by Scott, S. L.
I got the girl, so why does it not feel like a victory? Why do I feel like I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop?
The door slides open, and just as I suspected, her eyelids are lower than before, and her energy is waning. I meet her halfway. Holding her by the waist, I kiss her neck and then wrap what feels like my whole body around her, never wanting to let go.
I deserve her.
Gently pushing back, she cups my face. “Hey, what’s going on?”
“Nothing.” I put on a smile that feels forced, the first I’ve ever had to put on for her. “I’m just glad you’re here.”
Her eyes close as her lips press to mine. Things have slowed since the living room, touches more purposeful instead of fleeting. “I’m glad I’m here too.” I move around her and walk to the bathroom. She says, “Don’t be too long. Okay, rock star?”
“I won’t keep you waiting.”
I love that beautiful smile. Closing the door, I know she’ll be asleep by the time I come out. She needs it. Between the late nights studying for her midterms, to traveling, and then drinking however much she had tonight, she needs the rest. As for me, maybe I’ll stay up a while.
* * *
Surprised when my headphones are lifted, I jump. “Sorry,” she says, putting them down around my neck.
“It’s okay. Did I wake you?”
“Yes.” A small upturn comes with a side of teasing. “Because you weren’t in bed.” Meadow sits next to me on the couch, resting her head to the side on a cushion. “What are you doing up?”
“Couldn’t sleep.”
“Did you try?” The words sound harsh, but her tone is soft, a genuine curiosity filling her eyes.
“No.”
She sits up and takes the guitar from me. I was playing music in my underwear, so when the guitar is moved, she sees me, taking me in as she admires my body.
Leaning it against the side of the couch, she replaces it in my lap with an arm slung over my shoulder. I remove the headphones, and she curls to the side. With her arm pulled back and tucked against me, she fits me. A perfect fit. We fit together so well physically.
Lying in my arms, we both stare out the window. “Why didn’t you come to bed?” she whispers.
“Too much on my mind.”
“Can I ease it?”
“You are right now.”
I don’t have to see the grin to know it’s there. I can hear it in her voice. “You give me too much credit.”
“I give credit where credit is due.”
“You’ll be tired tomorrow if you don’t get some rest.” Tilting her head to the side, she looks up at me. “It’s two in the morning.”
“Speaking of, how are you feeling?”
“I woke up with a headache, so I took an Ibuprofen and drank the water you left me.” A kiss is placed on my chest. “Thank you for taking care of me.”
“Are you feeling better?”
“My head’s not throbbing, but a pill and water won’t replace you in bed. Do you want to try to sleep?”
“No.”
“Are you awake because you’re thinking about your mom? Has she had any other treatment or any changes?”
“I talked to her earlier. She’s as good as she can be.” A nod of her head is followed by an arm hugging me.
“Okay.” She pauses, but just long enough to take a deep breath and exhale. “We exchanged numbers when you took me home for Thanksgiving.”
My mom didn’t say anything, but it doesn’t surprise me. She’s very fond of Meadow.
“I’m so glad you took me to meet her, Dave. She’s amazing.”
“She is.”
“We’ve texted a few times just to say hi. She wants to get coffee soon.”
“She’s a good woman, like you. I like the thought of you getting together. My mom doesn’t tell me as much as I want to know. She thinks she’s protecting me.”
“She probably is. What an incredible gift that is.”
My mind riffles through her words, trying to understand, and when I do, my heart hurts for her. She doesn’t have a mother or a father who would protect her. I rub her skin, wanting to take away any pain she feels inside. “My mom is only one of many reasons I’m awake. Sometimes, I just struggle to stop the brain from thinking. So I grab my guitar and play.”
“And then often write amazing songs with incredible solos.”
I chuckle. She’s good for my soul. “Thank you, sunshine.” She shifts on my lap, and I’m not sure if she’s going to leave or if she’s getting more comfortable until she stays. “Talk to me. I want to hear your voice.” Angled sideways, her cheek rests on my chest with an arm over my middle. The heat from our bodies being pressed together tempts me to take her to the bedroom. She gets me hard with a look, but when she touches me, I get anxious to fuck—side effect to being with the girl of your fantasies.
“When I was a teen, my mom was popping in and out of my life like she still cared. She’d lecture my dad on how to raise me, but the next day, she’d disappear. Every time she did that, it was like resetting the hands of pain on his shattered heart. He hated her. He loved her. He couldn’t decide. Mentally, I decided for him. She wasn’t worth his time. Eventually, he wasn’t worth mine.”
She takes a breath, and her head shifts so she can see out the window again while she continues, “I tried for a while. I did anything to get his attention. I was so desperate for any attention, so much that I used to try to get away with stuff without anyone finding out, like sneaking out when I was a sophomore to meet senior boys after curfew.”
I’m not jealous of kids from high school, but I fucking hate that she was doing that to get attention. She should have had it from her parents all along. “Did you ever get caught?”
“One night, I realized I didn’t have to sneak. I could walk right out the front door because my father was too drunk to notice whether I was home. That was at the same time my mother lost her phone while traveling for almost a year.”
Fucking hell. “She didn’t call you for a year?”
