by Liz Crowe
He’d managed to avoid Lynn completely. Pretty easy since he made the schedule and never had them crossing paths. His body had eased away from its skin-crawling need to fuck all of the time which had gripped him during the couple of months Lynn had been obliging him by taking the edge off. And, apparently, falling in love with him in the process.
The bone-deep sorrow remained. His chest ached when he thought about Suzanne, no matter what he did.
But he carried on. He did his job. Saved lives. He swam like a motherfucker — lap after lap after lap, pushing himself so hard it was all he could do to pull himself out of the pool on trembling arms. Like now, sitting there on the pool’s edge, watching the moon cast an eerie glow over the seemingly dark water. Remembering. First Sara, there, with him, but not really.
Then Suzanne, who’d spent hours swimming laps alongside him.
She'd dropped into his life at such an odd time. The way they’d hit it off, her easy, breezy manner at first disguising her inner unhappiness. How he’d taken the task of making her happy, with him preferably, to heart. How he had, for a while. Until she’d flip out over the whole family or baby thing.
He ran a shaking hand down his face at the same time he realized that he hadn’t eaten since the night before. Groaning, he got to his feet, made his wobbly way back to the towel stand and nearly plowed right over her.
She stood in the shadows, near the small locker room door. Her petite frame seemed even more so, her eyes huge, face gaunt. She gripped her elbows, bit her lip. He stumbled, caught himself and stepped away from her. Anger made his jaw ache.
“How did you get in here?”
She sucked in a breath and squared her shoulders. His heart started a slow meltdown, a thaw the likes of which made him shiver, and that made his cock instantly hard. He wrapped a towel around his waist and put more distance between them.
“I miss you.” Her words spoke volumes. But he wasn’t about to go there again.
“Really.” He dropped to a chair, wincing at the tightness in his swimsuit. “Oh, well.” He attempted nonchalance. Her face revealed nothing but unhappiness. He steeled himself against it.
“Don’t, Craig. This is hard enough.”
He couldn’t help himself or hold back the derisive snort. “You are telling me how hard this is? Priceless.”
She took a step towards him but he stood, nearly tripped as he kept the chair between them. The hand she’d been using to reach for him shook. A wave of forgiving remorse nearly bowled him over. But he hardened himself against it.
No. He wouldn't cave. Not again.
“Leave my condo key on the table on your way out.” He turned away. She moved fast, surprising him, darting around the chair as if they were playing tag and wrapping her arms around his neck, going up on her tiptoes to reach his lips. But he turned his head. “I won’t be played Suzanne. I can’t. Jesus. That poor bastard Blake. Now I know how he felt.”
She jumped back as if he’d struck her. The sadness in her eyes flipped to anger. He crossed his arms. They stood, fury swirling between them.
“You have no idea how he felt. It’s my fault I keep projecting my relationship with him onto us. I…deserved that.”
“Yeah, I know. It’s why I said it.” His teeth ground together. He forced himself to stop. To settle his face into neutral "who gives a shit" lines. It was harder than it looked.
She swallowed hard, looked down, then back up into his eyes, nearly making him fall over with the force of emotion in her next words.
“I realized something this week.” She took a seat, leaving just a few inches between them. As a defensive mechanism he sat, increasing the space. For his own good. The need to sweep her into his arms, to quell the increasing agony in her eyes with one kiss very nearly overwhelmed him.
“What? That you’re an emotionally stunted grown woman hiding behind the screen of abuse by a guy, who is not me, to keep from realizing that you actually do love me?” He spoke to the ceiling. Not caring if she heard him or not. Then he met her gaze.
She glared at him. But her face shifted and she smiled. He mirrored her, unable to stop. “Cut that out,” he forced himself to sound pissed.
“Cut what out?”
He leaned back, bringing fresh blood to his already aching cock. “I’m righteously indignant. And I’m not taking you back. So just stop trying.” He rose, but she put a hand on his knee.
