Chapter 59
Jamie
I spent the whole day at Riley’s. I wanted to be with her and my niece. Her husband is always there, and the O’Connors come and go, but Riley is my only family, even if I have to share her.
I took Jamie to the park, ate lunch with everyone, and napped with her on the sofa. These simple moments helped me recharge and quiet the noisy thoughts in my head.
I decided to stay for dinner too, making the most of their hospitality and forgetting everything else until I have to go home.
“Add two more places,” Ian tells me as I set the table.
“Who’s joining us?”
“I don’t know. Just add them.”
“You mean someone shows up and bothers you every night?”
“At least three times a week.”
“Lucky you.”
My sister comes in with Jamie in her arms. “Don’t pretend you mind,” she says Ian.
“And you don’t mind?” I ask her.
“I love having people around. A big family, like we never had,” she concludes softly.
She’s right. We never had that, and maybe she missed it more than I did.
I got used to it being just the two of us for years, and then just me. That’s how I grew up, so I don’t miss what I never had. But maybe it’s different for her. The O’Connors have changed her, and now she acts like she grew up with them. It’s like she’s forgotten what it was like for us.
“Is this what you wanted as a child?” I ask her point-blank, seizing the moment while Ian is in the kitchen checking on dinner.
“I don’t know. I never really thought about it until I met the O’Connors. But now, I can’t imagine anything else.”
“You don’t remember what it was like, do you?” I know I shouldn’t push her, shouldn’t risk shattering her calm, but the question burns inside me.
Am I really the only one stuck reliving the past?
“Of course I remember,” she says, looking straight at me. “Every day, every hour, every detail. They’re always right in front of my eyes.”
“And how do you do that?”
“What do you mean?”
“How do you live through all of this without getting sucked into the spiral of memories?”
“This is what happens to you, Jamie?”
“Can you just answer my question?”
Riley turns to me, then points towards the kitchen, where Ian is standing at the stove.
“You mean it’s all because of O’Connor?”
“There is something that makes the difference, Jamie.”
“Only one person can do that?”
She turns back to me. “Only you can make that difference.”
“I don’t understand.”
Riley touches my chest with her fingertip. “That’s the difference. We always carry it inside us, but sometimes you need to see yourself through someone else’s eyes to understand who you are and what you can give.”
I shake my head. “Bullshit.”
“Sometimes we can’t really see ourselves, even when we stare into the mirror and search for any sign. But when we see ourselves through someone else, Jamie, we notice the things we usually deny.”
She couldn’t have read my mind… could she?
“It’s not easy to accept ourselves. We’re always too hard on ourselves, but the people who love us help us forgive, and remind us that beyond the darkness, there’s a world of colour worth living for.”
“The O’Connors are a bad influence, you know that?”
She smiles. “The O’Connors showed me all the nuances of life.”
“I told you to knock, Nick!”
“But I have the key!”
“This is not your house!”
Our conversation is interrupted at the most personal moment, and maybe that’s a good thing. I couldn’t handle another lesson from Riley. For once, the O’Connors did something right.
“See?” Ian calls from the kitchen. “Two places are always needed.”
“Sorry, we barged in like this,” Casey says. She glances at Nick, then turns to the others. “Nick told me we were going to eat out, but he didn’t specify where.” She folds her arms across her chest, her sideways glance lingering on him.
Nick shrugs and walks towards us. “How is my favourite woman?”
“Who are you talking about?” Ian asks, menacingly.
“Shut up, you, you can’t understand,” Nick says as he quickly steps forward, wrapping Jamie tightly in his arms and holding her close.
“Maybe ask first if you can take her before ripping her from her mother’s arms…”
“I didn’t rip anything; I took her gently. What do you know? You’re only the father.”
“Only?”
“What’s up, Jamie?” Casey approaches us as the two brothers begin one of their squabbles, which thankfully flows into the kitchen.
“I’m enjoying the family atmosphere,” I say.
Casey laughs. “And you’re alone?”
“Casey…” Riley admonishes her.
“It was just a question,” Casey justifies herself.
“I’m alone, Casey,” I reply, hoping to put an end to it.
“See? He answered me.”
Nick returns with two glasses of wine, while Ian is with Jamie. “Here you are, my beautiful women.”
He hands one glass to Casey, then to Riley.
“Um… not for me, thanks,” my sister smiles in embarrassment.
“Okay, I’ll keep it for myself then,” Nick replies as he heads back to the kitchen.
I glance at my sister and see that look, the look of someone hiding a secret. A precious one I should be happy about. Yet it still hurts. I can’t feel happy when it feels like something is being taken from me again, like I have no one left to lean on.
It’s not how a brother who loves his sister more than anything should think. But it’s how I feel, and I have to push it down, or it’ll pull me under. I know there’s only one way to quiet it and ease the pain.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” the Doctor says as he opens the door.
Hello, Doctor. It always hurts to see you. Each time, it hurts a little more. Each
time, I know we’re closer to the end, yet I continue because I can’t help myself. When the time comes, I’ll take all the pain at once. It will just be another pain in the pile, and I’ll take that too.
