Chapter 21
Chapter Twenty-One
AVERY
Sunday morning, I somehow wake up horny. I can’t count the number of big O’s I’ve enjoyed this weekend, because every time we’re alone, there’s touching and talking that turns me on. I just wish this feeling could last.
In college, there were just too many men to meet. I didn’t want to stick with just one, so things were always exciting and new. Later, when Peter and I decided to move in together, things got routine pretty quickly. I figured that’s what happens. You trade novel and thrilling for trusted and ordinary.
It’s hard to imagine that happening with Josh, though. Something about him makes me want to try new things. Take risks. And not just here in bed, but at work and in the rest of my life.
“You know,” the man of my thoughts murmurs next to me, “I have to admit something.”
My gut tenses for a moment, ready for the shoe to drop. But when he nuzzles into my back, the fear dissipates, and I turn to face him. “Tell me. I can take it.”
A half grin lifts one side of his mouth, like he’s not quite awake enough to work both sides. His hand curves over my waist to caress my hip, circling over my bum to dip between my cheeks. My leg loops over him of its own accord until I’m straddling him, rocking my needy center into his growing erection.
Josh's grin is now symmetrical, but he’s obviously still half in dreamland as I work him over, running my nails over his abs—not a six-pack maybe, but definitely a four—before following with my torso. His expression is so blissful, I want to keep him in this state, so instead of moving up his body to kiss him awake, I move down, following the happy trail.
When I fist him, his shaft jumps. When I take the head between my lips, his hips lift off the bed.
“Aaaverrreee,” he moans. A quick glance confirms that his smile has only grown wider, so I continue my exploration, playing his flute with my lips, teeth, tongue, and fingers.
Who knew that skill sets learned in marching band could pay off later in life?
When I take him fully into my mouth, he grabs the sheets. When I pump him with my hand and lave the head with my tongue, his hips roll. But when I combine the two, increasing speed, he growls, “I’m gonna come, sweetheart.”
He tries to pull me up his body, but I swat him away. I want to feel this, I want to take him there. He gives up the protest pretty quickly, and I speed things up, finding a rhythm, and then he’s pistoning into my mouth and hand. My walls clench like he’s inside me and when he spurts into my mouth, I’m shuddering too, pleasure shooting through me as I swallow.
Sometime later, after I’ve collapsed next to him and am snuggled into his chest, I remember that he was going to admit to something before I ravished him. “What was it you were going to tell me before?”
His brow furrows for a moment. “Oh. I remember now. It’s just that… your willingness to be adventurous has surprised me this weekend.” His voice raspy, he says, “After we… you know… on the phone.”
Laughing, I whap him with a pillow. “Josh Harmon. If this girl can say the word sex, you can too.”
“Well, that’s my point. You don’t swear, and when we had phone sex ”—he leans close and overarticulates the words—“I did most of the talking. So I kind of thought you’d be… I don’t know, timid in bed.”
I purse my lips and consider his words. “The word thing is separate from sex for me, for one thing. As for the phone sex, I was working so hard to picture you while feeling everything so much, I don’t think I could’ve formed a sentence.”
He traces a finger over the curve of my shoulder. “I would’ve been happy to explore this body any way you wanted. But it’s been an extra bonus to watch you let loose.”
I want to talk about what happens next, but we only have an hour before we have to check out. So I roll on top of him, capture his lips with mine for a savoring kiss, and then whisper, “Last one to the shower’s a rotten egg.”
Between the notes I took, the ideas we brainstormed, and the contact info for people I hope to continue to collaborate with—not to mention the consult I have scheduled with Frances O’Leary—my Wildwood Retreat Center notebook is almost full by the time we pack up the car and head down the drive. Kind of like me: my belly’s full of an amazing breakfast, my body’s more sexually sated than it’s ever been, and my heart is full of hope for the future.
I’m a teensy bit nervous about what’ll happen when we get back to the real world, but for now, staring out the window as the trees and meadows and hills and streams and farmhouses and quaint downtown streets roll by, Josh’s free hand resting on my thigh, I’m happy to put it off as long as possible.
