by Tara Sivec
“I knew when I moved you here it wasn’t going to work out between us. I waited three months because that’s how long we had to live here before I could file for divorce, and we’d have to follow this state’s divorce laws. And I needed that to happen, because…” Brandon trails off.
Because he wanted to live the high life in Chicago, and he wanted to see his son. He took them away from everything they loved, faked the motions of being her husband, and then dropped her right when he knew she wouldn’t be able to leave, and he’d get what he wanted.
Oh, good Christ, this motherfucker better run.
Ember finally breaks her silence. With a sound coming out of her that makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and my dick hard. A noise similar to the ones she made the night I taught her how to hit the heavy bag, and she unloaded a whole bunch of shit. That sound, that low, rumbly growl coming from deep in her chest, that sound tells me she is about to unload a whole bunch of shit, probably with her fists, all over Brandon’s face.
That sound finally makes me stop feeling sorry for myself, and I open my eyes and whip my head up. I’m back around the door and in the doorway in the blink of an eye, wrapping both my arms around Ember’s waist from behind, right when she started to launch herself at Brandon.
“You don’t want to hit him, Tink,” I tell her quietly, holding her wriggly body tighter against the front of me as she tries to pry my arms off her with her hands.
“You’re right. I don’t want to hit him,” she pants through clenched teeth as she continues to claw at my hands and struggle in my arms. “I want to stab this deceitful motherfucker right in the throat. Let go of me and give me something rusty and dull.”
Brandon finally has the good sense to look properly worried, his eyes widening at Ember’s words.
“You might want to take a few steps back, man,” I warn him. “I don’t know how long I’ll be able to hold her off. Have you seen her guns? She’s been working out.”
“Stop trying to make me laugh. I’m pissed,” Ember tells me, still struggling in my arms as Brandon not only takes a few steps back, but he keeps going until he’s at the bottom of the porch steps.
“I know you’re pissed, baby, but you can’t kill him,” I tell her softly, like I’m talking to a spooked Ron Jeremy. “Jail food is shitty. Everything has mayo on it, and you hate mayo.”
She finally goes limp in my arms, and I slowly drop her back to her feet, my arms still around her, just in case.
“I do hate mayo.” She sniffs, lifting her chin and calmly brushing a few stray hairs off her face.
I smile at the back of her head as I slowly drop my arms from around her.
“Ember—”
“Don’t,” she cuts Brandon off. “Don’t you dare say one more word to me. You are finished saying words to me. All the words. Forever.”
My smile grows bigger as I continue staring at the back of the woman I love.
It’s going to be fine. Christ, I love her. Everything is going to be fine. It’s not even confirmed that she’s moving back to Montana just because of the bullshit Brandon just spewed, and I’m already packing her bags and nursing my broken heart. She’s still standing here, right in front of me, stronger than ever. Maybe she’ll put her foot down with Brandon and refuse to move. There are a whole lot of discussions that she needs to have before any decision is made. It’s not a done deal. And I am very, very good at persuasion.
Fuck thinking I can’t make her happier here than she’d be at home. I made her date me for weeks without her even knowing it, didn’t I? I’m a goddamn genius.
“Dad?”
Ember jumps when she hears Lincoln’s voice, quickly turning around to give him a smile.
“Hey, Lincoln!” Brandon shouts from the bottom of the porch. “I was just telling your mom the good news!”
“Brandon!” Ember tries to cut him off, but this jackass just doesn’t learn.
“We’re moving back to Montana!” Brandon yells excitedly.
There is not even a moment’s hesitation. The sound of Lincoln’s happy shrieks as he runs around the house, waving his hands in the air, fill my stomach with a pit of dread.
She wants to raise her son there.
I finally look back at Ember’s face, and there are tears in her eyes as she watches Lincoln continue to zip past and scream through his celebration. Happy tears, because she knows. She knows.
Maybe I could make her really happy here, but she wants to raise to raise her son there.
Who the fuck am I to stand in her way?
CHAPTER 26
BAKER
Chaos
It’s been a week since Ember’s dick of an ex dropped by her house, and then dropped the bomb that completely obliterated my life. After he left, it took Ember a half-hour to quiet Lincoln down from his celebrating. Then she found out he’d forgotten to put Ron Jeremy back in his cage after he came back in the house and got distracted with celebrating, by finding a trail of R.J. shit from the kitchen, all the way down the hall, and in a circle in Ember’s room. He might not hiss at her anymore, but he will shit all over her carpet to remind her who the boss really is.
After helping her clean up the shit, then cleaning up Ron Jeremy who decided to roll in the shit at some point to really bring his point home, Ember heated up leftovers for Lincoln since ordering tacos had long been forgotten, and I bribed him with a PG-13, guns-a-blazing, car-chasing movie he’d been begging to see, as long as he took a shower and actually washed his hair. Then three of us watched the movie together on a pile of blankets and pillows on the living room floor, after I cleaned up a big glass of purple grape juice Lincoln dropped as he walked out of the kitchen, where I may or may not have shot him in the neck with a Nerf bullet.
I loved every minute of it. And I was losing it.
