It’s the last thing we have time for, but I have to leave here with her taste on my tongue. I need to immerse myself in her before I go. Pressing on her stomach, I push her back to the bed, nudging my way in between her thighs.
“We don’t have time, Cutter.”
Scooting down so that I’m on my stomach, my shoulders spreading her apart. “We always have time for this.”
I dive in, hoping to sate myself on the taste of her. I know I won’t be able to, but I can at least survive until we see each other again. At least that’s what I tell myself as I push my arms under her thighs, hook them over her hips, and spread her lips apart. Leaning in, I blow a breath to let her know I’m here, which causes her to reach down, threading her fingers through my hair, yanking on it roughly. Lifting my eyes, they meet hers as she watches me.
I keep them open until I can’t see her anymore, closing them before I reach in with my tongue and lave the bud begging for my attention.
Her thighs tighten against me, but I hold her open, proving I’m either the stronger or the more stubborn of the two of us.
“Cutter…”
That breathless voice, that’s what I needed to hear one more time before I leave, before I fucking say goodbye to the piece of heaven I’ve found in the middle of destruction rained down like hell.
Just my luck, huh? I find the one thing I can’t live without during the most unpredictable time in my life. That’s how it’s always been, and I presume it’s how it’ll always be. At least it’s taught to me to appreciate things while we have them.
And right now, I have Rowan at my fingertips, or rather at the tip of my tongue. Suctioning my mouth over the part of her that needs me the most, I suck, lick, and do everything I can think of to turn her into a quivering mass of jelly within my arms.
“God, I didn’t know you could do that,” she groans as I clasp her clit between my teeth while circling it with my tongue. “I didn’t know half of what you do to me could be done.”
There’s a pride in my chest, it makes me want to thump and proclaim her mine. But do I really have a claim on her when I have to leave? It feels unfair and maybe slightly premature to just assume, but I can’t help it. I want her. Maybe it’s selfish, but for once in my life I deserve to be selfish.
My cellphone rings, and I know it’s Tucker, calling to check and see where I am. I refuse to answer it, refuse to stop what I’m doing right now, because I can’t stand to not finish this.
Pulling back, I unhook one of my arms, using two fingers to go after her hard. I need to hear her release, I need the taste it on my tongue, ache to have her smell all over me until I wash it off.
“Come for me,” I pant, flexing my forearm.
“Cutter,” she whines, pressing her hips up into my thrust.
Her clit enlarges, causing me to lean forward and take it between my lips again, using my tongue to go after it like she did my dick.
The phone rings again, but I don’t stop, can’t stop. Her thighs are tightening around me, and I know she’s close, but she just can’t get there. Grabbing her around the hips, I flip over so that she’s on my face.
For a split second, I take my hands off her body, reach up, grab her hands, and put them on the headboard. Then I’m back to her hips, showing her how to ride my tongue.
In this position she seems to lose it, moans fall out of her mouth as she rotates her mound against my mouth, grinding down hard. I don’t stop as I continue to lick at her swollen flesh.
Then out of nowhere, she reaches behind her, grabbing my cock in her hand. It’s engorged, hard, and ready to explode. She strokes me up and down as I stroke her. The two of us are pushing each other headlong into an explosion of both our bodies.
Part of me wants to hold out because I don’t know when I’ll see her again, don’t know what our future holds. I wish I could take a picture of us right now, to have later when I want to relive the absolute sexiness of this moment. If there’s anything that’ll get me through leaving her, it’ll be knowing I have this memory.
She stops stroking me, plunging her fingers into my hair, she holds me tightly to her body. Straightening my tongue, I let her ride it as I reach down, grabbing my own cock in my hands. Together we come in a mess of grunts, screams, and thundering hearts.
As she gets off me, I lick my lips, thankful I’ll leave with the taste of her on them.
Chapter Twenty
Rowan
Tears stream down my face as I watch them leave.
