My heart crumbled like a broken empire. “You were my life, Spencer. It was a last resort. Something I thought would make you realize what was going on.”
“Oh, you made me see, Georgia. You made me realize that you didn’t understand what it meant to love someone, so congratufuckulations.” He slow clapped, and a flood of heat drowned my entire body.
“And you understand what it means to love someone?”
“I wouldn’t have left you. No matter what. Roaring demons and all, I would’ve stayed.”
The thing he didn’t see, every time he got high, part of him did leave me. He may have been there physically when we lost Bennington, but emotionally, he was a ghost.
My vision throbbed with each pound of my heart. Regret and anger waned into resentment. He didn’t even make it the three months I had begged him for. How much could I have meant?
I took a few steps toward him with my chest heaving. “You didn’t fight for me!”
Spencer shot off the couch, quickly closing the space between us. “You didn’t see the fight I put up because you were thousands of miles away. I was drowning. Could you not see that? I was drowning, and you left me! Do you know what that did to me?” His face was now inches from mine, a storm rolling through the deep blue of his eyes.
For the first time, I realized, maybe we’d ruined one another.
“How many times have you overdosed, Spencer? Did you expect me to just sit back and watch you slowly kill yourself? I tried to fix you.” I lowered my voice barely above a whisper. “I tried and I—”
“Fix me?” His expression grew severe, brows furrowed, nostrils flaring. “So now I’m some broken toy? No, Georgia.” He slapped his chest. His cheeks went red, and I flinched. “You don’t fix this. Especially not by walking out like every-fucking-body else in my life had.”
My heart wilted like a rose, the last petal floating to the ground. I turned my back to him while my mind tumbled into a tangled web of memories and regrets. I exhaled. Inhaled. Swallowed.
Do not be weak. Not now. . .
I fought the stinging tears, the tremble working from my fingers to my toes. Maybe I had screwed up and made it worse. We’d both lost so much, and while I felt abandoned when he was high, I had physically left the person who had once saved me.
We were two people who couldn’t swim, dropped into the middle of an ocean. I couldn’t save him, and he could no longer save himself.
The jars in the refrigerator door rattled. Bottles clanked. I heard the release of air from a bottle opening. The clink of metal on the counter. Spencer was no longer behind me.
I stormed into the kitchen and found him by the sink with a beer to his lips. “What are you doing?” I walked over and snatched a cider Tom had left months ago from his grasp, then dumped it in the sink. The foam bubbled up from the drain.
“If you don’t want to be my wife, you don’t get to tell me what to do.” He yanked open the fridge and grabbed another drink.
I swatted that one out of his hand, and the glass busted to bits on the tile. The stout scent of barley filled the room, and anger flashed over his face. Without warning, he grabbed my hips and pinned me between his body and the sink. The cold blue of his eyes was like the stormy ocean at night, and I feared today would be the day I finally drowned in their murky depths.
“Tell me you hate me, and I’ll sign your damn papers.” His fingers twitched against my skin while his gaze searched mine.
I couldn’t lie. I couldn’t tell him I didn’t love him.
Spencer shook his head. “I know you too well, Georgia Anne. And I know, at the very least”—one of his fingertips tapped over my heart—“deep inside, you’re still in love with me.”
Seconds ticked by as I struggled for words. Warm tears trickled down my cheeks.
The anger fled from his face like receding tides. “You know what the hardest thing about you walking away was?” He placed my hand to his hard chest. Steady thumps beat against my palm. “I could still feel you. Right here.”
I closed my eyes and sensed him inch closer.
“I’m still madly in love with you.” His lips pressed to mine. Soft. Apologetic, and just like every time he touched me like this, I went limp. His tongue teased the seam of my mouth, and the last bit of restraint I possessed broke like a dam.