I didn’t spend the night that night. Ember didn’t ask, and I was too much of a pussy to bring it up. When the movie ended, I kissed her on the cheek and quietly slipped out while she was arguing with Lincoln about going to bed. We didn’t talk about the fucking Montana elephant in the room, because there was too much going on. And I was a fucking pussy.
We’ve both been pretty busy since that night, and I’m not gonna lie; I didn’t rearrange my schedule like I’ve been doing since I met her, to make sure I had time for her. I went to work like normal, I stayed late like normal, I did paperwork into the early hours of the morning, and then I passed out upstairs in my loft. My loft that was cold, and empty, and too fucking quiet all of a sudden. Ember and I still talked via text every day. Mostly just bullshit apologies about how busy we’ve both been, and her telling me she’s trying to wrap up a bunch of transcription work.
Wrap it up before she moves and her life is filled with better things than listening to other people’s boring and pointless conversations to pay the bills.
Now, I’m walking up to her front door, because she sent me a text that said we need to talk. Nothing else, no heart emoji, no funny, dirty gif because she means sex, and not actual talking. This is it. This is where she officially tells me she’s leaving. Maybe she’ll make promises about planes, and car trips, and FaceTime, but we both know it will be bullshit. Sure, I was attracted to her over email and transcription notes, but I fell in love with her in person. Hearing her laugh, watching her with her son, and seeing the playfulness on her face when she tells me to suck her dick. Touching her, kissing her, holding her hand, being inside her… how am I supposed to go without that every day, now that I know what it’s like? Now that I’ve experienced what it’s like to really have a family?
Ember is flinging open the front door before I can even reach for the doorbell. I want to sag against the doorframe when I see her again for the first time in a week, because she’s so goddamn beautiful. And because I realize I only have a week left of walking up to her house and watching her open the door for me.
Her hair is up in her favorite messy bun, with little pieces falling down all around. She’s wear
ing a sweatshirt with a wide neck that falls off one shoulder, and a pair of tiny, ratty jean shorts, and she takes my fucking breath away.
“Cute sweatshirt,” I tell her with a smile, even though seeing the Hastings Pumpkin Farm logo on the front makes it feel like someone is ripping my heart right out of my chest.
Her smiles brightens even more as she holds the door open for me, and I move inside the house.
“Well, the reopening is next week. Might as well get in the spirit early.”
Yep, just dig right on in there and rip that sucker our nice, and slow, and painful.
“God, it’s so much fun,” she continues as we move toward the living room. “The whole town shows up, and everyone just hangs out, eating and drinking all day.”
She’s finally mentioning the reopening of the farm. Maybe… maybe that’s a good sign. Maybe she still wants me to go with her.
Maybe you’re an idiot, because she’ll be living there for the reopen, not visiting. She’s not planning on asking you to move there. Fuck… why isn’t she asking me to move there?
But maybe she still wants me to go. Maybe she still wants me to get to know the place, because it’s not bullshit. There are planes, and cars, and there’s nothing stopping me from visiting her as much as I can.
“So, I’m just going to spit it out. I’m going to White Timber tomorrow. I switched mine and Lincoln’s tickets to tomorrow,” Ember says as soon as we enter the living room.
There’s a rushing sound in my ear, and I wonder if it’s all the blood leaving my body, because I feel like I’m going to fucking pass out. I’m glancing around the room, trying to process what she’s saying, and all I see are boxes. Fucking boxes. Stacked against the wall under the window, next to the TV stand, and halfway down the hall.
She switched hers and Lincoln’s tickets, but not mine… not mine.
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you until now,” she says in a rush, my eyes focusing on one particular box in the middle of a stack that says Lincoln’s Clothes in black, scribbled Sharpie. “It’s been kind of hectic around here.”
She’s already packed his things. She’s already packed a lot of things. Which makes sense, since she’s fucking leaving tomorrow.
“I just…. I know the reopening on the farm isn’t until next week, but I want to see Clint and Brooklyn alone before the reopening. Without all the people, and the chaos, and the distractions.”
And without me. A person, a chaos, and a distraction. A distraction that is making you nervous right now, instead of happy as hell because you can finally go home, where you need to be.
Ember is licking her lips and fidgeting as she looks up at me. I still haven’t said one fucking word this entire time, and I feel like an asshole for making her nervous. She’s probably waiting for me to lose my shit. Or make a joke about how I can distract her with fun chaos, because I just so happened to have named my dick Chaos.
“No, I totally get it. That makes sense.” I nod, even though it doesn’t make any fucking sense at all and I really do want to lose my shit.
But she doesn’t deserve that. She deserves to have everything she’s ever wanted and be happy. That’s all I’ve been trying to do this entire time is make her happy, and I just have to accept the fact it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t enough to make her fight and choose to stay. I have to be okay with that, because nothing else matters to me but her happiness.
“Where’s Lincoln?” I ask, closing the distance between us and finally touching her.
I wrap my arms around her waist and pull her against me, her hands immediately coming up to rest against my chest, and the fidgeting and the nerves quickly disappear.
“Shockingly, he’s with Brandon,” she tells me, her hands sliding up to clasp together behind my neck. “He picked him up from his last day of school to take him back to his place for the rest of the day. He’s bringing him back after dinner.”