He started to push her away. But with a strength he didn’t realize she had, she pushed him down onto his back. She straddled him, propping herself on the lounge chair arms. Her eyes were dark. It took everything he had not to yank her down, to fuck her silly. To not communicate, but connect.
She thumbed his chin. “I need you. Can I get a mulligan?”
“No. You can’t. Seriously, Suzanne. Just get the hell out.”
She got to her feet and with a couple of quick movements stood before him utterly naked. He groaned, and put a hand over his eyes, tried to force out the image burned into his retinas—the porcelain flawlessness of her skin, the hard peaks of her dark pink nipples, the red hair she’d let grow, curving around her face, and the light dusting of fire covering her sex.
He opened his eyes at the splash. She cut through the water with ease, her lithe form moving the way he’d taught her all those time they’d spent here together. He curled his hands into fists. Got to his feet, his head light from lack of blood and cock aching from an overabundance of it.
In a daze, he tugged his suit down, stepped out of it and dove in the deep end, loving the way the cool water caressed his skin. They passed each other again and again. He focused on moving his body, not grabbing her like he wanted to so very badly. After a while, he lost track of time. There was nothing but the water, the sounds in his ears, the smell in his nose, his muscles trembling with too little protein and too much exertion. He grabbed the side, leaned on his arms and tried to catch his breath.
Her touch made him shiver but he didn’t care. Not anymore. He moved in front of her, braced himself on either side of her, propping her under her arms.
“No fair.” He exhaled before slanting his mouth over her. Losing himself in her scent, her sounds, hating himself but unable to stop.
Suzanne’s entire body hummed, her ears were fuzzy and still half-full of water. When he faced her, propped her with his arms and stared into her eyes, she experienced a glimmer of hope. A small corner of maybe that she nestled into needing it so much she wanted to cry.
He blew out a puff of air. Closed his eyes as if denying what he was about to do. “No fair,” he sighed into her mouth. The touch of his lips to hers was more perfect than it had ever been. In all the many moments of intimacy they’d shared, this one seemed like destiny.
Don’t be a hysteric Victorian over dramatizing everything.
But oh, how much she missed him.
She wrapped her entire body around him. Arms, legs, lips, tongues, teeth, all tangled in an urgent swirl. She gasped, loving the sensation of his length at the sudden tilt and thrust of his hips. “God.” She sighed, pressing against him.
“Still just me, actually.” He pulled out slow, teasing her, then shoved in high and hard, never taking his eyes from hers. A tear fell, he kissed it away, his lips soft, in distinct contrast to his lower body which had taken on an edge of urgency. She met him thrust for thrust, dug her fingers into his shoulders.
“Harder,” she whispered.
He flipped around so he was leaning against the wall. Put his hands on her hips and ground against her before threading a hand in her hair and yanking her face to his. “Is this it then?” His voice was so rough she barely understood him. His lips were so firm, his tongue so damn delicious. “One last fuck?”
She broke away, lifted up and slid back down onto his shaft. The orgasm hovered, just out of reach. Her brain tried to shut down but she was so happy to be here, back with him. Reasons and motivations be damned. This was where she belonged and she could finally admit it. “I love you. S
o much Craig. Please.”
She wrapped her arms around his head, held him close as he took one of her nipples between his lips. Sucked hard, dragging that orgasm kicking and screaming out into the light of day. She groaned as her body shuddered and her vision dimmed. The sheer rightness, the utter completeness that crawled up her spin, settling in behind her eyes making them leak yet more of the infernal tears.
“Gonna come. I’m…Jesus.” When he came inside her, no image of unattainable baby made her want to cry. A different vision spilled into her brain.
She and Craig, together. Just the two of them.
His hips kept moving against her. Their bodies stayed intertwined. He met her lips, kissed her but just as she was about to wind her fingers in his hair he lifted her up and off him, then swam away a few feet. She held onto the side a sudden panic in her chest. “Craig,” she said. “I love you.”
He lifted himself out of the water. Giving her a full glimpse of the lean, tone of his body. His silence scared her. She leaned on the side, chin on her hands, watching him. “Did you hear me or are you—”
He whirled on her, his dark eyes unfathomable, which told her all she needed to know. “Ignoring you? No Suzanne. I’m not ignoring you.” He dropped back into the seat.
