Chapter 31
They were quiet while they waited for the car, other than Merritt asking if he wanted her to drive.
Niko shook his head. He’d only had one drink.
But as the valet handed him the keys, he almost changed his mind, since his head was spinning anyway.
Merritt didn’t seem in much better condition, though, so he slid into the driver’s seat and pulled out of the driveway.
“Sorry about that,” she said, finally breaking the silence. “Fifteen years of therapy, and I guess I still have the conflict resolution skills of a Real Housewife.”
He grunted, half affirmation, half laugh, but he was still stewing over everything he’d heard, unsure what to make of it.
He hadn’t known whether to feel flattered or offended when she’d introduced him as an artist, but even though he’d brushed it off, it was hard to ignore the evidence pointing to the latter. “He deserved it.”
“Just for the record, I haven’t fucked half those people.” She paused. “More like a third.”
He glanced at her to confirm she was joking, not that it mattered to him either way. “I wouldn’t care if you did. I told you, I’m not going to judge you for anything you’ve done in the past. Or anyone.” He paused. “Except that guy. He’s a fucking prick.”
“He sure is,” Merritt confirmed, her voice laced with bitterness.
They drove in silence for a little longer as Niko worked up the courage to say what had actually been bothering him.
“Why weren’t you disagreeing with him, though?”
She looked at him sharply. “Did you miss the part where I poured both our drinks on him?”
“After he insulted you,” he said. She shifted, readjusting her seatbelt like it was choking her.
“That was just the last straw.” She looked away and exhaled audibly before turning back to him.
“I didn’t want to…he doesn’t know anything about you.
He’s meaningless to me. He’s a meaningless person.
Who fucking cares what he thinks about us?
Why should I waste my energy trying to change his mind?
He’s jealous, and he was lashing out because you’re young and hot and that makes him feel inadequate. I’m not going to validate that.”
Niko turned that over in his mind, but it didn’t feel satisfying. He had a vision of Merritt saying the same thing about him to a future lover: He’s meaningless to me. The thought made him want to hurl.
He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel, overtaken with a restless energy that he didn’t know what to do with.
“Okay,” he said, and it was the last word either of them said until they pulled up to their rental.
When they got out of the car, Niko was unsure what was going to happen next—whether they were going to fight more, whether what they had just done could even be considered fighting—but Merritt moved with purpose, so he followed.
She walked through the house straight to the patio, her hand coming to her lower back to unzip her dress, then pulling it over her head, followed by her bra and underwear.
Without looking back at him, she descended the steps into the pool, her skin glowing blue-green from the illumination of the water, the reflection rippling over the vines and flowers winding up her spine.
The first time he’d traced his fingers over that tattoo, she’d told him it had been the most painful by far.
She’d gotten it right after she’d left treatment—half celebration, half punishment.
She’d also told him she’d regretted it almost immediately, that she thought the final result was tacky.
But it was part of her now, so she had to learn to love it anyway.
Once she was in up to her waist, she finally glanced over her shoulder at him.
When he met her eyes, any lingering resentment disintegrated.
He pulled his T-shirt over his head, unbuckled his belt, kicked off his shoes, and within thirty seconds he had waded in next to her.
The water was warmer than he expected, and he brought his hands to her hips, pulling her into him as they sank in up to their necks.
He kissed her, her arms and legs wrapping tightly around him, locking them as close together as humanly possible, their skin warm and smooth and slippery, the sensation overwhelming.
“I’m so sorry,” she said against his lips, her voice hitching. “I’m so sorry, Niko.”
His hands traced her frame, the one he could draw blindfolded now if he had to, and he waded deeper into the center, as deep as he could go and still stand.
She continued to murmur apologies between kisses, but he couldn’t even remember what she was apologizing for when she rocked against him like that, their movements growing more heated, little whimpers escaping her.
Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore, and he lifted her up out of the pool.
“Inside?” he asked, and she nodded, both of them abandoning their clothes on the pool deck as he set her on her feet and followed her inside. Soon, they were tumbling into bed, the room dark and hushed apart from a sliver of moonlight cutting a harsh slice across the center.
He couldn’t tell if he wanted it to be hard or soft, and it seemed like she couldn’t, either, kissing slowly and tenderly, with strokes and caresses—then, her biting his shoulder so hard he thought she might have broken the skin.
Then, his fingers digging into her hips.
