Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
Lucas
T wo Thanksgiving dinners are one too many. If I even see another potato, I might be sick.
Discomfort aside, I’m feeling oddly good today. I’m glad I chose to go with Sadie today to her family’s dinner. They were very nice people, but I think having me there as she broke the news made things easier for her.
And to see her at this table, laughing and conversing with my family, is doing things to me. It makes me want to bring her around more. She fits in so well.
But she’s being standoffish to me. So maybe I’m reading the signs wrong, and she’s not as comfortable here as she seems. Maybe she doesn’t like how intimate things are feeling with me . Sadie would rather keep things between us casual and noncommittal. I practically invented noncommittal. I should be fine with this.
But for some reason, I don’t like it.
Reaching over to her under the table, I try to take her hand, but she subtly evades my touch. I swallow down my disappointment .
Get your head on straight, Luke. What is wrong with you?
“Let’s all say something we’re thankful for,” my mother says from the head of the table. Most of us groan and Caleb shoots me an eye-rolling expression.
“I’ll go first,” Abby says brightly, kicking her feet in her chair next to Sage. The novelty of Dean has worn off, it seems, because she’s back to being glued to Sage’s side.
“Go ahead, peanut,” Briar says.
“I’m thankful for pumpkin pie.” She giggles before taking a bite of the pie in front of her. Dean wipes whipped cream on her nose, making her laugh hysterically.
“I’m thankful for pumpkin pie, too,” Sadie says from beside me. She’s grinning at Abby, and I feel something warm shoot down my spine. I wonder if she knows how good of a mother she’ll be.
She puts a hand on her stomach before adding, “Among other things.”
I glance at my sister-in-law, Briar, to gauge her reaction. After a long battle with infertility and deciding last year to stop trying, I’m sometimes worried that having two pregnant women at the table would be triggering for her. But she only smiles at Sadie and then reaches over to Sage and rubs her belly again.
Caleb wraps an arm around her back before kissing the side of her head. Something about the gesture makes me strangely jealous. For over a decade, I’ve watched my brother devote his life to this one woman, and never have I felt jealous or wanted that for myself.
In fact, there were times when I pitied him for the emotional roller coaster he seemed to be on in his marriage. From the outside, his love for her looked like a burden.
But now, seeing the way he connects with her, supports her, and touches her, I see it so differently. Maybe having Sadie live with me has gone to my head. These feelings are an illusion. I’m attached to Sadie because she has been in my space for so long now. Once I leave for England—hopefully—I’ll be able to think clearly.
“What about you, Luke?” my mom asks.
“I’m thankful for…” I feel Sadie’s eyes on me as she glances my way. “The opportunity to go to England in the fall. Even if I don’t make it into the program, I’m thankful I got the chance.”
No one reacts. In fact, everyone is just staring at me except for Sadie, who is now looking down at her empty plate.
Fuck, I’m an asshole.
I clear my throat to ease the tension. “Caleb, your turn.”
He lets out an exasperated sigh but jumps in to take some focus off me. I’m staring at Sadie, noticing the way her pouty mouth is set in a thin line, and her eyes look more moist than usual.
I don’t even hear what Caleb is saying when Sadie quietly excuses herself from the table.
Now everyone is really looking at me.
They just don’t understand. Sadie isn’t my girlfriend. We’re not in love, and she’s not having my baby. We’re just friends, so what was I supposed to say?
Without a word, I rise from the table and leave the dining room to find her. She’s not in the guest bathroom downstairs, so I creep up to the second floor in search of her, but she’s not up there either. I start to panic a bit until I peek into my father’s office and find her curled up in one of his large upholstered chairs, wiping tears from her eyes with a tissue.
I stop in the doorway, paralyzed with indecision.
“Go away, Luke,” she says coldly. “I’m fine.”
“I’m sorry,” I say as I walk into the room and close the door behind me.
“What are you sorry for?” she asks with a humorless laugh.
“I don’t know,” I answer honestly.
She presses the tissue to her eyes and cries in silence. Something inside me shatters. Without knowing why she’s upset or what I should do, I walk up to her and drop to my knees at her feet.
“I upset you, and I’m sorry,” I say, staring pleadingly into her eyes.
“You don’t get it.” She laughs. “We’re just friends, Luke. You’re leaving soon. I know that, and I know I mean nothing to you, but to hear you say it out loud in front of your entire family…”
I lean forward and touch her leg. “You don’t mean nothing to me.”
“Sure,” she says with makeup streaked under her eyes. “But you’re all I have right now, and you’re leaving me.”
Whatever was left of my heart is gone now.
“I fucked up,” I say, leaning toward her. “Sadie, you don’t mean nothing to me. I promise. I’m sorry. I’m not good at this. You’re all I have, too. I didn’t even have friends before you came along, so I say selfish, inconsiderate things. How can I make this up to you?”
She shakes her head and tries to stand from the chair. I press my hands down on her thighs to keep her there.
“Punish me.”
Her brows pinch inward as she stares at me in confusion. “What?”
“I’m serious,” I say, kneeling in front of her. “Punish me.”
She lets out a laugh. “What do you want me to do, Luke? Put you over your father’s desk and spank you?”
