Signs of Life

by Sloane Reynard

  Corinne couldn’t help laughing, at that, but it was a feeble, teary thing.

  “I shouldn’t have left,” she blurted, unable to hold it in any longer. “I’ll have to give two weeks’ notice at work, so it won’t be right away, but… can I come back? Please?”

  “Yes,” Wyatt said again. “Yes, come back.” He paused. “Come back to me, Corinne. Come home.”

  To her great shame, she burst into tears. Well, she permitted a tear to roll down her cheek. That passed for ‘bursting’ chez Wade.

  “Maybe I can just give one week’s notice,” she said.

  “Honorable woman like you? Knowing you left them in the lurch?” Wyatt said with a relieved-sounding laugh. “You won’t be able to live with yourself.”

  “I know,” Corinne grumbled. “It’s just…”

  “I know.” His voice was impossibly tender. She was struck with a sense of extreme unreality, as if it could not be remotely possible for a man like Wyatt to feel that way about her, to be that devoted, that ardent. “But it will go fast, I promise.”

  “You promise, huh?” She sniffled and tried to tease, to lighten the mood.

  “I promise,” he repeated. “And I don’t make promises I won’t keep. I used to. But not anymore. Not with you.”

  It felt like there was a raw spot inside Corinne, in her chest, like a thread connecting them had pulled to its farthest limit and would only ease when they were together.

  “I’m going to hold you to that,” she told him.

  “Good,” he replied. “Good.”

  Chapter 12

  The second day without Corinne, Wyatt awoke with an erection as big and hard as a pikestaff. He propped himself on his elbows and stared down at it and wondered whether he’d always been like this and just never realized it, or if the habit of fucking Corinne awake each morning had turned him into a slavering beast.

  Sun up, cock up? He flopped back down and stared at the ceiling. It was barely 7am, and the room was warm and cozy, lightening from black to gray as daylight tried to creep in around the edges of the drapes. There was still a hint of Corinne’s scent in the bed, both her fresh aquatic smell and the alluring musk she’d left from sex. He hadn’t had the heart to change the sheets and lose that aspect of her.

  But it wouldn’t be lost forever. She’s coming back. Gladness and relief rose in him, chasing away the bewilderment that had crept up after Corinne’s departure. She was every bit as lost as he was, so far apart. It shouldn’t make him happy, but… knowing she missed him just as much had him grinning stupidly.

  His hard-on didn’t fade any, however.

  He reached for his phone. 7:07am, read the tiny lettering at the top corner of the screen. Would she be so accustomed to over a week of being woken at this time that she’d be conscious right now? Wyatt decided to chance it, and dialed.

  “Bwuh?” she answered after half-a-dozen rings.

  “Corinne.”

  “Wyyyyyyy….” she mumbled. “Y’okay?”

  “I’m fine. Just… missing you.”

  “Miss you, too. Wai’minute. Call y’back.” Then the line went dead.

  After a few minutes, the phone rang and he eagerly answered it.

  “Okay. I’m awake now,” she said, sounding much clearer-headed. “Why are you calling me so early, if nothing’s wrong?”

  “I’m used to waking you up, woman, or have you forgotten already?” He pitched his voice low, so its gravel was clear even over the phone, as he knew made her shiver.

  “I haven’t forgotten,” she replied, sounding breathless. “I felt… very nostalgic last night, in fact.”

  What the hell does that mean? She couldn’t possibly be saying she played with herself while thinking of him… could she?

  “What form did that nostalgia take?” Wyatt asked, both he and his cock very intrigued.

  “It took the form of, uh, a replay of Tuesday,” admitted Corinne. He could practically hear her blushing.

  Tuesday? He cast his mind back. What had they done on Tuesday? Ah. That was when he’d spent an hour thoroughly exploring the little bit of heaven between her legs and fingering her until she screamed so loudly the windows rattled.

  “Is that right?” he purred. “Well, I think our little habit of morning sex is a good one, and should be continued even while we’re apart.”