Then, him sucking a dark red bruise on her inner thigh, her nails clawing at him desperately.
It felt like they were trying to have a conversation, one they weren’t brave enough to have in words. Like something about tonight had triggered some primal need to leave their mark on each other while they still could.
He slid his fingers between her legs, finding her wet and ready, but when he glanced up at her face, it seemed like her attention was drifting, her eyes going vacant.
“Hey,” he said, gently touching her jaw with his other hand, and she met his eyes, her expression shifting to full awareness again. “Are you okay? Do you want me to stop?”
She shook her head. “No,” she breathed. “Sorry. This, um. This happens sometimes. Just keep going.”
He hesitated, uncertain, but did what he was told. As soon as he started again, though, she barely reacted, her face once again going blank, and he knew something was really wrong.
“Merritt.” He gathered her hands in his. “Talk to me. What do you need? What can I do?”
She blinked again, rapidly this time, like she was trying to come back into herself. Her hands started shaking violently, followed by her whole body.
“Can you get me some ice? Please?” she asked, her jaw tightening against the chattering of her teeth, and he was on his feet, hardly noticing his erection bobbing comically as he walked naked into the kitchen.
He opened the freezer, scooping out a handful of ice into his bare hands and carrying it back into the bedroom.
When he returned, she’d propped herself against the headboard and wrapped herself in the duvet, with just her head peeking out of the top. She looked up at him, smiling weakly. “Thanks. Can you put it in a bag or something?”
“Right. Right. Of course. Sorry.”
He returned to the kitchen, dumping the ice into the sink and shaking the feeling back into his frozen hands before finding a Ziploc bag in one of the drawers and filling it with a fresh batch.
He was relieved to see how much better she already looked by the time he came back, no longer shaking. He handed her the bag, and she held it in her hands for a moment before pressing it against her chest, then her forehead, then the back of her neck.
He sat down on the edge of the bed. “What does that do?”
“It helps ground me back in my body,” she said. “The extreme temperature. It reminds me that I’m here.”
She opened her duvet cocoon, giving him room to crawl in next to her, then closed it again, resting her head against his, their breathing slowly syncing.
“You said this happens to you sometimes? Has it ever…” He paused, not wanting to finish the thought, too disturbed by the idea that he may have had sex with her while she wasn’t fully present. She shook her head.
“This is the first time in a long time. And never with you. I think I’m just…really in my head right now. With everything.” She fidgeted with the ice. “I’m sorry. I know this is all kind of intense. I don’t want you to have to deal with this.”
“Don’t apologize,” he said. “Please. And don’t ever feel embarrassed asking me to stop if something’s going on or feels wrong.”
“God,” she said, putting her head in her hands.
“When you say it like that, it sounds like I failed Consent 101. I just…I really want this to be good for you. This isn’t what this was supposed to be.
All fun, no drama, right?” She raised her head, leaning it back against the headboard with a sigh.
“I guess the honeymoon had to end sometime.”
Niko glanced at her, and when he saw her face, the resignation and despair written all over it, the heat turned up on the simmering unease he’d felt back in the car.
He wanted to tell her that this was good for him. The best he’d ever had, actually. And not just the sex—every part of it. Of her.
He wanted to tell her that she wasn’t going to mess it up by having needs, or a past, or a complicated brain.
He wanted to tell her that he was in love with her.
But he remembered what she’d said to him the night of the power outage: I’m either completely detached or completely obsessed.
She was staring into the distance now, lost in her own thoughts, and it felt like he’d swallowed a boulder, unable to ignore the sensation that the switch had flipped. She was already pulling away.
He remembered what he’d overheard Alan say to her barely an hour ago: When you get bored.
When you’re ready for someone on your level.
Every insecurity he’d ever had about how mismatched they were as a couple, how unworthy he was of her, was apparently obvious enough to be seen from fucking outer space—especially in this world, where she still clearly belonged and he clearly didn’t.
And she hadn’t denied it. She hadn’t defended him, or what they had.
And most of all, he remembered that this wasn’t the kind of relationship that needed to be strengthened through open communication and mutual reassurance.
In fact, it might make things worse. The only commitment they’d made to each other was a clean break at the end of the summer, which was approaching fast. Once they got back to Crested Peak, they would be done in a little more than a week, whether he said any of this right now or not.
So he didn’t. He just sat there next to her, his heart quietly breaking, trying to come to grips with the inevitability of the beginning of the end.