“That’s it, Killer. You’re so close.” Milo kisses a tear falling down my cheek. “Prue, you’re perfect,” he says hoarsely. “Your pussy is fuckingstranglingme. Does it feel good? Show me.”
I inhale, sharp and urgent, before I release a moan from the back of my throat.
“Yes, Prue, there we go! Let it all out for me. I’ve got you. C’mon, baby, give it to me. I can feel you about to come around my cock. It feels so fucking good. You’re doing such a good job.”
I gasp raggedly, struggling to inhale as my muscles go taut and a broken version of his name falls past my lips.
“Goodfuckinggirl,” Milo growls, holding my hip down with his flattened palm as I begin to writhe and tremble. “Let yourself feel it, gorgeous. Feel everything….”
I yell out, my climax taking over and stealing the breath from my lungs. I shatter underneath him, and he holds me steady as he fucks me through what feels like a never-ending wave of ecstasy.
Milo moans, rutting into me as his movements become short and sporadic. “One day…” he says, his breathing louder than his voice. “I’m going to fuck this pussy full of come,” he whispers, as if to himself, then stills and tenses all over, groaning out through bared teeth.
With panting breaths, our lips meet again, kissing feverishly as we both fight to take in the air we so desperately need. The kiss turns lazy and languid, brushing lips and soft tongues melding in the dark.
“That was…” I whisper as he grips my face tightly, his thumbnext to the corner of my bottom lip as he presses another kiss there.
“Please find the right word,” he begs, brushing his thumb under my lip as he continues to catch his breath. “Because I know I won’t be able to.”
“Words? What are words?” I joke, brushing a lock of hair away from his forehead.
He stares at me—reallystares at me. With eyes equal parts mesmerized and wounded. Like how someone stares in the ten seconds before they say something big, revealing, and uncharacteristically vulnerable. I brace for it. I prepare my heart to hear the three words I’ve been foolishly imagining him saying to me for weeks now.
But, instead, he reaches into my hair, plucks an imaginary pin from above my ear, and mimes putting it into our ever-filling board of things we won’t, orshouldn’t,talk about, to his left.
And, despite the way my stomach drops, I know it’s for the better.
So, I hold his eye contact and do the same in return, reaching into his ’stache to remove a pin of my own and placing it next to the spot where he had placed his as our shared gaze holds the weight of all the things we’re not saying.
I think it’s as close as we’ll ever get to admitting how we feel. We are just two afraid people in a dimly lit room agreeing with our eyes that no good can come from offering these pesky feelings to each other.
That once spoken, those words would only make the memories of our time together hurt more when we have to say goodbye. And wewillhave to say goodbye.
I’m new to it,sure,but I know love when I see it. Love has surrounded me all my life. Love has danced in my kitchen and mowed the lawn and painted back steps and tucked me into bedsince I was a child. And there’s no denying thatlookin Milo’s eyes. Mine either, no doubt. Reflecting this cracked-open, yet overflowing sensation in my chest like golden, warm honey coating every muscle, bone, organ, and vessel.
We both sigh, somehow in tandem, then Milo kisses my chin before he removes himself and rolls onto his back next to me on the bed. We both lie flat, staring up at the stars through the skylight above, our breathing in perfect unison. He reaches for my hand in the dark, without a word, and holds on to it tightly.
With tears in my eyes, I smile up at the moon. BecauseI,Prudence Welch, against all odds, have fallen in love. Love waltzed into my tiny town, found my very doorstep, let himself in, and miraculously managed to findmein a home I’ve never left.
So, yes, Milo and I are in love.
And, no, we’ll probably never admit it to each other.
But how wonderful and tragic and lucky is that?
Twenty-four
Milo
It has occurredto me, more than a few times and somewhat against my will, that I am irrevocably in love with Prue. Like the moment I put an extra spoonful of broccoli on my plate at dinner last week, for example. Or the many times I’ve walked past Bertha in the driveway once her two-week vacation was up and chose to drive into town in Nik’s van instead. Or when I checked my blood pressure at the pharmacy last week. I’d never worried about living longer until I met someone I wanted to live a long life with.
Butnoneof those moments hold a candle to last night’s realization.Not even close.
Because last night, as far as I’m concerned, was the last night of my life as I’d known it. Looking into Prue’s eyes, recognizing the familiar fear and excitement in them—it changedeverythingfor me.
As Mr. Welch said, there is a moment it dawns on you that there will be a beforeandan after someone—and I felt that fall into place last night in a way I could no longer ignore, even if I wanted to.
So, if today is the first day of my new life, I want it to start as soon as possible. Which means I have a difficult conversation ahead of me.
