When we’re done, about an hour or so later, we’re languid against the bed, sheets tangled around his calves and my head rests heavily against his chest. I hear the solid beating of his heart beneath his sternum, the whooshing of air into his lungs with each breath. A perfect moment of rest and contentment. And for a second, I wonder…
Wolves have this instinct where they know if someone is meant for them, and they can supposedly feel it right away. They say humans can feel it too with their intended—an intuition. Rhee was too stubborn to allow herself to feel it with Jaxson until they got past their first relationship hump, but he says now that he felt it all along. I never felt it with Spencer, so part of me thought it was bullshit, but I feel it now with Blaze. Something. I’m just too chicken to ask about it. It’s too soon. Way too soon. And there’s a possibility I could be confusing it with lust and an overall contentment with his presence.
Or, maybe that’s exactly how it’s supposed to feel. I have no point of reference.
I’d be lying if I said a part of me is worried that he doesn’t feel it too. But he’s here, and that’s good enough for now, because I’d rather die than bring it up after one night together.
After a short nap, we then find ourselves in the shower to wash up and though I’m on the verge of being too sore, he’s so damn intuitive with my body, he manages to give me another orgasm without making it uncomfortable.
Three.
Three times we’ve had sex in less than twenty-four hours, and he’s made me come at least six times. Maybe even seven. I’ve lost count.
As we’re drying off, my phone chimes with a text, so I fish it from my purse in the bedroom. Rhee:
Hope your date with Hottie McTight Pants went well. ;)
Can Carson stay another night? He’s dying for Jaxson to take him on a ride around the mountain in his Jeep and then they want to come back and work on the baby’s room before we make a fort. Well, they’ll make a fort. I’ll be watching.
How do I say no to that? Besides, I won’t have to rush Blaze out of here. I quickly text back:
Of course!
You guys have fun. McTight pants is still here, so take what you will from that. ;) I’ll pick Carson up in the morning.
She immediately replies:
Well, praise God! That probably means you’ve also had your first orgasm in forever. From a man. Keep enjoying!
I blush and toss my phone onto the bed. Blaze hugs me from behind. His body is still damp, his arms snaking around my waist, and I tilt my head to the side as his kisses the flesh beneath my ear.
I breathe out, “I’m free all day if you want to stick around?”
A nip at my earlobe, and my stomach jumps. Something inside me loves the idea of getting bit by him, of him claiming me for a mate, but I fight the thought away. Again…too soon.
He needs to quit being so damn amazing.
“Little man not coming home?”
“Not until tomorrow.”
His eyes drift though my window. Rain falls in heavy sheets and drums against the glass as if demanding us to stay in. “Well, then. Let’s take advantage of that.”
9
Exquisitely Exhausted
Sex is no longer an option for me. Well, for today. I need to give my lady parts a break, so we binge-watch the last season of Game of Thrones and cuddle on the couch. Between episodes, Blaze makes us grilled cheese and soup. For dinner, I throw together a pizza. As I slide it in the oven, I briefly wonder if I should say anything to him about Spencer. About how Carson’s dad isn’t in the picture and could even be dead for all I know, but I decide to leave it alone. It’s not anything he needs to know yet. Maybe once it gets more serious.
God, I hope it gets more serious.
Before he leaves to head home, we find ourselves in another make out session against the wall beside the front door and I can’t help but feel like a teenager again. Raging hormones. Wandering, needy hands. Never enough. We can’t get enough…
“Easy,” he says, as I rub my palm over the hardness beneath his jeans. He swallows hard.
I almost consider tearing his jeans open and having another go at it, it’s hard to go easy, but the soreness between my legs says otherwise. “Sorry,” I breathe, and peck his lips again to taste them one last time. You drive me crazy.
“Don’t be sorry,” he says, almost chuckles. I love how unraveled his voice gets when he wants me. “I’d take you again right here if you were up for it.”
“Oh, I considered it.”
He smiles as if to suggest he was already in on the secret. “See you this week?”
Something inside me warms at the idea. “Sure. Lunch?”
“Deal,” he replies, and then brushes a parting kiss against my forehead. “I’ll text you.”
As I watch him mount his motorcycle and ride away into the misty night, it hits me how we’ll have no choice but to stick to lunch dates for a while. Once Rhee gives birth, Carson will be taking a break from going over there every other Friday.
But, that’s okay. We’ll figure something out. Guys who want to see you will make an effort, and I had a pretty damn good feeling about this one.
* * *
I get the second best night’s sleep of my life that night. It’s easy to rest when you’re exquisitely exhausted and happy and everything seems to be going in a positive direction for the first time in a long time. Not that I haven’t been happy over the past couple of years, but grieving the death of Dad has been hard, and being in a new home had taken some getting used to for both Carson and me. New routines. New school. New job.
And sure, this thing with Blaze feels new, as well. But it’s a good new. A promising one. Something that feels like the start of a new chapter.
And I kind of love it.
