by Jessop, K. L
Sweat runs down my temples and a dark v in the front of my shirt increases in size as I hammer the nail to the wood. “Jesus, it’s fucking hot in here, Bailey.” I groan, right before he darts out of the door. “What are you doing now you crazy thing?”
The second I hear her soft giggle and greeting to Bailey, my stomach tightens knowing she’s here again and I can’t control the grin that spreads my face. “Where is your daddy, hey? What is he up to?”
“In here,” I shout.
“Adam?” I turn to see a surprised Everly as she stands in the doorway, Bailey wagging his tail in excitement. Her eyes scan around the cabin and I notice her deep inhale as her fists ball at her sides. I don’t say anything. I just watch her take everything in before her eyes come back to me. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve not been down here much of late as my workload was crazy before the end of the term.” I lie. “I thought I'd clean the place up a little.” The look in her eyes now tell me she knows I’m talking shit, but I just turn back and carry on hammering the nails into the wood.
I sense her move further into the cabin. “Mind if I help you?”
“Go ahead.” I’m surprised she’s asked but I go with it. “I'd been meaning to clean out that box over in the corner if you want to start there?”
“Okay.”
That fucking silence that always seems to greet us is back, only the more time we spend together, it’s getting more and more comfortable. We always used to be like this. We would always talk and tell each other everything but the peace that would fall was like our souls would be talking for us, keeping us close. And at this moment, it’s like nothing has ever changed. How can this feel so good and why after everything is it so easy?
“Does the tap still work?” she asks, breaking the spell. I turn to look at her and see she is holding two cups. “You could do with a drink.”
“I’m fine. But yes, it should do.” I go over to the small sink and turn the single tap with force, knowing it is most likely going to be stiff from being out of use.
Coming up to stand beside me, she smiles. “You’re not fine, your shirt is drenched in sweat. You need some water.”
“Trying to say I stink?” I grin.
“That’s you? I thought it was the old sheets,” she throws back, giving me a little bit of the sass I know is in there. “You need a drink.”
“Slight problem: the water from the tap probably shouldn’t be drunk until it’s filtered.”
“Well, it’s a good job I’ve brought my water bottle with me.” Turning to lean against the sink, I watch her as she rinses out the cups and fills them with her water. She smells like red berries and I know without investigating further that it’s her hair. She always used to smell like berries. My fingers are itching to run through her soft, honey-blonde waves that flow over her shoulders. She looks different today, there’s a glow about her features, the freckles on her cheeks more prominent from the sun. I scan my eyes lower: she’s still wearing another ridiculous pair of black baggy trousers but her white t-shirt is tied in a knot at the bottom, giving me more of a glimpse of her waist and the figure she hides.
“You look pretty today.” The words are out of my mouth before I realise it and a smile tugs her lips.
“Thank you,” she whispers, handing me my cup of water. “Here.”
I drink it down in one go, appreciating every drop that hits the back of my throat. “How’s your mum?”
“Good. I left her in the garden keeping up with all of Dad’s plants he took pride in. She is getting better each day.”
“And you? How are you?”
“I’m good.” She turns around and rests back against the sink looking out into the room that’s still in need of more work. Looking up at me, she raises her brows. “You know, to say it's only been a few weeks since you've been here, there's an awful number of cobwebs in here.”
I sigh, my grin spreading across my lips knowing she’s caught me out. “Yeah, it may have been more like years.”
Her eyes fill with an apology, but she turns too quickly and changes the direction of the conversation. “Remember that time you were outside, and I was in here and freaked because I saw a mouse?”
“You mean the time you ran out screaming like crazy and jumped into the lake to get away from it.” I chuckle.
“Its beady eyes were on me.”
“It was just a mouse.”
“And I swear it was sizing me up to eat me.”
“Christ, Ev, I’d like to have seen him try.”
Her giggle is the best sound I’ve heard in a long time, bringing warmth to my heart as her eyes now sparkle through the darkness that usually clouds them. “You're crazy.”
I don’t know if it’s the memory of how we used to be and feeling the heat of her body this close or the fact I’ve got a serious case of sexual frustration, but it has me pushing off the sink and continuing my work with my back to her as I’m currently sporting a semi.
Jesus, this is harder than I thought it would be.
My mind is in permanent combat, and whichever way I try and think and work it out, I always end up wanting the same thing: her.
I want her on me, around me, above me, below me. It’s like my heart doesn’t give a shit how much she’s hurt it already. How can she have the ability to make me think one thing but want another so deeply?
“Oh my God, I didn’t know you’d kept this,” she says in surprise, and I turn to find her holding a tin can she’s found in the box, the edges rusted, a large dent right in the middle and the label on it now faded.