“No, but she posted a lot of selfies that year, and when asked, she claims it was her boyfriend’s phone.”
“Was she lying?”
“You can see her pink phone case reflected in the sunglasses in the photos. So yeah.”
“Why would she lie?”
“Because her now husband wanted her to himself.”
“Where was your sister?”
“Stella was living on her own, post breakup from Rivers at the time, going to school and trying to keep her life from falling apart even more while trying to be there for me when she could.”
“You haven’t told anybody any of this, have you?”
“I inherited Stella’s talent for putting on a pretty face and pretending everything is okay.” She looks up at me and traces my jaw with her fingertip. “Unfortunately, you’ve had to pay the price for so long.”
“The wait was worth it because I got you. You’re not the same person who used to hide your feelings. You speak your truth. Don’t ever change.” She can’t get any closer. She’s right on top of me, almost all of her touching me, but she seems to try.
“Why are you so sad, babe?”
“I’m tired. We should go to bed.”
“I don’t want to go to bed. I don’t want you upset.” Angling my chin toward her, she says, “Talk to me. Please.”
I’ve kept this inside for so long that maybe she’s right. Maybe if I tell her, it will release me from carrying this around on my own. “My mom’s decided to undergo surgery. The woman who did everything for everyone else has been abandoned by most of her friends when she needs them most. I can’t be there as much as she wants me to, as much as I should be.”
“From the short time I’ve known her, I know she’d understand why you can’t be there physically.”
“She shouldn’t have to. The guys backed me, willing to ditch the date.” I exhale a shuddery breath. “But the venue threatened to sue if we’re not
there.”
“She’s so proud of you. She’d never want you to jeopardize what you’ve worked so hard for. I think you should talk to her, tell her everything you’re telling me now. She’ll understand. She loves you more than anything.”
Meadow means well, and I know she felt the loss of Louisa’s death like a daughter, but she doesn’t get this. No one really gets this. Unless they’ve gone through the long, frustrating hours, months, waiting for something positive. Waiting for the fucking cancer to go the fuck away. So, I don’t find the gratification I was hoping for.
Her heart’s in the right place, so I can’t be angry with Meadow, but I can fucking hate the cancer for trying to steal my mom away. “I think I’m tired enough to sleep now.” I set her on the couch and get up.
“Hey, Dave?”
Stopping before I enter the bedroom, I look back over my shoulder. She says, “You can tell me anything. I’ll always be your haven.”
I acknowledge her with a nod and then enter the bedroom. She quietly follows me, and when I climb under the covers, she slides in next to me, onto my outstretched arm. I kiss her head, and say, “Night.”
“Night.”
34
Meadow
Bright stars dot the clear blue night sky, and the moon is so big and bright that I can’t take my eyes off the stunning sight. I ask, “How much did you spend on that sky and perfect weather?”
Dave chuckles. “It’s Hollywood. Anything is possible.” I take a sip of wine just as he says, “You look pretty.”
“Why thank you, kind sir.” I run my hand down his chest. The surprise birthday party for Holli is in full swing on the large patio of The Outlaws’ LA home. LA, as in they own more than one home in the world. “You’re not too shabs yourself.” My glass is empty, so I turn my attention to the party inside the large house where Dave has gone for another round.
There’s no hiding with all the little globe lights hanging from the trees. A party of musical legends and legends in the making fill the premises. Candles flicker in lanterns and classic rock drifts through the light breeze. When he returns, I say, “The party is amazing.” He takes my empty glass in one hand and hands me a full glass of white wine with the other. “Are you trying to get me drunk?”
“I don’t have to try. You do a fine job all by yourself.” He laughs.
“You’re a funny guy,” I tease right back.
Stepping so close to him that I can smell the soap I lathered on his body earlier, he stands to his full height before me, causing a delicious shiver to course through my body.
I love our size difference. I feel safe with him, though not just physically. Toying with the gray button on his dress shirt, I keep my eyes on it, but ask, “Dave?”
“Yeah?”
“How long do you want to stay?”
An arm slinks around my waist, and he pulls me close. “You want to have your wicked way with me? Damn, girl, you can’t keep your hands off me.”
“If your ego wasn’t taking up so much space, you’d get to feel how handsy I can be, and then you’d be ready to go too.”
“My ego?” He laughs. “I’ve let you call the shots since day one of this relationship. How about you hand over the keys and let me drive for a while?”
I lift on the balls of my feet and kiss him. His hand presses to my lower back, and his head tilts to the side to take it deeper.
Our lips part and our tongues meet—warm, firm with need, possessive.
“See? I can give up contr—”
“Ew.” We both stop to find Alfie staring at us.
Shaking my head, I take a step away from Dave though my whole body feels that kiss still racing through my veins. “It’s not ew. Anyway, what are you doing out here spying on us, kid?”
“My dad told me to find Uncle Ridge.”
Sighing, I say, “Guess you should find him.”
“Come with me.” He holds out his hand for me, and I happily take it.
Inside, Stella and Rivers are with his brothers, Hannah, and Nikki. We join the group, and a warm sensation blooms in my belly. This is my family. These men and these women. Alfie, and also baby Violet sleeping in a sling across Jet’s body.
