But I keep watching him. And I see the war he’s fighting.
He has a deep love for his club, which is what built him and gives him purpose. But now both his club and his love for it are being threatened.
He’s holding a lot and trying to keep his life together.
While I’m actively tearing mine apart.
“I know I have a good life,” I say, turning back to the water as well. “I always have.”
Alder stays quiet, but I feel his eyes shift to me.
“I have great, loving parents, and an older brother who’s always looked out for me. My family has always been supportive of who I am and what I want to do…” I pause as my words get stuck for a moment. But I want to get this out.
I need to.
“But the darkness was always there. For as long as I can remember,” I continue, trying to add strength to my voice. “Just always hovering, waiting to pull me under. So I let it. And it dragged me down so far, I can’t feel anything anymore.” I stare out at the water’s edge, moving in and covering the tidal flats, slowly but surely. “I always feel it, but the worst of it comes and goes, hitting me in waves that make me feel like I’m drowning. And each one rises higher and pulls me in deeper. Until all that’s left is grey… and I’m completely numb.”
I turn my head slowly and meet Alder’s gaze. His dark eyes lock on mine like he’s seeing all of me for the first time. Because I’m finally letting him.
And I find myself hoping he stays.
My eyes drop to his mouth as I pull in a breath. “I drink because it allows me to feel something. It brings me pain, guilt, and regret. The lack of sensation is worse than suffering, so I’d rather suffer. It makes me feel alive.”
Alder holds my gaze a moment longer, then leans in and presses his lips to mine. His hand cups the side of my face with the force I crave, as he pushes my lips apart with his tongue and claims my mouth. It’s rough and soft at the same time, as he steals my breath and gives it back to me all in one motion. His beard scratches my skin as his thumb presses in on my jaw, and my hand slides under his cut. The smell of smoke and leather mixes with the fresh scent of pine and salt, and I pull him closer to take even more.
A pulse deep inside me grows louder the longer his mouth is on mine until I want it to scream. I let it swell until it’s in my ears and my fingertips, and I’m overwhelmed by it in a way that makes me crave more.
Below us, the tide continues to climb, slowly swallowing up the same tidal flats it left exposed. It once again takes in the cracks and worn-down rocks it created, as one by one they each disappear beneath the surface.
The same force that erodes can also rise.
When he releases me, he leans back just enough to look into my eyes, keeping his hand on my face.
“Feel that?” he asks.
And all I can do is nod.
He smirks as his hand slips around the back of my neck, and his fingers twist into my hair. He pulls just enough to tip my head back and brings his mouth close to my ear. “You just need a bump start.”
TWENTY-EIGHT
I need to fuck him.
Right the fuck now.
And as much as I wanted to tear into him right there on the rocks while the tide rolled in, it wasn’t the time or place.
But now it is.
I cut through the winding back roads towards Fredericton, the afternoon sun shining down on us as Cade presses against me with his arms looped low around my waist. Low enough that I can’t even fucking think straight. His hands shift against my stomach, and the way he leans into me has me groaning against the wind. I ease the throttle open even more, trying to shorten the distance left to travel, because waiting even one more minute is too long.
I pull into the other lane to pass a sedan crawling along like a fucking half-dead sloth, and pick up even more speed, letting my engine growl and eat up the highway. Cade grips me tighter, and even over the noise of my bike and the wind… I swear I hear him laugh.
Well, fuck.
I might as well just pull over and fuck him right up against my bike on the shoulder of the road at this point.
But we’re close to Mom’s cabin, and that was my plan anyway, to make him come under the trees. Mom’s still away, either riding some manic high somewhere in the province or locked away in group therapy with grippy socks. Who knows which. Either way, she’s not here, and the chickens and ducks need feeding anyway, so win–win.
