by R. C. Martin
I look up at Sage, knowing that he’ll help me keep it together. I can see his encouraging smile in his icy blue eyes, and it’s as if he’s caressing my heart, reminding me that it’s in his care and he’s not letting go.
“Yes,” I murmur with a nod. “I would love to come.”
IT’S AFTER ELEVEN by the time we leave Harry and Pepper’s house. The nerves that I felt upon entering their abode are so far gone, I barely remember them. In their place are a dozen other emotions. Love. Excitement. Anticipation. Curiosity. Apprehension. Fear. Doubt—to name just a few. As we exit the neighborhood, Maestro sitting poised in my lap as he stares into the night, curiosity fights its way to the top of the list.
“Earlier, when Pepper and Rose were talking about you telling your parents about your plans, were they exaggerating, or will your parents really freak out that much?”
He coughs out a humorless laugh before he answers. “On a scale of We-don’t-care to What-in-the-world-are-you-thinking?, when they find out I intend to quit LB to pursue music full time, they will lose their shit—putting them at What-the-fuck?”
“At this point, it honestly can’t be a surprise, can it?” I ask, not understanding how their reaction could be expected to be so intense. “You just got back from a nationwide tour. They must know you’re serious.”
“Millie, my parents are still holding onto the hope that this is just a phase.”
“A phase,” I deadpan. “A five-year phase? A five-year phase, during which you have made major life-altering decisions? A five-year phase that you’ve continuously expressed isn’t a phase at all?”
“God, I love you,” he laughs.
I look at him, unsure why he finds the state of his parents’ denial amusing.
“So, what will they say? What kind of argument will you have? It’s not as if they support you financially.”
“You’re right, they don’t—a fact that I will remind them of when they lose their shit. They worry too much. They’ll be all up my ass about losing my one steady source of income. They’ll gripe at me about how reality is going to come knocking on my door and they won’t be there to clean up my mess because I’m grown—which, I will then argue, is exactly my point. It’s also bullshit. Not that I’m ever going to fail and need their help anyway, but even if by some chance I did need them, they wouldn’t hesitate to help me. It’s just a scare tactic—one they’ve been trying to use since I was nineteen.”
I shake my head, knowing good and well that my opinion is bias, but also recognizing that Sage is a man worthy of my faith. I’ve seen him on that stage more than a few times, and I know that he’s someone to believe in.
“They haven’t even seen you perform. How can they argue so adamantly when they don’t have all the facts?”
“They just do, doll face. Pepper says they’re afraid.”
“Of what?”
I hear the rustling of his coat as he lifts and drops his shoulders in a shrug. “The unknown. The unpredictable. I’m their wildcard—the course I’ve taken has never lined up with whatever plan they had for me in their minds. I guess it leaves them unsettled.”
I grow silent, letting his words sink in. My mother didn’t have a plan for my life. She barely had a plan for hers. I didn’t disappoint her because she had no expectations for me at all—except for me to remember that men ruin everything, love is not worth a damn, and that life is not what you make it; rather, you are its victim. When I didn’t live according to her views, I don’t think it was disappointment she felt so much as disgust.
Deep down, if I allow myself to think about it, I believe that she’s always been jealous of me—jealous of the life ahead of me when I was a child; jealous of my freedom when I left Jersey; jealous of my success or any potential relationships. She’s a deeply unhappy woman, but I’m beyond the point of being able to feel sorry for her.
I may not understand why Sage’s parents think the way they think, but even Sage admits that he loves them and they love him; that if anything were to happen and he needed their help, he could rely on them. They might be a pain in the ass to deal with, but they are probably a walk in the park compared to my mother.
“When will you talk to them?” I ask softly, breaking the silence between us.
“I don’t know. Maybe next weekend sometime. It’s best to come at them with as much info as possible, so I definitely want to wait until after our meeting with the label on Monday.”
“That’s smart.”
“Enough about my parents,” he grunts, reaching over to run his hand over my hair. He stops when his hand reaches the back of my neck and gives me a slight squeeze before he lets me go. “Did you have fun tonight?”