There’s no one here to hug me, no one to assure me it’s going to all work out the way it’s supposed to. I could have asked Sullivan to come, but then I’d have to explain to him about Cutter, and for now I want to keep all our memories to myself. I’m not a big fan of leaving things up to chance, but this is one of those times I’ll have to have some trust. I don’t have a crystal ball and I don’t know what the future will bring.
Not even sure I wanna know what the future has in store for me. It’s burnt me more than once. In bigger ways than I ever thought it could.
My eyes follow the taillights of the vehicles until they’re gone. They’re a blip on the horizon and I know I need to leave. It’ll do me no good to stand here and wish things were different.
Feeling completely hollow, I walk over to my car and get in, starting the engine. It’s still warm here in the south, so I crank up my air conditioner, turn on the radio and take a drive I know very well. It’s so ingrained in me, I can do it with my eyes closed.
It’s been about a month since I was here last, and I’m almost ashamed of myself. There was a time when I would come here every single day, sometimes twice a day. Back then I never thought I’d go a month, and yet here I am.
Turning into the tree-lined drive, I’m pleased to see they’ve taken care of any damage they may have sustained. Again, I’m disappointed with myself, I should have been here before now. It’s a maze of headstones, but I know exactly where the one I want to see is located. When I get to it, I pull over to the side and park.
Instead of the overwhelming sadness I used to have when I came here, today it’s making me feel not so alone. She’s here, even if she’s not. I almost run up the rows, to the edge of where her grave is. Getting there, I take a seat on the grass, the way I’ve always done.
“Hey, Etta,” I whisper, glancing at the picture on the gravestone. She’ll be forever memorialized as a four-year-old.
Reaching up, I trace her smile, the length of her hair, and the small cleft she had in her chin. She had the best giggle, always finding the humor in every situation. When I’d go wake her up, she’d wake up stretching and smiling. I’d reach down, tickling her stomach slightly, and she’d start her little-girl giggle. This is my favorite memory of her, not the memory of pulling her out of the water while her dad stood to the side, frozen with what he said was fear, and I said was cowardice.
“I miss you,” I tell her. “We had a hurricane, but we did okay making it through. Your Uncle Sully has been taking care of so many. I haven’t been by to see Grandma and Grandpa, but I will,” I promise her. They were two of her favorite people, and I know she wants to hear how they’re doing.
“I met this guy.” I pull at the blades of grass. “I think you’d like him.”
She and her dad were never close, it was the one thing she’d needed in her life, but I did my best to make her feel love, regardless of how much he did or didn’t show it.
“He’d probably go to the playground with you and push you on the swings until his arms were exhausted. We could’ve all gone to the lake on Grandpa’s boat. He’d ride with you on the inner tube. There were so many things I wanted to do with you, Etta. So much I wanted you to experience, so much I wanted to watch you experience.” I feel tears sliding down my face.
“And it kills me,” I choke out. “Because I don’t feel at home here anymore.”
I said it, the words I’ve been feeling for close to a year. Paradise Lost hasn’t felt like home. “But you’re
here,” I continue, wiping at the tears. “I’m not sure if I can let you go.”
“You don’t have to be here to be close to her.”
My mother’s voice scares me to death, I jump as I turn around to look at her.
“I’m sorry.” She sinks down on the grass next to me. “I said your name a few times, but you didn’t hear me. I hadn’t been out here since Tatum, and I wanted to make sure everything was still okay.”
“Me too.” I lean into her shoulder as she put her arm around my neck.
“Where have you been lately? We’ve seen Sully and Braylon, but not you. That’s unusual Ro, we’re worried about you.”
“I don’t even know where to start,” I whisper to my mom. “You know the Laurel Springs Emergency Response Team came to help us in the wake of Tatum, right?”
“Yeah, your daddy told me all about it. Sullivan even road with an EMT for a few days, if I remember correctly.”
“Right, the EMT Sullivan rode with, he and I became friendly.”
