Chapter 39 Caleb
One second I'm drowning in how fucking much I want her. The next, I'm kissing Ivy like I can convince her to stay with just my mouth.
Everything I've been holding in crashes through me at once.
Weeks of wanting, of avoiding, of pretending I'm not completely fucked when it comes to her.
When she opens for me, I lose whatever scraps of control I had left.
She kisses me back, but there's something in the way her hands shake against my chest. Like she's fighting herself as much as she's fighting me.
"Just once," I pant against her mouth, lying to both of us because I already know once will never be enough. "Let me have you just once."
She hesitates but then nods, and I yank off my shirt, terrified she'll change her mind; realize what a massive mistake this is. When my hands find skin under her top, she shivers, and fuck—I should slow down. Should worship every inch of her.
Instead, I'm all trembling need and clumsy touches, rushing like maybe if I get enough of her now, it won't destroy me when she walks away.
It's been weeks since I touched anyone. Because the moment I realized every other girl was a poor imitation of what I really wanted, I couldn't bring myself to pretend anymore.
This isn't making love. This is drowning. This is taking whatever scraps she'll give me before she realizes I'm not enough. Before she sees through every fake smile and stupid joke to the truth—that I'm the town fuckup who somehow convinced the literal sun to notice him.
Everything narrows down to sensation. The way she bites my bottom lip, how her breath catches when I drag my mouth down her throat, her soft hands as they slide up my chest.
When she arches against me, I almost lose it.
I kiss down her throat, tasting her pulse, marking her skin like I can brand myself into her memory.
She rolls her hips experimentally in my lap, and I groan, already halfway to wrecked.
My body's running on pure instinct, brain offline except for more and now and please don't let this be the last time.
"Fuck, babe . . ." I grip her waist too hard, desperate to anchor myself to something real, but she rocks against me again. And again. Until I'm nothing but need and want and the terrifying certainty that I'm going to mess this up.
Her skin is soft beneath my palms as I ease her shirt up. She's wearing a sexy lacy bra that makes my mouth go dry. I want to memorize every inch while I still can, but my movements are rough and graceless, shoving the fabric aside.
My mouth finds her breast, tongue circling her nipple before sucking hard.
Her nails rake down my back and I hiss against her skin, the pain grounding me for half a breath before I'm lost again.
When my fingers slip between her thighs, finding her already wet, I groan.
Her shorts are gone a heartbeat later, her hips rocking against my hand, desperate for more.
I slip two fingers inside her, but the angle's off—because of course it is.
I can't even get this right. Still, she lets out a broken sound that goes straight to my cock and has me wanting to stay buried in this moment forever.
I should take her apart until there's nothing left but pleasure.
Until every reason this is an awful idea dissolves on her tongue.
But I need her. Now.
Like oxygen, like salvation, like everything I've never deserved.
My zipper's digging painfully into my stomach, and every little noise she makes shreds another piece of my control.
I kiss her again, all teeth and need, like if I devour her whole, she won't notice how fucking terrified I am.
She grinds against me and my brain whites out—because this is Ivy.
The girl who deserves candlelight and slow touches, and someone who knows what the hell they're doing.
Not this desperate, clawing thing I've become.
"I need you," she gasps.
My jeans are shoved down, barely past my hips, and my hand moves toward my wallet. The leather is wrong under my trembling fingers, too familiar from a hundred other nights that meant nothing.
But this . . . this means everything.
The latex catches on my shaking fingers as I fumble with the wrapper, breath lodged somewhere high in my throat, everything in me wound tight and trembling. Her fingers guide mine as I roll the condom on, every delicate stroke sending my eyes rolling back.
I've never been careful with anything in my life. Never had to be. But she's the only pure thing in my world, and I'm about to ruin her with everything I was never taught to handle gently. Just like I knew the second she looked at me as if I could be more than this.
Everything about this is so fucking messy.
Her breath catches against my neck, fingers digging into my shoulders, and I know I should stop. Should walk away before we break something we can't fix. But I want her, like if I don't have her right now, I might actually die.
Her back hits the cushions and I move over her, everything narrowing to the press of her body against mine as I push in, desperate for the quiet it brings. She's tight, scorching, perfect, and I'm already unraveling.
"Shit, wait," I grit out, trying to give us both a second to adjust, but Ivy shifts her hips and everything shorts out.
Her heels dig into my thighs. I thrust in hard, a groan tearing out of me. Her gasp hits like a shockwave, knocking the air from my lungs. For a moment, everything stills.
Then she moves.
And I fucking lose it.
My hips snap forward, hard and uncontrolled. Ivy's hands are clutching my arms, her face pressed into my neck. I'm just rutting into her like an animal, chasing my own release.
She tries to match my rhythm, but it's messy. Off-beat. Her movements stumble and don't match mine.
Wrong.
All wrong.
But I'm too lost in her to stop, too scared of what happens when this ends.
Her hands slide against my shoulders without pressure, just there because they should be. I glance down and my heart stops. Her eyes fix somewhere past me. There's no tension building, no flush creeping over her chest, no tremor in her thighs, no soft moans. She's letting me rush through it.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
I thrust harder, like that'll fix it.
"I need this," I whisper, but the words aren't for her. They're for me. For the storm still raging inside my chest. For the version of myself I've been trying to outrun. The one I swore she'd never see.
My rhythm gets erratic. Sloppy. I'm chasing something that's not even physical.
"It's okay," she whispers, meeting my eyes. "Just finish." And those words gut me.