  “I bet you do,” she murmured, her tone amused. “Are you really suggesting we have phone sex every day until I’m back up there with you?”

  “The alternative is to wake up each morning with the world’s largest erection and bring myself off without you.” Wyatt pushed down the sheet to stare at his cock, which had only grown harder since the start of their conversation, not softer, despite his inattention to it. Corinne’s voice had that effect on him. Hell, Corinne’s everything had that effect on him.

  He heard her breath catch. “The world’s largest, you say?”

  “Hardest, too,” he told her, transferring the phone to his left hand so he could work some magic with his right. Though the sensation of his own grip was nothing like the scalding clutch of Corinne’s body as she took him deep, it would do in a pinch. It wasn’t as if he had an alternative, anyway. He drew his fist from tip to base and groaned at the pleasure that coursed through him. “If I were there with you, we’d be able to enjoy it together.”

  “If you were here, though… I still have two weeks to work before I can leave,” she said. Panted, really. “We wouldn’t have time for it, in the morning, unless we hurried, and I don’t like rushing.”

  “That’s right, you don’t. You like it when I fuck you nice and slow.”

  A gasp, followed by a moan. “Wyatt… ”

  “When I make you beg to come.”

  “Wyatt, please.”

  “Just like that. But I like taking my time. You’ll come when I let you…”

  “Don’t do this to me.” But he heard more rustling, as of fabric being shifted and removed.

  “…and I won’t let you until you’re a mess, pleading, frantic—”

  “Wyatt…” Corinne whispered, sounding just like she did each time when he slid into her for the first stroke. Behind his closed eyelids, he could see her at that moment, head thrown back, eyes closed, lips parted, rapt with pleasure thanks to him.

  “You sound like you need it so much—”

  “…I do, I need it—”

  “—like you’d soak my cock, you’re so wet—”

  “I am, for you, Wyatt—”

  “—and I’m going to make you wetter, fill you with my come—”

  “—yes, yes, Wyatt—”

  “—so tight around me, Corinne, so hot—”

  “Wyatt!”

  “Come for me, do it now—”

  “Wyatt! Oh, God, yes, Wyatt!”

  “Yes, Corinne, like that, God, want you, want you…”

  They panted into each other’s ears for long moments. Eventually his pulse returned to normal and the world reasserted its presence; he had to piss, and was dying for a drink of water. If Corinne had been there with him, he’d have used the bathroom and started the coffee while she fired up the shower, getting the water good and warm for them to share.

  But she wasn’t. He was alone in a nest of rumpled sheets, with semen cooling on his belly and Corinne a thousand miles away. Loneliness crept up on him, followed by an ache of yearning that was nearly physical.

  “That was good,” Corinne was saying, her tone shy, “but…”

  “Yeah,” he agreed listlessly.

  “I should get going,” she continued. “I have so much to do, to be ready to leave in two weeks. Packing, and arrangements for the utilities and mail, and I still haven’t decided out what to do with the house.”

  Wyatt knew she didn’t want to sell it, but she also didn’t want strangers to rent it, and he felt a pang of guilt that she’d have to make that decision to be with him.

  “No need to rush about it,” he told her. “Plenty of time to figure it o
ut.”

  “True.” She gave a little hum of consideration. Then, “I’ll talk to you later?”

  “Yes. Call me tonight?”

  “I will.”

  They fell silent, the air near to sagging from the weight of what they weren’t saying. Wyatt decided to forge into the breach.

  “I miss you,” he said. “And can’t wait until you’re back with me again.”

  “Me, too,” said Corinne, and he could hear the smile in her voice. “Soon.”

  “Soon.”

  Finally, they hung up. Wyatt sat up to find Leo had entered the room at some point and stood at the foot of the bed, watching him. The idea that the dog had observed him jerking off was profoundly distasteful.

  “I gotta remember to shut that door,” he muttered. Leo only tilted his head to the side, an inquiring expression on his furry face.

  Wyatt let the dog out to do his business and went through the morning’s rote actions before trying to settle down to some stock trading on his laptop but there was a niggling little something bothering him, like the princess and the damned pea. It felt like hours had passed, but when he checked, it wasn’t even nine o’clock.