My cheeks heat as I try to convey to her what friendly means while not exactly telling her we screwed each other’s brains out. That not three hours ago, I was spread out on my bed with his head between my legs.
“You don’t have to be embarrassed, honey, you had a baby at eighteen. We know you’ve had sex.”
I pull my knees up to my chin.
“What makes this guy different?”
I’ve wondered this myself, but I haven’t been able to put my finger on it. Why is Cutter so much different than any of the other guys I dated? Why has he been able to get under my skin without even seeming to have to try? “He listened to me.” I look over at her, resting my cheek on my knees. “And he doesn’t know about Etta.”
Her eyes scrutinize me, squinting as she looks over my face. “Do you think that’s wise, Rowan? Etta’s a huge part of your past.”
“That’s just it,” I push out, frustrated. “She’s my past, and everybody always judges me by my past. Everybody knows what happened with her, and with Tommie.” My coward of an ex-husband. “In this town, I can’t get over it. People look at me with that sadness in their eyes - because they know - everyone knows my daughter drowned. They know I had a nervous breakdown after I couldn’t save her, and they know I blame Tommie.”
“It was an accident, Rowan,” Mom tries, like she was always does.
“He was supposed to be watching her.” I ball my hand up into a fist. “It was the only job he had that day, he didn’t have to work, I was the one coming home from a fourteen-hour shift. All he had to do was watch her.” My voice breaks as I try to get my breath. “He went inside for a beer, Mom. For a fucking beer, then he got distracted. He didn’t even know she’d gone into the water.” Tears are now streaming down my face.
“Do you know she probably screamed for help?” I ask her. “She probably screamed for help, wondered where her mom and dad were. We were so proud of that damn house with the stupid pool.” I grab at the blades of grass, yanking them out with more ferociousness than I should.
“You should have been proud.” She puts her hand over mine. “Y’all worked hard to get that house. The two of you were so young, nobody thought you’d make it.”
I cut her off. “And we didn’t, did we? The thought of her screaming for help keeps me up at night, Mama, and I can’t for the life of me find it in my heart to forgive Tommie. He stood by and watched me,” I tell her, for the first time. “When I came in the door, asking where Etta was, and he told me outside. I knew, call it mother’s intuition, call it whatever you want. I knew she was in trouble. As soon as I walked out the back door I could see her hair, she was floating face down. I screamed at him to grab her and he didn’t. He stood there, beer in his hand.”
“Rowan, we all deal with emergencies differently.” She holds my hand in hers.
“He’s an EMT, just like me.” I shake my head. “He knew what to do. He knew what to do and he let her die. He didn’t even try to help me with CPR. You can tell me we all deal with emergencies differently until you’re blue in the face, but I’ll never forgive him.” I shake my head.
“Her eyes were open, and I’ll never be able to get that out of my head, just like I’ll never be able to look at him again without seeing the man who let my daughter die. It might be wrong, but God can judge me for it when it’s my time.”
Mom doesn’t say anything else, instead she sits with me in silence as we look at Etta’s grave. She was my life, she was everything I lived for. Now I need to decide if I’m going to live for myself.
Nobody else is going to do it for me.
Chapter Twenty-One
Cutter
One Week Later
“Your mom misses you.”
A heavy sigh releases from my chest. “You sure it’s my mom?”
Turning around, I see Dad standing behind me. I’m using the LSPD’s workout room to train today, but I honestly didn’t expect to run into him.
“We all miss you,” Holden Thompson says as he stands in front of me. My dad has always been one of my favorite people, but since I’ve come back from Paradise Lost, things just haven’t felt right. I’ve been doing my best, but my heart isn’t in what’s going on here.
“I know.” I grab hold of my t-shirt, pulling it over my head. Pulling it down, I stride to the treadmill and get on. Dad does the same thing.
“What are you doing?”
