his gaping absence. Or if I’m finally saying goodbye. To Everett and our past, and this is the mourning period I never got to have. Or to my marriage, all the good years we had before everything went to shit.

Or maybe it’s the tidal wave of emotions that’s finally hitting me. All at once, like a tsunami. I feel too many things. Anger, regret, sadness, grief, resentment, relief. All of those feelings are coming together, only for me to realize how weak I’ve become. I’m tired, completely spent from trying to keep my shit together.

My nose starts to blubber with snot, and the tears run down my cheeks, soaking my shirt. I bury my face into my pillow, letting it stain with the remains of my sadness. I don’t know how long I’ve been crying, but I’m interrupted by an alert on my phone. I pick it up to see a new text message from Everett.

Everett

I’m outside.

The tears stop cold in their tracks, and I reach for a tissue to wipe away at the mess on my face. I should question his message. There should be some kind of emotion that aligns with panic and worry coursing through me knowing that Everett is at my doorstep while Sadie’s sound asleep in her room, but I don’t. I feel the opposite. I feel relieved.

My body’s on autopilot as I walk down the stairs to my front door, and when I open it, Everett’s on the other side. He’s wearing a black hoodie and jeans, his hair a little disheveled and that five o’clock shadow outlining his jaw perfectly.

“Hi,” he says grimly. His eyes look tired and sad, almost mirroring mine.

I know I look like a mess. Cheeks stained with tears and my nose a blotchy red color, all evidence of the sobbing fest I had up in my room, but I don’t care at this point. The dam breaks, and the tears come in a fresh wave. As soon as my face twists and a sob breaks from my chest, Everett steps forward, pulling me into him. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to make the tears stop, and when the sobs become louder, he pulls me outside, closing the door behind me.

“Is Sadie home?”

I nod into his chest.

“Okay,” he whispers. “Shh, it’s okay, Teeny,” he continues softly into my hair. It helps, his soothing voice, his hands moving over my threadbare night shirt, and next thing I know, I’m looking up at him. He smooths away the hair on my face and wipes at the tears. “I’m here, okay? And I’m not going to hurt you. Not again.”

My body sags, landing with a heavy thud into a safety net. I feel safeguarded. Like I can weather an entire storm and come out the other end unscathed. I can’t explain it. The way it courses through me, exposing my heart by placing it right on my sleeve, but it’s there. The last few bricks of the wall I spent so many years building crumble to the ground, and it’s just me. It’s just me and Everett. And for some reason, it feels so right.

“Why did you?” I say, my voice so low, I don’t even know if Everett heard me. “Why did you hurt me?”

He cups my face in his hands and forces my eyes to him. “I didn’t know any better. I didn’t know how to stop the hurt inside me, and it made me hurt you instead.” His eyes mist over, and they start to rim red. He closes his eyes, a wince taking over his features with his tight jaw and furrowed brow. I see a tear trail down his cheek, and he rests his forehead against mine. “I don’t regret a lot of things in my life, but hurting you is something I wish I could take back. All of it. I wish I could go back in time and change everything.” He pulls away, and the tears continue to fall. “I miss you so much, Teeny. God, I missed you.” His voice cracks and it’s enough to break me.

I pull at his neck, bringing him closer, and kiss him. And it feels like I’ve come home. Right onto the plush purple rug in the middle of my childhood bedroom, surrounded by half-empty tubes of acrylic paints and bristly paintbrushes. Everett’s arms wrap around my waist, holding me so tight I can barely breathe. It’s suffocating, but he doesn’t loosen his grip. He grunts into my mouth, letting that little bit of reserve he was clinging to fall apart. My entire body presses into him, seeking more than just this kiss. I want to mold into him. I want to feel every part of him to every part of me as if there’d been no time spent away from him. As if I’d spent the last twenty years by his side and I knew his body as if it were my own.

Everett lifts me, his hold on me growing impossibly tighter. I follow him as his steps move backward toward my driveway. He fumbles his hand against the door of his car, but not the front seat. He veers to the back, and I don’t even protest. I follow willingly because I don’t think there’s a place on this earth I wouldn’t follow him to right now. I’d follow him right into the ruins of our past if it means more of this.

Everett goes first and I follow, naturally situating myself on his lap. When I do, my thighs straddling his, he takes a moment to look at me. To run his hands over my skin, trailing goose bumps over the exposed areas. He doesn’t say anything, and for some reason, that silence says more than any words possibly could. I try to kiss him again, going for his lips, but he stops me.

