Chapter 23
SOSIE
Weakness is something to overcome.
I can’t count how many times I heard my father say that if I dared to cry in front of him. I like Keats’s version better, and he’s not wrong. I’m weak to him, and nothing is wrong with that. I’m starting to believe we were built for each other. It’s a nice thought anyway.
The sheets are soft against the newly exposed skin of my neck, reminding me of my haircut. The lightness pulls a smile into place as giddiness zips up my spine. I grip the covers over my mouth to keep my joy from waking him.
Peeking over at him once more, I untangle my legs from his and slip out of bed backward. I go into the bathroom and start to close the door until it squeaks. I freeze, but then check to see if Keats reacts before deciding it’s safer to leave it open.
I take a long look in the mirror, oscillating my head just to feel the brush of my hair tickle my neck.
Turning around, I try to get a glimpse of the back, but I can’t really see it.
I know it’s uneven, considering how it was cut, but for some odd reason, I’m not bothered by it.
This hair feels more me than any other style I’ve had in the past six years.
“Sosie?” The urgency in his voice has me running to the doorway.
“What?”
Keats fell back on the bed in relief, his hand over his heart like it was about to leave him.
When he drapes his arm across his forehead, he closes his eyes and says, “I thought you had left.” The hint of panic and the tinge of frustration are heard through his words, but it’s his body that gives him away.
“Last time, you were gone before I woke up.”
My heart sinks at how that must have made him feel.
“I was only using the bathroom.” I climb back in bed with him and cuddle up to his side.
After placing a kiss on his chest, I draw figure eights over his incredible abs.
They’re as hard as steel, like they don’t know how to relax and take a day off.
When his arm comes around me, he leans over to kiss my head. “You never returned.”
“I did. I just took a few detours to get here.” I caress his face, running the tips of my fingers over the dusting of scruff that appeared overnight. “I’m here now, Poet.”
He lifts me, leaving me straddling him with my legs.
My need to kiss him is so strong that I don’t restrain myself.
My lips crash against his as I slide my hands down to the mass of muscles in his shoulders.
I shift my hips, needing the pressure. But when a moan escapes, his hands wrap around my ribs, and I’m held, unable to move above him.
“I’m trying to be so good, Spark, but you’re going to be the death of me. ”
Grinning like I just won a best in show contest, I push against his hands until he lowers them to my hips and kiss him. With another kiss placed on the tip of his nose, I sit back up. “There’s no fun in being good, Poet. Trust me on that, so we might as well be bad and make it worth the while.”
I’m flipped onto my back, and my hair covers my eyes when I land. Keats takes up most of the bed, it seems like, and all my heart, but his erection between my legs is about to make me beg for more.
He pulls back and is on his feet before I can talk him into having sex.
Talking isn’t the preferred method, but damn, I whine, “It feels too good to stop.” Laughter trails him as he goes into the bathroom.
I prop up on my elbows, glaring at the darkened doorway I’m left with to discuss this important issue.
“It’s not funny, Keats. Kisses and being left in this giant bed all alone while turned on are all I get? ”
The laughter gets louder when he comes closer. He pulls his toothbrush from his mouth and says, “You’re going to survive this. I promise.”
“So you say.” When he disappears again, I flop my arms out wide on the mattress.
I hear the water running, then silence before he reappears and crawls over me.
He teases me by hovering over me, our faces mere inches away from one another.
“I do say. And it’s all you get for now.
‘For now’ being the operative part of that sentence.
” He taps my nose before jumping off the bed again. “It’s game on later.”
I sit up quickly, wanting to see this man in motion as he strides into the walk-in closet. How is it possible to be so attracted to another human that the thought of him leaving to even go into another room causes me to miss him? “Promise?”
“That’s a promise I’ll keep. If not for you, for me.” He chuckles, stretching a blue tee over his head. “It’s Christmas. We should go do something, like eat ramen.”
Resting my weight back on the palms of my hands, I say, “I haven’t been back since I went with you.”
“Seems like a good time to return then.”
“Um.” I start, not sure how to say this. I don’t want to upset him, but I must stick to my plan before it goes sideways on me again. “I, uh, I have some things I need to do today. Remember, I mentioned moving out?”
He comes to sit on the bed next to me. No anger or conflict is resting in his expression when he says, “Of course. How can I help you?”
“You can’t. I mean . . .” I waffle my head back and forth but settle it again when my eyes are fixed on him. “You can, but not by doing anything other than wishing me luck.”
