Chapter 27 #2
The build between us is swift, our bodies hot with sweat as the first wave sends shocks down from the pit of my stomach to the wet center between my legs.
I moan as I search for his mouth, and the moment we kiss, my orgasm rocks through me, taking my breath with it.
A deep groan vibrates from the depths of Hunter’s chest as he fills me with his warmth, thrusting into me one final time until he’s emptied every bit of himself inside of me.
Instead of climbing back to my seat, instead of feeling the cool burn of embarrassment on my cheeks for not being able to control myself when it comes to him, I revel where I am.
I stay here in his arms, with him inside me, for as long as it takes to not feel the hole in my heart that formed the minute he got called up to Texas.
There’s nowhere for us to sleep together, not in that house, anyway. Too many Blackwoods in too many of the rooms. So I stay in Hunter’s truck, holding on to him, and letting him stroke my hair and tickle my spine until the sun peeks over the horizon.
Now, I can barely keep my eyes open, and I have to rally and clock in for my shift.
Hunter left me just after six in the morning with the promise that he’d be back in Sweetwater in a week.
The slight bit of furniture he accumulated here in town is at Roddy’s place, in the garage, so that’s where Hunter headed when he left.
He said he couldn’t live without the bookcase we picked out together, but I think he simply didn’t want to build another one.
I knot my hair at the base of my neck and push through the door to Earl’s, glad to have the breakfast crowd here to greet me instead of a hopping Friday night.
“Mornin’, Ren,” Daisy says as she flies by with a plate filled with hashbrowns and eggs. She carries the order to a man at the end of the bar, then makes her way back to me, punching in the keys on the register over my shoulder since I’m struggling to get my number right.
“I love you, doll, but you look exhausted. Are you feeling all right?”
I nod, but the moment I pivot and meet her gaze, the weight of everything combusts inside of me, and suddenly I’m sobbing.
“Oh, honey. Come on,” she says, taking my hand and guiding me to the kitchen where she holds me to her chest while I let everything out.
I cry for a solid ten minutes, and every time I try to stop and explain why I’m such a mess, I get to Hunter’s name and fall apart again.
Daisy gives me a glass of water, and I clutch it between two hands, terrified I’ll drop it and send shards of glass flying in all directions.
I take tiny sips until my breathing regulates, then hand the heavy glass back to her so I can press my palms to my puffy eyes.
“My God, that was a lot. I’m sorry,” I say through an embarrassed laugh.
“Looks like you needed that,” she says, her hand wrapping around my bicep, then sliding down my arm until our hands meet.
“You said Hunter. I’m guessing he’s . . .” She narrows her gaze on mine, studying me for clues, and I’m sure she’s drawing the typical conclusions. I don’t want her to think Hunter’s someone he’s not, so I shake my head.
“He’s wonderful, actually. He asked me . . .” I quake with a heavy breath, then bite my lip to steady myself and focus. “He asked me to Dallas with him, to move in together. Or to go back to school if that’s what I want. Or to let him come back here every week or two, as long as he could see me.”
Daisy’s mouth morphs into a laughing smile, and my head fall to the side.
“Don’t laugh at me,” I beg.
“Oh, no. Ren, hon. I’m not laughing like that. It’s just, my God, are you me or what?” She laughs a bit harder this time, but I can read the empathy in her eyes, so it doesn’t sting as much.
“Come sit,” she says, moving me to the business office at the back of Earl’s. She hands me her makeup bag, then rolls two chairs together and grabs a small mirror from her desk drawer.
“Here, I got you. Do your thing,” she says, holding the mirror up so I can fix the mess I made of the little makeup I do wear.
“How am I you?” I ask as I run a cotton swab under one eye, cleaning up the smeared eyeliner from my meltdown a few moments ago.
“You know Roddy asked me to come with him when he got called up, and I didn’t go. Sure, we were different. And he wasn’t ready the way Hunter is, but still. I can’t help but wonder sometimes—a lot of times—what if?” She shifts the mirror so our eyes meet.
“What if?” I echo.
She shrugs and holds my gaze, mashing her lips with her thoughts.
