Chapter Thirty-Eight
Millie
"Want to cuddle in bed?" he asks as he holds a towel out for me.
My legs feel a little shaky as I stand up from the tub, but that's probably because I just had my insides rearranged, and I'm not complaining one bit.
"I would love that," I answer as he wraps the towel around my waist and pulls me in for one very tantalizing kiss.
"I love you, Millie," he says when he finally releases my lips.
I don't think I've ever been happier. In this moment, I feel whole and seen for the first time in my life. My scar has been on full display for him this entire time, and I haven't once been self-conscious or even thought about it until now.
Because he is looking at me, he sees me, he loves me.
It's an insanely freeing sensation and one that I am so grateful to be able to experience.
"I love you too, Rowan."
Even now, he isn't looking at it; instead, he is staring intently into my eyes as he pours every ounce of his love into that one look. Even if he had not said the words, I would know just from the way he is looking at me.
"Thank you," I whisper hoarsely, worried I may start crying but also not really caring because I know I'm safe with him.
"For what, baby?"
"For loving me." My lip wobbles a little bit, but I push forward. "For looking past the ugly scar and seeing me."
His throat bobs with unshed emotion as he finally lets his eyes fall down to my chest. I see nothing but adoration and love in his gaze as he examines the scar up close.
"There is nothing about you that is ugly, Millie St. James.
" His fingertip runs along the jagged skin; goosebumps break out across my arms. "Beautiful in every way," he whispers, nothing but reverence in his tone.
He leans down even further and replaces his fingertips with his lips. He takes his time as he slowly makes his way down my scar, peppering every inch with featherlight kisses until he's on his knees in front of me.
I thought weak in the knees was just an expression, but that's exactly what's happening to me right now. I brace my hands on his shoulders to help stabilize myself, but it's a futile gesture because the lower he goes, the more unstable I become.
His lips hit the bottom of my scar; then they go over to one nipple, then the other. He licks and sucks his way all the way down to the top of my pussy.
And oh, holy moly, I see stars as soon as his tongue finds my clit. I grab the back of his head for support as he devours me.
Lick, suck, lick, suck. When he adds one of his fingers, I scream.
"I can't, I can't. Rowan, I can't come again," I moan, desperate for more but also not sure if I can handle more.
"You can and you will." His mouth hums across my sensitive skin and wreaks havoc on my system. The area is sore and tender, but as soon as he replaces his finger with his tongue, my core floods with warmth and a newfound desire to obey his command.
I moan, loud and unabashed.
"That's it, baby. You're so fucking wet."
My ears start to buzz, and I'm pretty sure if it wasn't for his hands around my waist holding me up, I would be a puddle of Jell-O on this bathroom floor.
He works his tongue in and out of me, and frankly, it feels like pure magic, precise and unrelenting, over and over until I'm once again screaming his name.
He hums his praise as I ride out my third orgasm for the night, and when it's over, he stands and hauls me into his arms. When he starts walking toward the bed, I lay my head on his shoulder, thankful for the help because I'm pretty sure my legs are no longer connected to my body.
At least it feels that way because I can't feel them at all.
He throws the covers back with one hand while the other still cradles me to his perfectly sculpted and absolutely scrumptious body. I sigh in utter contentment.
As soon as my head hits the pillow, my eyes grow heavy, but I'm not ready to fall asleep. There's something I want to do first.
"We have plenty of time for that later," he chuckles before saying, "Sleep, Daredevil."
My eyebrows pull together in confusion, but not much else moves because this spot feels way too comfy. "Did I say that out loud?"
"That you want to suck my dick?" I can hear the amusement in his voice. I nod my head, and he chuckles once again. "Yes, but not right now. Now we sleep."
Disappointment blooms in my chest that I don't get to reciprocate, and my lips form a little pout.
I feel a little puff of air across my cheek, and when he plants a slow, soft kiss on my pouty lips, I forget all about why I'm disappointed.
"Sweet dreams, baby."
I feel like I say the words back, but I'm not sure because as soon as I take my next breath, I'm sound asleep.
"Do you think this is the right thing to do? Like, are we making a mistake?" I ask for the millionth time today. I know he's probably sick of me asking, but I can't help it.
I'm so nervous I think I might get sick, and I can't quiet the what-ifs in my brain. What if this blows up in our faces? What if I'm wrong and this isn't what Lucy was trying to tell me? Gosh, why is this so dang hard?
Rowan reaches for my hand and pulls me to a stop.
We are in Anna's driveway and about to walk up to her front door and potentially ruin her day.
I can't help but think that is the biggest potential here.
This isn't some happy event or celebration where she would be happy to see me, a stranger that has her dead best friend's heart beating in my chest.
No, this is going to go so freaking poorly. I can feel it.
"I'm right here. You aren't doing this alone, and if anything goes sideways, I'm getting you out of here, got it?" His words are meant to be reassuring, but all they do is stir up more anxiety in my stomach.
I close my eyes. I don't think I can do this. But before I can bolt, the decision to run is taken away from me. The front door opens, and a girl who looks a hell of a lot like the girl in my dreams comes stumbling out.
Her eyes snap up to me and Rowan just standing there in her driveway. They widen in surprise before narrowing in suspicion.
I can't blame her, though. We probably do look rather suspicious standing in the middle of her driveway, obviously distracted and deep in conversation.
Rowan still has a death grip on my hand, probably because he thought I was going to bolt, and me standing here like a deer caught in headlights probably doesn't help.
I smile, trying to ease the tension building between all three of us, before raising my hand in a friendly wave. "Hi, there."
