Something deep within me shifted when I finally got my head out of my ass long enough to realize that mentally going over my skills module to last longer was not doing it for her. Not in the slightest. And then there were the tears.
But they’re gone now. I don’t know what caused them, nor do I want to look too deeply into the why of any of it.
“We just busted through every last one of our rules. That’s what happened.”
Thank god my Maggie is back. The thought pulls a grin from me as I shift and detangle us. “Wanna do it again?” I ask as I roll off the bed. A pillow hits me in the shoulders as I cross to the bathroom. I clean up and grab a towel to take back to her. She meets me at the door, and I can’t stop myself from wrapping my arms around her. “Give me five minutes,” I mutter as she leans into me.
Rounds two through four are just as deep and meaningful as the first ended up being. She’s so fucking beautiful. So responsive. Every touch makes me want more.
“I learned something about you tonight,” I murmur into the dark bedroom sometime well after midnight. Light from the parking lot illuminates the room. It fucks with my sleep, so I’ve always hated it. But tonight, I don’t mind because it highlights each of her curves in the very best way.
“What’s that?” She sounds like she’s about to drift off. I trail my fingertips down her spine, circling every divot, before massaging my fingers up the muscles that line either side. She’s a limp noodle in my arms. A thread of pride makes my chest swell that I’m the reason she’s worn out.
“My girl likes a connection.”
She tenses like she’s going to pull away, and I wrap my arms around her to hold her right where she is. “Relax. That’s not a bad thing.”
“Yeah, well. It’s supposed to mean something, isn’t it?”
“No, actually. Fucking just feels pretty awesome in general. But that wasn’t simply getting it out of our system. That was something more than sex.”
Her hand skims over my chest, and then she hugs me. “Can we change the subject or just go to sleep?”
I chuckle. She’s as avoidant as I am when it comes totalking about important shit. It’s surprising that I’m the one bringing this up now. So out of my norm. I should claim exhaustion for my loose tongue, but I’m not even tired. For one, her fingers trace the tattoos on my chest, lighting me up inside, making me want more. If I go to sleep, this night will be over, and I’m just not ready for that. Instead, I share something I’ve been meaning to talk about with her.
“So… I got into the program I wanted. The one in California.”
Her hand stills for a heartbeat, before she resumes drawing patterns on my pecs.
“That’s good.”
The words are right, but her tone is all off. She clears her throat. “Sorry. I know it’s a goal of yours, and you’ve been working really hard on it. So congratulations.”
The realization of all that I’ll be leaving if I decide to accept their offer is now a bitter burn.
“You know, it’s funny that you’re so into this whole wildland firefighter thing.” She’s trying hard to infuse enthusiasm into her words. Her tone is light, but it’s forced. “There was this boy I dated in high school…”
She goes quiet, like she’s lost in a memory. I beat down a ridiculous rush of jealousy at the thought of anyone else ever having her attention. “Anyway,” she continues after a moment, “I guess the thought of you moving to California reminded me of him. Come to think of it, you two have a lot in common. He mentioned once that he was going to study fire science and try to get on some forest crew somewhere out west.”
My throat clogs, and my heart stops. I know exactly who she’s talking about, but I had no idea they dated. My memory of him was that we were friends, but grief and timehave a way of glossing over memories and making small things seem large, and large seem small.
Her fingers resume tracing my ink, though now it feels like blades scraping across my skin.
“He’s the reason I decided to change my plans from going to law school to make my parents happy and chose instead to go to culinary school and open my bakery.”
Jesus Christ. Can this get any worse? “You must’ve really liked him.”
“Yeah.” The sigh that follows cuts me to the core. “I really liked T.J. A lot. Maybe you remember him? He was in your senior class.”
Yes, dumbass. This can get worse.
“Losing a first love is hard, and the way I lost him… anyway. I guess time has a way of healing the pain of the past, but events like that leave a mark. You know?”
The same kid who changed the trajectory of my life, also changed hers. I’m drowning in guilt—not only for being the reason he died, but because in doing so, I know I broke so many hearts. I can’t let her know that I’m the reason she lost him.
“Yeah. That was the last year they did that stupid jump, wasn’t it?”
She props her chin on the hand that rests on my chest and nods. “I wish I’d known he was planning to go. He didn’t even mention it. Probably because I would’ve tried to talk him out of it.”
