Broken Miles

by Claire Kingsley

  “My feet are still killing me,” I said. “I think this is a sign that I’m too sedentary. If there was a zombie apocalypse, I’d die on the first day.”

  “If the world goes to shit like that, head for Leo,” Roland said. “Every time I go over there, I half expect to find him coming out of a secret underground lair.”

  I laughed. “That wouldn’t surprise me. Do you think Leo is okay?”

  “Not really,” he said. “But I think he could be worse.”

  “Yeah, that’s probably true,” I said. “I’m glad he had his family to come home to.”

  “So am I.” He rubbed his toes along the side of my foot. “You know what might feel good on those poor feet of yours?”

  “What?”

  “A bath,” he said. “This cottage has a two-person jetted tub.”

  I set my wineglass down. “A hot bath? Yes, please.”

  “I thought you might like that.”

  Roland got up and went into the bathroom. The sound of water filling the tub drifted in. I was tired, but in a good way. Happy and satisfied. Relaxed from the meal, and the wine. Roland appeared again in the doorway and pulled his shirt over his head.

  “Coming?”

  I finished the last of my wine, then joined him in the bathroom. He was leaning over the tub, feeling the temperature of the water. Steam rose from the bath, already clouding the mirror.

  He glanced back at me and grinned. “Better take those clothes off, Zo.”

  I smiled and proceeded to undress. Took my time while Roland watched. My clothes dropped to the floor and I nibbled on my bottom lip as Roland’s eyes swept over me.

  He took off the rest of his clothes and we climbed in the bath. The tub was large, giving us both plenty of space. I settled down in the hot water, facing him, and closed my eyes.

  “Why have I never used this bathtub before?” I asked. “It’s been here this whole time, and I’ve never taken advantage.”

  He picked up my foot and rubbed his thumbs across the bottom of my heel and across the arch. “I’m surprised. You love baths.”

  “I do.”

  Roland rubbed my foot for a while, then switched to the other one. Between the foot massage and the hot water, I was in danger of falling asleep.

  “That feels amazing,” I said.

  “I love making you feel good.”

  My eyes were still closed, my head resting against the edge of the tub, but I heard Roland shift. The water lapped up my chest as he moved closer and pushed my legs apart so he could sit between them.

  His fingers reached my center and I let my eyes flutter open. I watched as he touched me under the water, sliding his fingers along my soft skin. Brushing my clit with light strokes. My breath quickened at his touch, sparks of pleasure racing through me.

  He slid two fingers inside me, and I moaned at the added pressure. I rocked my hips as he moved in and out, his fingers curling against my g-spot. He had me racing toward climax already, and we’d barely started.

  Shifting again, he kept working my pussy hard and leaned in to clamp his mouth around my nipple. His teeth pinched my hard peak, and I cried out. Fuck, that felt good.

  “Other side,” I breathed, barely able to get the words out.

  He took my other breast in his mouth and sucked. I pinched my nipple between my thumb and forefinger and rocked my hips against his hand. He bit me gently, the twinge of pain shooting straight to my core. My pussy clenched around his fingers and I came hard, leaning my head back and gasping.

  Leaning over me, he brought his mouth to mine, his kiss hungry. I grabbed his cock and tugged, earning a deep grunt.

  “Hand or mouth?” I asked, stroking his hard length.

  “Fuck, Zoe,” he said. “Mouth.”

  We switched places, ignoring the water that sloshed everywhere. He sat on the edge of the tub and I knelt between his legs, licking my lips at the sight of his wet dick.

  I took the base in my hand and held him with a firm grip. Lavished the tip with wet kisses and laps of my tongue. He was hard as steel as I plunged down on him. His strong thighs contracted, and his abs flexed. I worked his cock in and out of my mouth, stroking the base as I went. He grabbed my hair, guiding me, and I picked up the pace. His hips thrust, and the intensity built. I nudged his legs farther apart so I could cup his balls with my free hand, and he leaned his head back, groaning loudly.