“Sorry,” he whispers. “I just need a minute.”

My hands thread into his nape and up to his hair. “Do you not…do you want to stop?”

“No,” he answers urgently. “No, Teeny. I just…I can’t believe this is happening. I’ve thought about this moment for so long.”

I watch the way he studies me under the glowing moonlight, his eyes looking at me as if he’s committing everything to memory. The way my skin gleams in the light streaming in from the windows and the way my chest heaves against my too-thin shirt. And I wonder if he notices me too. All the changes. Like the fine lines that etch my face or the body that withstood motherhood with stretch marks and saggy skin. Or if he doesn’t see any of that. If he still sees the girl next door he fell in love with.

“I can’t lose you again, Teeny,” he finally says. A fresh wave of tears gloss over his eyes, and I see the pain pulled to the surface. “Please tell me what to do. I don’t know what to do, and I’m scared that what I do might hurt you again. And I can’t?—”

I cut him off with a deep kiss, pressing my hips into his. Tears roll down my cheeks, and they mix with his, making our kiss salty and wet. My hands reach for the hem of his sweatshirt, and he pulls it off. I’m taken aback when I see that he’s not wearing anything underneath, but that passes quickly, and my focus shifts to his tattoo. In the darkness, I trace it with my fingers, appreciating the fine lines and colors that stand out even in the veil of the night.

“It was the only way to keep a part of you with me,” he whispers, watching me. “I walked away from everything, and your paintings and this place and you…I wanted it all to stay with me forever.”

I look at him, his words firing every nerve ending in my body until my limbs buzz with electricity. “You got this…”

He looks at me, waiting for something, anything. When all I can do is look at him in awe, he inches closer, moving cautiously. In that moment, I realize how deeply we’re meant for each other. The moment I laid eyes on him, it was set in stone. Regardless of our journey, of the different paths we took, and the fork in the road that drew us apart, we were always meant to find our way back to each other. This is what soulmates are made of. The invisible string tugging at our hearts, tying us to one another to connect us whenever we lose our way.

My hands start to fumble at the button of his pants, and he quickly follows my lead. I reach into his boxers and grip him. I feel his arms slacken around me, and he lets out the most erotic moan I’ve ever heard. It shoots straight into the pit of my stomach, making it tumble and roll.

His hands snake up my back, under my shirt, against my bare skin, and all the way to the opening at my neck. The movement lifts my shirt, exposing more of my skin, and he ducks his head, taking my nipple in his mouth through the almost see-through fabric. My back arches, and I swear I see stars on the ceiling of his car. I want him. I need him. I need him like I need air to breathe. This is becoming more than just our bodies wanting each other. It’s becoming a way of sustaining life. We need each other to survive.

He trails kisses up my chest and when he reaches my neckline, his tongue caresses my skin all the way up to my earlobe. He takes an indecent taste between his teeth, and it feels like numbing pins and needles low in my stomach. My body begins to feel desperate.

I start to climb off of him, removing the loose sleep shorts I was wearing, exposing the bareness of my entire bottom half. He watches me, his eyes turning dark and hungry. I move so that I’m straddling him again, and my hand is on him, stroking him, learning how to do this all over again.

Everett suddenly grips my wrist in his hand to stop me. “Shit!” he mutters, cursing under his breath. “Fuck. Teeny, I don’t have a condom.”

“I have an IUD,” I tell him quickly. “Unless you don’t think we should…”

“No, I do,” he answers, that urgency back in his voice, full of desperation. I wait for him to continue. “Are you sure?”

“I trust you,” I tell him, finally realizing how deeply I believe those words. I trust him. With my entire body, I trust him. And suddenly, all the pain, all the hurt falls into the shadows, drawing the curtains closed as if they’ve done their part. I’m safe now.

“I trust you, too.”

With that, I position myself over him, and we both gasp. Everything inside me grows wanton. I claw at his bare shoulders, needing something to ground myself to. I feel like I’m going to float away on a big fluffy cloud, and this will all be a figment of my imagination.

Everett kisses me, crushing his lips into mine. His hands tremble against my waist, and I realize his entire body is shaking. I wrap my arms around his neck, drawing our bodies even closer together. I start to move, my hips seeking friction against his.

“You feel…incredible,” he groans. “Jesus, you feel fucking amazing.”

I shift so he hits a spot inside me that makes my entire body jolt and quiver. He notices how I react, his gaze growing dark and heady.

