Chapter 17 Michelle - Tears for Fears
MICHELLE: TEARS FOR FEARS
The reason I’d asked to see his place wasn’t curiosity; it was hope. Some small, desperate part of me wanted to know if I could actually make it work with him. Could I fit into his world, even a little?
He opened the door and flipped on the light.
I stepped inside…
The place was barely an apartment. One room. Low ceiling. A hot plate sat on the counter where a stove should’ve been, and a toaster oven stood in for everything else. A toilet and sink, yes, but no shower or even a bathroom door.
I stayed where I was, taking it in. Trying to adjust. Telling myself this didn’t change anything. That Scott mattered more than square footage… and warm, running water.
That was when he casually called out:
“Zonk. Come here, buddy. Don’t be scared. She won’t bite.”
Oh god. I’d almost forgotten about the opossum. I immediately hiked my dress up and leapt onto his back for protection. “Where is he?”
“Don’t know. Sometimes he’s gone for a day or two. We’re nearing the end of mating season, so he’s probably getting his final fucks in.”
He said it so matter-of-factly that I buried my face in his neck, laughing until my ribs hurt. “You’re insane.”
“There are no free rides here, Babe,” he said, carrying me toward the couch, then tipping me backward in an attempt to shake me off. “Dismount.”
“No. Absolutely not.” I tightened my grip, my limbs feeling like solid steel. “I’m not setting foot on your floor until proper introductions have been made.”
“Well, you can’t stay on my back forever.” Scott’s voice went mischievous as he spun us in a wild circle.
“Scott, stop!” I squealed, breathless with laughter, clinging to him like my life depended on it.
This ridiculousness was everything I loved about him.
Wild and reckless and so stupidly, irresistibly fun.
Then his footing slipped and we crashed into the arm of the couch, collapsing in a heap.
His deep chuckle rumbled through me, pressing me into the cushions, and for a heartbeat, we just lay there, our breaths mingling in shared warmth.
Then the laughter vanished, replaced by something raw and hungry.
He hovered over me, one hand braced on the back of the couch, the other pressing into the cushion beside my hip as if he were anchoring himself to me.
His breath hit my mouth in hot bursts, each exhale stirring a new fire in me.
His gaze flicked from my eyes to my lips and back again, a silent question echoing between us.
My heart pounded hard enough to betray me.
The memory of last night—how he made it feel—rose up, begging for a repeat.
“Hi,” I whispered, my voice trembling in that charged silence.
Scott leaned in, his fingers tracing the line of my jaw as his mouth hovered just above mine, leaving the choice suspended between us.
“Hi,” he breathed back.
God, he was irresistible. I grabbed fistfuls of his hair, drawing him closer, his lips colliding with mine.
He tasted like defiance, like every line I’d sworn I wouldn’t cross.
We kissed like it was the end of everything, my nails slipping under his shirt and dragging up his bare back.
A low sound rumbled from his throat as he pressed harder against my thigh.
He broke the kiss, both of us breathing unevenly. When I opened my eyes, he was watching me. And I couldn’t help but wonder… Did he know?
My heart sank. I shouldn’t be doing this. It wasn’t why I’d come. Tonight was supposed to be about answers. About distance. About doing the smart thing. But reason vanished the second his mouth touched mine, and whatever resolve I had dissolved with it.
Scott must have sensed the shift. His fingers traced my cheek again as he said, “Whatever this is… It’s real for me.”
I fought back the emotion. He didn’t mean to wreck me with that line. But he did. Because I knew I’d never recover from him.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “Want to stop?”
No, I didn’t want to stop. But yes, we needed to. Because nothing contradicted a breakup conversation more than letting him ravish me minutes before I walked away.
My mouth opened, then snapped shut. I nodded… then shook my head.
His brow creased. “I can’t read your cues, Gold Coast.”
Not a surprise, considering I was giving him the emotional equivalent of static noise.
So I did the only thing that made sense—I grabbed his face and kissed him.
It was clear and unmistakable, and it erased every mixed signal I’d thrown at him.
Scott stood and swept me up, his skin hot against mine as he carried me the couple of feet to the mattress on the floor.
No bed frame, no rules. Just the two of us in a world stripped bare.
My back met the thin mattress and he was on me again in an instant, his lips devouring mine, heat crashing over me in relentless waves. My hands flew to his shirt, and I tugged it over his head in one smooth yank, revealing the hard planes of his chest.
