32. Rory
Rory
Nate’s been walking on eggshells since the car accident.
He treats me like I’m made of glass, bringing me food in bed and waiting on me hand and foot.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy him washing my hair in the shower, once my head was healed enough to get wet, but I’m not an invalid.
Plus, we haven’t had sex since the day before the accident. It’s like he thinks he may break me.
Swallowing hard, I walk from the living room into the kitchen, where Nate is ladling soup into bowls for lunch. My stomach flips at the sight of him.
“Rory,” he says, surprised when he sees me. “What are you doing? I’ll bring it to you.”
It’s been almost a week since the car accident. I’m fine. Fine. But he’s still treating me like I’m fragile, like I could break any minute.
“I’m fine. I came to see if you need any help.”
He looks around the kitchen, like he’s trying to figure out if there’s something that can occupy me. “No thanks. I’ll bring this into the living room in a minute.”
I pull open the silverware drawer. “Let’s eat in here. Together.”
I pull out two spoons, carry them to the table, and arrange them with napkins at two place settings.
Nate carries two bowls of homemade chicken noodle soup to the table, the savory scent making my mouth water. He waits for me to sit in one of the seats before he pulls his chair out and sits across from me.
His brows furrow as he studies my face. “You sure you’re feeling okay?”
I lift a spoonful of soup and blow on it to cool it down. “I’m back to normal, Nate. It’s been a week.”
“Six days,” he corrects, pointing at me. “And six days feels like nothing when I’m trying to recover from the heartache of thinking something worse had happened to you. I thought you were dead when I first got there.”
The knife of guilt twists in my stomach again. I know the accident wasn’t entirely my fault—the other driver had drifted over the center line at just the wrong moment. But if I hadn’t been focused on the warning light, I would have seen him coming. I could have swerved.
“I’m sorry,” I say, my constant refrain for the last several days.
Nate sets his spoon down and covers my hand with his. “I know. And I’m sorry I brought it up.”
See? Eggshells.
I take a deep breath and blow it out, my heart pounding in my chest. “Nate, I want to talk about us.”
His eyebrow lifts.
I need to get this out, or I’ll never be able to tell him. And that thought, the thought of losing him for real, scares me more than this moment does.
“About trying a relationship. Not just for a little while. Like…me staying here, in High Lonesome. It scares me, and I might be setting us up for failure, especially with the way my karma seems to work. But I want to try.” As I speak, I realize the words are truer than anything I’ve ever said, out loud or just to myself.
A mix of emotions wars on his face. “Are you sure, Rory? I don’t want to push you. This is a huge change in your life. You seem happy with how things have been, but I want you to stay happy.”
I swallow the lump that rises in my throat. “I’m sure. I’m not ready to get married or anything like that, but I want to be with you. And being here in High Lonesome the last couple of weeks… This is where I belong. I’m happy here.”
And I am. The past weeks have shown me just how easily I fit back into this town. How seamlessly my life now stitches up with the life I thought I’d left behind.
And the people in this town? They’re my family, and I’m not just talking about my parents and my brother, although they’ve been wonderful, too, especially since the accident.
The guys from the police station brought over flowers.
Marge dropped off sandwiches and scones twice.
My parents came by every day to see how I was.
My brother brought over tortilla chips with my favorite hot sauce and spent over an hour talking to Nate out of my earshot. Nate still won’t tell me what they discussed, and for the first time in a relationship, I’m comfortable enough that I don’t need to know.
Stacey has texted me every day and stopped by to chat once. She and I are getting closer, and I can see our friendship rekindling.
Mandy has sent me daily horse memes to make me laugh.
So many people love me here. Allie’s been in constant contact, too, of course, FaceTiming me daily.
There’s so much love around me, and Nate is at the center of it all.
“Nate?” I say, swirling my spoon in my soup. “Thank you. For everything.”
He swallows a bite and looks up at me, smiling gently. “I’d do anything for you. I fucking love you, Rory.”
