Chapter 11
RAPH
After we returned back to the cabin hours ago, the unease between us grew palpable.
She barely looked at me. And I did everything I could to avoid her.
But it’s been difficult. There are only so many places one can go in this tiny cabin.
I hate this awkwardness between us. I want us to be ourselves again, like we once were.
It was easier to keep my feelings well-guarded all those years before, when I didn’t have to be alone with her.
But now, in this place? Fuck, I’m struggling.
I’m struggling not to grab her and kiss her, and hold her, and tell her I’m sorry.
I’m sorry I wasted all those years without telling her how I felt.
But that’s a fantasy. I could never do it.
Yet, even still, with just a single look, she breaks through the wall that’s been keeping my feelings for her well-guarded.
I can’t seem to keep them buried long enough without uncovering tiny fragments of my true intentions.
I can’t seem to stop touching her, not when we’re alone with no one to witness what we could be in the dark.
She’s my earthquake while I’m quicksand. I’m slowly sinking into our mutual attraction, and soon enough no one will be able to save me from myself.
She readies for bed, roughly pulling the comforter up with her uninjured arm while getting in under it. And this time, she’s in a sweatshirt she picked up at the store and a pair of those leggings. But that doesn’t matter to me. She could wear whatever she wanted, and I’d still get hard.
I’m hard right now, daring a glance even when I shouldn’t be. Being around Nicolette is like being in a constant state of shouldn’t and couldn’t.
She peers up from beneath a sweep of golden lashes, silently taking me in while I stand there at the foot of the bed, watching her watching me.
Seconds feel like hours in the stillness of this room.
My heart flips inside my rib cage.
Her brows tighten, and her chest rises and falls steadily. The wounded look in her eyes has my heart lurching.
I need you. I want you. You’re the only one who ever felt like home.
Before my lips start saying those words out loud, I get into my bed on the floor where I belong.
She shuffles for a bit until she quiets, until she falls asleep. I lie there staring at the ceiling remembering when we were ourselves. When I could laugh with her.
When we weren’t strangers, but friends.
FOUR YEARS AGO
AGE 34
“Hey, is anyone home?” Nicolette calls as she walks through the door while I’m busy starting on dinner for her family.
“I’m in the kitchen,” I tell her. “Your mom isn’t home yet.”
“Raph!” she bursts with excitement, shuffling into the foyer before she’s rushing over to me with a huge grin, throwing her arms around me.
I hug her tightly, smiling in return. “How was school?”
I pitch back, uncuffing the sleeves of my shirt and pushing them up to my elbows while she watches my hands move.
She clears her throat, running her fingers through her long, brown hair.
“You know, the usual.” She shrugs. “Annoying teenagers complaining about everything and anything.” She rolls her eyes and exhales dramatically. “I can’t wait until I’m done with high school forever.”
“Don’t rush it.” I grab a bowl from the cabinet above my head. “Being an adult isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.”
“Neither is being a teenager,” she scoffs.
“Fine.” I chuckle. “You’re not wrong about that.”
“So, what are you making?” she asks, her gaze dropping to the carton of eggs, tomatoes, and a bowl of ground beef I need to prepare.
“Meatballs and spaghetti.”
“Classic.” She laughs. “Need help?”
“Always. Go wash your hands.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” She salutes me while I shake my head.
She’s always telling me I treat her like a child. But that’s because she is a child, and I’m here to look out for her. Always.
She heads for the sink, quickly scrubbing her hands right before she strides up beside me. “Reporting for duty, sir.”
“Don’t be a wise-ass.” I elbow her shoulder, and she giggles.
“It’s hard not to be. You’re always telling me what to do.” She narrows a playful stare.
“Yeah, yeah, come on. Get started on beating the eggs while I make the sauce.”
“See!” She laughs. “There you go again.”
“You’re impossible.” I shake my head, taking out three eggs and cracking them into the bowl, unable to keep the damn smile off my face.
I never even smile this way for Bianca. But it’s different with Nicolette. I can be myself.
“I coulda done that.” She rolls her eyes and is the one elbowing me this time.
“Maybe you should’ve done it instead of talking so much.”
I hit her with a wink, and she gasps, pretending to be horrified.
“Raphael Marino. I cannot believe you just said that.”
“Believe it.” My mouth quirks. “Now get to cooking, or I’m gonna throw you out of this kitchen.”
“I live here. You can’t kick me out of my own kitchen.”
“Watch me.” I force myself to look all serious, but she sees right through me.
Her lips curl and body shakes with more laughter.
“Fine.” She pushes at my chest with a palm. “Now go away and let me concentrate.”