Josh seems much less concerned about what awaits back at home. “I want to tell my parents about us first, then I think Mabel.” He sets his right hand on the console between us, palm up. “What do you think the kids should call you?”
“Are you sure it’s not too early?” I counter. “I just don’t want them to be confused.”
“Confused by what?”
“Well, they’ve only ever had a mom, right? From what you’ve said it sounds like you haven’t brought home any girlfriends.”
His lips press together in thought. “Maybe just Avery. Although, I guess Percy should still call you Miss Avery in class.”
“See?” I give his hand a squeeze. “It’s a little confusing.”
“No more than if you were his mom. I mean, if you were his teacher, he wouldn’t call you mommy in class.”
“If I were his mom, I wouldn’t also be his teacher.”
“Good point,” he allows, squeezing me back. “I’m not worried. We’ll figure it out.”
Startling awake, it takes me a moment to figure out where I am, but when Josh says, “Hi, Mom. I’m on the way home,” and I look out the window to see the Hudson flowing by, I relax back into my seat, determined to savor the rest of the time alone with him.
“How far away are you?” Frieda’s voice is tinny in the car speakers, but the panic in her tone has me sitting up straight.
Josh glances at the navigation screen. “Just about thirty minutes, but we were thinking of stopping for lun?—”
“Oh, thank god,” his mother says.
“Is something wrong?”
“Well, yes. I’m so sorry and I don’t know how this happened but… Mabel is missing.”
The car swerves slightly and Josh goes white as a sheet. “She’s what?”
I lean closer to him and grip the steering wheel. “Frieda, this is Avery. I’m going to get Josh to pull over.”
“We need to get home,” Josh says, wild-eyed.
“We need to get home in one piece. Let me drive so you can focus on what your mom is saying.”
“Fine,” he says, before swerving onto the shoulder.
Grabbing the panic bar, I tell myself that it’s a good thing we’re no longer on one of the cliff-hugging mountain roads. Moments later, I’m driving, and Josh has disconnected the call from the car. Part of me wants to ask if he can put it on speaker so I can hear too, but it’s now my job to get us home—well, back to his parents’ house, anyway—safely.
“Okay. Don’t worry, Mom. It’s not your fault. These things happen.” He leans over to peer at the map. “We’re close. I’ll see you soon. Love you too.”
He disconnects the call and when I glance over, he’s just staring straight ahead.
“What happened?”
His fist is at his mouth, flexing around his phone so hard that the veins on the back of his hand stick out. “I fucked up.”
“What do you mean?”
“I can’t leave these kids. They’re too young. My parents are too old to take care of them.”
My heart skitters around in my chest like it’s looking for a place to hide. “What happened, Josh?”
When he doesn’t answer, I glance over again. He’s still staring straight ahead, his jaw flexed like he’s grinding his teeth. I reach over to try and squeeze his shoulder, but he bats my arm away. “Mabel’s lost, okay? Apparently, the cat got out early this morning and they all went looking for her. After knocking on doors in the neighborhood, they went back to the house and then”—he breaks off, his nostrils flaring, lips pressed together—“and then my parents realized Mabel wasn’t with them.”
“She went looking for Jenny Linsky by herself,” I say softly.
“Seems like that’s what happened, yeah,” he says, his tone so sharp with sarcasm that I flinch. “My mom was so flustered I couldn’t get more out of her. They called the police, so”—he blows out a shaky breath—“I guess that’s good.”
Just as I’m about to say something inane like I’m so sorry this happened, he slams his hand onto the dashboard. “Fuck!”
I can’t know what he’s feeling. I’ll never know. But I’m sure he’s regretting going away this weekend and now is not the time to remind him that self-care is important for parents. So I put all my attention on getting us back to Climax as quickly and safely as possible.
The minute we turn onto his street, we see the flashing lights of police cars. They’re in the driveway and in front of the house, so I have to stop in the middle of the street. Before I can tell him that he can get out and I’ll park the car, he swears again.
“What is it?”
He stares at an older couple talking to his parents on the front lawn. “Lisa’s parents are here.” His head shaking, he mutters, “This was such a fucking mistake.”
And then, without even looking at me, he gets out of the car and sprints for the house.