“Yeah,” I answer honestly.
“Good. Get used to it. They’ll want you around a lot.”
“They will?” I ask, surprised by the hopeful note in my tone.
“Baby—you were invited to put up the Christmas tree with us. That means they think you’re the shit and they want you around.”
I shift my gaze out the window, feeling oddly bashful about the smile that pulls at my lips.
“I like them, too,” I say quietly.
“Glad to hear it, gorgeous.” He pulls into the vacant spot in his driveway and shuts off his car before looking over at me. “You head on in. I’ll stay out while Maestro does his business and meet you upstairs.”
“Okay.” I get out of the car, setting Maestro down, and hurry in out of the cold.
The television is on in the sitting room. As I step away from the door, I peek over at the couch to see who’s here. Violet is cuddled up against JJ, sleeping, and Derrick is stretched out on the adjacent sofa.
“Hey, Millie,” greets JJ when he spots me.
“Hi,” I reply with a wave.
Derrick jerks his chin up at me before he asks, “What’s up? Want to chill?”
I offer them both a smile as I shake my head no, and I feel it as my ultra sensitive emotions trigger my tears. Obviously, I’ve had an exhausting night. I’m no longer capable of keeping myself in control. The joy I feel in this moment is too overwhelming, and I need to hurry upstairs before I embarrass myself.
“No, thanks,” I murmur, backing my way to the stairs. “I think Sage and I are just going to head to bed.”
“Cool,” says Derrick.
“Night,” JJ calls.
“Goodnight,” I whisper, turning to rush up the stairs.
I make it all the way to Sage’s room, closing the door softly behind me before I let the tears fall.
I COME TO A STOP in front of my bedroom door, scrunching my brow as I lean in to see if I’m hearing correctly. When I hear her sniff, I swing open the door and there she is—my gorgeous girl, sitting on the edge of my bed, her face buried in her hands as she cries.
What the fuck?
I close the door behind me gently. When the door latches shut, her head shoots up. Before I can utter a single word, she’s on her feet, running toward me. She wraps her arms around my waist, burying her face in my chest, and my heart pounds loudly in my ears.
“Millie? What happened?” I ask, closing my arms around her as I press my lips against her hair. She shakes her head at me as she continues to cry, and I’m taken back to a few hours before. She was acting strange at Pepper’s, too. She told me she’d tell me what was up later.
Well, later is now, and I need to know—what the fuck?
“Baby, you’re freaking me out.”
At my confession, she lifts her head and presses herself up on her tiptoes so that she can reach for a kiss. She puckers her lips and I lean down the short distance to give her what she wants.
“I’m sorry,” she mumbles as she continues to kiss me. “Don’t be freaked out, baby.”
“Millie…” I pull my mouth from hers, bringing my hands up to hold her face, brushing away her tears with my thumbs. “You’re crying and I don’t know why. Don’t tell me not to be freaked.”
“I’m fine. I promise.
I’m happy,” she stutters, tears still leaking from her eyes.
“This is you happy?”
“Sage,” she cries, burying her face underneath my chin. “I don’t know how to explain it. I’ve never had what you’re giving me. Not ever. No sisters. No babies. No adorable nephews. No friends to come home to. I don’t remember the last time I helped anyone decorate a Christmas tree.” She sucks in a shuddered breath, her hands gripping two fistfuls of my jacket, as if she can’t get close enough. “I was happy to just have you—but it’s like tonight, tonight I realized that you aren’t you without all of them. And loving you means I get everything that comes with you. It terrifies me, but not because I don’t want it—it’s because I do. And I didn’t know how much I wanted it until tonight.”
My chest grows tight as I listen to her cry. Her reaction shocks me, but the reason behind it doesn’t. It makes me angry. It makes me angry that the simple things in life, the things and the people that often get taken for granted every day, she doesn’t know the beauty of them.
At the same time, it makes me incredibly proud that I can be the one to give her these things. Now, more than ever, I want to give her everything.