The kiss deepened on a hard breath. My fingers scratched into his thick hair. With each swipe of his tongue, the passion grew angry and savage. It was a physical expression of a year’s worth of hurt and longing, of I hate that I still love yous. It was a sunrise and a sunset at the same time, and I told myself nothing would come from this. Because it couldn’t, even if I was drunk on the memory of us and the feeling that the entire world could collapse and I wouldn’t care. It could go no farther than this goodbye kiss.
His lips traveled to the crook of my neck. “I’ve missed you every damn day.”
“I’ve missed you, too.” Those words fell from my lips like poisoned fruit.
In a matter of seconds, he’d scooped me into his arms and carted me out of the kitchen and up the stairs, his mouth never leaving mine.
My back hit the mattress. His shirt came off. Heated kisses traveled across my throat as he worked his way to the low collar of my dress. The fingers of both his hands laced through mine, trapping me to the bed. The last time I had been touched was the day in our kitchen when he’d made all those promises he had subsequently broken. Want built between my legs—anticipation. I didn’t have to imagine what was headed my way. I knew. God. I knew.
“Tell me again,” he mumbled against my throat. “Tell me you miss me.”
“I miss you,” I breathed.
He shoved the stretchy material of the dress beneath my breasts. The air caused the skin around my nipple to tighten just before he sucked it into his mouth.
Within minutes, we’d undressed each other, ripping and tearing our clothes like they were toxic.
Bare skin to bare skin. Lips to lips. His hand crept across my stomach to the apex of my thigh. I dropped one knee to the side, making myself available to him.
Foreheads together, our gazes locked while he slipped one then two fingers inside me. His teeth sank into my bottom lip on a deep, “Fuck. . .”
My heels dug into the mattress, and I squirmed from the welcomed intrusion. The piece of me that would forever bear the scars of our love begged me to stop him, but my heart pleaded for him to go faster. He was the one thing I couldn’t say no to. My vice. And like an addict, with Spencer, it only took one slip up, and I knew I’d drive myself to the brink of death to have him again and again.
Loving him had been a craving I’d managed to ignore, but I couldn’t take the withdrawals any longer. “Please,” I whispered against his mouth.
“Not yet.” His fingers dipped in and out with leisure, his thumb making circles over sensitive skin. I went to grab him. He nudged my hand away. “This is only about you.”
I took in each touch while telling myself this did not mean forever. This was a day. A moment. A taste of what forever would have been like with him. . . And then I lost myself, focusing on how he still knew my body like the strings of his guitar.
My nails dug into his shoulder when his mouth moved between my thighs. His lips felt like fire, hot and consuming on my sensitive skin. “I’ve missed all of this.”
Within seconds, I was at the brink. Heart pounding, body buzzing. Nothing more than instinctual needs. My back bowed away from the bed. My fingers threaded through his thick hair. “Stop. Stop. Stop.” I yanked my hips away from him and pulled on his shoulders. “I want you.”
Smiling, he leaned over the side of the bed to grab his jeans from the floor. He pulled out a condom, tearing the foil before he sat on his knees. That was something we had never used. Not once, and I pushed down the sick feeling twisting my gut, telling myself to focus on him.
On this.
On us.
Not on who either of us may have become in the last year. . .
>
His eyes locked with mine when he moved between my legs. “Promise you won’t hate me tomorrow?”
“I’ll only hate you if you don’t.”
His weight settled between my thighs. Then he was there, pressing his way in slowly. His arms slipped underneath my back. He held me tight and close while he worked his way deeper only to painstakingly pull out. His head dropped into the crook of my neck on a groan when he drove back in. I fought the fissures tearing through my heart.
For a few, silent moments, neither of us moved like breathing was the only thing we could manage.
“I need you, Georgia Anne.” His mouth covered mine once more, and we became a mess of tangled limbs and sweat-slicked skin.
A symphony of heavy breaths between I’m sorries and I love yous and please. God. Please. And after the tension broke into bliss-filled moans and nails digging into backs, when my body felt like gravity had given up on me, I laid beside him, wishing he was still my forever.