She climbed out, the reticence she’d used for so long with him slipping back into place. She frowned at herself.
Stop it Suzanne. Don’t hold back. This is your last chance.
She wrapped a towel around herself and stood in front of him. Expecting him to hold out his arms to her, she reminded herself that she deserved this. Every minute of his cold shoulder she had earned, in spades. She slipped onto his lap and buried her nose in his neck. “I know. I do know. But I want this. I want to make it work.”
He shoved her to the seat, off his lap, surprising her with his roughness. She frowned at his back, still trying to remain humble, to make amends for her bullshit. So many years of holding him off. Of making his dark eyes hurt. Of disappointing him. She wrapped her arms around her knees, at a loss.
“Does it matter that I want this? That I’m sorry? That I love you?”
He shouldered his way into the locker room without a word. She bit her lip. By the time he’d emerged she’d redressed. He put his hands on his now jeans clad hips. She resisted the urge to go to him. To lick the line of pool water that dripped from his hair onto his neck.
“It matters.” He kept his voice low. “Just like it mattered to you. How much I loved you. How many times I said it. How much I tried to convince you that you were exactly what I wanted.”
She sucked in a breath. But he held up a hand. “Let me finish.” He closed the gap between them, gripped her arms and kissed her, bringing light to the edges of her vision. She gasped when he tore his lips away. “But I don’t think we can do this. I have to … I need … someone who loves me not because she feels sorry for herself or for me. But because she really, truly loves me.”
“I do... I—“
He put two fingers over her lips cutting her off.
“No. You don’t. But I had fun and all.” His dark eyes were cold but it was nothing compared to the moment when he turned and left her there, alone. Without another word or even a backward glance.
Chapter Twenty-Six
One Month Later
Suzanne lay in the bed for almost a half second too long. She lurched up and stumbled into the bathroom of her small downtown condo. The room spun, the floor seemed to rise and meet her. She clutched at the toilet for dear life and let the contents of her stomach empty. Once it seemed she was finished, she groaned and rinsed her mouth out.
Waiting for the room to settle, she did a mental recount of the booze from the night before. It was no real surprise she’d lost her cookies. She’d sat with Evan and Julie and a bunch of Tap Room regulars the night before and consumed way to much beer, then switched to bourbon much too late for grown ups.
Typically, after a quick hurl she could throw it off. That quick hurl happened, like three hours ago. She couldn’t seem to stop. She gulped water straight from the faucet, trying to ease her severe dry mouth.
The floor of the bathroom had never looked so comfy. She slid down the wall, gathered a towel in her arms and cried. By the time she got past that sudden burst of emotion she hauled herself to her feet. Wobbling her way into the kitchen she choked down some saltines, made some weak tea.
Her phone rang, but she ignored it after assessing it was once again, not Craig. He refused to return her calls, her emails, anything. She truly had blown it. Their paths never crossed. She worked on autopilot most days, growing the brewery sales, doing her job. Came home and collapsed after sending yet one more unanswered email to him.
The fierce determination that had fueled her was fading. And she hated it. Jack texted her.
“Hey. Can you talk?”
She grabbed the phone in no mood for Gordon drama.
“No.”
He called within seconds. “What?” Sshe barked into the device.
“What’s wrong?”
“Oh, you know, I managed to toss away the most amazing man in the universe. Twice. And he won’t return my calls.”
“Ah, the esteemed doctor.”
“Yeah. So I go to my original question—what?”
“Want me to talk to him?”
“Jesus, Jack, no. Stay out of it. You have your own issues.”
“Um, well, okay.” He stayed silent a few beats.
“Okay.” She shut her eyes. “You and Sara are—“
“Working through it. Truly. I nearly got my shit kicked by my good buddy, Rob. We went away for a week. She read me the riot act then had a small nervous breakdown. The usual. But things are better.”