  With his hand fisted tight in my hair, he moved me up and down his cock. I stroked his shaft and tugged his balls. The sound of his growls and moans was making my pussy wet all over again. I fucking loved doing this to him. There was nothing like the sound of a man losing his mind with his dick in your mouth. Especially when it was Roland.

  He’d said he loved making me feel good. It was intoxicating to do it to him.

  “You good if I come?” he asked. His grip on my hair relaxed, giving me a chance to stop.

  I didn’t. I moaned around his cock, tugged his balls harder, and let his tip slide as far toward my throat as I could manage.

  “Fuck,” he said, his voice rough, almost strangled. He grabbed my hair again and thrust into my mouth, his cock pulsing. I took his come as it hit the back of my throat, feeling triumphant. He finished, and I quickly swallowed while he caught his breath.

  “God, Zo,” he said between breaths. “I’m fucking undone.”

  He slid back down into the water and pulled me on top of him. I straddled his lap and wrapped my arms around his shoulders. His arms settled around me, holding me close, and he kissed my neck. Nuzzled the hollow below my ear.

  “You know I still need to fuck you,” he said.

  “Can you still do that?” I shifted my hips, rubbing my pussy against his cock.

  “Give me a minute.”

  It didn’t take long for his cock to stiffen again. He reached between us and held the base, lifting it so I could slide down onto him.

  I closed my eyes, reveling in the exquisite pleasure of his erection filling me. “You feel so good.”

  He held my ass, his fingers kneading. “Baby, nothing feels as good as you.”

  More water splashed out onto the floor as I slid up and down his thick cock. This angle was perfection, the ridge around his tip dragging through me, stimulating me in all the right places. I rubbed my clit against him every time I lowered down, and he thrust his hips, driving himself deeper.

  We lost ourselves in the rhythm, our bodies in sync. Moaning, thrusting, grinding. He licked my nipples as they moved past his mouth. Gripped my ass with rough hands. Heat and tension built in my core, the pressure almost painful.

  “Oh my god, Roland, I need to come again,” I said. “Please baby, make me come.”

  He held me tighter and thrust hard. His cock throbbed inside me, the way it always did right before he came.

  “Yes,” I breathed. “Just like that. Yes.”

  Roland’s brow furrowed, and he whimpered—a strangled sound in his throat, like if he didn’t unleash on me now, he might not survive.

  My pussy contracted, all my core muscles releasing at once. I threw my head back and moaned, letting the orgasm sweep me away. I rode him hard, feeling him burst inside me. We came apart at the seams, exploding into a thousand points of light.

  Slowly, I came back to myself. I was draped over him, my head on his shoulder. He rubbed my back with soft strokes, his strong hands caressing my wet skin. The water level was significantly lower than it had been, but we’d worry about that later.

  I moved so I could look at him. He cupped my cheek and drew me in for a kiss, his mouth soft and warm. I climbed off him and he turned the water on, refilling the tub. When the water was high enough, he shut it off and slipped back into place.

  I sat between his legs and leaned back, settling against his chest. He wrapped his arms around me and leaned his cheek against my head.

  “Are we crazy?” I asked, my voice quiet.

  Roland took a deep breath, his chest expanding against me. “Probably. But craz
y was kind of always our thing.”

  “That’s true.”

  We sat in silence for a few minutes, just breathing. Holding each other.

  “Actually, I don’t think we are,” he said. “I think we were crazy before. And we’d be crazy to let this go now.”

  My throat felt thick and my eyes stung with tears—and I was not a crier. I took a trembling breath. “Maybe you’re right.”

  “I know I’m right,” he said. “I love you, Zoe.”

  I gripped his arms and squeezed, closing my eyes for a moment so the tears wouldn’t fall. “I love you, too.”

  He held me tight, cradled in the warm water. We didn’t say anything else. Tonight, we didn’t need to.

  Twenty-Five

  Roland

  I threw away the fucking sheets because no matter how many times I wash them, they still smell like you. And I just fucking can’t.

