I Fell In

by Tiffany Winters

  I snapped my laptop closed even as my pulse quickened at the thought that Truman still loved me.

  It was almost as if he sensed the schism and was swooping in to capitalize on it. He was wrong, though. Nick and I were going through a rough patch, but we were solid. Nothing was going to tear us apart. Except, my stomach sank at the thought, maybe, me.

  Truman's troubling confession was forgotten when I heard the front door open. I sat up, anticipation and dread warring within me.

  Moments later, Nick sauntered into the room, his grey t-shirt dark from sweat. Shorts hung over long, lean thighs that flexed with each step. In the months since our miscarriage, he'd taken up playing basketball again with some of his buddies. I suspected it was a diversion from the darkness hanging over us and an excuse to get out, away from me. I fought the clench in my chest, swallowing that feeling, taking it because I deserved to after all I'd done to make it that way.

  These days, he was more cautious around me, quieter. He walked through the room without a glance in my direction, but his posture was off, as though he were carrying the weight of tension between us in the sag of his shoulders. Fuck. Where was my rock? From the looks of it, I'd crushed it into powder. I needed to fix this.

  He peeled his clothes off, unabashed in his nudity. He had such confidence in his body. My eyes drank him in, and I felt a familiar tingle race up my spine. When was the last time I'd seen him fully nude? Why hadn't I wanted to see him this way? He was magnificent.

  "Hi." I gave him my sultriest look, the one so exaggerated it usually made him laugh, right before he tackled me. Today, I got a polite smile but no answer.

  He walked into the bathroom, and it felt like he was a million miles away instead of fifteen feet. I fought another uncomfortable clench in my stomach. I'd seriously fucked this, us, up. Moments later the shower came on.

  I pushed my laptop aside, got off the bed and leaned against the doorframe of the bathroom, determined not to give up. Thank God for glass shower doors, because the view of a wet, tanned, slippery Nick was reason enough to be contented. Unfortunately, they also made it impossible for me to indulge in my voyeurism without him knowing.

  He rinsed the shampoo out of his dark hair, two months overdue for a cut and sexily shaggy. His large hands smoothed it back, wringing the water out as they went. He looked at me, one eye closed as a rivulet ran over his thick eyebrow and down his angular jaw. "What's up?"

  I shrugged, using the extra time to figure out how to approach this conversation without making everything I said sound like an accusation. "Just wondering how you're doing."

  The truth seemed like a good place to start.

  He soaped the rest of his glorious body as I pretended the sight wasn't turning me on in a huge way. We'd been through hell, but nothing could make Nick look anything less than stunning. He was still mine. I wanted him to stay that way. His silence told me, for the first time in our marriage, that maybe he didn't feel the same way about me anymore.

  He rinsed, turned the water off and got out, drying himself roughly, but didn't say a word.

  Every second evaporated the hope I held. Hope that we could withstand this darkness. That my reaction to grief hadn't ruined everything good between us. God, I was such an idiot.

  I was about to turn around and leave when I heard his heavy sigh. It was the kind of sigh that said bad news was coming. I closed my eyes, preparing for the worst.

  "I'm doing OK, babe, but I miss you like crazy."

  My eyes opened wide as I froze, afraid the tiniest inhalation might shatter the moment. Had I heard him correctly?

  "W-what?" Oh God, please say it again.

  He tied the towel around his waist and strode toward me, backing me up against the wall and dipping his chin to bring his face level with mine. "I fucking miss you."

  He raised a hand to tuck a stray hair behind my ear, the gesture so intimate I found it hard to suppress my tears. "Why does that surprise you, Jess?"

  I shook my head, but I couldn't look away. The ferocity of his gaze held me prisoner. I wanted to believe him, but it seemed impossible.

  "You can't miss me. I—I've been such a bitch. How could you miss someone who jumps on your case 24/7?"

  He dropped his head back and laughed, his Adams apple bobbing with the sound. "I'll give you that, sweetness. You haven't been the easiest woman to live with; but a bitch, you are not. Seems like you were asking for some space, so I've been giving it to you." His smile faded. "We lost a baby, Jess. Not something I'd expect you to bounce back from, especially you. You carry everything in here."