  Thus he was relieved when Tyler phoned, at that moment, and distracted him from his nameless irritation.

  “Yes?” he answered his brother’s ring. “Found another way to interfere in my life?”

  “Actually, I have.”

  Oh, he sounded smug. Wyatt hated when Tyler felt self-satisfied and couldn’t contain it.

  Tyler was not dissuaded when he received no reply from Wyatt.

  “I thought you’d like to know a bit more about Seagull Island,” he said. “I know Corinne told you some things, but I have some cold, hard facts about it that might interest you.”

  Wyatt sighed. “Fine. What?”

  “Despite its size, the island only has ten thousand full-time residents. That number doubles in the warmer months, when tourists arrive in droves to partake of Seagull Island’s natural beauty. Corinne’s family has been prominent among the inhabitants since it was first settled in the eighteenth century. The people are accounted to be almost bizarrely decent. Honorable, if such a word can be used in this day and age.”

  It can be, Wyatt thought. Honor is still alive and kicking, and its patron saint is Corinne Wade. Even in the two weeks of their acquaintance, he could tell that she was a decent and reliable soul.

  “Sounds nice,” he said when his brother stopped talking.

  “Sounds like you’d like to see it, huh?” Tyler prodded. “Like you should visit it. Maybe stay a while. Maybe stay forever.”

  “…what?” Wyatt frowned at the phone in confusion and mounting annoyance as a suspicion dawned of what his brother was up to.

  Tyler’s sigh nearly gusted through the phone into Wyatt’s ear.

  “Honestly, Wyatt, don’t you think it’s time to end the hermit act? You can’t just live on that mountain forever—”

  “Wanna bet?” Wyatt grumbled. Yep, he was right: once again, Tyler was going to try to talk him into leaving the cabin.

  “—okay, then, think of it this way. I know why you’re there. Our dastardly family has done you wrong, the world is a dumpster fire, and you don’t want to deal with any of it, so you hide at the ass-end of the world.”

  Not this again. With some acid, Wyatt drawled, “That’s pretty much it, yes.”

  “Consider this: your giantess has been treated poorly but remains stalwart in spite of it, while you’ve been treated poorly and ran away to hide like a pussy.”

  Wyatt said not a word, letting his offended silence do the talking.

  Tyler sighed again, but this sigh felt distinctly theatrical. “I guess if you’re okay with her giving up her job and everything she knows so the two of you can live like castaways on an uncharted island, it could work.” He paused. Wyatt said nothing. “I’m sure she won’t come to resent you for the almost total lack of human contact.” Nothing. “And I’ve no doubt she’ll appreciate her education going to waste, since I’m certain engineer positions are not exactly thick on the ground over there.”

  More stony silence. Undeterred, Tyler continued.

  “The complete lack of entertainment won’t grate on her in any way, I’m sure. Who needs to go out into the world? Eat at restaurants, see movies? In fact, I bet Corinne haaaaaaates those things. She’ll definitely be happy to spend the rest of her life in a one-bedroom cabin with no job, no friends, nowhere to go, and nothing to do.”

  Still Wyatt did not speak, though his conscience had put him in a full nelson five minutes earlier and had graduated to choking him with gusto.

  “Corinne’s reasonable, isn’t she? She’d agree to go back to the cabin in, say, the summer, to avoid the worst of the tourist crowds. But… you’re as stubborn as a dozen mules when you don’t want to see something, Wyatt. I’m worried you don’t see the big picture. You might be convinced that everything will be fine, just staying up there alone together, but… eventually, it won’t be. You might not need more, but she probably will. And you’ll be depriving her of it.”

  Wyatt swallowed against the tide of apprehension that rose within him, conflict pulling him in opposite directions. He was safe on the mountain, in the cabin; his family left him alone, mostly— Tyler being the noisy and persistent exception— and the world’s fuckery was kept at bay.