Scott didn’t wait for me to play. His hand slid from my jaw, trailing fire down the column of my throat, over the quick flutter of my pulse, then lower—skimming the curve of my breast, the dip of my waist—until his fingers slipped beneath the hem and between my legs.
My body arched into his touch like it remembered every secret place he’d learned last night.
Pushing aside my panties, he parted me gently at first, then with growing intent, fingertips gliding through slick warmth in slow, teasing circles that made my breath hitch and my hips lift off the mattress.
Heat bloomed low in my belly, coiling tighter with every stroke.
I felt myself open for him again, my inner walls quivering as he pressed one finger inside, then two, curling just right until sparks flashed behind my eyelids.
He kissed me again—deeper this time—while his hand worked me with relentless pressure, building me higher until my thighs trembled and the coil inside snapped.
I shattered against his palm in pulsing waves, crying out against his mouth, body clenching and releasing in helpless spasms that left me shaking, breathless, boneless beneath him.
Breathing hard against my lips, he asked, “You still with me?”
“Barely.”
He pulled a condom from somewhere and handed it to me. My pulse thundered in my temples as I rolled it down his length, feeling every thick inch of him pulse under my fingers. Then I parted my legs and guided him in.
He didn’t ease in this time—just pressed deep in one decisive thrust. A sharp sting flared low in my belly, stealing my breath, but his hands steadied me, thumbs stroking my hips as I adjusted to the full, burning stretch.
The pain ebbed fast, replaced by heavy, aching fullness that made my toes curl against his calves.
I felt myself open around him, until he was buried to the hilt.
We stilled there, breathing hard. His heartbeat hammered against my breastbone; mine answered in frantic counterpoint.
Then he moved—slow at first, unhurried drags that rocked me into the thin mattress.
Each withdrawal left me aching, each thrust filled me, slick and hot and overwhelming.
His mouth found my neck, teeth grazing just enough to spark heat down my spine.
I tipped my head back, nails biting into his shoulders as he drove deeper, harder, the rhythm building until the room filled with the wet sounds of us and our ragged breaths.
I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
He groaned against my throat, and the sound vibrated through me, coiling the pleasure tighter.
I rolled my hips up to meet him. The angle shifted; he hit something deep inside that sent white sparks of desire through me.
A low, keening sound tore from my throat.
I shattered around him in blinding pulses, crying out against his mouth as my body clenched in rhythmic spasms.
He slowed for a heartbeat, then thrust deeper, followed by a shuddering groan as he came. We collapsed together, tangled and slick, chests heaving. His weight pinned me to the mattress; I could feel every aftershock ripple through him, echoing in my own body.
He pressed a soft kiss to the tip of my nose and rested his forehead against mine. My fingers slid into his tangled hair, and suddenly my heart felt like a wounded bird. A tear slipped down my cheek. Scott saw it instantly. His eyes darkened with something I couldn’t name.
“Don’t say it.” He rolled on his back, laying an arm over his face. “I already know.”
“Okay,” I breathed. “I won’t.”
He nodded once, and we lay there side by side in heavy, unspoken devastation. When I finally stood, the reluctance in my movements said what I wouldn’t.
“I never had a chance, did I?” he said. “You were always going to leave.”
His anger froze me in place.
“You know that’s not true.”
“Do I?”
Feeling shaken, I stepped into my panties and adjusted my dress—which had miraculously stayed on—back into place.
“What do you want me to say, Scott?”
“That you’ll stay.” His voice held a challenge. “That you’ll ditch the country clubs, the cocktail parties, and stop pretending to be something you’re not.”
“See, that’s the thing, Scott. I’m not pretending. That’s who I am.”
“But it doesn’t have to be who you become—dressed up like a doll and danced around on someone else’s string.”
My face hardened. “Just because I have duties to my family doesn’t mean I’m a mindless doll.”
“It sort of does if you’re leaving because you’ve been instructed to by your mother.”
I bit my lip, anger rising. “I’m going back because it’s where I belong.”
“Screw that.” He sat up. “You belong wherever you decide.”
“I don’t have that luxury.”
His eyes flashed. “Luxury? Michelle, that is exactly what you have. Money. Connections. Choices.”
“You wouldn’t understand the pressure that comes with wealth,” I said quietly—but even hearing it aloud made me cringe.