  He pressed a long finger to the center of my chest, his feelings heartbreakingly exposed in the clench of his jaw, the tilt of his head. "It's the reason I love you so much. You're real. You feel things deep. It'd be the most goddamned beautiful thing, if it didn't also mean you hurt deep, too."

  How could I have doubted this man? It was my turn to laugh, though the sound was strained, even to my ears. "That's the nicest defense of complete and total bitchstrosity I've ever heard."

  "Bitchstrosity?" The twinkle of amusement in his eye—I'd missed it so much, it almost hurt to see it there.

  I swallowed hard and found my voice. "I could've gone with overbearing, nasty, hateful, but the way I've treated you...there wasn't a word to adequately describe it, so I had to make one up."

  Before the last word was out of my mouth, Nick kissed me. His lips descended on mine to shut me up, to keep me from beating myself up, to lay claim to me in whatever form I chose to inhabit. The kiss said all of that and more. His mouth pressed against mine as his tongue forced itself inside and tangled with my own in a familiar, yet somehow new, dance.

  I whimpered, my legs shaky as I took what he had to give and relished every second of it. My hands slid up his naked torso, over his shoulders to thread together behind his neck, pulling him closer to me. I inhaled the rich scent of him, savoring his unique musk and pine essence. He pressed me further against the wall, his thickness a beautiful weight on my lower belly. We stayed like that, hands roaming but lips locked together, for what felt like forever.

  Finally he pulled away. He inhaled, as though trying to catch his breath but he kept his body right where it was, caging me in, a willing hostage.

  His gravelly voice told me he was barely hanging on to his control. "No more of this nitpicking bullshit. From now on, you'll tell me what you want, what you need, and I swear to God, Jessa, I'll do everything I can to make it happen."

  It was too much. It was everything I wanted to hear, nothing I deserved, and still, the reality of the words was so good, it nearly overwhelmed me. I'd been a fool, but I wasn't going to screw it up again.

  "Nick..." I searched for the right vocabulary. I wanted him to take me right there against the wall, and I wanted him to stay completely still and hold me. Mostly I wanted to memorize the moment and tuck it away like a precious gem, taking it out later when I needed something to remind me that what we had was beautiful. I settled on the truth. "If it's just you that I get in this lifetime, I'll still be the luckiest person on the planet."

  I saw his face darken, lips pressed together as he tried to hold something back. Whatever it was, I didn't need to think about it, break it down and interpret it. The feeling was pure beauty. I knew it, because it was the same one blooming in my gut.

  He worked his hands between us, loosening, then dropping his towel. He yanked roughly at my skirt, pulling it down my legs before ripping at my stockings. My mouth kept him busy as I nibbled at his lips, trailing kisses from his jaw down his neck and sinking my teeth into the corded muscle connecting his shoulder.

  Nick hissed, digging his fingers through the hole in my stockings to tear at my panties. I heard the rip and felt the fabric give, before he hitched my legs around him. His lips found mine, eyes open and he paused, staring. My breath feathered over his cheeks, the force of it moving the shaggy hair hanging down over his ears.

  I closed my eyes. God, I was so wet. I
was open and he was millimeters away from entering me. I angled my back against the wall, working my hips toward him, toward the one thing that would make everything all right between us again.

  "Look at me."

  My eyes sprang open at his husky command. What I saw reflected back to me was everything. It was all there. Love, loyalty, desire. Had it been there all along? I'd only needed to look and I would've seen it.

  "Baby." I hoped the whispered word told him it was the same for me.

  "You need this?"

  Jesus, he could be so astoundingly sexy when he was possessive. The way he owned my wellbeing, it was a safety I'd never had with anyone. I couldn't lose it. I couldn't lose him.

  I nodded. "Yeah, honey. I need this. I need you."

  His eyes held mine as he slowly slid into me. I inhaled and held it, my lungs burning as he buried himself, inch by inch, until our bellies were pressed together. He cussed under his breath before taking my mouth in a scorching kiss again. Our tongues tangled together as he started to move in me. My breath came out in a gasp.

