Chapter 14 #3
And at the way I keep hurting her because I’m fucked up.
I leave her there, standing on the bank. Going back to the shop, I lose myself in mindless tasks—patching raft seams, reorganizing the supply trailer, and cursing at the wasps that built a nest under the awning, again. By the time I head home, it’s past nine. Her lights are still on.
I debate with myself on if I should walk right past her cabin.
I don’t.
She doesn’t open the door right away when I knock.
Her eyes are red rimmed when she finally does, and her arms are wrapped around herself.
“I didn’t mean to scare you,” I blurt out before she can speak.
She hugs herself tighter. “Right. But you did.”
“I know.” I reply, with my hands fisted at my sides to stop myself from reaching for her. I don’t know if she would welcome my touch.
She sighs. “I wasn’t drowning, Gruene.” Her voice is soft.
“I know. ” I inhale.
“Then, why did you look at me like I was Aubree… or Molly? I’m not. I’m Blakelyn .” Their names on her lips slam into my chest so fast I flinch. She notices and softens… just a little more. “I’m not them.”
“I know that, too.” I reply gutturally.
I know she isn’t. But she’s starting to matter as much as they did, and I don’t know what to do with that .
“Then stop making me pay for what happened to them , Gruene.” She sighs again and reaches out, placing her warm palm over my clenched fist. She steps to the side, inviting me in.
I step inside, pulling the door shut behind me. I lean back against it like I need the wood to hold me up. Maybe I do.
I’m cracked wide open… raw.
“I don’t want to lose you, Blakelyn” I admit. “Even though I know I don’t deserve to keep you.”
Her smile is sad. “You’re not losing me, Gruene.”
“You say that now.” I mutter. “But I keep hurting you. I don’t mean to. I just… I don’t know how to do this … I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
She steps closer to me, barefoot, brave, every inch of her trembling with emotion that mirrors my own.
Her voice is sure and steady as she says, “I choose you, Gruene. Every day. Even when you’re an ass.
Even when you shut down. Even when the river scares the hell out of you and you piss me off.
” Her hands rise to my chest. She flattens both over my pecs.
“I’m not them. I don’t want you to forget them.
I would never ask that of you. But I’m here .
I’m alive . I’m right in front of you. And I’m not leaving either. ”
I don’t deserve her.
But I’m done pushing her away.
I kiss her like I’m anchoring myself to the one thing in this world that still makes sense. My lips close over hers, lightly brushing against them until she gasps and I slip my tongue past them, over her teeth, and circle her tongue.
She moans inside my mouth, and it lights something inside me that feels as dangerous as it does holy.
We don’t make it three feet into the cabin.
Her hands are tugging at the hem of my shirt as I lift her onto the kitchen counter.
Her thighs lift as I peel her shorts and panties down.
She reaches for the snap on my jeans and shoves the denim and my boxers down to mid, hip as she widens her thighs and uses her ankles to pull me in.
Her hand wraps around me, stroking me and guiding me to her soaked pussy as her other hand weaves through my hair and she kisses me harder.
Her hips lift as I thrust, and her ankles yank me into her.
I sink inside in one stroke. She moans again into my mouth and pulls me into the present.
Into her.
We’re not soft. We’re not slow.
It’s a fight… a collision of fear and forgiveness.
She scrapes her nails down my chest and back.
I grip her thighs and hips so tightly she’s going to have finger-shaped bruises, and I slam into her over and over as she arches and grinds down to meet me, begging me to go harder, faster, deeper.
Her breath catches in her throat as her head falls back and her body yields to mine like it was always meant to.
She’s hot. So soaked she’s drenching us both and she’s already shaking.
“Mine,” I growl against her throat, biting the sensitive flesh.
She groans, “Yes…” It ends on a gasp as her clit is stimulated as I thrust. Her nails rake down my chest. “Yours.” Wrapping her legs tighter around my waist, she grips the counter until her knuckles are white and rocks with me, each movement hard and desperate.
Our bodies crash together like waves that don’t care if they destroy the shore.
She bites my shoulder. I groan against her collarbone. We’re wild. Loud. Lost.
Reaching between us, I rub her clit as I stare into her eyes.
She fucks back into me. We never break eye contact.
I’m sweating, trying to bite the inside of my cheek to stop from cumming.
I roll her clit once more and mutter, “Come on, baby… come for me.” My nail scrapes over her and she screams, “Gruene.. Oh, baby… Ohhhhhhh… Shit…” She clamps around me and I come with her, filling her, still staring into her eyes.
This is more than lust.
It’s survival.
It’s surrender.
It’s Blakelyn and me… Together.
It’s us.
She passes out, slumping against me, spent and almost boneless as aftershocks still roll through her body.
Lifting her into my arms, I carry her to bed.
She’s exhausted. Breathless. Glowing.
And she’s still here.
After everything I’ve told her.
After the storm I unleashed.
Gently lying her down, I lay beside her, turning to face her. She wraps her arms around my waist in her sleep, pressing her cheek to my ribs like she’s instinctively trying to hold me together.
She has no idea how much she already has.
I stare at the ceiling in the dark, trying not to breathe too loud. Trying not to break whatever fragile spell this is. Trying not to admit what’s been rising in my chest like a fucking tide for days now.
She’s still here. After everything.
Even though she had every reason to leave, to shut me out, to walk away… she’s here.
That’s more terrifying than anything else.
This is more than comfort… more than sex… more than healing in the arms of someone just as wounded.