“Are you okay?” he asks, tilting his head to the side.
I step inside and let the door swing shut behind me. I cup his face in my hands, my breath catching in my throat the moment I press my mouth to his. His eyes go wide; he’s startled, but only for a moment, just long enough for me to slip my tongue into his mouth and deeper.
I want this to last forever, Doctor, but we both know it can’t. I’m playing to lose, and I’m losing you.
No talking, Doctor. Tonight, I don’t want words — only your moans when you come inside me.
I press myself against him until his back hits the wall.
His T-shirt is off before either of us can protest, my mouth sealed over his, the Doctor clinging to my shoulders as if he’s the one drowning.
I push against him, rub my cock against his, hoping he’ll understand I want only one thing and that he won’t ask, talk, or even breathe.
I want him to take everything from me, as long as he leaves a part of himself behind inside me.
I sink my teeth into his shoulder, come down on his neck, and then I move lower. My tongue trails along his chest, and my hand slips beneath the waistband of his grey sweats. When I squeeze his hard cock, the Doctor lets go with a shuddering exhale, surrendering to the feeling of my hand on him.
His fingers tangle in my hair, urging me lower, begging me without words to relieve him, to make him enjoy it here and now, pinned against the wall.
I tug his trousers down with a rough snap, sink to my knees before him, and wrap my fingers around him again, feeling the pulse beneath my grip.
Then I look up. His eyes are on me, dark and hungry, but this time I can’t hold his gaze.
This time, he would understand, and I can’t lose him — not just yet.
Tonight, I just need him.
I part my lips and take him into my mouth, all the way to the back of my throat, as far as I can and then a little further.
“Fuck…” the Doctor moans.
I move quickly, up and down, pressing him against the wall. His hands clutch desperately in my hair. I can feel how much he wants to pull me closer; the tension in his fingers says it all. He wants me to take all of him, to leave him empty.
He needs this as much as I do.
“God… not here,” he says, his voice strained. He takes my face in his hands and lifts my head. “Not like this.”
He helps me up and leans in, his mouth close to mine, his breath on my lips. His eyes search mine for something I’m terrified he’ll find.
“I need this, Doctor,” I say, breathless.
“What happened?”
“I don’t want to talk. I only want you.”
The Doctor studies me, still searching, but I refuse to let him see a single fucking piece of me.
I throw myself at him again, silencing his questions as I pull him with me towards the bedroom. If he doesn’t want this in the kitchen, that’s fine. We’ll do it before the pain gets too bad, before even he can’t take it away.
I push him onto the bed and pull off my shirt.
Then I undo the buttons on my jeans and shove them down my thighs, letting them fall to the floor.
I hook my fingers beneath the waistband of my briefs and slip them off as well, exposing myself completely.
I stretch out over him, and the Doctor grips my buttocks tightly, urging me to rub my cock against his again, an urgent, painful friction that will bring us to an end far too soon.
I lean over his mouth, inhaling his minty breath, and bite his lower lip hard enough to make him gasp.
“Fuck me, Doctor,” I whisper, my voice raw with need.
“You came here for this?” he asks, his voice cracking.
“I came because I want you.”
His fingers dig into my flesh, marking me as his own.
I reach for his bedside table, where I now know he keeps everything we need.
I rummage inside and pull out a condom. I tear the wrapper open with my teeth and slide it free.
The Doctor watches me carefully as I place it on the tip of his cock, then unroll it to its length.
When I reach the bottom, he catches my hands, forcing me to look at him.
Don’t, Doctor. Don’t try to understand me. If you do, we’ll both fall, and neither of us will be able to save the other.
He rises and lunges forward. His magical, lethal hands clamp around the back of my neck as his mouth crashes against mine.
He wants to hold me, to reshape me into something I’m not, to pull me back, drag me to him.
But if I get any closer, Doctor, it will all end too soon, and I’m not ready to lose you yet.
He kisses me slowly, tilting his head to the side in search of a deeper angle, his tongue moving eagerly against mine. I grasp his face too, fingers digging into his jawline, desperately holding him close, fighting the anger and pain that threaten to tear him away from me.
The Doctor pushes me aside, laying me down next to him. One hand trails down my body, seeking contact. I press harder against him, my body begging him to understand — the desperate need for him to put an end to this before I lose my mind completely.
When his hand closes around my cock, I growl through clenched teeth.
“Fuck, Doctor.”
I shove him aside, and I sit on his lap, pinning his arms to the bed. Then I lean down to his mouth and bite him, hard, anger driving my teeth into his flesh.
He’s wasting time. He refuses to give me what I want. Instead, he keeps offering me something else — useless things, things that will never save me.
I let go of him, and he slowly turns to the side, picks up the bottle of lube, spreads some on his hands, then looks at me.
I don’t give him a chance to ask; he’s figured it out by now.
I lie on the bed, waiting to feel him. The Doctor grabs me by the chest and pulls me up, pressing me against him.
He holds me there, not forcing me — I’m letting him.
I want to feel the warmth of his skin, his breath, and his fucking heart, which he’s decided to give to me.
Even though I never asked for it, I realise I want it all the same.