Chapter 22 Carlos
CARLOS
The Negrorio house is chaos.
Sergio's in his office on a video call with the league, his voice carrying through the closed door in sharp, clipped sentences about roster changes and contract negotiations.
Pedro's at the clinic dealing with some kind of emergency involving a kid who stuck a bead up his nose.
Nacho got called into the station an hour ago for a domestic disturbance that's apparently still ongoing based on the three texts he's sent apologizing for missing dinner.
Which leaves me alone in the kitchen, staring at the lasagna I pulled from the oven ten minutes ago, wondering if I should just eat the whole damn thing myself.
The house creaks above me. Footsteps. Light and quick.
Jessica appears at the bottom of the stairs wearing jeans that hug every curve and one of my hoodies, the grey one with the Largo Waters Hockey logo across the chest. It swallows her whole, sleeves hanging past her hands, hem hitting mid-thigh.
Her hair is down, blonde waves tumbling over her shoulders, and she's barefoot despite the hardwood being cold enough to make my own feet ache.
"Hey." She stops at the edge of the kitchen, fingers tugging at the hoodie sleeves. "Everyone gone?"
"Sergio's upstairs. But yeah, basically." I lean against the counter and cross my arms. "You okay?"
"I'm going insane." The words tumble out fast, desperate. "I've been in that room for hours. In the nest. Just sitting there. Rearranging things. Moving blankets two inches to the left. Then two inches back. My brain won't shut off."
"What's it saying?"
"Everything." She moves into the kitchen, circling the island like she can't stand still. "Friday's coming. Callum's coming. My heat's coming. All these things I can't control barreling toward me like freight trains, and I'm just supposed to sit there and wait for impact."
I watch her pace. Watch the way her hips sway with each step, the way the hoodie shifts and reveals flashes of skin at her waist. Watch her hands flutter and twist, unable to settle.
"You need to get out of the house," I say.
She stops. Turns to face me. "What?"
"Out. Away. Take your mind off things for a few hours." I push off the counter and grab my keys from the hook by the door. "Come on. I know a place."
"Carlos, I can't just leave. What if Pedro comes back and I'm not here? What if something happens?"
"Pedro's elbow deep in a kid's nose. He won't be back for at least two hours." I shrug into my jacket and toss her the spare. "And nothing's going to happen. We'll be twenty minutes away. Tops."
Jessica catches the jacket. Holds it against her chest. "Where are we going?"
"You'll see." I grin. "Trust me."
She hesitates. I see the war in her eyes. The part that wants to stay safe, stay in the nest, stay in control fighting against the part that's screaming for escape.
The escape wins.
"Okay." She pulls on the jacket. "Let's go."
The truck rumbles to life in the driveway, heater blasting cold air that gradually warms as we pull onto Main Street. Jessica sits in the passenger seat with her feet tucked under her, hands wrapped around the seatbelt like it's the only thing keeping her tethered.
"You going to tell me where we're going?" she asks as we pass the pharmacy, the post office, the diner and Hayley, the owner waves from the window.
"Nope."
"Is it far?"
"Nope."
"Are you always this helpful?"
"Absolutely." I turn left onto Oakwood Drive, heading toward the edge of town where the houses thin out and the trees take over. "How's the nest coming?"
She groans and lets her head fall back against the seat. "It's a disaster. I keep adding things and taking things away and nothing feels right. Pedro said it's normal, that omegas get particular about their nests when heat's approaching, but I feel like I'm losing my mind."
"You're not losing your mind." I glance over at her. "You're just building something. Making it perfect. That's what you do, Jess. You make things."
"I make spreadsheets. Not nests."
"Same principle. Organization. Structure. Everything in its place." The truck bounces over a pothole, and I grip the wheel tighter. "You'll figure it out."
She's quiet for a moment. Then, softer, "What if I don't?"
"Then you'll figure it out during your heat. Or after. It's not a test you can fail."
The trees close in around us as we leave town behind. Pine and oak and maple, their branches bare and reaching toward the grey sky like skeletal fingers. The road narrows to a single lane, gravel crunching under the tires.
