17. Welcome Home #2
I open them again when she shifts, propping both arms on her elbows, looking at me with those beautiful blue eyes. She's probably assessing, but I'd prefer to think she’s lost in thought about the fact I'm still inside of her and she doesn't want me to go.
A much better train of thought.
I check the clock on the nightstand, six-ten.
I have time.
Not much, but enough.
I don't want to leave her just yet.
“Checking the time?” she says.
“I need to make sure I'm home before El walks in.”
She brushes a few strands of hair off my forehead, then nods. "You need to get moving."
I move my hands over her ass and press her down into me as I move my hips up into her. Her skin is warm. She lets out one quiet moan and closes her eyes for a second.
"That's not the kind of moving I meant," she struggles to keep her breath even. "And you know it."
"So many rules." I pull her down into a kiss.
This is the part that could get dangerous if I let it. I have a body and pulse that have withstood four years of grief and neglect. And now, with a taste of how alive we can really feel, both want more.
A lot more. But I need to calm down. I don't even have a clear idea of what this is yet. The sex is incredible, but I don't want to think of Annie as just sex.
That doesn't stop me from wanting it though. I'm only human.
I need a few more minutes inside of her before I can get up and become useful again.
Annie opens her eyes. “You’re thinking a lot. Is that really a good thing right now?”
“Probably not, but I'm doing it anyway.”
She laughs and sits up, grinding ever so slightly on me. “I wouldn't want to encourage any bad thoughts.”
She gives me a mischievous look and smirks.
“You are a wicked woman, Annie Lockhart.” I run my hands up her sides and pull her back down and roll her on her side, pulling off me. I roll up onto my side and press against her. "We need a subject change that will kill libidos."
She groans and rakes her nails across my chest, grazing a nipple, which makes me shiver.
“So, Ian,” I say.
Her expression changes before she can stop it. Pain washes over it fast and raw. And then she recovers.
“Annie.” I take her by the chin and look at her. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. And we don’t have to talk about it right now either."
Annie looks down at our bodies still touching. For a moment, I think she's going to shut the whole thing down. I wouldn't push her. I would hate it, but I mean it.
“Okay, here’s the long and short of it. We were together for a little over a year,” she finally breathes out. “We lived together for most of it.”
I stay quiet and rub my hand along her stomach.
“He was good at making you believe in what he was doing.” She pauses, then corrects herself. “What we were doing. I believed in the work. I believed in him.”
She says it without drama, but I feel the intimacy of what she is trying to keep buried. My gut aches for her.
“He abused that,” she says. “My trust. My proximity.”
The last word is careful. Chosen. It tells me more than she wants to say and less than I want to know.
My first instinct is not noble. I want to know where he's staying and pay the son of a bitch a house call. Then, I want to know what he took from her and what he thinks he can still take now.
"I'm sorry."
“I’d rather not go into more of it right now,” she says. “I’d rather be here. In this moment with you before it has to end.”
I can hear the boundary. I can also hear that she wants to be with me.
“Whatever you need.”
Her eyes lift to mine. “Just like that?”
“Nothing about this is just like anything.”
“You have questions.” She throws a leg back over my hip and leans in and kisses me. "I know. Just give me a little time."
“I have a list,” I tell her. "But I also have plenty of patience. I'm not going anywhere."
“I’m not ready for a list.”
“I figured.”
Her fingers pull up the sheet. She rests it lightly over her torso, pretending she’s developed a chill.
I let her have the pretense.
“I have to protect myself.”
I bristle hard and push up on my elbow.
Protect herself?
Fuck, now I do want to know what's going on.
“If you are in trouble...” That's as far as she lets me get.
"Doc, I'm fine, but it's six-thirty. You need to get moving."
I start to open my mouth and she places her fingers over it. "No. It’s fine. I just need a couple more days to get this figured out.”
Her eyes narrow. “And you're not going to be irritating about this.”
“I’m going to let you decide what you tell me and when. But that does not mean I won't be worried about you too."
She looks at me for a long moment. “I don’t want you making me a mission.”
“I’m a doctor, Annie. I have plenty of missions I didn’t ask for.”
“This is not the same.”
“I know.”
“I mean it.”
She watches me for another second, then kisses my temple. I understand she has reached the limit she is able to give right now. I have to let it go.
The clock changes to six-thirty-four.
I see it. So does she.
“You need to go,” she says.
Annie shifts onto her side, taking the sheet with her. “She had a good weekend.”
“I know.”
“She missed you.”
“I know that, too.”
“But she wasn’t miserable without you either.”
I look at her then, really look.
Her tone is practical. She's telling me something about me as well as Ellie. That it's okay for a father to admit he misses his kid and is worried about watching her grow up and away, building a life that doesn’t require him every minute.
“I’m glad,” I say.
“You should be.”
I get out of bed before I talk myself into staying until I have to sprint home barefoot and explain myself to my daughter.
That's not going to happen.
Annie stays where she is while I dress. She watches without pretending not to. I take my time anyway, not to delay, but to keep from making the leaving feel abrupt.
When I reach for my shirt, she stands, drops the sheet and walks over to me. “Doc.”
I look at her.
“This wasn't a mistake.” She reaches up and buttons my last two buttons.
“I believe that too.”
“I’m not saying I know what it is.”
“We're just taking mistake off the list of possibilities.”
“Exactly.”
I kiss her again and have to use sheer will to force myself to pull away and become a responsible parent again.
Annie touches my collar when I pull back. “Go be with your daughter.”
I leave at six-forty-two.
The drive home takes seven minutes. I spend all of them trying to separate facts from want.
Fact: Annie and I crossed a line again.
Fact: This time, nobody gets to blame weather, damage, or adrenaline.
Fact: Ellie trusts Annie.
Fact: I don't know what Annie wants from me beyond tonight.
Fact: I don't know how much Ian Danvers has already taken from her or why he just happens to be in this small little postage stamp of a town. But I'm betting it's not a coincidence.
Fact: Whatever this is, I want more of it.
Fact: I want to see where this goes.
I park in my driveway with eleven minutes to spare.
Inside, the house is quiet. I put my keys in the bowl by the door, wash my hands, and stand in the kitchen long enough to control my breathing.
I should tell Ellie tonight. Keep the honesty pact intact.
I could tell her Annie and I are spending time together. I could choose careful words, adult words, words that don't promise more than I can give. Ellie will listen. She will ask the questions that will cut through every defense I built on the drive home and that I don't have answers for.
And then what?
I don't know what is going on between Annie and me. It's too new.
I don't know what Annie even wants. Shouldn't I talk to her first before I detonate something?
I don't know if I even know enough to tell Ellie, outside of guesses and calling it honesty.
I'm going to wait a little longer. At least I need to talk to Annie.
And I don't even know if I'm ready to have that talk with Annie yet either.
I'm not looking for an excuse to hide.
I'm looking for a way to protect my daughter from getting hurt if I make the wrong call too early.
I can't do that to her.
Six-fifty-eight.
“Dad?”