My lips part, but nothing comes out. That’s not exactly what I had in mind. That night in my house comes back to mind when Sadie crawled over to me and used her mouth to make it up to me.
My fingers slide to the hem of her dress as I slide it slowly upward. “Let me show you.”
“Luke,” she says but makes no move to stop me.
“Use me, Sadie,” I whisper, pressing my lips to the top of her thighs. “Use my mouth until you’re convinced I’m sorry. ”
“Your family is right downstairs.”
The first thought that enters my mind is that my family is right here , in this room, but that’s not the right thing to think. That’s just an illusion, again.
“I don’t care,” I reply as I move my kisses up her thighs.
Her fingers run through my hair as she melts into my touch. Hooking my hands under her hips, I tug her to the edge of the chair and lower myself until I can reach the inner parts of her thighs.
Her legs dangle over my shoulders as I breathe in the scent of her cunt. My mouth waters, and I let out a subtle groan.
Slipping her panties to the side, I stare at her beautiful pink pussy, glistening for me already. Leaning forward, I lick her slit and nuzzle myself closer. Latching my lips around her clit, I flick the sensitive spot with my tongue, and she lets out a pleasure-filled hum.
I moan against her, creating vibration. She writhes on the chair, squeezing her thighs around my ears as I suck and nibble. When I find the movements that make her fidget more, I keep them up. It’s like learning the secret code to her pleasure, and it’s locked into my memory forever.
“Luke,” she cries out in a low whisper. Her fingers grip my hair at the scalp as she pulls. The pain doesn’t bother me. I’m too focused on her.
My face is soaked with her arousal, and I’m feral for how much I love this. This perfect little pussy is mine. This woman is mine .
Those are the lies echoing in my mind as I make her come on the brown upholstered chair. Because she’s not mine. No part of this woman belongs to me. Not her body. Not her heart.
And that’s my fault. No matter how much I want her to be mine, I can never give her what she wants.
My fingers grip her thighs as I press my face even closer to her cunt. I suck so hard on her clit, she has to bite her own fist to keep from screaming. Her back arches and her legs tremble as she climaxes on my tongue. I keep my mouth on her, feeling her pulse against my lips.
Eventually, I release her panties and ease her legs from my shoulders. When I look up at her, she looks completely spent and exhausted. Her hair is a mess, and her cheeks are red.
“Okay, I believe you’re sorry,” she says on an exhale.
Smiling, I wipe my face against her inner thigh.
I want to keep her taste on my lips, savoring the flavor of her because I am the only one who can.
Because she’s mine. Or, I guess at this point, it would be more accurate to say I am hers. And I don’t have any choice in the matter.
By the time Sadie and I get back to the house, it’s late and we’re both exhausted. We don’t talk in the car except about safe, neutral topics like how cute Abigail was at dinner or how good the sweet potatoes were.
When we get to the house, Sadie kicks off her shoes in the corner and walks directly toward her room. But she hesitates in the hallway, and I wonder if she’s feeling the same way I feel. After a long day of feeling like a couple, it’s strange to be going to different beds.
For a moment, I consider crawling back under her covers, using her nightmares as an excuse. But after today, I’ve learned that I am too flippant with her emotions. I need to be more careful.
So, as she meanders slowly to her room, I let her. I don’t even look up from where I’m unlacing my shoes. When the door closes behind her, it’s chilling.
After I get to my own room, I drop onto the bed and stare at the floor. I can’t make myself do anything I normally do—take off my clothes, brush my teeth, climb into my bed. It’s like I’m frozen in this state of discomfort. Everything feels so wrong.
Pulling out my phone, I stare at the screen. I want something to quiet my thoughts, so I first go to my email, looking for a response from the Stratford Project. The feeling used to be hopeful and excited, but now it’s laced with dread.
Dammit, why has she taken away the one thing I’m longing for? Before her, my desires were simple. Work, study, write, read. Alone.
Now, I can think only about her slipping off that dress, red marks on her inner thighs from the scratch of my five-o’clock shadow. Her full breasts under the cotton of an old T-shirt. The clean, floral scent of her hair and the round pucker of her lips.
This is what drives poets mad. Now, it all makes sense. This feeling is like hypnosis. Like I no longer have control over my own mind and body. It’s driven only by her and this irrepressible need to be and give her everything she needs. She is the siren at the bottom of the sea, calling me to my own reckoning. And like the carnal creature I am, I would gladly drown.
Glancing numbly down at my phone, I pull up our text message thread. The world at my fingertips. With just a few words, I could express to her what I’m feeling.
Maybe it would ruin everything.
Maybe it would fix everything.
It doesn’t have to be forever. Perhaps one night of lust would quench this thirst.
I type out and delete a hundred different phrases.
Wanna come over?
You up?
Moby Dick?
I delete them all. I’m being reckless. Even I know that taking this astronomical leap with Sadie wouldn’t curb any of our desires but would only enhance them. I already feel so emotionally chained to her.
I need to be smart about this. Distance and discipline are the only things that could possibly cure this sickness I seem to be suffering from.
So, with that, I drop my phone on the nightstand. Then I tear off my clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor, and crawl under the covers to fight off another sleepless night—alone.