He gives me a look. “Spending some time with my son. Ransom told me you aren’t talking to him either, and I have a feeling you need to talk to someone.”
I hate when he’s right, really bugs the shit out of me. Even though he’s my favorite person, he can still get on my nerves.
“What makes you think I need to talk to someone?” I start off at a slow pace, working to increase my speed.
“You’re way too much like me. Everybody says Ransom is, but you are. When you’re bothered, you close off and shut down. Which is exactly what you’ve been doing since you came back. Why don’t you tell me what happened?”
“Because” - I can feel my redden in agitation and embarrassment - “I don’t like talking about shit, especially after what happened in Tuscaloosa.”
“Years ago, Cutter,” he reminds me. “What happened there happened years ago. You’ve grown up, you’ve changed. Trust me enough to tell me what’s going on with you.”
I don’t know why I’m fighting this so much. Back in the day, I would’ve told him anything, except he didn’t ask. Ransom had been the one I’d confided in and I’d almost begged Dad to ask me. Now he’s finally doing what I’ve wanted him to do, and I’m fighting against it.
“I met a girl.”
The easiest way I know how to explain, but it doesn’t encompass my feelings at all.
“It’s always about a girl.” He grins.
“I wish it was that easy.” I grin back over to him. “This feels like I’m losing my mind.”
“That’s love, Cutter. Open up and let me help you.”
My feet are pounding out a welcome rhythm, one I haven’t heard in much too long. It isn’t that I don’t want to let my dad help me, it’s that I don’t want to make myself vulnerable again. No one knew how to deal with me after I came back from Tuscaloosa, and I’m not sure if this will put me in the same headspace. On the other side of the coin, I would love to hear what my dad has to say. He and mom have been successfully married for a lot of years, and he knows how to make a marriage last.
“Her name is Rowan and she’s an EMT down in Paradise Lost.”
He makes a noise in his throat. “So you met under highly stressful circumstances, which means the attraction was probably tenfold because of your adrenaline.”
“You could say that.”
“So why are you here and she’s there?”
Shaking my head, I have to chuckle at the old man. “Maybe because she’s got a life there and I’ve got a life here. Neither one of us can really pack up and leave.”
“Invite her here
, I’d love to meet her.”
“Oh my God, I just bet you would. Why do I get the feeling I’m going to be the talk of next family dinner?”
“I mean nobody else has anything going on in their lives.” He shrugs, not even slightly ashamed. “Not to mention, we’ve been waiting on you to move on from Tuscaloosa for a long time.”
Move on.
Have I?
Teenage Cutter had hurt, hurt in ways he hadn’t been able to forget for years. It had hung around at the back of his mind every time he’d met a new girl. Each date he’d try to take one of them out on, he’d wondered why were they really there for him? Was it because they liked him, or because someone else had put them up to it? Was I still teenage Cutter?
“Truth is, I don’t know if I’m over it.”
“Then you need to tell her about it.” Dad reaches over, grabbing the bottle of water I have propped on my treadmill. He opens it, taking a drink, while I look on with my mouth open in astonishment. “You need to let her know your fears, that way you can’t push her. We all need love, Cut. You, more than others, because you’re such a sensitive soul. It’s time to let it in.”
Can I do that though?
“Maybe I’m not meant to be like you and Ransom. Find the love of your lives and settle down forever. Have the house and the kid. Maybe that’s not me. By the way, that’s my damn water.”
He stops his treadmill, giving me a look of disbelief. “You and I both know that’s a load of horse shit. If anyone in this family is meant to be married, it’s you. I don’t know why you’re trying to act like you’re too good for it. I’m older, I need to stay hydrated.”
God, I hate when he’s right.
“So what do you think I should do.”
I swear, his eyes light up like I’ve just given him the best Christmas present in the history of Christmas presents. If there’s one thing Holden Thompson likes to do, it’s telling others how they should be living their lives. Guess Ransom hasn’t been seeking him out for advice lately.
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