“What if I got it wrong?”
She draws in a deep breath through her nose, and I hold my lungs full at the same time. That’s a huge confession for Daisy to utter, and I feel honored, and a wee bit terrified, that it was my ears she gave it to.
“Are you saying maybe I’m getting it wrong?” Because I’m sure I am. No matter what I choose, it’s going to be wrong. I’ve become a self-defeatist. And that’s part of my problem.
Daisy takes the makeup bag from me and moves the mirror to her desk before pulling out a small eye pencil.
“Shut your eyes,” she says, and I do as she asks.
My skin pricks with the sharp edge of her eyeliner, but I hold still as she does my face for me, dusting my cheeks with a bronzer next, then touching the corners of my eyelids with a faint gray shadow that gives my face just enough color to look like it’s attached to someone who slept.
“Here,” she says, holding up the mirror for me to inspect. I look nice. A bit extra than I’m used to, but nice. And alive.
“All I’m saying, Ren, is that this is Sweetwater. It ain’t far from Dallas. So if you get it wrong, you can always come back.”
Her eyes level on mine with a hard stare, one forged in kindness for sure, but it’s not wrapped in kid gloves. It’s honest. And she’s right. And that’s exactly what I needed to hear.
“Daisy, I think I . . . I think . . .” I get up from the chair and look around the office, at the calendar where my name is scribbled so many times. My pulse is racing again, but I don’t feel like I’m going to faint this time. This feels like I need to run. And fast.
“I think I quit,” I blurt, and a manic laugh follows that I cover with my palm.
“I kinda thought you might,” Daisy says, getting to her feet and opening the office door.
She leans her head to the exit, and I wrap my arms around her, uttering, “Thank you,” into the crook of her neck.
I sprint across the empty bar, pushing through the front door and letting bright sunlight spill inside as I race into it.
I pull my phone from my pocket and dial Hunter immediately, fumbling for my keys to the Jeep, then fumbling them again to get the damn key in the ignition.
I redial when the call goes to voicemail, and at the same time, press the gas and reverse my way out of the Earl’s parking lot.
My tires squeal on the roadway as I shift into drive and race to Roddy’s house, where I hope I find Hunter’s truck parked outside.
As I round the corner, the street is empty, but I hold out hope that maybe Hunter pulled into the driveway or the garage.
But the closer I get, the more reality hits me.
I missed him. He’s already gone. My heart breaks by the time I pull to a complete stop, and I drop my face into my hands as I ruin my makeup for a second time this morning.
“You all right, Renleigh?” Roddy’s voice hits my ears through the ragtop of my Jeep, and I shake with exhausted laughter. I peel my fingers away to find him standing in the middle of his garage with a broom. His truck is covered in dried mud, and he’s sweeping up the chunks.
I get out of the Jeep and let my feet plop onto his driveway, then let my arms weigh at my sides, threatening to pull me to the ground.
“I missed him, huh?”
I know he’s not gone forever. I know I could barrel down the highway after him, honking my horn. Or wait for him to answer his phone and call me back. But I’m afraid I’ll miss this sliver of bravery, this caution thrown to the wind. What if I can only say yes to this right now? What if—
Roddy’s bellowing laughter rips me from my personal spiral, and my spine straightens as I snap, “What?”
“Ren, he just ran to get gas. He’s got more shit here to move, and he’ll be back in, well, there he is.
” Roddy points over my shoulder, and I spin slowly until I see the front of Hunter’s truck.
His engine roars as he presses the gas, zooming down the street to get to me faster, and when he reaches the end of Roddy’s driveway, he flies out, leaving his truck door wide open as he races to me.
“Please say you’re here because—”
I don’t give him another moment of air. I launch myself into his arms and steal his breath for my own, our lips crashing into one another as if this were our last chance to kiss.
Instead, it’s the first. The first kiss when I pull away to breathe and utter, “I love you.” It’s the first kiss on our way to Texas, together.
It’s the first chance I’m taking for me, a risk of the heart.
And it’s the only time I’ve ever felt safe enough to try. And that . . . that doesn’t just mean something. That means everything.