  I could only hold on, my fingers laced around the back of his neck. His thrusts were forceful, jarring, though he kept the pace slow. The result was a long, slippery glide as his cock entered me, hitting a spot deep inside me before grinding his hips against my clit. I cried out with each push, inhaling as he pulled away.

  It wasn't long before my orgasm began to blossom. No way could he take me like this and expect me to last. I unlocked my fingers from behind his neck, gripping his shoulders instead. I kept my eyes to his because I knew that's what he wanted. If I looked away he'd stop what he was doing and wait me out until I found him again. This was about claiming. Nick branded me as his, with every glide, jolt and whimper, but it was the eye contact he most craved. He wanted me to know who I belonged to. He wanted to see that knowledge reflected back at him through my eyes.

  It was almost impossible, but I kept his gaze, silently begging him to take me there. Wanting the feeling to last forever. He increased the pace, grunting with each thrust until I couldn't stand it anymore. I didn't close my eyes, so much as my eyes involuntarily rolled to the back of my head as it hit me. I clenched around him. Hard. His answering moan came from deep in his chest as he planted himself deep inside, his cock pulsing with his release as I contracted around him with my own orgasm.

  "I need you." I buried the words in the skin of his neck, repeating myself. It was more important to say that than to tell him I loved him. Love was negotiable. People fell in and out of it all the time and survived. There was no negotiating need. You either got what you needed or you died trying.

  He pulled back as I blinked the tears down my cheeks. Nick swiped at them with his thumbs and framed my face with warm palms. "You've got me, Jessa. For as long as I'm alive and breathing, I'm yours."

  God, let it be true.

  ***

  The next day, I was back in Eugene. I was going to fix everything wrong in my life. Last night, I'd started with Nick. I smiled at the memory of all we'd done to and with each other throughout the night. I clenched my thighs together, relishing the soreness between them.

  Task number two was to confront Tru about his awkward Facebook confession of love. But he'd thrown me for a loop when he'd invited Leo along to have lunch with us.

  I was tense as we settled into a booth at the Nineteenth Street Cafe once again. Leo chattered away across the table while Tru sat beside me. I ordered a beer despite the guilt of doing so while sitting next to an alcoholic, but desperate times called for desperate measures. It was bad enough I had Tru pressed close against me, in the same restaurant we'd frequented when I was in college. His scent and sarcasm, his provocative message, the familiar thrill of his presence were all fucking with my head. With Truman I was forever nineteen. It was thrilling and terrifying at once.

  I never could hold my liquor. Halfway through lunch I was nursing a healthy buzz and cracking up at something Leo had said. I turned to face Tru and noted his strained smile, his distracted comments. A familiar feeling of dread bloomed deep in my belly. He'd thrown in a sarcastic comment now and then but, as I became aware of his mood, I realized he was only acting like he was having a good time.

  Perhaps he'd had second thoughts about his message to me. He might've realized how inappropriate it was, considering we were both in other relationships. Maybe he had invited Leo along as a buffer so he wouldn't have to face the music. My heart softened. If that was it, he was clearly remorseful. I sank back into the seat cushions. There was no need for a confrontation, after all.

  I wanted to freeze time. I felt good for the first time in months. As much as I loved Nick, he was a constant reminder of my greatest pain, even as he'd been the only reason I'd survived it. Sitting at our old haunt, I was nineteen again, before all the bullshit when I still had a reason to believe that in twenty years my life would be something I'd recognize.

  "Gotta visit the ladies room." Tru stood and winked as he walked away, but his eyes were dim. I stared after him, still uneasy with the façade he seemed to be sporting.

  I sensed Leo's gaze on me and realized what I must've looked like, staring after Tru in that way. I cleared my throat and started folding a paper napkin into smaller squares. "It's been fun hanging out with you again, Leo. I'm really happy for your success, too, with the band. I don't think I ever told you that, but it's pretty impressive, what you've done with your career."

  Leo looked down, grinning. His humble, sweet nature was always such an endearing quality.

  "Thanks, Jess. I've been lucky. Getting in with Jimmy and the rest of the band was a stroke of good fortune, and except for all the touring and being away from Carrie and Jayden, it's been a pretty amazing experience."