“Do you need luck?” His tone turns serious, and his eyebrows knit together.
“No.” I smile to reassure him, but I can’t do the same for myself.
Even knowing my parents have flown out to wherever they’re spending the next week and won’t be there, I’m nervous, even scared, if I’m being honest with myself.
They’ll be alerted before I have a chance to catch a cab on the street.
I need to plan everything in advance and not waste a minute thinking about what’s next.
“I’ll go, collect my stuff, and then I’ll be gone. It’s that simple.”
“Is it that simple, though? I’m thinking your parents won’t take this lightly, so I don’t think you should go alone.”
I rest my hand on his and hold my chin up. “Don’t worry. I’ll be alright.”
“You sure?” He drops his gaze to the bed between us and says, “That sounds an awful lot like famous last words.”
Famous last words.
I’ve been haunted by those words the entire ride back to the house. I should be using it to my advantage. I need my armor in place before I arrive and be ready for anything. My parents may be gone, but Gregory isn’t, and I didn’t exactly leave him on good terms.
The car parks at the curb, the engine rattling as smoke from the cold meets the exhaust clouds outside my window. “We’re here,” the driver says as a subtle nudge for me to get out.
Staring at the house, I take a breath, then smile at the driver. “Thanks.” I pop the door open and step out. Leaning back down, I say, “I’ll only be ten minutes. Fifteen at the most.”
I turn around to face the large structure before me.
The house is suddenly bigger than I remember, grander and more intimidating.
The wrought iron of the gate appears more Gothic, something I never noticed before, while the house sustains remnants of the Gilded Age.
I punch in the code, releasing the gate, and jog up the steps to enter the second code to open the front door.
The inside is quiet, as I expected, and some lights are on, but for the most part, it’s shut down when my parents are out of town.
I find peace in the solitude and kindness in the few staff who check in on me.
No one is here to greet me, so I run up the stairs with all the things on my packing list spinning in my head.
I shut my door and lock it before leaning against it to catch my breath.
While my gaze darts from one piece of furniture to the next, to the bathroom, and then the closet, the idea of where to go next still goes unanswered.
I’ve pushed off the thought each time it pops into my brain because I didn’t have the answer.
I’m not sure I do now, but I’m thinking I can’t go to my Poet’s apartment.
Not that he wouldn’t have me. He would, which is a whole other issue of feeling worthy of his generosity, compassion, and endless support.
It’s that going from here to there doesn’t feel like I’m standing on my own.
It feels like I’m falling back on someone else despite wanting to be with him so much.
Is he going to hate me if I don’t go to his place?
Ugh. I suck in a breath with the lack of certainty messing with my head and rush to the dresser first. I grab a bunch of panties and set them on the bed.
Reaching into the back, I find the stack of credit cards that I know are still active with available balances I can use in the short term before they get cut off.
I retrieve my suitcase and matching carry-on from the shelf in the back of my closet, tossing both open on the floor at the base of my bed.
Safe. Check.
I keep my jewelry in the velvet bags and boxes, stacking them neatly in the smaller case with the credit cards.
Credit cards. Check.
Purses. Check.
Only wanting a few handbags that I use regularly, two that I specifically chose myself and have been well-loved, I pack them, then start raiding racks of shoes.
I don’t have much room, so I only choose five pairs before pulling clothes at random.
The things I seek out most are the sweater and sweats I wore that night with Keats.
They’re two pieces that mean the world to me because of the comfort they provide when I need it.
I stuff all of it into the two cases, then make one more trip to the safe to grab a stack of cash I keep in there.
Once I get my makeup and a bottle of perfume, I toss them in the smaller case and take inventory.
I don’t know what I’m missing. I don’t know what I need.
I just know time is running out. I glance at my bed and run to grab Winifred, my stuffed wallaby, and tuck her neatly in before I shut the cases and lock them.
I pull the suitcases to the door and take one last look at the pink palace of a cage I’ve spent my life locked in.
It’s only a few seconds, but that’s all I need.
I open the door and rush to the stairs. Carrying the suitcases down the stairs, I don’t stop at the bottom or wait to hear if anyone is around to catch me.
I leave and head to the car. After pushing through the gate, the trunk has been popped for me to load my suitcases myself.
Heaving them into the back, I shut the trunk and hop into the car again.
“Where to?”
“The Maribelle Hotel in Midtown.”
When the car pulls away from the house, I lean forward to look back out the window as it disappears from view. As soon as we turn down another street, I rest back on the leather seat and smile. “I did it.”