Uncomplicated Choices

by Cara Dee

  Ellis shook his head fondly, stuck in a memory, no doubt. "Little Miss Nova-Lyn."

  I smiled, and God, I missed that cheeky monkey, too.

  "Were you there when he and Adeline fought about the names?" I asked.

  "I caught the tail end of it when I arrived at the hospital," he chuckled. "Lincoln was yelling, 'But I bought a whole fucking book with baby names, and now we're not gonna use any of them?' right as Adeline screamed for an epidural."

  I could laugh about it now. Back then, not so much. My nerves had been shot by the entire baby business. Adeline had been in so much pain, and Lincoln had tried to postpone their argument. She'd insisted they'd settle it before Lyn was born.

  Lyn had been Lincoln's first suggestion—after Janis Joplin, which carried some sentiment between him and Adeline—and she'd loved it. Then he'd bought that book…and he'd added Nova to the list.

  Being as headstrong and stubborn as they were, everyone was thankful for Madigan's idea that they'd use both names.

  Naming Haley had been a lot easier. It was just me.

  My grandmother's maiden name had been Hale, so I'd changed it up a bit. It'd taken me two beers to decide.

  "You were the next to become a father." Ellis's wistful expression made my next question obvious.

  "Do you want kids?" I wondered.

  He stared at his meal, considering his reply carefully. "For a long time, yes, I very much wanted to be a father. But it's a matter of chemistry for me, and I can't imagine raising a family with Marilyn. It wasn’t for us." He pushed some food around his plate. "If I were married to someone with whom I had a more nurturing relationship, it's possible I would've wanted a child more than I do today."

  The answer was so him. It was his favorite color all over again. He liked blue when it fit the moment. He liked children when it fit the relationship.

  It made me think. He'd said there was a time he wanted kids, so maybe that was for himself—if he wanted them in general. Then, meeting Marilyn, it changed because of the nature of their marriage.

  "You're the type of man to start a family with."

  My head snapped up. Holy smokes, that was blunt—even by my standards. "You think so?"

  He dipped his chin and slid together his knife and fork on his plate, finished with his meal. "I'm—I'm going to be honest with you, Casey." Something was making him uncomfortable. "The past several years, I've lived a bleak existence—at least in comparison. Then I look at you and the life you live with Haley—same with Lincoln and Adeline—and it's full of color and warmth."

  I didn’t know what to say, other than warmth and color were exactly the description I'd use for the time I'd spent with him recently. The passion was there, like a current.

  "It's what you've brought to my life on this trip," he finished quietly.

  I smirked and felt my cheeks get warmer. "I was thinking the same."

  *

  As ready as I was to jump into bed with Ellis by the end of the evening, I suggested we walk back to the yacht. The sun had set, but the marina didn’t look any less beautiful. I estimated it would be about half an hour to reach the other side where the boat was, and we weren't alone. Every now and then, we'd pass a sailboat where laughter among friends and the clinking of glasses rang out.

  Growing up near Lake Michigan, I wasn’t unaccustomed to dinner parties on fancy water castles. Only then, it'd been suffocating and tedious. It'd been me and my Game Boy and stuffy old rich folk who exhibited their wealth with caviar and art.

  In my parents' circle, a boat never left the marina. That wasn’t what a sailboat or yacht was for. It was merely a half-a-million dollar, portable party venue. Camassia Cove and this entire area—big difference. You couldn’t live in Washington, outside of Seattle, if you weren't outdoorsy.

  "You sailed as a kid, right?" I tilted my head in Ellis's direction.

  "Hmm? Yes. Every Saturday."

  I snorted softly. "Was everything running on a schedule?"

  "Mmhmm." He nodded slowly and slipped his hand into mine. I threaded our fingers together, side-eyeing him. He appeared content as fuck, which was always nice, but I had questions about his childhood. Thankfully, he didn’t seem too reluctant to offer up the deets. "We didn’t eat seafood; it was considered dirty, but my mother—how do I put this," he muttered, the question rhetorical. "She looked down on other communities, so when her own religious leader spoke of the importance of giving to the poor, which essentially included anyone who wasn’t a Disciple of Abraham, she donated whatever catch my father and I brought home on Saturdays."