Anna's eyebrows pull together as she watches the two of us, still suspicious. "Can I help you?"
I swallow thickly. This is it, Millie. Do I tuck tail and run, or do I help Lucy finally find peace? I feel Rowan's eyes on me as he waits for my decision. When I think about it like that, it's a no-brainer.
This girl can think I'm crazy for all I care. If it helps a lost soul find their way, then it will all be worth it. "Are you, Anna?" I already know the answer, but I wait patiently for it anyway.
I feel Rowan's relief, and it's almost as palpable as mine, that I'm not running. I'm still nervous, but something else is pushing me forward.
"Who are you?"
I step toward her, still holding Rowan's hand tightly. "I'm Millie. I—" I don't really know how to proceed, and I definitely don't want to do it all out here in the driveway, but I also don't want to make Anna any more uncomfortable than she already is. "I knew your friend Lucy."
A white lie that doesn't really feel like a lie. I do feel like I knew her, her memories in my dreams so vivid and clear that it feels like I was there with them.
I watch as Anna's bottom lip starts to wobble. "Lucy?" she whispers, heartbroken.
"Yes. Do you have a minute for us to talk?"
She looks back at the door, then back at us. "But I knew all of her—" Something has her stopping midsentence. Maybe she feels the same cold chill that just skated across my arms or has the same tingling sensation at the base of her neck, like me.
My sign that Lucy is here with us.
"It will just take a moment," I reassure, hoping it's enough to convince her to talk to us.
Her shoulders drop, and her voice sounds shaky. "Sure."
I realize in that moment just how fragile this girl is, and that makes me even more nervous.
I look back at Rowan, indecision warring on my face. He nods his head in encouragement as we follow Anna up the sidewalk. "It's okay. Just ease into it, okay?" he whispers right before we reach the door.
I swallow thickly. Ease into it. My fingers reach for my pulse point, counting each beat.
It helps alleviate some of the tension coursing through my body.
That's when I smell it. Orange soda. I look over and find the prettiest orange roses.
I lean forward and inhale; the smell instantly transports me back to the ice cream shop with my mom, the first instance I felt something out of the ordinary.
"Those are Just Joey's, Lucy's favorite," Anna says, a sad smile on her face as she looks at the pretty plant. She seems deep in thought, like she's lost in her memories, before she suddenly looks up and clears her throat.
"We can talk in here," she says as she leads us into the modest and well-kept house. I wonder if this is her house or if she still lives with her parents. We walk over to the living room that's right off the entryway.
Brown leather couches surround the fireplace, and there are pictures that dot most of the walls. Pictures of Anna and what must be her parents and siblings. They all look so happy. That spark that was in Anna's eyes in every dream is also in the pictures, but it's noticeably absent today.
Gone is the vibrant, mischievous little girl that found joy in anything she did. Now Anna just looks sad and defeated. It breaks my heart to see her like this.
She gestures toward the couches to sit. "You will have to forgive me. My memory has been a little—" she clears her throat, her face pinched like she's in physical pain, "I guess you would say a little rusty since the accident. I don't remember you."
Butterflies erupt in my stomach, and my hands grow impossibly wet. I wipe them down my pant legs and try to take in an even breath to steady my heart rate. Here goes nothing. "Well, I didn't technically know Lucy, but I feel like I do," I ramble, then add, "I only know of her."
Anna's posture stiffens, and her eyes narrow once again. Hurry up, Millie, and get to the point before she throws us out of her house.
"Who are you?" Anna accuses.
"My name is Millie St. James, and I have Lucy's heart."
Anna's eyes widen in surprise and shock. Her mouth parts, and her gaze immediately drops to my chest. So much for easing into it, Millie. Rowan shifts next to me on the couch, squeezing my hand that is still safely tucked into his.
"What?"
"I know this must be incredibly confusing, and I'm so sorry to just show up like this, but we were afraid if you knew we were coming—" I shake my head because none of that matters now. "I just needed to see you. To talk to you," I implore.
"Why?" Anna's voice is just above a whisper. Her eyes are wet with barely contained moisture.
"Because Lucy told me to," I answer honestly. I don't know why, either, but I know I had to listen. I had to come here and do this.
Anna tilts her head as she studies me. "What are you talking about? Lucy is dead." Her tone is completely flat, like she's had to turn her emotions off in order to speak the words.
Oh, my. This isn't going well.
"I know. But— it's kind of hard to explain, but she asked me to come here."
Anna shakes her head in denial. "I don't know what kind of sick game you're playing, but I need you to leave now." Fire burns deep in her irises as her hands begin to shake.
She stands to usher us out of the house, and I don't know what to do. I don't want to force her to have a conversation with us, and I'm not even sure what I'm supposed to say, but I do know that whatever Lucy wanted me to come here and do isn't finished yet.
Just as I start to protest, I feel a sudden rush of cold. Tingling starts at the base of my neck and quickly spreads throughout my entire body. It's an overwhelming sensation and one that scares me.
I don't know what is happening, but it feels very, very fucking wrong.
Suddenly my body goes rigid. My lungs seize in my chest, and my heart beats wildly under my breastbone. I go to scream, but nothing comes out. I lose total control of my body. I'm unable to move my arms or legs or even squeeze Rowan's hand to alert him.
When I hear my name being called, I go to respond, but what comes out is not me. I mean, it's my voice and it's my mouth speaking the words, but it's not me controlling it.
What in the world is happening to me?!
I sit in horror, paralyzed in my own body, as Lucy starts to speak for me, controlling my body and my voice.
Oh, oh, oh, oh fucking— My brain practically short-circuits because I think I've just been possessed by a ghost.