“Millicent,” I hum into her hair. “Millie, baby, look at me.”
It takes her a second to calm down enough to pull away in order to meet my gaze. I wipe away her tears once more, staring down into her pretty green eyes, knowing that the woman in my arms is giving just as much to me as she thinks I’m giving her. I’m one lucky, motherfucking bastard.
“I forgot what home felt like,” she speaks before I can, her voice husky and sexy as hell. “Or maybe—maybe I never knew. Not until you. You’re my home, Sage—you’re my home, and I love you so much.”
Her words wreck me.
Whatever I might have said before, it can’t compare to that. Nothing I say can match that. Abso-fucking-lutlely nothing. So I don’t say anything at all. Instead, I close my eyes and press my forehead against hers. After a moment, I slip my hands into her coat and ease it off of her shoulders. She drops her arms, allowing the garment to fall to the floor. I discard mine, too, and then reach for the hem of her sweater. She helps me pull it off and then reaches for the bottom of my shirt as I toss my glasses onto my dresser. Slowly, we help each other undress until we’re both completely bare. Then I reach for her face and lower my mouth to hers. I kiss her gently at first, and then her words replay in my head. I realize that tonight she’s given me all of her. Somehow I know, there are no longer any barriers between us. No secrets. No fears. It’s just her and me.
She’s mine. Wholly. Completely. All fucking mine.
I kiss her deeper, groaning as I wrap my arms around her middle, bending down to crush her against my chest. She whimpers, snaking her arms around my neck as her tongue tangles with mine. My dick is stiff and anxious, and when I stand to my full height and lift her from her feet, she brings her legs up and circles them around me. Her pussy now fully exposed, I don’t hesitate to reach down and guide my way in.
“Sage,” she moans as I grab hold of her waist, easing her all the way over my dick.
“Millicent—fuck—I love you too, baby. You’re all I want.”
She squeezes her legs, trying to pull herself closer, and I know what she needs. I walk her to the bed, my dick easing out and in with every step. When I lay her down across my bed, I’m careful not to sever our connection. As I begin to pump in and out of her, she pulls me down to kiss me.
We devour each other fervently, both of us trying to say what words could never express. It’s a hard, wet, deep, and wild kiss. When she sucks on my bottom lip, I thrust into her a little harder, unable to stop myself. She sighs, freeing my lip, and I pound into her harder still.
“Mmmm, yes—more, baby.”
I increase my pace, ramming into her until I’m balls deep. Her legs squeeze my waist as she arches her back, her mouth falling open in silent pleasure.
“Millicent, fuck, you’re so goddamn beautiful.”
“Say it again—my name,” she pleads, breathlessly.
“Millicent,” I groan.
She whimpers, calling out, “Sage—yes!”
She feels so damn good, her pussy slick, tight, and swollen, hugging my dick just right. Her hands are everywhere, tracing over each and every one of my tattoos. Every sound she makes brings me closer and closer to orgasm, but I hold on, keeping my shit together, wanting this to last.
It’s not long before we’re both covered in sweat, the room heavy with the scent of her sweet arousal. She smells incredible, and it turns me on even more. I reach down and grab a palm full of her ass, squeezing the flesh as I continue to take all that I want—all that she gives me. There’s something indescribable happening between us. It’s not so gentle as love, but it’s not as animalistic as just sex, either. Every thrust, every grunt and moan, every whimper and sigh, every touch—it’s greedy, it’s passionate, and it’s fucking delicious. Whatever it is, it’s something I’ve never had with anyone. I know with all my heart that I’ll never find it with anyone else—and I sure as hell intend to hang the fuck onto this.
When I can’t hold back any longer, I lower my lips so that they’re pressed against her ear, and I fuck her good and sweet as I whisper, “You’re my best girl, Millicent. My only girl, baby. Come for me, gorgeous.” Then, as I flick her lobe with my tongue, I slide my hand away from her ass and in between us, reaching for her clit. I barely graze the surface and she cries out loudly, her swollen center clenching my dick. I come seconds later, driving in and out of her slowly as I fill her with my seed.