It’s not late, but it has just gone nine. Alfie leans against me, using my arm to rest his head. I wrap it around him instead. Jet says, “Hannah and I are taking off because we need to get these kids to bed, and I need to get my wife into bed.”
While everyone else chuckles, I don’t. The reality that these people would do anything for me from caring about me to taking me as one of their own is turning me sentimental. Dave puts his arm over my shoulders and holds me to his side. I’ve not just gained brothers, but also amazing sisters.
Nikki says, “I have a fitting tomorrow. You should come with us, Meadow. A few of the girls are coming, and the designer will be there.” Turning toward the group, she says, “I’ve been trying to get Hannah out of the house for the past month. We can get Stella to come and make a day of it.”
“That will be fun. Text me tomorrow.”
Dave says, “Now I’m ready. You?”
“Yep.”
After our goodbyes to everyone else, we walk to the door hand in hand. He stops us just before we leave, and says, “I’ve been thinking about our anal conversation.”
“Oh, no!” I walk ahead, swinging the door wide open. “You had your chance.”
His lips twist as he follows me outside. “Not really since you were drunk.”
I realize I have my hands over my ass. Dropping them to my sides, I say, “Well, I’m not drunk enough tonight.” As he laughs his ass off, being very dramatic, I hang on his arm. “I don’t know why you think this is so funny.”
“You’re funny, Meadow Soleil.” Grabbing me into a tight hold, which I think he does because he sees the valet guys eyeing me up, he stakes his claim by kissing me until my knees go weak, then says, “But you know what else you are?”
“What?” I feel gooey in his arms, the strange feeling growing every day.
“Mine.” He kisses me with the intention of a thousand conquerors and the lips of Brad Pitt.
Yes. Yes. Yes.
I’m so his, and the best part—he’s all mine.
I find I’m clenching on the way back to the hotel. He starts laughing, and says, “We’re not doing anal, so relax. But I will take you from behind and from the front. Most likely from the side as well.”
“The side?”
He just smirks, but then says, “I want your mouth on me, and I’m going to have my mouth all over you. How does that sound?”
“Positively sinful.”
* * *
My body feels blissfully sore this morning. Dave Carson is the devil in disguise. Or maybe I got his alter ego Ridge last night. Either way, it was pure heaven.
I stretch, reaching for the headboard as my toes point toward the end of the bed, enjoying the feel of my worked muscles.
Suddenly, I’m grabbed by the middle and pulled against his front. “Let’s lie here all day,” he says, a roughness working its way through his voice as he begins to wake.
Rolling over, it’s hard to see him with the curtains closed, so I reach over and push the button. The sun burns my eyes as it floods the room, but as I adjust, the strong features of his face come into view—a jaw that’s shadowed in scruff, dark lashes against the tops of his cheeks, those lips that are licked, and then the lower dragged under by his teeth. I touch his face, tempted to touch him much lower. “Good morning, rock star.”
“Good morning, cherry cheeks.” He seems to have all these nicknames for me, and I’m starting to follow the pattern of when he uses them.
Sunshine when he’s in a lighter mood.
Cherry cheeks when he’s in the mood since he’s caused my cheeks to pink in the first place.
Meadow Soleil is used when he feels close, the commitment we’ve made to each other filling his heart.
Meadow when he demands my attention.
I
love each and every one of them, just like the sides of him when he uses the terms of endearment.
Dipping a finger down his chest, I go lower. “Do you want to go to the gym to work out with me?”
Kissing my shoulder, he replies, “We can work out right here between the sheets.”
I play along because I’m determined to get out of this bed today . . . I think. I do love it here, though. “Tempting. We don’t even have to get dressed if we stay in.” Tapping his nose, I add, “But if I don’t leave now, my whole day will be gone, and I would’ve gotten nothing done.”
“You would have gotten me done.” His hand dives under the covers, and he readjusts before touching me between the legs. “Anyway, it’s too early. What’s gotten into you?”
“You. Too many times last night.”
Lying back, he keeps his eyes with the happiness embedded inside trained on me. “Is there really such a thing as too many when it feels so fucking good?”
Much to my dismay, I toss away my plans and reach under the covers because I’m not able to resist him. Running my hand over his stomach, I feel the taut muscles clench and release, reacting to my touch. When I go lower, I take hold of his hardness, his body ready for me. “You’re ridiculously impossible. I don’t think one woman can satisfy your needs.”
Covering my hand with his, he stops me from taking it further. “That’s where you’re wrong. You’re the only one who satisfies me. I don’t need anyone else.” As I move to sit up, his eyes try to read mine. “Do I satisfy you?”
“You do.” I prop myself up, resting on my hand. “We eat. We have sex. We lounge. We talk. We laugh. We eat. Always with the eating. You’re making me fat and happy.”
He gives me a wink and a sweet morning smile. “And the problem is?”
“I’m trying to find a routine when we’re together. We have none. After all these months, I eat terribly, and I drink all the time when I’m here. LA is just a nonstop party. It takes me a week to recover after every visit. So I think it would be good for us, or even just me, to bring a little of my home routine with me.”