  But… Corinne hadn’t had the same experiences he had. Or at least, she handled them differently. She didn’t react to life’s challenges by hiding like a recluse. He thought of how her face would light up when she was happily surprised by something, how her eyes would shine. There would only be so many opportunities for pleasing discoveries, on the mountain, and then as time passed, the light would fade. Her eyes would dull. However thrilling Wyatt thought himself, he knew that he couldn’t indefinitely sustain another person’s need for contact and diversion.

  And then she’d leave. She leave, and they’d both be heartbroken, and it would all be his fault.

  Corinne had spent years being treated like she should be lucky that any man would deign to notice her. She should have a man who would give up everything to be with her, not the other way around. Shame swept over Wyatt in a rush that left him blinking in shock.

  He did not deserve her, not if he was going to insist she come to him.

  “Wyatt?” Tyler’s voice sounded like it was coming from the next mountain over, instead of the phone right against his ear. His tone was very gentle.

  “Yes,” Wyatt said faintly. His head was thrumming with conclusions and implications and, really, just a huge amount of guilt, matched only by self-loathing. He was just another selfish, greedy Lindstrom. Corinne was better off without him entirely.

  But… he had resigned himself to the fact that he was not a strong man. Not where Corinne was concerned, at least. What he should do was break up with her so she could have a good life without him.

  What he was going to do was ease the burden of being with him as much as possible, as he should have thought of independently, without his younger brother shaming him into it.

  “Yes,” he repeated, stronger. “You’re— you’re right. I’m going to— something. I don’t know. I’ll figure it out.”

  Tyler laughed. “I’m always right,” he said. “One day you’ll realize it.”

  “Don’t hold your breath,” Wyatt replied, surprising himself with how light and teasing he was able to sound. The pressure in his chest was easing, and a buoyant sense of eagerness was taking its place. Now that he knew what to do, he couldn’t wait to get started. “But since you know everything… can you convince Brock to leave for his holiday tomorrow instead? I need him to come get me.”

  There was a pause, and then Tyler said, “Should I have the jet meet you at the Lebanon airport?” He sounded delighted.

  “Yeah,” said Wyatt, unable to stop grinning. “That would be great.”

  By the time evening fell, Corinne was too tired to fuss with dinner and decided
to just order a pizza. While she waited for its arrival, she contemplated if it were too early to call Wyatt yet.

  She had spent the day doing what she could, on a Sunday, to figure out her next moves. She was no closer to deciding whether to sell the house or merely rent it out, but Mr. Goodwin had cleared out his second barn after retiring and would let her store things in it for a modest fee, and both the grocery and liquor stores would let her have all their empty boxes to pack things in.

  She’d also drafted her resignation letter and was prepared to hand it in to her supervisor in the morning. She’d miss her job; she enjoyed working for the ferry line that connected Seagull Island to the mainland. She’d miss her cousins, though they were only distantly related, and her neighbors, whom she’d known since birth. There were no secrets in a community that small, and when her brother and then father had died, that had felt suffocating and claustrophobic to Corinne, all those pitying eyes and words of sympathy.

  But now it felt comforting, secure; she’d stepped off the ferry and been met by a dozen faces who were nearly as familiar to her as her own. She’d walked down streets she’d walked down a million times before, knowing every dip and curve and pothole, and trudged up the old flagstone walk to her house. It had formerly been the gatehouse to Everett Hall, back in the days when the Everett family had owned the entire island. Times had changed, and diminished their influence and wealth, and ultimately they’d ended up selling the property in parcels. Corinne’s family had bought the stone cottage and passed it down over the decades until it fell to her ownership alone.

  Corinne knew every inch of the place. It would be hard to leave behind.

  But… Wyatt. Her job, the people she knew, the house… even all together, they didn’t come close to making her as happy as he did. The anticipation she felt to see him again was like fire in her blood, rushing and heated, a burning need. Was it irresponsible to call it ‘love’? Already? She didn’t know what other word could apply to the complex amalgam of emotions that seized her at the thought of him. If it weren’t already love, it would be soon, she had no doubt.