The sunlight no longer poured through the window, and the song of crickets crept through the crack in the pane. Spencer’s fingers danced along the curve of my hip. I stared at our reflection in my dresser mirror. Sticky from sex, naked, and wrapped up in each other. For a moment, it was like nothing had ever gone wrong. This moment was a beautiful rose in the middle of a briar patch that I wanted so badly to pick, knowing I couldn’t come away unscathed.
“You remember how we used to race each other to the steps when we lived in Hacienda Apartments?” He traced a heart over my back.
“Yeah.” I felt myself smile.
“I always beat you.”
“Except that one time.” I laughed at the memory of him sprinting through the pelting rain with his arms flailing.
He would have made it to the apartment first had he not been a dick and glanced over his shoulder to call me a turtle. That’s when he had slipped in a puddle and gashed his shin on the concrete step.
“Oh, the time you left me wounded on the bottom step?” He gathered my hair to the side and pressed a kiss to the back of my neck.
“You took off on two. Serves you right for cheating.”
His warm breath fanned over my skin. “I miss those days, you know?”
“Yeah. Me too.”
Silence stretched out.
“Come back to California with me?”
Had my soul had its way, I would have torn open my ribcage and handed my beating heart to him. “Spencer. I can’t.”
“You can.”
I rolled over to face him. “This.” I motioned between our unclothed bodies. “It doesn’t change anything. Of course, I still love you. Of course I miss you, but Spencer, I can’t go back to that cycle of. . .”
“Give me one more chance.”
“We’ve done this before.” But how I stupidly wanted to do it again.
“Seven days.” His nostrils flared. “Just give me seven days.”
“For what?”
“To remind you why we belong together.”
It wasn’t an issue of me thinking we didn’t belong together. I knew we did. Our energies blended perfectly.
Before he had started using, there wasn’t a moment I ever wanted to be away from him, and there was a sense of peace and calm in his arms that I had never found anywhere else—Not watching the sun rise over the Alps or the sun set over the Mediterranean. I had literally searched the world, and nothing came close to him. He was my one, and together or apart, that would forever be true. “It’s not that.”
His palm swept along my jaw. The familiar feel of his calloused fingers stirred a flurry of emotion. “Seven days, babe. Let me start by staying clean for seven days.”
“And then what?”
“Then give me seven more. . .”
I chewed at my lip.
“The first time I fuck up, I’ll sign the papers, whether that’s tomorrow or ten years from today.”
My chin fell to my chest, and he placed a finger beneath it, lifting my gaze to his. “You left the drugs. You didn’t leave me.” His brow furrowed. “I would rather die than live without you.”
“I’d rather live without you than watch you die.”
His lips pressed to the corner of my mouth. “You won’t have to do either of those this time. I promise.”
So many promises. So many hopes for things I doubted he could give.
There’s a proverb that a man shouldn’t trust his own heart, and I had to agree because this was hopelessly foolish. But when I got down to it, love was nothing more than a hopeless fool willing to give up the world for one chance at forever.
And where Spencer was concerned, my heart only ever said yes.
17
Spencer
Later that night, Georgia sliced tomatoes by the sink while colossal tears rolled down my face from the asshole onion I was cutting.
“Son of a bitch.” I dabbed my eyes with my wrist. “Onions are the skunk of the vegetable world.”
Georgia laughed. “The skunk of the. . . Wow. I had forgotten how ridiculous you are.”
“I prefer the word fun.” I chopped again. Onion jizz shot in my eye, and I dropped the knife to the counter. “Alright, you dick. You win.”
Her hip bumped mine, and she nudged me out of the way. Georgia Anne diced that onion like Chef Ramsey—without a single tear.
“Now, how come my eyes bleed and yours don’t even turn pink?”
“Contacts. Remember?” She grinned before laying the knife on the cutting board and scooping a handful of onions into her palm and tossing them into the pot. They hissed. Oil bubbled and popped.
“I’m not sure how your Bolognese is gonna taste, but I still say you made the best Ramen Noodles.”
