Nora
It’s justlike I remembered it. I might not be sitting in a dark movie theater with a huge tub of popcorn in my lap, but I remember everything about the day Mom took me to see this movie. We didn’t have much, but she worked hard to give me everything she could. She had a way of making even the simplest treats feel special, like a trip to the movies, which so many other kids would probably take for granted.
Today, there’s a big difference. Instead of a huge tub of popcorn, my hand rests on the shoulder of a giant wolf. Somehow, I ended up stroking his fur without thinking about it. It’s so thick and soft, and it feels good to let it run between my fingers.
I have to remember whose fur this is. Not just a big, beautiful wolf. This is Cole on the sofa with me. Cole, who made me spill a tray of food all over myself in the cafeteria—for somebody who never got much to eat at home, it was like a double blow. It would’ve been bad enough to deal with stained clothes, but an empty stomach made the whole thing almost unbearable.
My heart hardens, and I slide closer to the corner of the sofa, further away from him. He lifts his head, searching my face with those familiar, green eyes that have haunted me in my dreams. I can feel the heaviness in his heart when he lumbers off the sofa. It’s not anywhere close to what he deserves, but at least I know I can hurt him a little after he hurt me so much.
He shifts without warning, and now there’s a whole other problem in front of me. A problem with beautifully sculpted muscles. Powerful, rippling, and flexing under smooth, tan skin that practically begs to be touched as much as his fur does. My heart does this weird fluttery thing, but it’s the heat that erupts in my core which worries me a little.
The heat gets more intense when he turns my way.Don’t look, don’t look. It’s pointless. Obviously, the harder I try not to notice the way his dick sways slightly, the harder it is to avoid glancing at it. And when I do, when I remember how it felt to have him inside me, the heat turns to a flood of wetness that rushes from me all at once. My nipples get tight and the hair on my arms stands up, and it’s not easy to keep my breathing slow and even when I feel heat spread over my face in the form of a deep blush. My hands twitch, ready to touch him, but I keep them clenched tight. I can’t do that. I won’t make it that easy for him.
Although I get the feeling, it’s pointless to hide the effect he has. It’s bad enough that I’m staring. He knows I’m staring. When I manage to pry my gaze away from the chiseled muscle running from his chest down to the dusting of black hair leading down from his belly button, I find him watching me, wearing a smirk that confirms he’s practically reading my thoughts. Damn him. And damn me for not being stronger.
“You hungry?” At least he doesn’t make a big deal about it,and I’m almost weak with relief when he starts putting his clothes on.
It’s funny, but I am. Maybe this whole eating regularly thing has woken up my appetite. I learned to ignore it for so long—I had to, there was no other choice. Now that I’ve started nourishing myself, it’s like my body wants to make up for lost time. When I nod, he motions with one hand for me to follow him to the kitchen. It is still unnerving, walking around this house, being treated like I belong here.
The light outside the window is getting weak. I didn’t realize how long the movie was. No wonder I’m so hungry as I take a seat at the island in the center of the kitchen, facing the sink and stove. Cole goes through the cabinets, then walks to the fully stocked fridge. “I know you said you don’t have any preferences,” he says as he goes through everything. “Do you like spaghetti?”
“Sure.” I can’t remember the last time I ate it hot, freshly made. I leave that part out since it’s too embarrassing. I know there really wasn’t anything I could do about the way they treated me, but it still stings to remember eating scraps. Telling him about it would mean admitting they humiliated me—and I took it.
“There’s some really great meat sauce in the freezer,” he explains, pulling a container out and setting it on the counter. “Tara was experimenting a few weeks ago.”
Oh, great. Just what I need. Like I want to eat anything Tara made. This is all too bizarre. The girl who stole my clothes out of my locker after gym class and made me wait around shivering in a towel until the teacher found me and gave me sweats to wear. She started so many rumors about me, too, all of which were completely untrue, but then nobody bothered tocheck in with me. That’s not how bullying works. It’s all about mindlessly following the leader and getting sick pleasure in destroying somebody’s life.
In some ways, it’s almost like I’ve been preparing for this for years. I know all about keeping the real thoughts and feelings locked up, or else. “That sounds good,” I offer. “Is there anything I can do?”
There is sheer pity shining in his eyes when he looks at me over his shoulder. “I think it’s about time somebody took care of you. You don’t have to do anything but eat as much as you need, okay? That’s all you have to worry about now.”
I know he means it, but it’s not that easy. “I’ve spent so many years being responsible for everybody else. It’s a hard habit to break.”
“I bet it is.” He uses one of those fancy pot fillers mounted on the wall above the stove to pour water into a big pot, which he sets on one of the gas burners. Cole Black, being domestic. Wonders never cease.
He turns toward me, resting his palms against the quartz countertop before giving me a long, heavy stare. “With enough time, you’ll break the habit. You’ll get used to being taken care of. I’m going to make it my mission.”
This is so weird! The pull in my chest, drawing me toward him, making me want to trust him. The ugly, harsh memories that insist I do anything but. It reminds me of a quote from Shakespeare: “I am fortune’s fool.” He might as well have been writing about me.
It’s not long before delicious scents start filling the kitchen. He slides garlic bread into the oven once the pasta is in the boiling water, then makes a huge salad while the sauce heats up in themicrowave. He moves smoothly, like he knows what he’s doing around here. Yet another thing I never would’ve guessed.
And again, he notices me watching and actually smiles this time. I don’t blush when our eyes meet. “Certain things make you grow up pretty fast,” he explains as he stirs the pasta. “We all had to learn how to take care of the house and each other.”
There’s something about the simple way he says it that chokes me up. Of course, he would have to know how to do these things after his mom and dad died. I guess I never thought much about what it meant for him and his siblings to be orphaned. I sort of had my own problems. When you’re knee-deep in pain, it’s easy to forget other people might be going through pain, too.
My appetite is raging by the time dinner is ready, and we eat hugely. I have to admit to myself that Tara makes a mean spaghetti sauce, full of tender meat that practically melts in my mouth. “Short ribs and sausage,” Cole explains without me having to ask. It’s absolutely delectable, and I find myself dragging slice after slice of bread through what’s left on my plate so I don’t have to miss a drop.
“Do you remember much about your mom?”
I almost choke on a mouthful of sausage, thanks to the way his question takes me by surprise. Once I can speak, I nod, since there are lots of things. “I’ve spent so much time going over everything, almost like a list of things I remembered and didn’t want to forget.”
A sad smile touches the corners of his mouth. “I know how that goes. What did she do for work?”
“She was a music teacher. We never had a lot of money.” I can’t help but laugh softly, which he echoes. “But she loved it, and her kids loved her. It used to make her so mad when we would hear on the news about school districts cutting funding for the arts. She believed they were crucial for development.”
“She wasn’t wrong. Did she ever teach you to play any instruments?”
I don’t know why the question makes me feel so shy, but I end up ducking my head before murmuring, “She taught me piano and guitar, but I haven’t played in forever.”