  "Good lord, the cult had a name?"

  He chuckled under his breath. "I assume most do. We were originally called The Divine Disciples of Abraham, but someone pointed out that it might contradict our humble lifestyle."

  "No kidding." This was making my head spin. I'd watched enough documentaries to know children escaping cultism were often traumatized in one way or another. "How did that life not mess you up? Sorry if that sounds ignorant."

  "No, it's okay. In short, it was public school." He gave my hand a squeeze. "You know how my parents met, yes?"

  Sort of. I nodded, recalling the gist of it all. His dad had moved south and did his residency in a hospital in Flagstaff. Ellis's mom was from that area and had volunteered at the hospital.

  "Right," he continued, "so my mother was the granddaughter of the founder, and at least a dozen people in his inner circle—that I know of—left Arizona to start branches elsewhere. To recruit and expand. For whatever reason, she managed to recruit my father, supposedly a man of science, but that was the extent of it. When they moved up here, there was no community to fall back on, and it posed a dilemma when I was old enough to start school. Either she homeschooled me according to her faith, or she let me go to public school—with normal children—so she could focus more on being the village idiot with her propaganda."

  He was trying to make light of the situation. I couldn’t muster any humor to pick up on it; instead, I lifted our hands and kissed our linked fingers.

  "I knew from an early age that she and my father were the different ones, and once I figured that out, all I had to do was persevere."

  "I can't imagine." I shook my head, picturing a young Ellis. Childhood wasn’t supposed to be about hoping to get out in one piece. "Christ, college must've been insane." We'd talked about this before, and now, knowing more of how it started—yeah, definitely couldn’t imagine. "I wonder if that's what an Amish Rumspringa's like."

  Ellis looked at me incredulously, his mouth pressed together as if he were suppressing his amusement. It was futile. The mirth showed in his eyes plenty. "I'll go out on a limb and say that's offensive to the Amish. As far as I know, their religion isn't abusive, and it's a choice—"

  "You nitpicky bastard," I laughed. "I meant how college must've opened up a whole new world for you."

  "Oh."

  I snickered and bit his shoulder, 'cause I felt like it.

  We walked in silence for a few minutes, the dinner settling, the contentment solidifying. I wouldn’t wanna be anywhere else right now. It was a good feeling. I didn’t even begrudge anyone their happiness as we passed more people having various dinner parties on their boats, and that was personal growth. Or me being happy, too.

  "There's one thing linked to my childhood that’s come to my attention lately. Or at least I believe it's linked to that somehow." It was rare for Ellis to think out loud, so I kept my mouth shut. "Everything has always been better than the alternative—the alternative being how I grew up. My freshman year in college, for instance. I was constantly amazed by the fact that I didn’t have a curfew. I could eat whenever I was hungry, anyone who didn’t tell me what to do was a friend, and Sundays were the most relaxing days. No amount of studies before an exam could top the stress of having to pretend I worshiped the way my parents did."

  Fuck, it hurt to listen to this. "I could eat whenever I was hungry." Because before, he hadn't been able to do th
at.

  "Makes sense." I hugged his arm. "You couldn’t take much for granted before."

  "Exactly, so what if I want more now? I used to find happiness in the littlest things, and now it feels like settling. What I've had for the past eleven years isn't enough anymore. I want…something else."

  We reached the dock where the yacht was, and I could only say what I'd been saying for a while. "Whatever you do, don't wake up one day with regrets." Then I thought of what he'd said about his agency. Three Dots. An ellipsis for a continuation—to represent choices and the option to go on. "You have to choose, Ellis. For yourself."

  He sighed quietly and slowed down until we stopped between two streetlamps, one of them broken. "What if I've already chosen?"

  "Have you?" I faced him.

  That earned me a narrow-eyed look and a smile. "When I mentioned wanting something else, you completely missed your cue to ask me what I want."

  Was he fucking kidding me? "You have no clue how hard it is to stay objective here, princess. Goddamn, there's a shitload I wanna say and ask, and I might slip at times, but I won't push you in any direction you don't want to go, and that means I'll—umph."

