Pressure Point (Point #2)

by Olivia Luck

  Uncertainty rolls through me. Katya’s impossible to read.

  “When they sign a contract for phase two enhancements, the entire department’s yours.”

  “Pardon?” I ask in astonishment.

  “You heard me. All of Chicago account management will become your responsibility.”

  “But – erm.” Geez, I sound unprofessional, and Katya knows it by her slight smirk. I clear my throat gruffly then continue. “We discussed a promotion after the first phase. Chicago Center will provide me with glowing reviews, I’m certain of it, and there’s no doubt they will want more features from the platform.”

  Okay. This might be a trick of my imagination, but I swear Katya emits a low chuckle. “Signed contracts don’t lie, Stella. That’s what it will take to get your promotion. Do you have any questions?”

  Tons, you sanctimonious dragon lady!

  “No questions. Just results. You’ll have that signed contract before Labor Day.”

  Katya nods her dismissal, and I force a polite thanks for her time. The moment that I shut the office door behind me, betrayal spikes through me. Katya vowed a promotion after the launch of phase one and now she went back on her word. How can I trust that she’ll give me the promotion after the contract is signed? Despite my hurt and the poker hot anger flushing my cheeks, my gut reaction is to get the dang contract signed and rub it in her face. She wants to challenge me? Fine.

  Bring it on.

  A few hours later, I’m less staunch in my reaction. As I dress for dinner with Blake, I’m running the events of the day through my mind in a pathetic, endless loop. After all that work, I should be cheering and full of pride. Instead, I’m deflated. The goal that I thought I was working toward was cruelly yanked away, leaving me with only more work. In lieu of a promotion, I have a pile of doubt and a massive challenge ahead.

  The buzz from the doorbell jerks me out of my pessimistic thoughts and I make the trek downstairs to Blake. The sight of my handsome boyfriend normally spikes my heart rate in delicious anticipation, but today there’s something off with him. He looks as discouraged as I feel, if not worse. Blake’s gazing at the ground, and his shoulders are slightly slumped. Brown strands of hair are askew on his head and his shirt’s not perfectly tucked in.

  Something’s off.

  “Blake, what’s wrong?”

  “I…”

  All thoughts of my career are immediately forgotten. My strong, unaffected man looks almost as distressed as when we found Zoe after what happened at Clarkes Elementary School all those months ago. I slip my hand into his and squeeze it reassuringly. “Dinner’s canceled,” I say. “Let’s go upstairs and talk.”

  “Baby.” His grip on my hand tightens and he yanks me back to his side. Fear spikes his deep brown eyes. I fit my arms around his back and pull him against me. Blake drops his face to the crook of my neck and he inhales deeply, tickling my skin. “Being near you makes everything better.”

  I manage to get him inside and on my couch. He doesn’t let me go far, tugging me into his lap and winding his arms around my waist. I press against his firm chest, surrounded by his warmth. “Tell me what’s going on. You’re scaring me,” I admit.

  “Zoe’s leaving Chicago.”

  “What?” I clamber out of our embrace, staring at him in shock. “Why? Where?”

  “You’re missing how,” he says drily.

  “Start from the beginning,” I demand.

  “Things have been going well with her therapist. Really well. She meets with him twice a week and I’m starting to see my sister again, you know?”

  No, she doesn’t know that I exist in your life. The thought scalds my heart. I have little idea of what’s happening with my best friend. Needless to say, she likely doesn’t have a clue that Blake and I have been dating since January.

  “He encouraged her to leave the city. There are too many bad memories for her here, apparently.”

  “Where will she go?” My voice sounds weak to my own ears. It hurts, still, that Zoe doesn’t want me in her life. More than that, Blake still hasn’t told her about us. My insecurity rears its ugly head, and inwardly, I shake it off.