His voice sounded steady for the first time in months. She smiled. “Things all set for the memorial weekend, right?”
“Yeah, I have B&B names and –“
“I already know where I can stay.” She shut her eyes to block the onrush of memories.
“All right. You and the good doctor, if you want him to be there.”
She sighed, rose and had to run to the bathroom as the few bites of food she’d ingested decided to make a sudden reappearance. “I gotta go,” she choked out. “I’ll be there.”
It was a close run thing, but she made it to the toilet just in time.
She brushed her teeth, trying not to gag on toothpaste, and wiped her face. Her eyes were sunk in their sockets, her face pale. She looked like shit and felt just as bad.
When the doorbell rang she nearly jumped a mile. Then made her wobbly way across the living room, and peered through the peephole at an unfamiliar couple standing in the hall. She opened the door, ordering herself to not be sick all over their shoes.
“Hi, can I help you?
“Yes, Hi. Sorry to barge in on you.” The woman held out a hand. “I’m Lillian. Craig’s sister-in-law.”
Suzanne’s shoulders slumped as she took in the tall blonde-haired, dark-eyed man next to her who could be none other than Craig’s brother. “Hi, I’m Rick,” he said. His lopsided grin looked exactly like Craig’s.
“Come in.” She held the door open, more than a little freaked out by their appearance.
They sat in painfully awkward silence, hands wrapped around glasses of iced tea. Her gorge kept threatening to rise, but she held it back and listened. “Um, so, what brings you to Ann Arbor?” she asked biting back the urge to ask “how the hell do you know where I live” half of that question.
Rick leaned on the table, pinning her with a set of very familiar brown eyes. “Okay, so small talk seems like a waste of time. We came here to tell you one thing. That I love my brother. And he is miserable. And..well,” Rick rubbed the back of her neck. The effort to not puke took all her energy, so Suzanne stayed quiet.
Lillian spoke next, putting a cool hand on Suzanne’s arm. “He loves you. A lot. He’s told me over the years.” She grabbed Suzanne’s hand, startling her. “I’m so sorry for all you�
��ve been through.”
Lillian leaned forward, keeping Suzanne’s hand in a death grip. “Don’t hurt him. I mean, he’s not perfect and god knows a lot of that is our fault, but…he’s special, you know?” Suzanne nodded, still speechless. “We were sent here as ambassadors for the family. To tell you that you need to stop being so stubborn. Love him back.”
Suzanne gulped. “I’ve tried. I don’t think he’s interested in me anymore. I can hardly blame him.”
Lillian’s gaze narrowed. “Oh, he is. But he’s doing his own stubborn dance. You can’t give up. He needs you.”
Rick leaned back in his chair. “Listen, Suzanne, we spoiled that kid, really. I mean he was like everyone’s baby. And while we’ve ruined him on some levels, I like to think we trained him better—you know—to be a good partner.”
“Did you guys come all the way to Michigan to talk to me?” The thought of having such a close-knit family, that so many people cared about you enough to do something like this, made her head buzzy.
Suzanne shot to her feet, the whole scene suddenly making her nausea worse. “I’m pregnant,” she blurted out. Tears ran down her face. Lillian stood, held her close. How she knew this she had no idea but it all made a strange sort of sense. She’d stopped counting on her body to do its job, to conceive and carry a child. But the thought that she and Craig had overcome it was terrifying, and somehow right.
Lillian held Suzanne at arm’s length. “Go to him. Tell him. Be a family, but just…”
Suzanne shut her eyes. “I know. Love him. I do.”
Rick rose and put an arm around his wife, then took Suzanne’s hand. “You won’t regret it, Suzanne. He needs you. And he will be a great father.”
Craig pulled a double shift and was in zero mood for any human contact. But the sight of Sara standing at the door of his building made him smile. She held him close. He closed his eyes against the memories. And the anger.
She let go of him but held his arms, stared hard into his eyes. “What?” he asked. “I’m tired. Need sleep.” But she wouldn’t let go of him. “Sara, seriously. What is it? You ok? Jack is--“