“There?” he asks. He gives a rousing thrust upward, testing his question only to find the answer in my reaction.

“Mh-hmm,” I whimper, nodding while my lids fall heavy. I shudder and fall slack on his lap, shivering through the overwhelming sensation from how skilled he is even at an angle where I’m at the advantage. “Touch me, Everett.”

He watches me, pressing his index and middle fingers against my lips. He pushes further, prying my mouth open, and I feel the smooth pads of his fingers grate against my tongue. My mouth responds with a loud pop as soon as he withdraws his fingers, and I feel them between us.

“You are so goddamn beautiful like this,” I hear him whisper while his fingers stroke and tease. He fists my hair with his free hand and wraps it loosely around his palm, tugging it back to angle my jaw to the ceiling of the car. My hips start to move in circles and the back of Everett’s head hits the headrest. “ Ohhh , fuck. You’re driving me insane.”

“Just keep touching me,” I demand. “And don’t st-stop. Whatever you do, do—don’t stop moving.”

He continues his rhythm, those thrusts moving in and out with a steadiness I’m finding fascinating. My breaths start to come out in shallow gasps, just as my body begins to tense and seize. Those pants that were leaving my lips in desperate gulps of air become loud, turning into aching cries. I cry out his name, some line of curses I can’t even remember, and even a prayer to a higher being as I fall apart right on Everett’s lap. Even inside his car, I know it’s getting loud, to the point that if someone overheard, we wouldn’t be able to disguise what we’re doing. Everett’s hand clamps over my mouth and my cries turn into screams. Screams that scrape against my throat, creating a deliciously satiating sting.

My body starts to relax as I come down from my high, and Everett scoops his palms right behind me and lifts off the seat. He dizzies me in an agile pivot, and I’m suddenly on my back, Everett hovering over me in the small space of his back seat. My knees fall open, welcoming this new position, and Everett picks up his pace.

“You’re amazing,” he growls, his focus on maintaining a steady tempo that feels delectable and wicked. “And you’re so fucking beautiful.” He ends his sentence with a harsh kiss, smashing his lips to mine. His hips start to meet mine, thrust to thrust. I hear a rhythmic grunt rattle Everett’s chest, matching the beats to the racy slaps of my skin against his. The indecency of our movements, the sheen of sweat lining our foreheads, the recklessness and desperation of our fucking has a crescendo effect, making it build.

It was never like this between us. We’d always find ways to make our lovemaking sweet and wholesome and tender. But this…it’s rousing, injecting electricity straight into my veins. All these years, I’ve been missing out on this kind of sex. This kind of compulsive, addictive sex.

“You gonna let me come inside you?” he asks, a dark and lustful gaze filling his eyes. It hardly sounds like a question, but more like a threat. And if I said no, there’d be consequences.

“ Yes ,” I answer, my voice breathless. “Please.”

His hand moves above me, bracing himself against the window. It gives him the leverage he needs as I start to feel his movements become frantic and wild. My moans mingle with all the sounds inside Everett’s car. My bare skin against the leather seat, our choppy breaths that blend the fine line between a gasp and a shriek, the lewdness of the squelching noises we’re creating with the in and out motion of his thrusts.

“ Fuck !” Everett groans noisily, pressing his forehead into the crook where my shoulder and neck meet, rattling everything from the inside out. I don’t care anymore that anyone outside can hear us. All reason and sense leave my body, and what remains is this desperation clinging to my body that I want more.

But then our bodies come down from the high. Like a deflating balloon, and I realize how we acted completely on carnal urges. It was all about our bodies craving something our hearts told us we’d already had enough of. We became glutinous and caved.

I push him off me, searching for my underwear and shorts. I quietly put them back on, the mess already growing slick against my thighs. I watch Everett do the same, tucking himself away and zipping up his pants.

I reach for the door, but Everett stops me. “Teeny.”

“I should go,” I tell him, my eyes on the handle.

“Teeny, look at me.”

I do, and my chin trembles. “I’m sorry, Everett.”

“You have nothing to be?—”

“I’m so fucked up,” I interrupt, my voice shaky and scared. “This is all so fucked up, and I wish things weren’t the way they were.”

“I love you, Teeny.”

My face twists, and it feels like a dagger shot straight through my chest.

“I never stopped loving you,” he adds. “You are, without a single doubt, the love of my life. It’s always and only been you.”

“Don’t tell me that.”

“Why?”

“Because…” I look at him, my eyes glassy and sad. “It’s too late.”