  ~Text from Roland, unsent

  Cooper, Leo, and Brynn were already at the house when I arrived. My great-grandparents had built the original farmhouse on this land. It was no longer standing, long ago replaced by a newer one. But the echoes of them were everywhere. In faded photographs on the wall. Great-grandma’s teacups in the cupboard. An old quilt that hung on the wall.

  My mom had been born in this house. My grandparents had raised her here, their only child. They’d built it to be a guest house, intending to expand the winery’s hospitality side. As a result, it was huge. It had seven bedrooms, all with their own bathrooms, an enormous commercial-grade kitchen, and a dining room that could seat an army.

  By the time my mom and dad were married, my grandparents had already abandoned their plans to expand the overnight accommodations at Salishan, and were living here. Although they didn’t take paying customers, the numerous bedrooms were often filled with guests. And when my parents had gotten married, they’d moved in, taking over one side of the house for their own.

  They’d raised the four of us here. We’d grown up among the grapevines, our lives revolving around planting and harvests, the way most kids’ lives revolved around Christmas and the first day of summer break.

  Our grandparents had died when we were all still kids, leaving the winery and all the land to my mom. By that time, my dad had been handling the business side for years, while my grandparents took care of the vineyards and mentored my mom in the art of winemaking.

  The winery had been a lot smaller back then. Ben had been around, but he had been one of only a handful of employees. My dad hadn’t started all the expansions until about ten years ago, around the time Zoe and I got married. He’d built new cellars for increased production, started sourcing grapes from other wineries, and built the Big House to expand our guest offerings.

  And of course, he’d expected me to work for him and eventually take over.

  For a long time, I’d convinced myself I hated this place. This house where I’d grown up. Where my mom had spent her childhood before us. The land, the vineyards. All of it. I’d resented the pressure to conform. The expectations that had been foisted on me for my entire life.

  That resentment was at the heart of every decision I’d made in the last ten years. The degree I chose. The jobs I took. Going to grad school to get my MBA. Moving to San Francisco. All of it had been designed to take me as far from Salishan as I could possibly get. I’d felt, with utter certainty and conviction, that I needed to make my own way. Carve my own path. That I’d been made for something greater.

  As I stood looking up at the house my grandparents had built, with its thick wooden beams and smooth river rock, I realized how much I’d let that resentment poison me.

  Which was exactly what my father had done.

  He hadn’t asked to become the head of a winery. He’d married my mom and fell into the role by default. As my grandparents had aged and needed more help, he’d taken on the additional responsibility.

  I didn’t know what my dad had wanted to do before he’d started working for the winery. What his hopes and dreams had been when he was a young man. But I could see, so clearly now, how much he’d let resentment rule his life. It had tainted everything he’d ever done. It had destroyed his marriage. It could have ripped his entire family apart. The only thing saving us now was Mom. She’d always been our rock. Our stability. While Dad had come and gone, his temper leading the way, Mom had always been here. Safe, comforting.

  We’d decided to do something for her. We couldn’t erase our father from this house, but we could give her a fresh start.

  I found my siblings inside, covering furniture with drop-cloths and taking pictures off the walls. The downstairs was getting fresh paint—colors Brynn had chosen. And we were moving my mom from the room she’d shared with my dad to a bedroom on the other side of the house. We’d paint that room as well, and I’d bought all new bedroom furniture. Mom didn’t know yet, and I hoped she’d be happy with the surprise.

  “Hey, sorry I’m late,” I said. “I had to take a call.”

  “That’s okay, we just got started,” Brynn said. She was dressed in a pair of paint splattered overalls and a t-shirt, her hair up in a ponytail. “Can you help Cooper move bookshelves?”

  “On it.” I yanked Brynn’s ponytail as I walked past, and she punched me in the arm.

  “Hey, Brynncess,” Cooper called from the other room. “Where am I supposed to put this stuff? If you’re going to be in charge, you need to work on your leadership skills.”

  Brynn rolled her eyes. “Just move everything away from the wall so we can paint behind it. And don’t forget later that you admitted I’m in charge.”

  “Whatever you say, baby sister,” he said.