By noon, I’ve cleaned the house and have washed and put away two loads of laundry. By three, I’ve gone to the store to do our grocery shopping for the week, have put everything away, and am on my way to Rhee’s to get Carson. I intend to pick him up and visit for five minutes tops, so I can have him all to myself the rest of the evening, but as usual, I get sucked into staying and eating dinner.
I think they like feeding me because of the single mom thing, but honestly, I never mind doing what I need to do. Never have. But I also know tonight wasn’t completely unselfish of them…well, at least of Rhee, because she wants to grill me about my night with Blaze to distract her from how miserable she is.
I’ll gladly help her with that.
By eight, Carson and I are headed home and by eight-o-five, he’s passed out against the window, so I have to carry him inside. No easy task with how big he’s grown, but I manage.
When I head up the walkway to the front door with Carson’s body limply fastened to mine and his head lolled against my shoulder, a pair of headlights wash over us from behind. Briefly, I wonder if it’s Jaxon bringing me something Carson left, but when I’m turned around, I don’t recognize the car. Red sedan. Beaten all to hell. “Who is that…?” I whisper in its direction.
I shift Carson onto my other hip, holding him with one arm and let the other fall in case it needs to get the gun out of my purse in a hurry.
The headlights cut off and my eyes take a second to adjust. Thank God my porch light is on so I can still see. Barely, but I can.
My breath hitches, my body tensing. Is that—?
Spencer’s bright blond hair glows like a warning beacon from inside the dark cab. His eyes are wide with fear.
He should be afraid.
But I am too.
Why is he here? After all this time.
Heart racing, I glance to the front door. Back to him.
I shift on my feet and hug Carson tighter. What do I do? I don’t know what to do.
So, I do the only that makes sense to me in that moment—make a beeline for the front door. I shut it behind me and slide the deadbolt into place.
10
Me Man Wolf
It’s a good thing I got
some good rest this weekend, because last night I didn’t sleep for shit. It would just figure that as things start to seemingly go so right, Spencer would show up at my doorstep.
I’m not surprised, I guess, that the universe is throwing me a monkey wrench. It’s good at that. My life—and especially love life—has never managed to stay uncomplicated for long. It’s hard not to be bitter about it. And angry. Not that there’s anything wrong with being angry. My anger is justified with this man. He left us when I was pregnant and most vulnerable and somehow, by grace and family alone, we managed.
I’m also a little upset because I thought I’d reconciled it all in my heart and my head…at least as well as one can, but seeing him in my driveway last night made me realize how not over it I am.
Why now? Why at all? What could he possibly want from us? It can’t be anything selfless. He’s not capable. There’s no room in his heart.
And yet, part of me hopes. A small, naïve part of me hopes he’s realized his selfishness. That maybe somehow, somewhere along his journey to God-knows-where, he’s been made aware of his ways and he’s ready to make amends.
I’m not holding my breath, and he has a hell of a lot of proving himself to do if he thinks I’ll let him waltz back into Carson’s life.
But that’s a scary thing, isn’t it? To rearrange your mental furniture to accommodate for that missing piece, and then it comes back and you have no idea how you’ll make it all fit again? Or even if you want to?
I guess I need to just talk to him. See what he has to say for himself. I haven’t gathered the courage yet to do so. The few times I managed to peek out the window last night, he was sleeping in his car.
Carson will see him when I take him to school, not that he knows what he looks like. Still, he’ll wonder who the strange man in the beat-up car is and I’ll have to tell him the truth, because I’ve never lied to him. He knows why his father isn’t around—he had to go find a new life because he wasn’t ready to be a father. But I also made sure he knows it has nothing to do with him. He’s amazing and smart and lovable and worthy. Something was broken in his father; it was never about something being wrong with him.
There is one way I can avoid that, though…Carson seeing him. I can go out there and talk to him and see what he wants and then ask him to buzz off until we can have a deeper conversation when Carson isn’t around.
He can only disrupt my life if I let him.
“You have a say,” I whisper to myself, and then release a shaky, emptying breath as I look out the front window, two steaming coffee mugs in hand. I’m wearing a bathrobe and my rainboots and I know I look like a mess, but I don’t care. You have a say, too. The say.
In what you allow.
In what happens.
In how this affects Carson… If, I allow them to meet, that is.
Armed with coffee and what little bravery I’m able to muster, I head out the front door and pause on the front porch. When he sees me standing there with two mugs of coffee, he perks, and once he realizes he has to get out and meet me, he gets out of the car so fast the door nearly flings from its hinges.
When he approaches, I’m surprised by something; an overwhelming calmness envelops me. A protective mechanism, perhaps? I’m flinging up a barrier so I don’t throw hot coffee in his face and tell him to leave. Somehow, I’m calm and collected, and I simply plant myself on the top step. He settles beside me and I numbly hand the mug over. It’s the better part of a minute before either one of us says something.
My first instinct is to ask how he knows where we’re living, but I stop myself. He knows my scent and I was all over town yesterday. My next instinct is to ask him where he’s been the past seven years, but I can’t bring myself to ask that, either. No answer will be good enough and will only tempt me to douse him in coffee. I’ve been good at that lately.
