I swallow the “you already have me” that threatens to burst out.
Fucked, Seth Aarons, you are fucked. She will go on a rampage on your head and heart when you both return.
But I can’t get enough of her, like this, when it feels like she’s vulnerable with me, even if it may be an act.
“Show me where you touched yourself when you thought about me. Put my hand there.”
With a blush, she grabs my hand and slips my fingers under her underwear, and fuck me. She’s already so ready.
I want to tell her I’m going to miss the feel of her, miss the way her body seems to call to me like this. And bury kisses into every inch of her skin, making sure she knows like this, when she appears unguarded and genuine, she’s the most beautiful human I’ve ever seen.
I know. I know. I tell myself it’s a sham. But no matter how many times I remind myself of that, there’s still a huge, gnawing part of me that wonders, what if it’s not? Because, like this, Madeline Finch is the girl of my fucking dreams. Like this, Madeline Finch has my heart in a death grip. Like this—I love her.
The thought terrorizes me, and I slip my hand back out.
No, well, that won’t do.
Chapter fourteen
Home Alone
Maddie
Thereissomethingmagicalabout a breath crystallizing in the frosty air. Carbon dioxide swirls into thin wispy clouds floating away into a cloudless sky, twinkling with winking chips of starlight. A reminder that no matter how dead I’m feeling inside, I’m still living, still breathing, and for today, that’s enough. How many breaths have I taken for granted because I couldn’t see them? How many days have I let pass without appreciating the little things that make the world so utterly fantastic? Focusing, rather, on future hypotheticals I thought would provide me with the happiness I’ve craved my entire life.
I don’t know if it’s this environment or if the humid concrete climate of Eastern Texas can supply me with this same satisfaction, but I’ll slow down and enjoy it for now while I still can.
The Balsam fir lining the edge of the frozen cranberry bog twinkle in the night, shimmering off the blankets of fresh snow forming a boundary around the rink.
I lean back on a wooden bench, my arms fatigued from shoveling new walking paths and clearing the ice before skating opened to the public today. A cramp stabs me in the abdomen, and I wince. No one is watching, so what does it matter if I react to this bullshit?
With a week before Christmas, the skating area is full of locals today since most of the college students have already left for home after a brutal Finals week. That week is a damn form of legal torture. How else could you explain the hold it had on me? So much so that I didn’t question why I was putting myself through so much agony to study and finish things that didn’t matter.
I could have failed. I could have let my work die and explored the town more, but I didn’t even have a second to rationalize all that out because I was just in “must finish all the work and bone Seth Aarons” panic mode for three straight weeks.
Connor and I grew up in Balsam Hill, so we’re already home. Much like in the real world, my parents have gone to some exotic location without me. Being the unfortunate, inevitable product of true love is the worst sometimes. It was great to see two people love each other growing up, but I don’t know. It would have been nice to be a part of that, too. Is that selfish of me? Probably. But I’m a selfish person—they’d be the first to tell you that.
We spend time with you every day. We need some alone time.They’d say going off on vacations and leaving me with Jenny and her parents for every holiday, school vacation, and two or three dinners during the week where they’d go on dates.
You need to be okay with being alone, Maddie. We can’t give you attention all the time. Mamma needs attention from Daddy, too.
It was awkward the first time I saw Jenny’s parents interact with her. They told her she was the most important person in the world to them, and they loved her more than anything else in the universe.
I went home, eager to hear the same words. I told my mom I loved her more than anything else and asked if she loved me more than anything too.
I love your daddy the most, but I love you second, pumpkin. Of course, I do.
“Earth to Maddie. How have you not jumped me yet?” A low laugh rumbles me out of a place I rarely travel to for obvious reasons.
I blink back a tear. A large, mittened hand comes into focus, extending a familiar sweater-clad to-go cup in my direction.
“Oh my god, I love you. Give me. Give me.” I reach out for the sweet, hot vixen gripped in Connor’s hand, and he smiles, pulling it away, beyond my reach.
“That’s more like it.”
I flex my fingers with my arms stretched, mimicking grabby hands. “Connor, you tease. Quit it.”
“Oh, I’m sorry. I thought teasing was your thing.” He has the audacity to wink at me, and I gasp.