  “Mom left Zoe a house in New Point, Michigan. Actually, I’ve been renovating it for the past year to set it up as a lake house for the two of us. She wants to go there next month, get the hell out of town and away from me. God, Stella, did I fuck up that badly that she needs to leave the state?” Blake’s vulnerability takes precedence over the thoughts racing through my mind. Renovating a house? I’ve never heard of this project. I collect him against my chest, pressing his trembling body close.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong, Blake. You did everything right. Zoe’s strong enough to make a decision that’s best for her. She wouldn’t be in this state of mind if you hadn’t supported her and encouraged her to get professional help. Be proud of her. Let her go.”

  “I can’t,” he mumbles.

  “You can.” I squeeze him and drop a kiss to his messy hair. Blake’s arms go around my waist tightly in a vise grip. We sit there, silently holding one another for a few beats and then Blake goes stiff. He sits up, spine straight, and catches my cheeks in his hands. I know what he wants without a word spoken.

  Our lips fuse together and my legs find their way around his waist. Blake stands, cupping my bottom in his large hands. Lightning streaks through my body when he kicks open the door to my bedroom and drops me onto the middle of my mattress. I love it when passion consumes his control.

  He doesn’t speak as he tugs my blouse over my head, or as he shuffles my jeans down my hips. Only my heavy breaths break our silence as I drag his t-shirt off, and place kisses along his abs, moving to my knees, my persistent touches traveling higher. I flick his nipple with my tongue, and suddenly, Blake’s slim hold on his manners disintegrates.

  Blake thrusts inside of me so forcefully, so quickly, so powerfully that I’m unable to think about the growing list of concerns. Kisses down the column of my throat distract me from wondering why I’ve never heard about a house in nearby New Point. A firm grip on my waist to flip me on my stomach and a rough command to get on my knees to enable him to access me in a deeper, more intimate angle makes me forget that I’m missing from a big part of Blake’s life. Teeth nipping on my shoulder as I climax makes everything else disappear.

  It’s only my body and my Blake on my mind. Whatever he needs, I’ll give him.

  The next morning when I wake up, coldness surrounds me. The normal cocoon of warmth that Blake provides by cradling me from behind is absent. I flip over and find nothing. Silence is my only companion. Even Blake’s pillow is cool. He must have been gone for a while.

  Everything I squelched the night before comes rushing back. Blake’s gone, only a note on my pillow in his place.

  Had to get home and talk to Zoe. Going to try to convince her to stay. I’m so sorry we didn’t talk about your work, baby. Tonight, I want to hear everything. Meet me after your drinks.

  p.s. Snow White has nothing on you.

  Yesterday, by far, was the biggest day of my career yet, and Blake reduced it to a line in a handwritten note. If it weren’t for the raw fear that I saw in him last night, I might be pissed. Seriously pissed.

  Scratch that.

  I’m hurt. What other things has Blake not told me?

  You’ve only been dating a few months. What does he owe you, a line item of his entire life? Reality checks suck. Okay, we’ve known each other for many years, but we haven’t been dating more than a hundred days. Plus, I haven’t communicated my feelings to him. Typically, I let him take the lead and put my own needs secondary. Can I really blame him for that?

  The thing that bugs me the most is that Blake didn’t listen to my advice. Although he’s been Zoe’s dad for fifteen years, he’s definitely not ready to let her go so quickly. With a sigh, I climb out of bed and head to the bathroom to begin my morning routine before work. Blake needs a supportive girlfriend, not a nag.

&nbs
p; So that’s what I’ll give him.

  After five months of dating, you shouldn’t get nervous before a date.

  Right?

  I shift on my feet next to the gate in front of Blake’s house. Since Zoe declared she was moving last month, the pace of our burgeoning relationship has crashed over some hurdles. Repeatedly.

  Apparently, Blake doesn’t adapt well to change because he’s been in a sour mood ever since Zoe laid down the law and told him that she was leaving Chicago with or without his support. Eventually, he conceded and gave his reluctant blessing. At least that’s what he told me. I still haven’t seen Zoe since that day she begged me to leave the very house I’m standing outside now. She left earlier in the week on the seventy-mile trek to Michigan.

  It’s okay to be nervous because today is the first time that I’ve been at this house since Blake and I slept together and Zoe kicked me out of her life.