Jessica sits up straighter. "I know where we're going."
"Yeah?"
"The overlook." She turns to look at me, eyes wide. "Carlos, we haven't been there since..."
"Since high school." I slow the truck as the path gets rougher. "Yeah. I know."
The overlook sits at the top of Miller's Hill, a clearing carved into the woods with a view that stretches across the valley. On clear days you can see all the way to the state line. On days like today, you can see the town spread out below, lights just starting to flicker on as evening settles in.
It was also the place where every teenager in Largo Waters came to make out.
Including us.
I pull the truck into the clearing and cut the engine. Silence drops over us, broken only by the tick of cooling metal and the whisper of wind through the trees.
"We used to come here before I left," Jessica says quietly. "You and me and Callum and whoever else wanted to drink cheap beer and pretend we were cooler than we were."
"You were always cool." I unbuckle my seatbelt and turn to face her. "The rest of us were just trying to keep up."
She laughs. Soft and a little sad. "That's not how I remember it."
"That's because you remember it wrong." I reach over and tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. My fingers graze her cheek, and she shivers. "You okay?"
"I don't know." She meets my eyes. "Being here. With you. It feels like going back in time."
"Good or bad?"
"I haven't decided yet."
We sit there in the growing dark, the truck cab warm around us, the world reduced to just this space. Just us.
Jessica shifts in her seat. Turns toward me. "Carlos."
"Yeah?"
"Thank you. For getting me out of there. For knowing I needed this."
"Anytime, Jess."
She reaches for me. Her hand lands on my thigh, fingers curling into the denim, and heat shoots through me like lightning.
"Can I ask you something?" Her voice is barely above a whisper.
"Anything."
"Do you ever think about it? Us. Here. What we did."
My heart kicks against my ribs. "All the time."
Her hand slides higher. Not much. Just enough to make my breath catch. "What do you think about?"
"Your curves." The words come out rough. "The way you felt pressed against me. The sounds you made. How you tasted."
Jessica's pupils dilate. Her scent floods the cab, peaches and honey so thick I can taste it. "I think about it too."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah." She leans closer. Close enough that I can see the gold flecks in her brown eyes. "I think about your hands. Where you touched me. How you made me feel like I was the only thing in the world that mattered."
"You were." I cup her face with one hand, thumb stroking across her cheekbone. "You are."
She closes the distance. Her lips press against mine, soft and tentative at first, then hungrier. I kiss her back, one hand tangling in her hair while the other finds her waist, fingers spreading wide over the curve of her hip.
Jessica makes a sound low in her throat. Needy. Desperate. She climbs over the center console with zero grace, all fumbling hands and knocking knees, until she's straddling my lap, the steering wheel pressing into her back.
"This seat is not built for this," she mutters against my mouth.
"Back seat?"
"Back seat."
We tumble into the rear of the truck like teenagers, all limbs and laughter. Jessica lands on top of me, hair falling around us like a curtain, and I catch her waist to steady her. The curves of her hips fill my palms, soft and full and perfect.
"God, Jess." I run my hands up her sides, feeling the dip of her waist, the flare of her ribs. "You're so gorgeous it hurts to look at you."
She ducks her head, embarrassed. "Carlos."
"I'm serious." I tilt her chin up, forcing her to meet my eyes. "Every curve. Every inch. You're perfect."
"I'm not..."
"You are." I slide my hands down to grip her ass, pulling her harder against me. "And I've wanted you like this for six years. So let me tell you. Let me show you."
Jessica's breath hitches. She rolls her hips, grinding down against me, and I groan.
"That's it," I encourage. "Take what you need."
She kisses me again. Deeper this time. Her tongue slides against mine, hot and slick, and her hands fist in my shirt like she's afraid I'll disappear. I kiss down her jaw, her throat, finding the spot where her pulse hammers beneath her skin.
"Carlos." My name is a gasp. "I want to make you feel good."
"You are."