I chuckle my way toward the other end of the counter, nearing the stove with the pan already simmering with fresh garlic and oil.
I start cutting the tomatoes, and once I do, I toss them in the pan, getting damn hot. I should’ve changed before I got here like I normally do, but it was getting late and I didn’t want to drive all the way home just to come back here.
Fuck it. I start unbuttoning my shirt, keeping the sleeveless white tee beneath.
Her eyes go to me as she frantically beats those eggs like her life depends on it, her hands moving swiftly while I place my dress shirt over one of the dining chairs. She follows my every step, looking straight ahead at me, barely paying attention to what she’s doing.
Her hand starts to slip, and before I can stop her, the bowl tumbles off the counter.
“Oh my God!” she cries as it crashes onto the floor, while I rush over to pick it up. She stares horrified, her cheeks beet red. “I’m so sorry!”
“It’s okay, little one.” I kneel, my eyes on hers as I get the plastic bowl back on the counter.
She rushes to get some paper towels, throwing them over the mess, like she’s waiting for me to finish the job.
I pop a brow. “Really?”
“What?” She flips her hands in the air. “Maybe next time, don’t be so…uh…you know…distracting.”
“So this is my fault?” I shake my head.
“Umm, obviously.”
“Oh, Nicolette, I swear…” I laugh, really laugh, and she bursts into one of her own.
I release a sigh, the memory hitting me right in the center of my chest. I rub at the gnawing ache, as if I could erase it. But there’s nothing I can do to make it hurt any less.
I miss her.
After a while, I try to get some rest, but something stops me. I swear I heard her sniffling. My pulse spikes.
“Nicolette?” I whisper. “Is that you?”
Definitely sniffling.
She’s crying? Fuck.
I’m on my feet in a split second, forgetting that I shouldn’t be on that bed. Shouldn’t be anywhere near her. But nothing can stop me when she’s hurting.
I settle on the other side of her and turn on the lamp. Her body trembles with quiet sobs, her back to me.
“Hey…” I lower a palm to her shoulder, and her skin prickles across the length of her arm.
Fucking hell…to know I affect her that way…it does something unspeakable to me. I grow even more possessive over her than I already am.
“Talk to me,” I tell her. “I’m right here.”
She pants heavily, and after a few seconds of silence, she says, “It—it’s not the same anymore. I can’t talk to you.”
I squeeze her shoulder, rubbing my thumb on her velvety skin.
She breathes heavier.
“Yes you can, tesoro mio. I’m right here. Right beside you.”
And instead of turning around and letting me hold her, she cries harder, and my heart…it cracks into pieces. I can’t watch her in pain without feeling it too.
So I do something I’ll probably regret, but right now that doesn’t matter. I push those covers up and get in the bed, slipping my body behind her. And with my arm curled around her stomach, I pull her up against me as she cries.
“I’ve got you. You’re not alone. I’m still here.” My lips press to the back of her head, and my heart beats faster. “I still care. I always will. No matter what.”
“Raph…” she whispers with a teary breath, and she turns to me, ripples streaking down her cheeks, those eyes full of anguish.
She called me Raph.
I pull her in closer.
“I’ve got you, baby,” I whisper, that word slipping out like it’s only been made for her.
My knuckles trace down her damp cheek. The overwhelming desire to kiss her, to worship her, becomes insurmountable.
Her brows knit, and her bottom lip trembles.
So beautiful. So very much mine.
Fuck. No, she isn’t.
But when her arms jump around my neck, it feels like she is. It feels like she always was. And I don’t regret a single thing about this moment because she’s holding on to me just as much as I’m holding on to her. And the only thing I want to do is keep her.
I bring her up against my chest and let her soak my shirt. Let her pain seep into my soul and stay there. I’d take it all just to know she’s no longer hurting. I’d suffer through anything to watch that girl smile.
“I thought…” She mumbles the words. “I thought he’d kill me. The man in the woods. I thought he’d get to me. I—I thought…”
Her tearful voice has me surging with an insane amount of protectiveness. She could’ve died…
That rage for my father only builds.
“You thought what?” I ask gently.
“Never mind.” She shakes her head, refusing to look at me.
Pulling back, I tilt her chin up with the back of my hand and lift her face up to mine. “Don’t do that. Don’t hide.” My pulse speeds. “Tell me what you wanted to say.”
“I thought…” Her palm finds my cheek, and she cups me there, staring intently into my eyes.
There she goes, making me want things I have no business wanting. But with her like this, it all somehow seems possible.
“I thought I’d never see you again, Raph, and that thought alone broke my heart.”
That breaks my heart too.