  Aside from the night when he found out she was moving, Blake and I haven’t seen each other much. He’s spent most of his time finalizing the details on the lake house while trying to convince Zoe to stay.

  “Waiting for something?” Blake’s tiny voice asks from the speaker above the buzzer button.

  Some of my nerves slip away when I hear his familiar, playful tone. Maybe I’m reading too much into his recent departure. It’s not like we stopped communicating, it just became…less.

  Before I can answer, he unlocks the gate and I make my way to the front door. The heavy wood structure flies open and there Blake stands in all his glory. Low slung jeans, a white V-neck t-shirt. He’s lickable and tempting, especially when he flashes his half-smile half-smirk my way.

  “Did you lose your voice since we talked this morning?”

  I place my hand on the wall of muscle that passes for his chest and push him back slightly. “You caught me daydreaming.” Blake’s hand closes around mine and he pulls me completely inside the house and flush against his body. One hand rests on the small of my back, the other dives into my loose waves.

  “About me, I hope.”

  We’ve been dating for months, and my body still reacts as if it’s the first time he pulled me close. The filter my brain typically uses breaks down, leaving the flicker of disappointment plain as day on my face. Doesn’t he know by now that it’s always him? My dreams have always been about him.

  “What did I say?” He releases my hair, moving a hand to cup the back of my head and hold my attention firmly on him.

  “There’s nothing else I dream about,” I answer softly.

  Blake responds with a kiss like my lifeless words satisfy his question.

  The intoxicating scent of his aftershave wraps around me as it always has, driving me nearly to distraction. But this time, it’s not enough to divert my attention. Little worries nip at me. Are we back to where we started—when Blake spent more time in his own thoughts than together with mine? Sometimes, when I’m particularly insecure, I wonder if I’m more invested in this relationship than Blake.

  “Why don’t you help yourself to a drink and I’ll meet you out back? I need to make a quick call.” He disappears as quickly as he arrived, leaving me to find my own way to the kitchen. Suddenly, I feel stupid for my anxiety about returning to this house. Clearly, it doesn’t bother Blake that the last time I was here we fucked like a nameless one-night stand.

  One bottle of water later, I’m curled up on a chaise lounge on the stone patio, watching puffy white clouds drift across a bright blue sky. The distance Blake forcibly thrust between us and the stress at work is starting to wane on me. I’ve been tired, grumpy, and clearly more insecure than normal.

  There’s a noticeable difference in my relationship and that, above all else, stings the most. Violet’s been asking about what’s bothering me, and I blame it on the stress of keeping my pile of clients happy. Confidence I normally carry when it comes to my career leaks out of me like helium sliding out of a balloon. Slowly slipping out until the point where I’m afraid there will be nothing left.

  Behind me, the sliding glass door opens and shuts. The clink of a glass bottle on the table next to me startles me from my morose thoughts.

  “Sorry about that. Needed to check in with Zoe.”

  Don’t be jealous of Zoe. Don’t be jealous of Zoe. The emotion is raw, sharp. I want Blake to notice that I need him. My nose wrinkles in self-loathing. How can I fault him for taking care of his sister when she is in need?

  I’ll be fine. He’s the one who needs my support now more than ever.

  “How’s she doing?”

  “Fine, except for almost locking herself out of the house. There’s no support system for her in New Point. I give her until the end of summer. Then she’ll be back.” A hard edge laces his tone, the tension unmistakable.

  Rolling onto my side, I glance at where he sits on a chair adjacent to me. There was a time when he couldn’t bear to be near me and not touching. Stamping the painful observation down, I appraise him thoughtfully. “Maybe Zoe’s felt out of control. Moving to New Point by herself could give her the independence she needs.”

  Blake frowns and responds sharply. “Zoe doesn’t need independence, she needs her family.”

  I fight back the hurt building inside at his abrasiveness. “I don’t disagree with you,” I respond quietly. “But I’m trying to make sense of this like you. Please don’t get upset with me.”