And because I'm a selfish prick, I do.
My orgasm hits hard, punishment and relief tangled so tightly I can't tell them apart. I come with a groan that borders on pain, everything in me breaking loose at once.
She exhales softly beneath me. A careful, measured breath that screams regret.
Reality crashes back like a bucket of ice water as I collapse beside her, chest heaving, skin cooling rapidly in the air. For a long moment, neither of us move or speak.
"Well," Ivy finally says, voice too light, too careful. "I guess the universe really does have a sick sense of humor sometimes."
Something in her tone makes my heart break. Like she's deciding, right now, that this was a mistake. That I'm not worth it, and pulling away before I can stop her. Leaving.
"Right." I force a laugh that lands somewhere between bitter and broken. "Guess it's all part of the universe's grand plan, huh? Everything happens for a reason, all that witchy bullshit?"
The temperature in the room drops ten degrees and Ivy goes still beside me.
"You know what?" Her voice is deadly. "Don't bother with the speech. Isn't this the part where you usually leave anyway?"
"Babe—"
"This was just once, right?" She sits up, wrapping the shirt around herself like armor. "So congratulations. You got what you wanted."
"That was before—" I stop, realizing too late what I've admitted.
"Before what, Caleb? Before you realized I've been in love with you for years? Before you figured out I was pathetic enough to wait around for you?" Her voice cracks. "God, I'm so stupid."
"Ivy, I didn't—"
"You knew! But you had to go and mess it up. Like you always do."
"Wow, tell me how you really feel," I snap, because clearly I can't stop making this worse.
"You want to know?" She stands, all that hurt flaring into something hotter.
"I was angry at you. Furious. And I still wanted you, still let you .
. ." Her voice cracks. "God, what does that say about me?
You're so afraid to try, to grow the hell up, that you'll spend the rest of your life stuck.
Running from anything real because god forbid someone actually expect something from you. "
"Yeah?" My voice sharpens. "Better than being delusional. Following signs that don't mean shit, believing the universe has some master plan when you're just—"
"Just what?" Her eyes flash. "Just the idiot who keeps cleaning up your messes? Who's always there when you need someone to fix your life because you can't get it together enough to—"
"To what, Ivy? To live in your little fairytale, where moon water fixes everything, and sage makes bad decisions disappear? Christ, you light a fucking candle and think you've solved world hunger. It's embarrassing."
"Stop." Her voice breaks.
"Why? Because I'm ruining the fantasy? Wake up. Your moon phases or planets didn't predict this shitshow. Your tarot cards didn't warn you I'd be a disappointment. Because it's all just pretty Instagram bullshit for people who can't handle reality."
"Congratulations." Her laugh is bitter. "You finally said what you're truly thinking.
That I'm just some sad girl playing a witch because real life is too hard.
Well guess what, Caleb? At least I'm trying to be something.
You're twenty-six years old and your biggest accomplishment is not getting fired from a pizza place.
Your brother got married while you're still figuring out how to do your own laundry.
You're not a man, you're not even a boy—you're just . . . nothing."
"Jesus, Ivy."
"You wanted honesty, and now you have it. I wasted years thinking you'd grow up. Years of me watching you fuck half the town while I sat there like some lovesick idiot waiting for you to notice me. And when you finally did? This is what I get."
"Yeah? Well I never asked to be your fucking charity case.
Never asked you to waste your life trying to manifest me into Prince Charming with your crystals and good vibes.
What's next, gonna burn some sage to cleanse yourself of the disappointment?
Light a candle to call in a better man? Face it, Ivy, your magic doesn't work. It never fucking worked."
"God, you're such a child. Even now you can't be fully honest. You're only tearing apart everything I am because you can't handle the fact that you actually felt something. Everyone was right about you, and I was too stupid to listen."
Her voice breaks on the last word, tears starting, and fuck—I went too far.
"Ivy—"
"Just go." Her voice is so quiet, so broken. "Please just go."
"Look, I didn't mean—"
"Get. Out."
I pull up my jeans, grab my shirt and keys. Everything in me screams to stay, to fix this, to take back every word. But I can't. Because she's right. About all of it. The door closes behind me with devastating finality, and I know I'm walking away from the only real thing I've ever had.
I'm the reason she's crying. Me. I did this to her. To the one person who saw something in me worth believing in. The sound of her broken voice keeps replaying, each word a fresh knife twisting in my chest.
Fuck.
My hands shake as I fumble with my keys. I can hear her crying through the door. Quiet, devastating sobs that make me want to put my fist through the wall. Through my own face. Anything to make it stop.
I should go back. Should get on my knees and beg her to forgive me. Should tell her I didn't mean any of it, that I was just scared and stupid and so fucking terrified of how much I need her that I had to destroy it before she could.
But what would I even say? Sorry I'm exactly the disappointment you always feared I was? Sorry I proved everyone right about me? Sorry I took the most beautiful thing in my life and shit all over it because I'm a coward?
The worst part is she loved me. For years. And I just—God, I just ripped her apart. Called everything she cares about bullshit. Threw her feelings back in her face like they meant nothing.
Like she means nothing.
When she's everything.
My chest is collapsing, gripped by invisible hands that squeeze my heart until nothing remains. I lean against my car, bile rising in my throat, because I can't unsee the look on her face when I said those things. Pure devastation. Like I'd just killed something precious.
I did kill something precious.
Whatever we could have been. Whatever small, impossible chance we had. I just murdered it, with my own fucking mouth.