I’d taken her to the town fair. Market stalls, games and candyfloss had been the highlight of the day. We’d eaten so many toffee apples we’d felt sick and played every game that was on offer as the sun went down. It had been about a month after she’d moved here, and I’d been over the moon when she said yes to coming on a date with me. I still remember it like it was yesterday. Her hair had been braided and hung over one side of her shoulder; she’d worn dark blue denim shorts and a little crop top that showed off her flat stomach. We’d been fourteen, and as she’d placed her hand in mine and we’d walked through the crowd, I’d felt like a fucking king.
“I needed something to remember our first date.”
“You mean you needed something that reminded yourself you won that shooting game you had me play five times in a row?”
“Exactly,” I grin. “But I think the correct term is ‘whipped your arse’.”
“Hmm, whatever.”
I’d bragged about the fact I was a pro at it and would win every time. She’d given me her famous eye roll, so I’d challenged her to a ‘best out of the five games’ competition. Naturally, I’d won every game just as I’d known I would.
“True though.”
“Adam, it’s a tin can.”
“A tin can that led to my first ever kiss on the cheek.”
“So, you had to souvenir it?”
“Damn right. You turned my shitty day into the best day of my life with that mouth of yours.”
She rolls her eyes, hiding her amusement. “It was just a peck on the cheek.”
“But that peck had my stomach in somersaults and my heart racing. It was the best feeling I’d ever experienced, all because of you.”
We hold each other’s gaze as unspoken questions and answers bounce between us. I don’t care if I’ve said too much, she knew what she did to me; I’m not going to lie about it. When she turns away, I get the impression my words have hit her hard and the arsehole part in me doesn’t even care.
I can sense this pull between us, the one that’s always there. Even though Everly left town, I’d still feel that she was with me somehow. Maybe it’s because Keswick has been a huge part of our lives and I was able to see our relationship and the love we once shared engraved in the things we did together, seeping through the cracks of the walls and buried in places like hidden treasure. Or maybe it’s because I saw her parents often. Maybe it
’s the star tattoo I got on my torso that reminds me of her every time I look in the mirror. Or maybe it was all because this place that we are both standing in now had a big influence on our life. I don’t know, but I have still felt her with me each and every day, year after year.
A high-pitched squeal breaks through my thoughts and I turn to see Everly flapping about and batting her neck, while Bailey jumps around thinking she’s playing.
“Oh no. No, no, no.”
“Everly?”
“Get it off me, Adam!”
She combs her fingers through her hair like something possessed and I can’t help but chuckle because I have a feeling I know what it is. “Get what off?”
“The big-arsed thing that has way too many legs!” she squeaks.
Spider.
“Oh dear, did the big bad spider jump on you?”
Her cheeks are bright red from her flustered state as she continues to pull at her hair. “Don’t be a dickhead and help me.”
I laugh out loud. “I kind of like watching you freak out. I’ve missed your sass.”
“Adam, please.”
I go over to her, still laughing, and she thrashes around like someone is giving her an electric shock.
“Come here.”
When she tips her head forward, I brush the back of her hair down and look closely through the blonde strands. Finding the spider, I throw it out the door and I smile because what Everly calls big, to me is tiny, but I don’t say anything about that. I don’t say anything at all because right at this moment, everything seems to have stopped and the closeness of her has my heart racing. Neither of us pulls away, I just continue to lace my fingers through her hair, letting the glossy strands glide over my skin as she steps closer to rest her head on my chest. The tender touch of her hands on my waist catches my breath. My dick twitches with the rush that’s flooding my veins. I know she is feeling this electricity that is spiralling between us because when she lifts her head to look at me, I can see it in her eyes. It’s deep, it’s heavy, and it’s a longing we are both craving—a feeling I’ve missed so greatly. I want to kiss her. I want to touch her. It’s driving me crazy.
And like her body has read my thoughts, my heart sinks when she whispers. “I should go.”
“Everly, wait,” I shout as she darts out of the door. She doesn’t stop and I groan with the loss of her and the ache of my erection. I don’t know what’s going on with that woman but she’s fucking killing me. It’s like we take two steps forwards, yet she immediately takes a step back when she realises how close we are becoming. It’s frustrating—so frustrating it has me picking up the hammer and launching it across the cabin as a growl leaves my throat.
She can’t run from me forever.