My heartbeat speeds up as a warm feeling spreads through my body at the simplicity of his words. This is real. I’ve never been more certain of anything in my life. “I love you, too, Nate. I don’t know if I ever stopped loving you.”
And that right there may be the reason for all of it. All those years I thought happiness wasn’t mine to take, that I didn’t deserve it? The years I spent pining for Nate, then the years I thought that finding someone new was the key to happiness, only to be proved wrong over and over.
Maybe love was always mine, just waiting here for me to be ready to see it.
Nate pushes back from the table and grabs my hand. “Come here.”
He pulls me to stand and into his arms.
“But…the soup,” I say lamely.
“Fuck the soup.” He sweeps me up into a bridal-style hold and carries me through the house, past the watchful eyes of the dogs and up the stairs to his bedroom, not putting me down until we’re standing next to his bed. “I need you, Rory. All of you.”
His lips come crashing down on mine, and I lean into him, needing more. He’s like a drug that I thought I got out of my system all those years ago, but one taste, and I’m addicted all over again.
I’m breathing hard when he pulls back and grasps the hem of my shirt. He lifts it up and over my head in one movement, tossing it to the floor, and then takes his own shirt off.
Nate lowers his head to my shoulder, trailing kisses along my collarbone and down my chest. His fingers deftly unclasp my bra.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous, babe,” he says, dragging a hand over his jaw as he stares at me in reverence.
He runs his hands up my sides until they brush the outer edges of my breasts, and he thumbs my nipples.
“Oh God, Nate,” I say, the sensation shooting straight between my legs.
A gush of arousal soaks my underwear.
He captures my nipple with his lips and sucks the bud into his mouth.
I’m ready to let him take control, the way he did the first night we had sex. He’s so dominant in the bedroom, so controlling. I close my eyes, waiting.
He steps back, and I open my eyes. Nate unbuckles his belt and shoves his jeans and boxers down in one motion. His cock bobs out, thick and long and hard. I can’t tear my eyes away from it as he steps past me, pulling a condom from the bedside table and settling himself on the bed.
“This time you’re in control,” he says, placing the foil packet on the bed next to him.
He leans back against the pillow and folds his hands behind his head.
I drag my gaze over the gorgeous man who’s spread out on the bed. A sprinkle of dark hair on his chest, defined abs, biceps strong enough to carry me up the stairs.
And he’s all mine.
I shed my pants and climb onto the bed, my knees on either side of his legs.
Experimentally, I reach out, grasping his length with one hand.
Nate lets out a groan so loud it startles me, but when I look at his face, he’s smiling.
I duck my head and swirl my tongue around the tip. I’m rewarded with another groan.
It’s a heady feeling, being the one who can bring a man to his knees like this. To know this big, strong guy is sitting back and letting me take control.
I run my tongue along the underside of his cock.
“Fuck, Rory,” he grits out. “I need to be inside of you.”
I give him a smirk. “Patience, Officer Patterson.”
I pump my fist along his length as I reach for the condom. I roll it into place and position myself above him.
A muscle in his jaw ticks as I slowly lower myself onto him, impaling myself with his cock.
My channel spasms as he bottoms out.
“You feel so good.” His hands come to my hips, holding me in place. “I’ll never get tired of this. Of you.”
He lifts me up and back down. I’m so slick with arousal that he slides easily inside me, and I’m on the edge after only a minute. My body tightens as sensations roll through me, and I come hard, my nails digging into Nate’s shoulders as I cry out my release.
Breathing hard, I collapse on his chest where he holds me tight.
Then he moves, still full and hard inside me, and in one smooth movement, I’m on my back and Nate is driving into me from a different angle, his hips aimed so he hits just the right spot to make me see stars.
“Oh God, Nate,” I groan, as he drives me toward another climax.
“Fuck, babe. So fucking good, Rory.”
And it is, so damn good. It’s like we fit together, two puzzle pieces coming home to find one another. And now that we have each other, I never want to let him go.