It’s the first time I’ve let someone all the way in since I watched the river take my family… and I don’t know if I’ll survive it again if this ends.
I lie awake, unable to close my eyes. Her body curves into mine without a word, without her even waking up, as though her skin knows mine already… like there’s no part of her that isn’t willing to trust me, even when I’m still trying to convince myself I’m worthy of it.
I’m not.
I never will be.
And still… I can’t stop wanting her.
She stirs just after dawn, blinking sleepily up at me with one bare leg tangled over mine, my hand resting low on her hip.
Her voice is scratchy with sleep as she says, “Did you get any sleep?”
Shaking my head, I look at her and murmur, “I didn’t want to miss anything.”
Her eyes soften, and she curls closer like she can sense that I’m not just talking about the morning. Her lips press against my chest.
She doesn’t offer words… just warmth. A silent promise that she’s not going anywhere… not yet.
Maybe not at all.
We stay in bed for most of the morning. Her laughter is muffled by the pillow as I tickle the backs of her knees with my fingertips.
She steals half my eggs from my plate and doesn’t apologize, just says she’s ravenous.
She spills orange juice on her chin and watches as I lick it off like it’s her favorite game.
It’s quiet. Simple. The kind of domestic I didn’t think I’d ever know again. The kind I swore I wouldn’t want.
But I do.
Not with just anyone.
With her.
Mid-afternoon, she mentions that she has to go to school to start decorating her classroom. I call Reece and he says he and the two teenagers, we recently hired, can handle the shop and that I better not come in.
We take my truck to town, and I help her carry a box of books into her classroom.
She’s stacking paperbacks on a crooked metal shelf, talking about how she wants the room to feel safe for her students…
how she’s going to put twinkle lights above the whiteboard, and maybe hang up poems from the kids in frames on the walls… even the silly ones.
She’s alive when she talks about teaching. She lights up from the inside out.
She loves teaching. She actually loves it.
“I never had a teacher like you,” I say.
Glancing over her shoulder with a book in each hand, she smirks as she says, “You mean hot, tired, and slightly unhinged?”
Before I realize it, I chuckle. “Yeah, that, too. But I meant one who gave a shit.”
She swallows, cheeks flushing pink. “Thank you. I’ve never wanted to be anything other than a teacher.”
“I bet you’re really good at this,” I say. “Really good.”
Her eyes glisten but her smile is full of pride. She nods.
It’s true.
But I’m thinking no one, who should have said it to her, has ever said it before.
We eat Whataburger in the truck on the way back—grease on our fingers, fries between our knees, and her bare toes up on the dash. She tells me stories about her old school, her old apartment, and the different masks she had to wear just to survive each day.
I don’t know if she meant to say it. But she did.
She’s quiet after… like saying it out loud stripped something bare.
Reaching over, I lace my fingers with hers, resting our linked hands on the console between us.
We don’t talk for the rest of the drive home.
We don’t need to.
Back at the cabins, I walk her to her door.
She leans against the frame and looks at me like I’m something she’s still trying to believe is real. “Do you want to stay?” she asks quietly.
“Yes,” I say, no hesitation. It startles me how easy it was to say, but before she can pull me inside, I catch her wrist and tug her back toward me, pressing her back against the wood.
“I want to know what you dreamed about last night,” I murmur, brushing her hair behind her ear and leaning in close, nuzzling the side of her neck.
Her breath hitches. “Why?”
“Because you said my name.” I growl.
Her eyes search mine, vulnerable and raw. “I dreamed you stayed.”
“I’m not going anywhere.” I reply before I can think it through. Her fingers curl into my shirt. “Not unless you tell me to,” I add as an afterthought.
“I won’t.” She swallows after she says it.
“Good.” I murmur and kiss her.
We make love slow… not rushed… not wild…
not angry. Just skin and breath and the soft slide of lips against both of our scars.
She kisses each and every one of the multitudes of them across my body.
She takes her time, whispering soft words as I fist the sheets, allowing her to lick them, close her lips over them, and heal them a little at a time with her devotion.
I do the same to her. Every faint mark over her ribs and even the scars that are invisible to the naked eye, but the places I know she felt pain, at the hands of someone who professed to love her.
I’m between her thighs, kissing the insides before pressing a soft kiss on her stomach and trailing my tongue down, over her hips, and pressing a kiss to her mound, where I know that fucker kicked her in rage. She shudders and whispers, “I need you… inside of me. Now, Gruene.”
Sliding up her body, I position myself at her entrance. Her thighs wrap around my hips, her hands delve in my hair, and her whispers like prayers in the dark when she says, “I feel safe with you,” as I sink into her.
It unravels something in me so deep, I nearly fall apart inside her right then. I move until my balls are against her ass and I pause… just breathing. She breathes in tandem with me until I pull back to the tip and sink in again.
She moans, “Mmmmmm…” Her hips move with mine and she gasps, “Don’t stop.”
“Never,” I promise, and we move together.
I won’t.
Not now.
Not when she’s become the only thing tethering me to the shore.
After she comes moaning my name, I follow close behind. She presses a kiss to my chest and falls asleep with her head on my chest.
I find myself staring out the window at the moonlight bleeding across the river. And I make a silent vow…
I’ll stop surviving.
And start living.
Blakelyn is the first person since I lost my world who ever made me believe I could.
I watch her sleep, realizing the fear hasn’t gone away.
It’s different now.
Because if I lose her, it won’t be the river that takes her.
It’ll be me.
And I’ll never survive losing the people I love twice.