20
Everly
“What is he doing to me, Dad?” I ask, my soft voice disappearing into the summer air. I’m sitting at my dad’s graveside after placing fresh flowers there. I’ve been up since before dawn, painting, as I couldn’t sleep. I can't stop thinking about yesterday in the cabin and the recurring memory of how good things once were between us and how he’s making me feel now. The way Adam’s eyes had been on me, and the feel of his touch, had made heat rise in my body, the ache heighten between my thighs. Whatever power he had over me in that moment, I didn't want it to stop. I wanted it all, every trace of him on my skin, every beat of his heart that I knew was rapid in his chest, the protection he’d once provided. And because I felt and wanted that, I’d panicked. “He's making me feel things and I don't know if I should be feeling them,” I confess. The new ones he’s creating while reigniting the old ones, I believe are wrong. It shouldn’t be like this. He's breaking down the barricades around my heart and I'm powerless to stop him. “History is still hanging over us and too much time has passed.”
“Everly Rose.”
I hear Dad’s warning tone in my mind and chills break out over my skin as if he’s literally sitting next to me. It’s like he’s looking down on me, knowing that my thoughts and feelings are in a vortex and I can’t find a way to stop them to think clearly.
“God, Dad, I wish you were here.” I sigh. I’ve always been able to talk to both of my parents about anything—other than the time I was silenced—but my dad had always been the one I would go to first. Our father / daughter times had been special. Growing up, I’d been a true daddy’s girl and I never really changed. I will never forgive myself from hiding the truth from them and the way I left. It had taken me years to tell them, and if it hadn’t have been for Anita and the hospital contacting them because of my overdose, I’d never have spoken out. Me cutting myself off and not confiding in them had broken their hearts. I hate myself for doing that and I hate myself for putting them through all that trauma. It’s the same for Adam. How can I tell him how I feel? The fear that's concealed, suffocated and exhausted me over time has had the ability to break me to the point where I’d not wanted to live anymore. But Adam, he's slowly penetrating through my darkness day by day, second by second and breathing life inside of me filled with a hope I've longed for, and that scares me more than ever. He deserves the answers to the questions I don’t wish to hear, and in return, I know those answers will crush him. How can I tell him anything at all? Because, no matter what I say, it will change what we are building now and what we once were in the past. And what we were back then will never be what we’ll become in the future after he learns the truth. The hardest part of all is the thought of leaving him again. All these years, I’ve stopped myself from coming back, but now that I’m here and each day I continue to feel something that’s been lost for so long, the more I don’t want to lose it—the more I don't want to leave him. I want to forever live, sleep and consume what he’s made me feel these past few days because, for the first time in as long as I can remember, I’m starting to breathe again.
“Tell me what to do, Daddy,” I whisper, placing a rose I’ve been holding on the grass as tears sting my eyes. “What do I do?”
“Have faith and just be you and everything will be forever how you wanted it.”
Our last conversation plays in my mind, and I smile, wondering if he had a premonition all along. Maybe he was right. Maybe I need to have faith and just be myself. Maybe I’m holding back too much and I’ve no need to. But how do I know what is right when I’m still so strangled with feelings and fears?
“Thanks for listening, old guy. I love you,” I say, getting up from where I’ve been sitting and blowing him a kiss. As I head out of the cemetery, my phone buzzes with a text.
Anonymous: What are you doing tonight? Adam. X
I grin as I read the message, my bottom lip sinking between my teeth as butterflies take flight in my stomach. I didn’t expect it to be him.
How did he get my number?
Like my fingers have no control, I tap out a reply.
Me: Washing the paint out of my hair. X
The next minute, my phone rings and I don’t hesitate to answer, but before I can greet him, he dominates the conversation. “Have dinner with me.”
I chuckle. “Well hello to you, too.”
“Sorry. Hello.”
I can hear the smile in his words. The iron gates to the cemetery rattle as I close them behind me and head for home.
“Where are you?”
“Church. I’ve been to see Dad.”
“Are you alright? Do you want to talk?” The concern in his voice pulls at my heart. He really does care.
“No, I’m good. I’m just missing him that’s all.”
Silence. “Have dinner with me.”
I grin, but I’m not ready to answer him. “How did you get my number?”
“Stop avoiding the question.”
“Stop avoiding mine.”
“Oh, nice throwback. Your mum may have given it to me.”
I thought as much. Every time I say to her that I’ve been with him, that sparkle of intrigue and excitement glistens in her eye.
“Now, answer mine.”
>
“You asked me a question?” I tease, picking a wildflower that’s growing from the hedgerow and brushing it across my cheeks.
His low laugh causes warmth to spread across my stomach. “Everly, will you have dinner with me?”
“Dinner sounds formal.”
“It's fish and chips; can’t get much less formal.”
“Depends if you add salt and pepper.”
“Funny. Come on, I want to take you out on my boat and spend time with you. Like old times.”
Like old times.
I think about yesterday and whether spending time with him and then having the potential to get even closer is good for either of us. “Is that a good idea?”
