30. Willa
CHAPTER THIRTY
WILLA
L ast night’s home-cooked soul food meal was the kind of welcome I needed to squash my nerves.
Crispy oven fried chicken, collard greens, and more side dishes than I was able to taste—I wish I’d had room for seconds.
Fetuses are party poopers, though, and my little nugget rendered me exhausted in the middle of the Trevor roasting session after dinner.
I excused myself to bed, and he helped me settle into his old room before dipping back out to catch up with his family.
This bed is so damn comfortable, I’d be tempted to snuggle back into Trevor if he were next to me.
Sitting up, I take in the suitcases casting shadows in the corner beside the bay window.
Early dawn peeks around the edges of the curtains as my eyes sweep the darkened room.
The connected bathroom door is wide open, with no sounds coming from there either. Did he sleep somewhere else ?
Unexpected disappointment shoots through me at the thought, and I’m not sure how to feel about that.
Get a fucking grip, Willa . Why would he climb into a bed next to me under his parents’ roof?
We’re not together. Do I want to be ? Hell if I know.
I do have to pee, though, and the longer I sit here, the more urgently I need to go.
Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I hop down from the mattress and land right on the back of Trevor’s thighs.
I yelp, jumping away with a hand to my chest.
“ Owww .” Trevor’s muffled groan sounds from the stack of pillows he’s buried his face into on the floor. The hard muscles on his shirtless back flex as he turns his head to me, black durag tied tightly.
“ Ugh , you scared the hell out of me, Trevor! What are you doing on the goddamn floor?”
“I was sleeping until you decided I’d do better as a stepping stool.”
His sleepy rasp goes right to my clit. Oh , God , now I’m thinking about his tongue . I release a breath, crossing my thighs to play it off. “Again, why are you on the floor?”
He peeks an eye open with a yawn. “You were knocked out when I got back in, and I didn’t want to wake you. Plus, the kissing thing.”
“Kissing thing?”
Propping up on an elbow, he scrubs a hand down his face. “Yeah. You know, when two people smash their lips together…”
Ass .
“I know what kissing is. But how does that amount to you sleeping on the floor?”
“Honestly, since we’re in this blurry boundary limbo, I didn’t know if you’d want me in the bed.”
“…Blurry?”
“Yeah, like you said, you kissed me, I kissed you back, and we haven’t actually talked about it.
” He shrugs. “I figured the floor was a safer option in the middle of the night.” There’s enough light for me to see the flicker of uncertainty in his eyes before they drop to the floor, and it catches me off guard.
He’s always so sure of himself. This stripped-down vulnerability tugs at the edges of my heart.
“I want you in the bed.” My quiet voice fills the space between us as I keep my gaze on his face.
Being unguarded around him is still an adjustment, but I want him to know I’m just as nervous as he is right now.
Blurred lines and all, he should know I feel the tides changing, and I’m open to wading in the water with him.
When his eyes find mine, I smile, he smiles, and the butterflies dance on my bladder, reminding me why I got up. “I have to pee.”
He chuckles, and the last thing I see is him tossing a pillow on the bed before I close the bathroom door.
When I’m done, Trevor’s propped up against the headboard, head tipped to the ceiling.
His attention snaps to me when the door creaks, his smile filling me with jitters.
I’m giddier than a motherfucker as I step lightly across the cold hardwood floor and slide in next to him.
It’s almost seven o’clock. I’m sure farm life has already started for the day, but I could fall back asleep for a few hours.
Pulling the fluffy bedspread around my waist, I smooth it out with my hands, feeling Trevor’s eyes on me while the nervous fluttering inside rages on.
I’m a grown - ass woman, and I can’t find the gumption to look this man in the eye right now ?
Flattening the fabric under my fingers again, I take a deep breath.
“Gem, come here. I need to tell you something.” He slides an arm around my back, gripping my hip with his hand and pulling me closer.
With a gasp at the suave audacity, I look into his eyes, and I’m locked in.
He reaches a thumb to my cheek, grazing lightly on its way down to my chin.
The desire in his stare sends a torrent to my core.
I can’t blame any of this on my hormones anymore.
I’m melting like a popsicle in his arms, and all he’s done is call me Gem .