"No." She pulls back just enough to look at me. Her eyes are dark, determined. "I want to."
Understanding hits me like a truck.
"Jess, you don't have to..."
"I know." Her hands move to my belt. "I want to."
I should stop her. Should tell her we can wait, that there's no rush, that we have time.
But I don't.
Because the truth is I've wanted this for six years. Wanted her hands on me. Wanted her mouth. Wanted to see her come undone for me the way I've imagined a thousand times.
"Okay," I manage. "Okay."
Jessica's fingers work my belt buckle open with steady hands. No hesitation. No second guessing. She unbuttons my jeans and slides the zipper down, and the sound is impossibly loud in the quiet truck.
I lift my hips to help her, and she pulls my jeans down just enough. Her hand wraps around me through my boxers, and I nearly come undone right there.
"Jesus, Jess."
She strokes me once. Twice. Testing. Learning. Her touch is tentative at first, then bolder as she watches my face, reads my reactions.
"Tell me what you like," she whispers.
"Everything." I grip the seat beneath me, knuckles white. "Everything you're doing. Don't stop."
She doesn't.
Jessica pulls me free from my boxers, and her hand wraps around bare skin. I hiss at the contact, hips jerking involuntarily. She's warm and soft and perfect, and when she leans down, hair falling forward to brush against my thighs, I think I might actually die.
"I've never done this before," she admits.
"You're doing perfect." I reach down and brush her hair back from her face so I can see her. "So perfect."
She takes me into her mouth, and my brain short circuits.
Warm. Wet. Careful. Her tongue swirls around the head, and I groan so loud it echoes in the truck. She pulls back, eyes flicking up to meet mine, checking.
"Good?" she asks.
"So good." I stroke her cheek with my thumb. "So fucking good, Jess."
Encouraged, she takes me deeper. Her hand works what she can't fit, and the combination is devastating. I watch her, mesmerized by the sight of her lips stretched around me, the way her cheeks hollow, the little sounds she makes like she's enjoying this as much as I am.
My hand tangles in her hair. Not guiding. Just holding. Anchoring myself to something before I float away completely.
"Jess." My voice is strained. "I'm close."
She doesn't pull away. Instead she doubles down, taking me deeper, her hand moving faster. The pressure builds at the base of my spine, spreading through my entire body like wildfire.
"Jess, I'm..."
She hums around me, and that's it. I'm gone.
My orgasm hits me like a freight train. I come with a groan that probably scares every animal within a mile radius, hips jerking as she swallows around me. She stays with me through it, gentle now, working me through until I'm boneless and panting.
When she finally pulls away, I collapse back against the seat, completely wrecked.
Jessica wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and grins at me. "Good?"
"Good?" I laugh, breathless. "Jess, that was... I don't even have words."
She crawls up my body and settles against my chest. I wrap my arms around her, holding her close, feeling her heart race against mine.
"Thank you," I murmur into her hair.
"For what?"
"For trusting me. For this. For everything."
She tilts her head up and kisses me. Soft and sweet and tasting like me, which should be weird but somehow isn't.
"Thank you for bringing me here," she says. "For getting me out of my head."
"Anytime." I run my hand down her back, tracing the curve of her spine through the hoodie. "Literally anytime. Just say the word."
We stay like that for a while. Wrapped up in each other in the back seat of my truck, windows fogged, the world outside forgotten. Her scent surrounds me, mixing with mine, claiming this space as ours.
Eventually she sighs and shifts. "We should probably head back before someone sends a search party."
"Probably." I don't move.
Neither does she.
"Five more minutes?" she asks.
"Five more minutes," I agree.
Outside, the sun finishes its descent behind the mountains. The valley lights twinkle below us like stars brought to earth. The air in the truck is thick with our combined scents, with satisfied want and the promise of more to come.
Three days. Maybe less.
Her heat is coming, and we just crossed a line we can't uncross, and I'm lying in the back of my truck with her warm weight pressing me into the seat and her scent soaking into my skin.
Best Tuesday of my entire life.