The cabin door opens at that moment, Dad walking back out on the porch. Delaney walking up from behind. Any hope of talking dies a swift, sharp death. Not that Bowen seems too keen on talking anyway.
I'm getting whiplash.
I got out of bed and felt like I was floating this morning. My body is so sore from being used, bordering on painful if I'm honest, but it reminded me that this was real. That I really had been with Bowen. Now? Pain or not, I'm thinking I must have hallucinated all of it. Every thrust. Every shared breath and moaned kiss. Every tender look, every truth spilled.
“Bowen,” I say again, despite the two other people standing here with us.
I beg him with a look, but he just stands and moves down the steps. I'm forced to watch him pull Delaney into a familiar hug. She whispers something with a grin, and he rumbles something back.
He does talk, apparently, just not to me.
I'm going to fucking cry. Or vomit up Pop-Tarts and caffeine.
“Gonna take a quick shower, that cool?” I don't wait around for my dad to answer. He's too busy walking towards Delaney with a big smile and open arms. Not sure what that is, but what the fuck ever.
I'm weak because I bypass the hallway bathroom for Bowen's. I'll pretend it's because the water pressure is better, but it's really so I can hyperventilate in my hands while surrounded by his scent. I want the shower door to slide open and Bowen to step inside with me.
I want him to frame my face with his big hands and tell me he doesn't want me to leave. I want him to kiss me until the sick feeling swarming my insides and taking over goes away. I just want him. I want to be able to get dressed, go outside, and have the right to slide right up against him. I want him to press a kiss to my head, like he did in front of the Bennets.
I swipe my hand through the condensation on the mirror. I almost laugh. My body is flushed from the shower, but I wouldn't be surprised if some of it wasn't still from yesterday. From what happened right here, in front of this mirror. There is a hickey on my throat. Front and center. A few smaller ones are scattered on my chest.
I press on each one, wishing it would ache like I do inside. No way my dad and Delaney will miss the dark red mark. I absolutely should not get a thrill about that. Well, maybe not my dad…
I dress in clean clothes but slip Bowen's hoodie back over my head. I don't care if it's hot. Maybe his hoodie will protect me from the man himself.
When I open the cabin door, all talk quiets. Delaney takes a big bite out of a chocolate croissant, leaning against the banister. Dad takes a sip of coffee from one of the rocking chairs. Bowen thunks his head back against the rocker he's in.
“I was just telling them about how excited your mom will be,” Dad finally says after a moment. His smile is careful but genuine.
I forgot. For a moment. I'm the worst kid, honestly, because I forgot that this is his first time seeing me since the day he handed me the keys to the finished Fiona, and I climbed inside the driver's seat. I've been nothing but dodged calls, the occasional text, and pictures ever since.
He's looking at me the same way I've got Bowen looking. Like I'm nothing but a ghost, and if they blink, I'll be gone.
Even if Bowen asks me to stay, I owe it to my parents to finish what I started. To go back home. To spend time with them.
Bowen's curls are wild around his shoulders. I want to run my fingers through them. I want to crawl on his lap and bury them in the strands right now, right before kissing his stoic mouth and promising him I'll be back.
What would he do if I did it? Would he push me off? Not kiss me back? Just stare at me like I'm a moron who can't see that what happened yesterday was a one off?
‘Cause how could he want me? Me?
After everything.
He made you look him in the eye and tell him you were his. Twice.
I rub my chest and shake my head when Delaney gestures to the box of pastries.
“Did he call you to chase me off?” I ask, not missing the hard thread in my voice. The question was supposed to hold humor, but it falls flat on the porch between us.
Delaney takes the last bite of her food and considers me while she chews. “No, but I would have if he did.”
Bowen finally looks over at me, brows pulled down low on his forehead. He looks confused.
You and me both, buddy.
I have the irrational fear that my feet will grow their own consciousness and run me either straight to his lap or off the porch and around to the small cabin. At least there, it's glaringly obvious that he thinks of me. That he cares.
Bowen is a man who’s been hiding behind fear and heartbreak for years. He doesn't deal well with expressing his feelings. I've never been one to push, but fuck, I want to push right now.