“No, I wouldn’t. But I sure as shit understand pressure.” His jaw flexed. “I wake up every day and go to work so my son can have a better life than I ever did. Don’t tell me I don’t know obligation. Or duty. My whole life is that. Every. Last. Second.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, reaching for him. “That was a stupid thing to say.”
We stared at each other. And everything felt… wrong.
“Scott—”
“Stay.” He cut me off and grabbed my arms. “Stand up to her. Live your own life… here… with me.”
The vulnerability nearly took me out.
“And then what?” I asked, voice shaking. “Where would we live? Because it can’t be here with April next door. I’m pretty sure she has a voodoo doll of me by her bed. Think about what you’re asking. My life isn’t the only one that would change. Yours would too. Are you really prepared for that?”
“For you? Yes. I’ll do whatever needs to be done. I’m not the problem here. You need to listen to yourself. What do you want? Just you. Not your mother.”
What I want is you.
The words rose but I swallowed them down, because saying them wouldn’t change a thing.
“Michelle, I know you’re the one. You and me, we’re going to do great things together. I can feel it. And I think you do too.”
It sounded beautiful, yes, but his version of the future wasn’t mine.
Scott thought it was simple, that love was enough to hold me together.
But he didn’t understand. The Carver name wasn’t just something I wore; it was carved into me, bone deep.
If I let it go, I’d unravel. I’d be no one.
Rootless. And what if we didn’t last? Then I’d have nothing.
No family. No place. No identity. At least in my world, I knew the rules, even if they were designed to swallow me whole.
“I don’t know that, not the way you do. And I can’t gamble everything on a maybe, Scott. Not even for you.”
His jaw set hard. “Then I guess that’s it.”
The silence pressed in, thick and final.
Then—tickle.
I jolted, jerking my foot up, and when I looked down, I nearly fainted dead away. A pale, whiskered face peeked up at me, his pink nose twitching against my ankle like it had every right to be there.
“Scott!” I squealed, stepping onto the mattress and doing the spider dance. “I found your pet—”
“Stop!” He jumped from the bed. “You’re going to scare him.”
“Scare him?” I scrambled backward on the sheets until my spine hit the wall. “What about me? He looks like he crawled straight out of the netherworld.”
Scott bent down and scooped the creature up, tucking it under his arm like some unholy football. “He’s harmless. Unless you’ve got a bag of Cool Ranch Doritos. You’re on your own then.”
Zonk blinked up at me, curled against Scott’s bare chest as he stroked its patchy fur. “Zonk, this is the girl I was telling you about. The one I was going to make your stepmom. But she turned us down.”
The opossum gave me a beady-eyed, accusing stare.
I got it, Zonk. I didn’t like me either.
Scott pulled to the curb in the same spot where he’d first picked me up. No disco light show this time, just a thick, inescapable heaviness settling over us.
“So,” he said quietly, “I guess our six weeks are over.”
Tears broke loose, hot on my cheeks. I slid across the bench seat and hugged him, wishing I could stop time with my bare hands. “Yes. I’m so sorry.”
He tried for levity, even though his voice cracked. “If it’s Zonk, I can plug up the hole in the wall.”
Despite everything, a laugh broke out of me, but it dissolved into a sob.
I wiped my eyes, shaking my head. “You really are the weirdest person I’ve ever met.”
“And you’re the most beautiful person I’ve ever met.”
“Stop.” I shoved him lightly. “I’m not.”
“You are,” he said. No hesitation. “You just don’t see it yet. Someday you will.”
He had such faith in me. I wanted to be the girl he saw when he looked at me. But I wasn’t her. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
“Thank you,” I whispered, “for showing me what life looks like when you give it everything you’ve got. I’ll never forget this summer with you.”
He lifted my chin, staring into my eyes. “Stay.”
God, I wanted to. Every part of me screamed yes. But the pull of everything waiting outside this truck was stronger. “I can’t.”
The silence that followed was brutal, broken only by his unsteady breathing. Then he reached into his pocket, pulled out a cassette tape, and slipped it into my purse.
“What is that?”
“Something to remember me by.”
I patted my bag, trying for a smile that didn’t come. “You’re not easily forgettable, Scott.”
A thick quiet settled between us. Then, softer than I’d ever heard him: “I’ve never wanted anyone the way I want you.”
My lips parted, aching to answer him. To give him something back. Instead, I held his face between my palms, kissed him once, and then I was gone.