I release my weight on top of her, needing just a second to catch my breath, and she runs her fingers through my hair. When I start to move, her whole body locks around mine in protest.
“No. Not yet. Please? Don’t go.”
I tilt my head down to graze my lips against her shoulder before I assure her, “I won’t fucking dare.”
THERE AREN’T MANY days in my past that I cling to. I don’t have a lot of memories that I deem important enough to cherish. Even my most significant milestones have been tarnished, knowing that I didn’t have anyone I loved or anyone that loved me there to celebrate with me. Some things I remember against my will—glimpses of my childhood, moments I wish I could forget. But yesterday I will hold dear, filled with memories I wish never to forget.
Sage and I were up for hours Saturday night, loving, fucking, and worshipping each other’s bodies. Including the marathon we had had earlier in the day, I’m sure I’ve never had so much sex in a twenty-four hour period. Not that I had anything to complain about. As always, he took very good care of me, owning every single one of my orgasms.
Sunday morning was spent sleeping. I was woken by his sweet kisses in the early afternoon. He had made us breakfast in bed—a stack of grilled cheese sandwiches. We laid around, eating until we were full, and then lazed for a few hours, watching movies and dozing in each other’s arms. When the sun went down, we shared a shower and then we each got ready to head back over to the Montgomery residence.
As soon as we got there, I could hear the Christmas music wafting from out of the house. Once inside, we found Rose was dancing with Sophia in her arms, and Harry was carrying up boxes from the basement—his boys trailing behind helping. Pepper was in the kitchen, finishing up her preparation of heavy snacks for us to munch on while we got started.
Upon entering the sitting room, I was impressed to see so many boxes scattered about, ready to be unpacked. Sage helped Harry piece together their artificial tree—since, I learned, Harry is allergic to the real ones—and then Harry disappeared to start his first batch of popcorn. We ate while we decorated, and everyone was having such a marvelous time. Sage sang along to the music, his sister’s joining in. Pepper can barely hold a tune, which made us all laugh, but she kept on, and everyone encouraged her. The comradery and love between the three siblings was palpable, and I could tell that Harry and the little ones were in on it, too. Their fes
tive joy was contagious—especially Henley and Carter’s—and as I took my turn holding Sophia, even she had a twinkle of amazement in her sweet, brown eyes.
When the tree was complete, and all the empty boxes were stowed away for the next couple of weeks, I stood back and admired it. For the first time ever, I saw the beauty in a Christmas tree. But it wasn’t the tree itself that was exceptional; it was the the memories that hung on the tree, and the memories of putting it up that made it so special.
Since Sage had an early morning, we didn’t stay late. Knowing that he’d be out the door before I was ready to get out of bed, he insisted we stay at my place. I didn’t argue. He left while I was still half sleeping, kissing me goodbye and promising to call me later. Now, after having dressed in a pair of sweatpants, a racerback workout top, and a light hoodie, I wander down the hall to the kitchen, pulling my long hair back into a ponytail as I let my mind drift back to last night.
Rose was spot on about Harry’s popcorn; and just now, I could go for a big mug of Pepper’s hot cocoa. Instead, I settle for what I have in the fridge—a cup of yogurt and an apple.
My plans for the day are completely low key. I decided not to do any school prep until after Christmas, so while Sage is in Boulder, I’ll finish reading my current book. Later, we’re supposed to go out so he can tell me all about his meeting. I check the time, noting that it’s nearly eleven o’clock. They were scheduled to meet at ten, which had them on the road a little after eight. Sage says they won’t always have to go so far as Boulder and that most of their recording time will be spent in Denver; nevertheless, I see a lot of hours on the road in their future. Yet, I know that they all consider Fort Collins home, and they don’t mind the drive.
I’m pulled from my thoughts at the sound of my phone. Finished with my breakfast, I hurry back to my room to see who it is. I notice right away that it’s a New Jersey area code, but the number is not one saved to my phone. I furrow my brow in confusion, but slide my finger across the screen to take the call anyway.