  He felt the need to cut me off with a kiss. "There. Quiet. Princess. After spending this time with you, how the hell can I not choose this?"

  This, being…?

  He gave me another kiss, gentler this time, lingering. "I won't assume, and I have a lot to deal with when I get home," he murmured, "but if I were to call you and ask you to dinner again, would you agree?"

  This, being me.

  I swallowed nervously, my stomach tightening. "You have to elaborate on that."

  Thankfully, he got it—and hopefully why. He could be asking for more exploring, he could be asking for me specifically, and I needed to know.

  "I want more with you, Casey. Do I stand a chance…despite everything?"

  I didn’t know what the despite entailed, and screw it, he could have all the chances he wanted. Holy fuck, this was surreal. It was suddenly more than okay to hope, 'cause it looked like I had a shot with Ellis Hayes.

  "Of course," I said, all cool and shit. Then the face-splitting grin kind of ruined it for me.

  He smiled and kissed me firmly, and the notion of butterflies was disturbingly real. My gut flipped as if I was stuck in a permanent somersault, and though joy surged forward unlike nothing else, it was scary, too. People often changed their minds when shit got real. People often left when shit got real.

  My track record was stacked against me.

  "It's slightly nerve-racking, isn't it?" He cupped my jaw and deepened the kiss, causing my head to spin. "Exhilarating."

  "Terrifying," I muttered, out of breath, and I swept my tongue into his mouth. His kisses made me understand the hot-for-someone saying, because he literally made me run hotter. "Thing is, I already like you a crapload, so if you could minimize the damage if you change your mind, that'd be great."

  Ellis eased out of the kiss with a few chaste ones, his brow furrowing. "You have doubts."

  "Shit happens," was all I could say.

  "Hm. Then it doesn’t matter what I say. I'll show you instead." He took my mouth once more, then nudged me toward the boat. "For what it's worth, what I feel about you isn't fleeting. I know the difference between—never mind, it's not fleeting."

  Feelings changed all the time, and that was my bitter past speaking. That guy needed to shut the fuck up. I was never going to be able to predict the future. What I could do was to enjoy the present and fight for an awesome tomorrow.

  That's what I chose.

  Chapter 13

  "I need you again…"

  We kept saying that to each other all night. This one was him. I woke up from a light sleep to his soft kisses on my shoulder and his heavy, hard cock pressing against my ass.

  I groaned, yawned, and stretched, pushing my ass up to meet him. It was all the invitation he needed, and he quickly rolled on another condom and slicked me up with lube. His fingers were…a fucking godsend. Burying my face in the pillow, I hissed as he fingered me in that sensual, maddening pace of his. It needed its own goddamn trademark.

  "I can't get over how amazing you feel." He pushed inside me with a deep moan.

  We worked up a sweat every time, neither of us satisfied until we'd found that perfect slip and slide of our bodies. He stayed close, his chest to my back, and withdrew his cock just to shove it right back in and make me cry out through gritted teeth.

  Ellis was solely responsible for turning me into someone who was loud in bed. It was new to me—and fucking mind-blowing. The pleasure was sharp and darted from one erogenous zone to another, never failing to pass through my crotch. And I tensed up more for each thrust in order to intensify the bolts further. Shit, it was sex on a new level, and he was there. In my head, around me, inside me.

  "Harder," I growled.

  I hissed as he grabbed a fistful of my hair and exposed my neck. I got on all fours and grabbed the headboard with one hand, and then I looked over my shoulder while he gripped my hips and positioned himself. He drove deep, and I pushed back. The sharp bolts were back, an equal amount of pain and pleasure.

  The sounds and the intoxicating scent of us filled the air. At one point, the slapping of skin matched my heart rate. It pulled me under in some sort of drug haze.

  "Jesus, Casey." Ellis panted and yanked me back to his chest once more. My eyes rolled, and he swiveled his hips to get deeper while his hand found its way to my throat. "So beautiful. Sexy, mouthwatering." He curled his fingers around my throat loosely, cursing when he felt my Adam's apple move with a swallow. "Perfect little ass."