  "It's great that she's been so supportive. It's probably not easy to be a single parent for weeks at a time." I had to work to come up with something positive to say about Carrie; she'd been so dour when I met her the first time.

  Leo beamed, and I wondered once again what he saw in her that was worthy of such devotion. "She's an amazing mother and partner. I feel just as lucky to have found her."

  He took another swig of his beer. "I always thought you and Tru would go the distance, too. Even now you seem to be such a great match. Back in the day, I wouldn't have guessed it wasn't going to work out."

  His tone was questioning, as though he wanted to pry but was too polite to ask. Back then, from the outside looking in, none of our friends could understand the breakup. Everyone's assumptions of perfection where Tru and I were concerned had always bothered me. What the fuck did any of them know about us?

  Tru appeared by my side and grabbed his jacket from the chair, "I've gotta take off, shit to do." His gaze found mine. "Walk me to my truck?"

  I breathed a sigh of relief at escaping Leo's questions. Having old wounds reopened, even unintentionally, would drain me of what little optimism I'd mustered. There was no more room in my life for drama. I didn't think about the baby every moment of every day, but I needed to tread lightly with my emotions.

  "Yeah, sure." I shrugged on my jacket, threw some cash on the table, said my goodbyes to Leo, and followed Tru out into the sunshine.

  He was parked in the same place as always, the unpaved, graveled lot to the side of the restaurant. Our feet crunched on the rocks as we walked. I'd halfway expected Tru to bring up the message, but he stayed quiet until we were almost to his vehicle.

  "It's been really great hanging out with you over the last year." His voice was soft, cheeks pink. "I think you know that, but I wanted to say it in person."

  We reached his truck and he turned to face me. He was every bit the Truman I remembered as he leaned against the door, work boots crossed at the ankles, hands shoved in his pockets. The classic Marlboro man, only he'd added smoking to the list of things he was no longer doing. I was proud of him, of his ability to simply stop because he'd decided it wasn't good for his health. I couldn't give up chocolate or coffee to save my life, much less
quit an addictive substance. Or three.

  "I've enjoyed it, too." My limbs tingled. He wanted to talk about how he'd told me he loved me, after all. What could I say in response? I wasn't interested in an affair, but maybe that wasn't his intention when he'd written the words. Making that assumption might offend him enough to ruin our friendship.

  The thought of losing him, again, caused a heaviness to settle inside me, as though my blood were suddenly thicker somehow. My heart responded by thudding painfully in my chest.

  I'd come to expect him to say goodbye with no small amount of longing in his voice. I hated to admit I liked it—our dynamic of him as a flirty pursuer, me as the one who always got to say no. So, I was surprised when he turned and started to get in his truck.

  "Wait, Truman." I set my hand on his arm and felt him tense beneath my fingers, even through the thick fabric of his jacket. When he turned around, it wasn't seduction I saw, it was pain. "Are you OK, honey? You seem a little...off."

  He shook his head. "Damn meds aren't working so well lately, darlin'. It's getting hard to get out of bed."

  Instinct had me moving closer to him. God, how had I made this about me? "Shit, I'm sorry. You're working with your doctor about it, right? Maybe it's only a simple adjustment that needs to be made or something."

  I knew so little about clinical depression and the world of pharmaceuticals.

  "Nothing for anyone to do, honey. I'm so goddamned tired of the ups and downs, you know? I'm tired." He looked away from me, his jaw tense as he scanned the parking lot, focused but unfocused. Dark circles under his eyes that I hadn't noticed in the dim lighting of the restaurant.

  Finally he shook his head, giving me another smile that left me cold. "It is what it is. Just trying to make it through each day right now."

  He kept his hands in his pockets and held himself stiffly. It was so unlike him not to try to kiss me or make some other flirtatious gesture when saying goodbye. Now, it was as if a robot were controlling him. There was no soul in his expression.

  I moved forward and pulled him into a hug. It took him a long time, but when his arms slid around me, his chest expanding and contracting with a deep sigh, I relaxed, too. We stood like that for several minutes, tucked inside the open door of his truck.