“Ramen Noodles—that’s all we ate for two years straight. I won’t even touch them out of pure principle.”
I proudly pushed my shoulders back. “It’s still a staple in my diet.”
“As are Whoppers; I’m sure.” She faked a gag. “I never understood how you ate those nasty malt balls.”
Standing in a tiny kitchen with her again was surreal in the best of ways. It was like we hadn’t missed a beat—almost.
Georgia swiped a hand through her hair, and a piece of onion stuck in the dark strands. I moved closer to grab it. Our eyes locked. My gaze strayed to the perfect bow of her lips begging to be kissed.
This was the almost part of not missing a beat.
Tender touches and kisses were tentative, and I hated it. Nothing had ever been tentative between us. Sure, we’d made love earlier, but there was no asking for permission with that. It just happened. My current situation of wanting to take her bottom lip between my teeth was different.
My hand landed on the curve of her waist. Her gaze dropped to my mouth just before she spun toward the stove. “I don’t want to burn the garlic.” She took a wooden spoon from a drawer and scraped the bottom of the simmering pot.
I hopped onto the counter. My feet shook so hard my left Van slipped off. Then my right. A high or her. Chose motherfucker. I just had to convince my dopamine-hungry brain that I didn’t need the drugs. Simple. I nearly rolled my eyes at that thought.
“You’re in school?” I blurted, needing a distraction.
“Yeah. I figured it would be good to keep myself busy.” She grabbed the cutting board and raked the tomatoes into the pot.
“I’m proud of you.” I swallowed. “Babe.”
“Thanks.” She stirred for a second. “What happened earlier. . .” Shit. Here we went. “I don’t think we should get too comfortable.”
I lifted my chin. “Yeah. Sure.” Then I pushed off the counter and went to the pantry. I didn’t know how to do this with her. I didn’t want to know how to do this with her. “Where are the noodles?”
“Second shelf from the top.”
I scanned past the bags of Jasmine rice and multi-grain, fiber-rich cereals, then grabbed a box of spaghetti and set it on the counter beside her.
She focused on the boili
ng marinara with an intent that was nothing short of obvious avoidance. “Anyway, I’m sure there’s a girl who’d be heartbroken if we got too comfortable, so it’s better if we—”
It was always drugs and girls. “I’ve never cheated on you.”
She sprinkled salt over the sauce, nostrils flaring.
“Georgia Anne?”
“I didn’t say you did.” The pot bubbled. When she reached for the pepper shaker, I grabbed her wrist.
“We’re still married, and I just said, I never cheated on you.”
“Oh, come on, Spencer. I’m not that—”
“Not that what?”
“You had condoms.”
“Nash was messing around with me. Stuck them in my wallet.” That comment got me an eye roll.
“Why wouldn’t you when you could have any girl you wanted?”
I took her chin in my hand, forcing her gaze to mine. “Because I’ve only ever wanted you. Since the day I kissed you in my kitchen, I’ve never touched another woman. Not once. I may have screwed up a lot of shit, but that—” I caught the tear trekking down her cheek with my thumb. “That’s something that will always be sacred to me.” I held up my hand and tapped my thumb to my wedding band.
Her lips slammed over mine, and I stumbled against the cabinets. “Don’t lie to me,” she breathed between hard kisses.
My hands crept beneath the back of her shirt. “I’m not.”
She grabbed the waist of my jeans and popped the button lose. I tugged her shirt over her head, then dropped it to the floor before removing my own. Warm skin pressed against mine, her tits creating the perfect pressure.
Georgia’s touch alone could drive me to the brink. Her naked touch—drove me mad.
I kissed along her jaw, down the side of her throat while working her jeans over her hips. I nipped at her breast when she shoved down my pants, then wrapped her fingers around me with a squeeze. I grabbed her bare ass, and I lifted her onto the counter, kissing her hard and deep. She was the air feeding my fire, and I couldn’t get enough until everything around us had been burned to smoldering ash.
Over You Page 12