Josh's words echo in my ears as I watch him embrace his mother on their front lawn. He is right. The children should be his first priority. I’d hoped to be by his side instead of another mistake in his life, but my life has proven that you can’t always get what you want.
Clearly, there’s no place for me here, but it’s not until a policeman tells me that I need to move out of the way that I realize I don’t have a way to leave, because I left my own car at CPR for the weekend. After parking Josh’s car as close to the house as I can, I get out and search up and down the street. As I wonder if I can catch a ride to my car with a safety officer, I realize that people are gathering around a fire truck.
As I draw near, a firefighter holds up a map with a section outlined in red. “You here to search?”
Fire truck. Jenny Linsky. Pickles .
Instead of taking the map, I turn around and run to the house, bits and pieces from Mabel’s collection of Cat Club books connecting like a puzzle in my brain. In The School for Cats , Jenny is sent away from New York City to live in the country. Just like we did, Mabel told me.
Without even knocking, I slip through the Harmons’ front door and head for the living room, where I immediately find clues to support my theory: an abandoned toy fire truck and sooty cat pawprints near the fireplace and then heading out of the room. I can just picture Mabel looking up the chimney for her frightened cat and then following her prints out the door.
Needing confirmation, I follow the sound of voices to the kitchen, but I hesitate just outside the room, my hunch suddenly feeling ridiculous. What will I say? Excuse me, but I think the lost child is re-enacting the plot from a story book ?
Yeah, no. They’d laugh in my face.
Stepping away from the kitchen, I head for the back door instead.
In the book, after falling out of the chimney and escaping outdoors, Jenny Linsky goes on quite a few adventures. As night falls, she ends up in a forest. Kind of like the one behind the Harmons’ house. It’s getting darker and chillier by the minute, so I click the flashlight app on my phone and step into the woods.
Twenty minutes later, after tripping over yet another root and landing painfully on my knees, I’m ready to give up. After all, Bert Harmon probably searched this area before the sun went down. The police would’ve too. Why should I think I’d do a better job just because I read a children’s book?
Typical.
Turning around, trying to figure out which direction will take me back to the house, I hear a soft mew.
Stock still, I close my eyes, hoping the sound will come again. But instead of another cat noise, I hear, “Shh, Jenny.”
“Mabel?” I whisper.
Silence for a few beats, then, “Miss Avery?”
“It’s me,” I say, keeping my voice soft. “Did you find Jenny?”
“I did,” Mabel says, her voice cracking. “But now I’m stuck. And I’m afraid.”
“Of the fox?” In the story, Jenny Linksy climbs the tree to get away from a scary fox in the forest.
“I didn’t see the fox,” Mabel whispers. “I’m afraid of the police.”
It doesn’t seem like the time to try and convince her otherwise, so I ask, “What part of you is stuck?”
“My foot. It hurts.” The tears behind her words grab on to my heart, and before I know it, I’m halfway up the tree.
I’m also regretting all my life decisions, from never taking up rock climbing to the tight jeans I put on this morning, which make it even more difficult to get my buttinski up this forking tree. But every whimper from Mabel and every plaintive mew from the cat spurs me on. Eventually, I’ve got myself wedged between some branches just below them.
But when I try to dislodge Mabel’s foot, she squeals in pain.
“Sorry, sorry, sorry.” Gently pushing a few strands of hair out of her eyes, I murmur, “How about we call your dad?”
Mabel shivers, but it’s hard to tell if it’s from the chill in the air or fear. “Just not the firemen or the police.”
“But honey, firemen are experts at getting cats out of trees.”
“But she’s scared of Pickles the fire cat!”
“I know,” I say softly. “But what if we told them to take off their hats?”
She’s quiet for a moment. “And their uniforms?”
“Got it. No scary uniforms.”
Thankfully, Josh answers my call, and I launch right into a brief explanation of where we are and what Jenny Linksy and Mabel are afraid of. He says he’ll work it out with the officers and as soon as we hang up, I drop a pin with our location and text it to him.
There’s no getting comfortable up here, so I focus on distracting both of us while we wait. “Tell me the story of how you found Jenny.”