“Babe, we’ve always got time to talk about shit. If you feel bad about something, you need to tell me. That’s how people sort things out. Time is cheap. We can afford it.”
She stares at me sadly and for a minute, I’m bothered. What the hell is with her?
But then she smiles.
“You’re right. But I’m fine. Jacey is an old friend. It’s fine.”
It’s fine. Two of the most dangerous words in the female vocabulary, I’m sure. But I have no other choice than to accept it. So I nod.
“Good. Now… we have the cottage to ourselves again for the evening. How would you like to spend that time?”
Nora smiles, a slow smile that finally reaches her eyes, then she reaches for me.
“I’ve got some ideas.”
Nora
I’ve got to soak him up. Every bit of him, as much as I can. I’ve got so little time to absorb him, to remember him, to take his goodness and make it mine.
He runs his hands over my hips, and I lift them, granting him access to the most sensitive part of me. When he does, I forget how William’s fingernails bit into me earlier. Brand eclipses it, erases it, eradicates it.
I twist the sheets in my hand, moaning his name as he strokes me.
Make me good, Brand.
He kisses my neck, my lips, my cheeks, before he rests his forehead against mine and as he stares into my eyes, he enters my body, slowly, smoothly, deeply.
With purpose.
I suck in my breath and then breathe with him, in slow pants as he slides in and out, over and over.
“I want to see you,” he rasps against my neck. And then he pulls out, and flips me on top of him, his hands grasping my breasts, kneading the sensitive flesh.
“That’s better,” he sighs. Sliding his hands along my hips, he worships them. Then he spends his attention on my breasts and leaning up, he suckles them, laving them with his tongue, rolling my nipples between his teeth. All the while, I’m rocking on his hardness, sliding him in and out, enjoying the wet warmth, the hardened rigidity.
Fill me up, Brand.
He slides in and out, fast then faster and finally, I throw my head back and arch on top of him, shattered from the orgasm. I shake and shake with it, my muscles contracting around him.
He smiles.
“My turn.”
He begins moving inside of me again, but then pulls out, and flips me over one more time, this time, I’m face-down on the bed as he fucks me from behind. He pulls me up toward him with his hands and then reaches around and strokes me while he fucks me.
I come again, before he finally groans with his own release.
I collapse onto the bed, limp and satisfied and sad.
This is all I have. I have to memorize it. I have to memorize him, his face, his smell, his hands.
I pick up one of his hands and trace his fingers as he pulls me onto his chest with his other arm.
The silence between us is huge and loaded and important. I don’t know why. Then I realize… as he looks at me, the expression in his eyes is different.
Because he loves me.
I don’t know how I know, but I know.
I nuzzle into him, my face in his neck, trying to spread that warm, soft, good feeling all over my body.
“I’m so tired,” I tell him, hoping that he won’t actually say the words. I can’t hear the words. Not if I have to leave him. It’d be impossible. Excruciating.
Please don’t.
He chuckles instead and the moment is broken. “I wore you out. Take a nap and we’ll do it again.”
But he’s the one who falls asleep.
I watch him, as he breathes in and out. As his arms still encircle me, as he still protects me even while he sleeps.
My heart twinges, my gut tightens.
I glance at the clock.
Eleven pm.
We’ve spent hours in this bedroom, making love over and over. Because that’s how I wanted to spend my last hours with him. It will be these memories that I exist on from this day forward.
But the clock is ticking and I have one hour. I have no doubt that William probably has someone watching the house, just to make sure I hold up my end of the bargain.
As gently as I can, I slip from the bed and sit at the desk by the window, scribbling out a note. It’s brief but I don’t know what else to say… I don’t know what to say that won’t hurt him. I fold it over and write Brand’s name on it, propping it up by the lamp where he’ll see it.
I watch him again, soaking him in, memorizing his strong face, his chiseled jaw, the cleft in his chin. I wish I could look into his eyes one more time… the blue, blue ocean that I’ve looked into a hundred times.
The eyes that say they love me, even if he hasn’t said the words. I know he does. I saw it tonight.
And that will have to be enough.
I bend and brush the softest of kisses on his brow and slip from the room.
I know Jacey isn’t back yet, so I quickly grab my things from her room, stuffing them in my bag. I’m quietly walking through the kitchen when the back door opens and Jacey steps in.
She’s startled to see me and she starts to say hello, but then her eyes take in the bag in my hand and widen.
“Are you… you’re leaving.”
I swallow hard, then nod. The movement hurts, like a scalpel or a sword.
“And Brand doesn’t know.”
Jacey’s voice is limp.
I stare at her, not answering.
She stares back, confused, pissed.
I take a step around her and she grabs my elbow.
“I don’t know if this matters to you, but I haven’t seen Brand this happy in a long time. Actually, I’ve never seen him this happy. This will kill him. I can’t imagine why you’d leave him.”
I stare at her, directly in the eyes.
“You left him.”
“But he and I were never together,” she points out. “You… I … never mind. It’s not my business.”
She turns her back and starts to walk away.
“Jacey?”
She turns around silently, because words aren’t needed. Her icy glare says everything.
“Sometimes things aren’t what they seem. Can you.. just… take care of him.”
Jacey nods curtly, one time, and I do the hardest thing I’ll ever have to do in my life.
I drive away from Brand Killien.
I sob the entire way to the airport.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Brand
When I wake, the bed is empty. It takes a minute to realize that Nora has already gotten up. I stretch and wait for her to come back, but after a long while passes, I realize she’s not going to.
She must be out talking with Jacey.
I shake my head as I climb from bed. What a fucked up situation. But what an amazing night.
As I reach for my shorts, I see the paper.
Folded over, with my name scrawled on it, propped up on the desk. My stomach drops like a piece of lead, into my feet, into the floor.
This can’t be good.
I don’t want to open it, but at the same time, I know I have to.
My body goes numb as I read her words.
Brand,
This was more than I bargained for. I’m sorry. I hope you find what you’re looking for.
Nora
She doesn’t mean it.
She can’t possibly.
Yet, she’s gone. And this letter is here in her place.
I ball the paper up and throw it in the trashcan and then before I can control my anger, I smash my fist into the wall. It breaks through the drywall with a crash, and little pieces of it fall to the floor.