  “I’m not.” He sighs heavily then reaches down for a swig from the IPA. “Sorry.”

  It’s a curt response, telling me everything that I need to know. Blake’s so not okay.

  “Do you want to talk more?” I ask softly.

  Blake’s beer bottle hits the side table with a clatter. “Nothing to talk about. I’m going to Michigan next weekend to see her.”

  “You’re what?” My heart twinges sharply. It’s a little thing, Blake visiting Zoe, and something that I prepared myself for, but still the abrupt decision makes me feel left out. Blake’s kept me separated from every detail of Zoe’s move. Instead of moving closer together, we’re drifting further apart, a chasm keeping me from this portion of his life.

  An upturned palm extends toward me. The gesture lifts my heart from where it’s fallen in my chest and I allow him to gently pull me to my feet and over to where he sits. Blake’s long, muscular legs surround me and I settle back against his chest. When he speaks, his lips are pressed against my temple, and I revel in his masculine scent and the way his arms flex around me. “Friday is the anniversary of my mother’s death. We spend it together every year.”

  The words wash over me and I immediately regret questioning him, if even silently. Of course, he would spend the time with Zoe. I place my hand over his two, which are clasped in the middle of my chest. “You should go,” I concur.

  He presses a sweet kiss to my forehead. “When our mom and her dad died, they were on their first vacation to the New Point house. I think that’s part of the reason she wanted to move there, to be closer to them in some respects.”

  I nod in silent agreement. Zoe had already told me about the drunk driver who killed her parents fifteen years ago. But I never looked at it from that angle. “Does she know that you’re coming?”

  “I’ll surprise her. With all the mess about moving, I don’t think she’s paid much attention to the date. But once it rolls around, she’ll need me.”

  What about when I need you? I brush the thought away furiously. It’s not in my nature to be jealous, and I don’t like this side of myself. It’s not jealousy. Blake doesn’t know what’s happening at work or how it still hurts immensely not to have Zoe as a friend.

  Try as I might, I can’t push the pain splintering through my chest. We’re lying together on this chair, not a sliver of air between our bodies, and yet, it’s almost as if we’re back to square one.

  Blake

  Grains of sand sink beneath my footsteps as I make my way toward the lively, lakeside bar in New Point. With my free hand, I yank the bill of my baseball cap fu
rther down my head, not wanting to be recognized by a fan or heckler in my attempt to find my sister. The other hand cradles the first of two surprises for my baby sister. I’m not positive that she’s at this bar, but when I passed it as I drove through town, I instinctively knew I’d find her there. Traditionally, we find a bar and get shitfaced on this anniversary, sharing memories of our mom and her father until our words slur together and a nasty hangover is inevitable.

  The day is not heavy with bittersweet memories that would normally occupy my thoughts. I’m not focusing on my lost loved ones, but of a very real force in my life: Stella. The last time I saw her was five days ago on Sunday. Work’s been occupying most of her time and I was in LA for the past two nights. Stella understands my responsibilities to my job and my sister. That’s what I love about her; Stella never nags me for attention or demands my time.

  Hold up. Love. Did that just cross my mind? No way. We’ve only been dating for a few months. Love’s the last thing that I have time for, what with a team that just won the Super Bowl and a never-ending public relations junket. There’s the hockey team day-to-day duties and, of course, always, whatever Zoe needs. No, I’m not in love with Stella.

  I’m still wading through that automatic thought when I shift into the bar and catch sight of my morose-looking sister toying with a tumbler of tequila. The occasion is somber, but I’m fighting back a smile at the sight of her.

  When I reach Zoe’s side, I curl my arm around her back and place a carrot cake cupcake on the concrete bar slab in front of her.

  “You’re here,” she mumbles, sagging against me in relief. All the humor evaporates and I hug her close to my chest.

  “This is our day, Cupcake,” I remind her. Then I release her and drop down on the stool next to her. A few hours earlier, Zoe had called to talk and I blew her off to get to New Point faster. “You called right as I was climbing into the car getting ready to drive down,” I explain.