“You’re back,” is all I can manage, but I don’t say it in his direction, I say it into the woods ahead. I can feel his crystal blue eyes burning into the side of my face. He’s probably noting how much I’ve changed. How every crease, every wrinkle that’s etched themselves into the fabric of my human skin, is a reminder of everything he’s missed out on. Every laugh. Every cry. Every tense or angry moment, and it’s hitting him like a freight train to the stomach.
Or, maybe he doesn’t feel anything at all and I’m giving him way too much credit for being able to think that deeply. Me man-wolf. Me back in town because I’m done humping my way through the country. Me wonder if human woman will let me—
“I am,” he replies.
“Never mind,” I say, clipped, and I take a sip of coffee. My teeth grit as the warmth slides down my throat. I thought I could do this, but I’m not ready to hear his voice yet. I’m not ready to hear anything he has to say, or my necessary boundary of calmness will fall, and I’ll rip him to shreds.
He has no idea. He has no fucking idea what he’s missed out on, this wonderful being he helped create. And as far as I’m concerned, he’s a long, long way from deserving him.
I stand, dust off the seat of my robe.
He blinks up at me, perplexed.
“I can’t do this right now,” I explain, and my chin quivers, my voice breaking on this. I clear my throat. “I’m guessing you’re back because you want in our lives again, but I need time to digest that. Find yourself a place to stay in town.”
“Okay,” he says slowly, voice low, like he knows I might shatter. He doesn’t counter my assumption of wanting back in our lives and that’s all the confirmation I need. “I’ll be at the motor lodge.”
“Under your name?”
“Yes.”
“I’ll find you.”
And with that, I turn for the door. Before I shut it behind me, I say, “I’ll be taking Carson to school in a little. Please be gone when I do.”
11
Braindead
I’m completely useless the rest of the morning, so thankfully, it’s been slow at work. So far, we’ve only had a sprained ankle and a mild cold. At lunch, I stick to the breakroom and eat a can of soup I left in the cabinets and force myself to eat it. My stomach is churning from the anxiety, and I always lose my appetite when I’m upset or stressed. It reminds me of when he first left, how my body responded to his abandonment despite having a baby in me that needed nourishment.
I’ve decided to have him come over tonight after Carson goes to bed, so that’s where most of the anxiety is coming from. Well, that, and the general idea of him being back in Dark Moon Falls and how that will change things. If I allow them to be changed. I couldn’t bear to hear his voice this morning, to hear any type of explanation, but now that a couple of hours have passed I’ve decided not knowing is worse. He’s here, so I might as well face it and give him a chance to say what he wants to say. Rip the Band-aid off. Like waiting to get a possibly life-altering diagnosis, I’ll be haunted by it until it’s delivered. Until the proverbial Band-aid is ripped off.
Before I leave for the day, I call the motor lodge and have them leave a message for him:
Come over tonight at 9pm.
-Maddie
Part of me hopes he gets spooked again and is a no show and just leaves town. But then another part of me remembers how I preached to Rhee about making amends and second chances and ironing out old grievances, and it’ll be hard to take my own advice unless he shows.
On my way out the door, my phone buzzes with a phone call in my purse, and I tense, but then I realize it’s probably Rhee. Spencer doesn’t have my number yet. On purpose.
When I see Blaze on my screen I smile, though I can feel how it doesn’t touch my eyes. I wait until I’m inside my car to answer it. “Hey, you,” I say.
“Hey, beautiful.”
My stomach flutters. I crank my car to get it warm and defrost the windshield.
“I know I’m supposed to wait like a week or something before I call after a first date or something, but I’m a rebel.”
I chuckle. “I like that
you’re a rebel,” I return, trying to sound chipper.
He hesitates, and I wince. Did he hear it in my voice? That something’s wrong? I bet he can hear it. Now would probably be a good time to tell him about Spencer, but I decide against it. I need to talk to Spencer first before I tell anyone anything…including my sister. It might stress her out and send her into early labor.
“Lunch this week?” he finally asks.
“Sure!” My fake enthusiasm is about two octaves too high, and I roll my eyes at myself.
“Okay, good. Maybe Thursday?”
“Sounds good.”
Silence.
Crap, I don’t know what to say. I’m braindead. All of this has made me braindead.
He flounders. “Text you later? If you want? We can…I don’t want to push you, or…” He lets his words trail off, passing the ball back to me.
I take a breath and gather myself together. “Yes, text me. Sorry, had a long day at work.” Liar. But I have to give him something.
“Okay. Text you later.” He sounds a little relieved but still skeptical.
It would have to do for now.
“Bye!” I say and punch the End Call button so hard I’m surprised it doesn’t shatter the screen. That was painful. “Sorry,” I whisper, thinking of him.
I can tell him everything later and it will all make sense. For now, I need to focus on getting through the next twenty-four hours.
Dark Moon Falls: Volume 2 Page 30