  Cooper and I moved furniture while Leo and Brynn got started painting. Ben showed up to lend a hand, and Chase came over not long after. The new bedroom set arrived, and we hauled the old stuff out. Cooper convinced us to drag Mom’s old bed frame and mattress out to the east field so we could make a bonfire out of it later. I tried to protest, but apparently I remained the only adult among my siblings. Even Leo voted bonfire. Zoe showed up after work, and she wasn’t on my side either. But I should have guessed Zoe would be on Team Cooper, especially if a bonfire was involved.

  The walls were too wet to move everything back in place before Mom got home, so it wasn’t going to be a home-improvement-show-style reveal. We heard her car outside just as we got the last of the paint cans put away and the drop cloths moved.

  “Come on, everyone line up,” Brynn said, ushering us into the living room so we could greet Mom when she came in.

  “We should hide behind the furniture and jump out at her,” Cooper said.

  “No, Cooper, quit it,” Brynn said. “Just stand over here.”

  “You’re no fun,” Cooper said.

  “Quit pouting,” Brynn said. “You said I was in charge, remember?”

  Cooper groaned and joined us. I stood in between Zoe and Ben, with Cooper and Chase on the other side of Zoe, and Brynn next to Ben.

  Mom opened the door and paused, her mouth open in surprise. “Hey, kids. What’s going on in here?”

  “We have a surprise for you,” Brynn said. “Look around. At the walls, I mean. Sorry about the furniture and stuff. We’ll put it back when the walls dry.”

  Mom came in, shutting the door behind her, and looked around. “You painted?”

  “Yeah,” Brynn said. “It was Roland’s idea.”

  “Really?” she asked, looking at me.

  “Kind of,” I said. “I just figured we could make this easier for you.”

  “This is amazing,” she said, still taking slow steps through the room.

  “Mom, you’re killing my soul,” Cooper said. “There’s more to see, let’s pick up the pace.”

  Cooper took her hand and dragged her through the house, pointing out the different colors in each room. Then he hauled her upstairs to show her the redesigned bedroom, and we all followed. She stood in the doorway, her hand covering her mouth, and tears glistened i
n her eyes.

  “I can’t believe you all did this.” She took a deep breath and swiped beneath her eyes. “It’s beautiful.”

  “This was fun,” Cooper said. He clapped his hands once. “I’m going to go get that fire going.”

  “I’ll get the gasoline,” Chase said.

  Mom opened her mouth and lifted a hand, but they were down the stairs and out the door so fast, she didn’t get a chance to say anything.

  “Did they say fire and gasoline?” Mom asked.

  “Just pretend you didn’t hear,” Brynn said. “It’s easier that way.”

  “I’ll go make sure they don’t light themselves on fire,” Ben said, and followed Cooper and Chase outside.

  Half an hour later, they had indeed lit Mom’s old bed on fire—and a badass bonfire it turned out to be. Ben had helped them haul more old debris to build it up, and we’d dragged camping chairs out so we had places to sit. Zoe had a wedding at the winery tomorrow with a difficult client, so she’d gone home to get some sleep. The rest of us had wine in plastic wine cups while we sat in a circle around the tall blaze.

  Mom sat next to me, sipping her chardonnay. “Thank you for all this.”

  “It wasn’t just me,” I said.

  “Yeah, but it wouldn’t have happened without you,” she said. “Well, I’m sure Cooper and Chase could have found a reason to start a large, dangerous, and probably illegal fire without you. But the rest of it.”

  “Sure.”

  “Are you ready to talk about it yet?” she asked.

  I glanced at her. The firelight glinted off the lines of her face. “Talk about what?”

  “Zoe.”

  I turned back to the fire. The truth was, I wasn’t ready to talk to her about Zoe. Everything still felt so tenuous and uncertain. I knew I loved her. I knew I wanted her back in my life—for good this time. But I had a lot of logistics to figure out before I’d know how I was going to make that happen.

  “For now, can I just tell you that I still love her, and leave it at that?” I asked.