  I kinda blacked out after that. My body was out of control and my mind even more so. I followed the ecstasy like an addict and didn't know I was close until he stroked me a few times and set me off.

  I didn’t remember collapsing.

  Dreams were packed with foggy images of us having sex—or maybe they were memories? Either way, they woke me up sometime later, and I blinked blearily. Ouch. I winced. Every muscle in me protested, and my ass was so sore it wouldn’t surprise me if he was still buried in me. Alas, he was snoring lightly next to me.

  "Oh Christ." My head hit the pillow after checking the time, and I noticed how hoarse I was. Only, instead of having been to a rock festival, I'd had a whole night of insane fucking. Hours and hours of panting and wheezing had effectively stolen most of my voice. "Ellis," I croaked. "Wake up."

  He made a noncommittal sound in his sleep, so I struggled through the aches and stole his sheet. His ass was fine as hell this morning… My mouth went dry at the sight of it. One day, it was gonna be my cock that took him, but for now, I was still in bottom mode. I couldn’t fucking believe it—or how it was even possible—but I wanted him again right now.

  I was such a whore.

  "Ellis," I groaned and pressed my semi against the mattress. "I need you again."

  Not here, though. The second the thought hit me, I wrinkled my nose and squinted around us. The cabin was a war zone. The sheets were an uncomfortable mess, there were clothes everywhere, the air was bordering on stifling, and we were a tad too sticky.

  "Mmm, five minutes, baby…" he grumbled. "I think you drained me."

  Well, hey. That was new. Baby. "It'll take us about five minutes to fill a cooler with sugary pop and go outside." Fresh, crisp air, a sunbed waiting for us, and the sky catching on fire. Seemed like a perfect way to welcome the morning.

  I managed to get Ellis to agree, and then we were moving like zombies to get out of the sex sauna.

  We didn’t even put on underwear.

  "You know what would be perfect now?" He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes.

  "Yeah. More sex." I snagged three condoms and the lube, then opened the door to head upstairs.

  He followed me with a few soft drinks. "That too, but I was thinking we should go for a swim."

  He was funny.

  Everything in the color white
on the upper deck shone in orange, reflecting the new day starting, though it would be another twenty minutes or so before we caught the first glimpse of the sun. The best part was the fresh air.

  The forest was almost completely silent.

  "I'm serious, Casey." Ellis came up behind me and stroked my chest, his hands colder after holding the pops. He nipped at my neck. "Join me, please?"

  I frowned at him, finding him fucking crazy, then watched as he took the steps down to the bathing platform along the side of the boat.

  "We should have you committed!" I hollered, and I instantly recoiled at the echo of my voice. Hoarse or not, it carried. I half expected to see a flock of birds lifting from the trees.

  Ellis laughed warmly, sounding like he'd been to a festival, too.

  It didn’t take a genius to figure out I hesitated a whole lot, but eventually, I trailed after him. I reached the platform in time to see him dive in, and I instinctively cupped my junk and shuddered.

  He's naked and soaked in there.

  I chewed on the inside of my cheek, picturing him.

  Unlike the time we went swimming at the waterfall, he didn’t surface with a feral hiss because it was so cold. No, if anything, he looked relieved.

  "You have to get in. It's nice," he told me. "Think of how sexy it would be to feel each other up in the water."

  "That's the only reason I'm even considering this." I stepped closer to the edge and peered into the water. The pitch-black water. "Goddamn you, Ellis Hayes." I rubbed the back of my neck, nervousness settling like a rock inside me. "Okay, fine." Releasing a heavy breath, I dove in and already regretted it. Cunt, fuck, douchenozzle! After sleep, everything was cold. Suddenly, the waterfall swim seemed like a hot spring. "Fuck this," I coughed, already on my way back to the ladder.

  "Oh no, you don't." Ellis swam after me and grabbed my foot.

  I was hauled backward and let out a highly manly yelp before I went under.

  When I reached the surface again, I was locked in Ellis's arms, and he covered my mouth with his just as I was about to curse him out.

  "Umph—you—fuck." I panted, surrendering. I was a defeated popsicle. Or cocksicle, whichever. "You…cretin! Shit." My hands had found his solid chest. I did love his chest.