It’s only three. That gives us at least a few hours. A few hours for me to let her know it’s okay. That I get it, and I’m okay with her decision. Even if I’m not.
“So what you’re saying is, we’re completely alone in this house?” I ask, forcing my mouth to twitch with a smile.
“One hundred percent alone.” Ember nods. “Ron Jeremy isn’t even here to silently judge us from his cage.”
We share one last smile before both of us move at the same time, shedding clothes, tossing them, and letting them land wherever, and then quickly coming back together, kissing and falling back onto the couch with a laugh. I make myself forget about the fact that this might be the last time I get to be with Ember like this for who knows how long. We kiss, and we touch, and we laugh, and we act like it’s just any other day where we’re able to steal some alone time in a rarely empty house.
Eventually, I’m on my back and Ember is straddling my thighs, her mouth and her hand moving quickly up and down my cock. It’s the best way to help me forget all my troubles, because her mouth should be an illegal weapon. Leaning forward and grabbing her under the arms, I pull her away as she makes an adorable, annoyed growl, rolling us over and positioning myself between her thighs.
“Keep your eyes on me, Tink,” I tell her, immediately thrusting all the way into her.
She lets out a gasp, and both of her hands smack down on my ass. I love that goddamn gasp she makes every single time I first push into her, like she’s still surprised by how good it feels. And Christ, does it feel good.
Her eyes are still locked on mine as I pull my hips back, sliding in slower this time, and she moans softly when I stay deep and rock against her. As much as I want to pound into her and let her take all of my frustrations away, she needs to know I’m serious about this. She’s moving away from Chicago, but she damn well better not move away from me.
I take my time, because I don’t want to rush through this last stolen moment with her before she leaves. I rock into her with slow, deep thrusts, bringing my hand between her legs to tease and touch, while I kiss her just as leisurely. She wraps her legs around my hips, and her arms around my waist, clinging tightly to me, pulling me closer as we move together on her couch in this quiet and empty house. There’s nothing but the sounds of Ember whimpering, Ember begging for more, Ember telling me not to stop, and Ember moaning how good I feel inside her.
I want her to tell me she loves me. I want her to be a hard-ass and order me to come with her, even though she’s going a week early.
But that never happens. And I have to be okay with that.
CHAPTER 27
Ember
That Motherfucker, Part 2
“Did you tell him you love him before you left?” Brooklyn asks.
I smile like a happy idiot, even though she’s asking me a serious question, because it feels good to actually be sitting across from her at the kitchen table of the farm and seeing her in person.
“Can we just talk about how robust your tits are right now? Pregnancy looks good on you.” I continue smiling, unable to pull my eyes away from her boobs in the V-neck Hastings Pumpkin Farm shirt she’s wearing.
“Right? Aren’t they amazing? It’s the only good thing about being knocked up,” she muses, looking down at her own chest.
“You know, aside from the whole beauty of creating a life with the man of your dreams thing,” I remind her.
“Yeah, yeah, that too.” She waves me away. “Stop distracting me and answer the question.”
“You’re distracting me with those giant bosoms.” I snort.
“Ember!” she scolds.
“Okay, fine! No, I didn’t tell him I love him before I left,” I admit sheepishly.
Instead of enjoying being back home, I’ve done nothing but complain about how weird Baker has been since the night Brandon came over and opened his whore mouth, ever since I stepped off the plane.
I complained when we went to the White Timber Times and Brooklyn showed me a new printing press she’d gotten since the last time I’d been there. I complained while I
was in the kitchen of the store on the farm, whipping up a few things for my brother to freeze for next week’s reopening. I complained to everyone I saw in town when we walked to the square to have lunch under the gazebo, because it was really nice to have people I knew to complain to as I walked down the street. And I complained to all of the farmhands, when I helped clean out the horse stalls before I came in here to talk to Brooklyn.
I mean, of course I expected Baker to be shocked. I was shocked. And I was overwhelmed, and pissed at Brandon, and a hundred different emotions were flying around in my heart. But then I got overloaded with transcription jobs and life with an eight-year-old. And then Baker started being weird, and a little distant, and I decided to put an end to that shit once and for all, moving up my trip here to the farm so I could talk to my brother and Brooklyn alone.
I thought we’d finally have time to talk about everything yesterday when Baker came over, where I fully planned on telling him I was in love with him and beg him to still be all in while I sorted through this mess, but he walked right in the house still acting weird and a little distant, and it threw me off. Then he touched me, I remembered we had the house all to ourselves, and I got distracted by the dick.
I am only human, dammit.
“I couldn’t just tell him something like that when he was inside me. That’s too cliché, even for me.” I scoff.
“You’re an idiot. No wonder he’s been acting weird.” Brooklyn shakes her head at me.
I think about the fact that the only text I got from Baker since he left my house yesterday was an Okay, when I told him Lincoln and I had landed in Montana this morning.
Our plane just landed. I can’t believe I forgot the assless chaps.
Okay.
Just okay. Not one comment about my ass in chaps, or a joke about how his ass would look better in them.