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask innocently. Sure, I want him to lay me out on this bed and have his way with me, but I also have the striking need to hear him say he wants me just as badly. I want him to say the words, knowing full well they’ll be the end of me.
“I’ve always looked at you like this, Willa…
” He rests his forehead on mine. “Always.” Just as I lean into him, his phone buzzes on the table across the room.
He closes his eyes and lets out a frustrated groan.
“That’s probably my cockblock younger brother.
I said I’d help him and Dad with the fence at the far end of the ra nch this morning.
It should only take an hour or two. You can come with if you want to sit and watch us work.
Or you can stay at the house with Mom and my sisters.
Or relax. The house is so big, it stays pretty quiet up here. ”
“Oh.” Disappointment cascades over the warm fuzzies, and I drop my eyes. “Okay. I can stay here. I think your mom wanted to spend time together anyway, so this is kind of perfect.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Of course.” I try to keep a level voice and get a handle on my dejection. “I’ll be fine.”
He doesn’t move, though, instead leaning down to my ear. “If I thought I could control myself, I’d guide you onto my lap right now.” His hold tightens on my hip, my breath catching as I register his words. “I want to do so much more than kiss you, Willa, and I plan to take my time when I do.”
He smirks at my sharp inhale, his eyes trailing down my body and back. His phone buzzes again, and the groan that rumbles in his chest has me crossing my thighs and giggling.
“You go ahead and use this shower. I’ll use the one down the hall.
” Trevor presses a kiss to my temple and hurries to check his phone before digging in his suitcase.
I watch him the entire way, my heart pounding at the sight of his sweatpants sitting low on his waist, hugging him in all the right places.
He’s innocently gathering his clothes, but the tattoos down his arm as he flexes have me in a trance.
He smirks faintly when he glances over his shoulder, and I bite my lip. “What?” he asks.
“I…” My eyes dip to my wrestling hands. I want to tell him I’ll miss him, but that feels way too intense when everything’s hanging in the balance between us. “I, um, hope you have fun,” I say slowly, adding an awkward scrunch to my nose.
Trevor sets his things on the edge of the bed, untangles my fingers, and dips until we’re eye level.
“I’ll miss you too.” My neck flames at his dimpled smile, and then he winks, lighting up the rest of me.
“Breakfast is usually on the table by eight-thirty.” A quick peck on my forehead, then he grabs his things and closes the door behind him.
I finally take a breath. Silence . This is the type of stillness I crave every single day, but as soon as he leaves, the quiet is sonorous.
Never in a million years did I think I’d say this, but I’m fucking jonesing for Trevor Jones.
“Good morning, Willa! Do you have any allergies?” Mrs. Jones—Adele—asks as I slink into the open concept kitchen.
Sunlight reflects the fresh blanket of snow, illuminating the room through the wall of casement windows.
Her dark hair is piled on top of her head, secured with a claw clip, and her long navy cardigan sweeps the ground.
The bangles on her wrists clink as she flips the food with a spatula.
Whatever she’s cooking smells perfect. If dinner was any indication, I’ll love what’s she’s making this morning too. “We’re having blueberry pancakes.”
“No allergies. I’ll eat anything.” I smile, holding my stomach as it rumbles. “Do you mind if I grab some fruit?”
“Honey, you’re family. Grab anything you’d like.” She puts a hand on her hip and points the spatula at me. “You better feed my grandbaby.”
Laughing, I pick out a banana right as Maya and her daughters come in.
All three girls are dressed in matching blue sweater sets sparkling with sequined snowflakes, while Maya sports a black ribbed turtleneck and leggings.
I choose the same chair at the honey-brown and white farmhouse table I sat in last night, hoping I’m not taking someone’s seat.
“Good morning!” the twins—Harper and Hazel—say in unison.
I smile at Maya’s eye roll as she straps a babbling Holland in her highchair.
At the dinner table, the girls explained how much they’ve been practicing talking at the same time, just to be able to trick their teachers at school.
But they’re four, and still don’t fully understand that they’re fraternal.
Harper’s dark brown ringlets bounce as she flits across the kitchen to give Adele a hug, while Hazel’s cinnamon corkscrews dance as she wiggles into her chair.
“Ooh, good. I was hoping breakfast would be early today. I have to get to the theater for practice.” Lainey’s jet-black blowout lays French braided down her back.
“Are you in a show?” I ask.