Not Looking For Love: Episode 5 (11 page)

"Yeah, I know," he mutters, no longer smiling.

I roll over and look at him. "Why did you leave me?"

I say it softly so he'll know I'm not arguing.

"I told you last night, it was the only way I knew how not to involve you any further," he mutters, his eyes turning a dark shade of blue, like a cloud passing over the ocean.

"I spent a week in the hospital afterwards, and I remember almost none of it," I say, not sure why I even want him to know.
 

His breath hitches in his throat, comes out in a jagged exhale, his eyes a perfect blue sea again. "Really?"

I nod and smile. "But I'm fine now. Though it's your fault I'm all skinny again, just thought you should know."

The smile doesn't transfer to his face as he leans over and tucks a lock of my hair behind my ear, shaking his head. And if I ever needed an apology from him, more of it than I'll ever know what to do with is spilling from his eyes now. "I thought you were getting stronger. That you'd just end up hating me and that would be that."

I press my thumb to his lips, tracing them. "I don't think I'll ever hate you, Scott."

"You were pretty mean to me in the beginning," he says and those hounding memories shoot into my mind, but I won't let them surface. Ever again. "I thought you could just go back to that."

"I didn't tell you this to make you feel bad," I say. "I actually have no idea why I did."

"How am I supposed to not feel bad?" he mutters, his breath moist against my fingers.
 

He jerks up and pulls me into an embrace, his arms so tight around me I can't move.
 

"I missed you so much, Gail," he says and kisses my forehead. "I was seriously planning on coming back after New Year's and fuck everything else."

"But you like it here," I say. "And you're safe. So how about that breakfast?"

He lets me go and I throw the covers off the both of us. The cold air hits my skin like a slap, and my teeth are chattering by the time I finally dig out a pair of sweats from my suitcase and join him in the kitchen. It's warm in there, and the smell of eggs cooking makes my mouth water.
 

I eat them sitting in his lap, because I'm still very cold and he doesn't mind at all.

"We should go into town," I mutter running my fingers through his hair, staring at the flames licking the logs in the fireplace. "I never paid them for my food on the night I got here."

It's been three days since then. Or maybe four. I've lost count. Time ceased moving when I entered this cozy cabin in the woods.
 

He burrows his head deeper into my lap. "We can go tomorrow. They're easy like that here."

"How much trouble would you be in if we went back home?" I ask, running my hand down his neck, his heart beat speeding up against my fingertips.

"It's too soon," he mutters. "Mike needs some more time to adjust to me wanting out."

"But how can he force you to do something you don't want to do?" I ask. "He's your brother."

"That's exactly why he wants me to help him," Scott answers, his whole body tense now. "Not that there's ever been much brotherly love lost between us. He's despised me from birth."

"Oh, I'm sure that's not true," I say and pull my hand away as he sits up, lacing his fingers in front of him, staring off into the flames.

"There you go again with the platitudes," he says, and the temperature in the room drops. "You don't know what you're talking about, so maybe you shouldn't."

I cross my arms over my chest, leaning back into the cushions. "I know I want you to come home."
 

"Look, Gail, I really fucked up by getting arrested," he says rubbing a thin white scar on the side of his wrist with his thumb. "Like completely. And now Mike's stuck putting the pieces back together, and I probably should be helping him. But if they catch me again, I'm going away for a long time. As in longer than three weeks."

His black eyes pierce me as he finishes, begging me to argue so he can really start lashing out.
 

"Well, how did you get caught the first time? Just don't do that again and you'll be fine," I spit out, with no idea where the words are coming from. But it's like his anger is coursing through me too.

"That was all just sheer stupidity and bad luck. And all my own fault," he says, his eyes losing the gleaming black edge, melting back to a softer brown.
 

The anger leaves me too, as easily as it started, and maybe it's because I can hardly feel him in the room with me.
 

"What happened?" I ask, grabbing hold of his hand but he doesn't seem to feel it.

He shows me the scar on his wrist. "See this? I cut myself just before a job. It was like a week after David died, and I was really out of it. I never noticed how much I was bleeding. So I bled all over the place where I got the car from, and all over the car, which the cops somehow managed to get back in a raid before it was shipped off."

He pauses to take a shuddering breath and I grip his hand tighter. "But all that would've been fine, had I not gotten into a huge fight with Louie, you know, the guy who was hitting on Janine on our first date?"

I'm still catching my breath, but he's not waiting for me to answer. "Which in itself was really dumb, because I never get into fights. That was like the third time ever, but anyway, I put him in the hospital, and they didn't know who did it. Louie was unconscious and couldn't tell them. So they took DNA samples. And guess what that matched up with?"
 

Both my hands are covering my mouth now, my eyes sore since they're popping out so hard. I can't even comfort him, because that's the worst sort of bad luck twist I ever heard. And I certainly can't tell him it wasn't all his fault.

"And the real messed up part is that Louie never even pressed charges against me after he woke up."

He chuckles, but it's a cold sound, like rocks rattling in an empty tin bucket.

I finally let go of my mouth, my breathing returning to normal slowly. He's staring off into the flames again, rocking back and forth.

I scoot over and run my hand across his broad back, down his left bicep, squeezing his muscle. It makes him stop rocking, but he's not looking at me yet.

"Are you seriously telling me you've only been in three fights?" I ask, running my hand back up his arm. "How's that even possible?"

He looks at me, and some of the seriousness melts from his eyes as he grins. But too much still remains. "I had three older brothers, and a really big best friend. It just almost never got that far, alright? I'm not like some pussy."

I pull him back so he's leaning against me again, my legs hugging him from the sides. "We don't have to talk about this anymore. We can talk about something else. Or do something else."

He leans into me, running his hands across my calves. "There's always the bathtub. It's like a Jacuzzi. We could go out in the snow naked and then come back and take a hot bath."

I shiver at the mere thought. "Yeah, and get pneumonia while we're at it. Besides, I had enough snow trudging up to the house. Would it kill you to shovel your driveway?" I squeeze his biceps hard. "I mean, what are these for anyway? Just for show?"

"Yeah, pretty much," he chuckles, adding. "I got them in jail so people would leave me alone. And I did shovel that whole driveway last weekend, but then it started snowing again like the minute I was done. So now I'm just gonna wait for it to thaw."

The image of Scott shoveling snow, preferably without his shirt on is taking center stage in my mind, making heat surge through me, so maybe the bath can wait.
 

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

I try to broach the subject of Scott coming back with me a few more times, but not very hard, because each time I do his eyes get very dark, form too hard a contrast to the soft clouds I'm floating on in this timeless void I found here.

It's like my whole life is locked inside this house, with Scott, and I never want to leave. But New Year's Eve is snaking closer and I have to go home on January 1
st
. Though the part of me that will stay here when I do might be too big to live without.

My eyes spring open on the morning of the last day of the year, my heart already beating furiously in my chest. I dreamed our goodbye, but I forced myself to wake up before I could walk back across the snowy field and board my plane.

"What's wrong?" Scott asks, running his fingers through my hair.

I shake my head, and blink back hot stinging tears. "Nothing, just a nightmare."

He kisses my forehead, sweet warmth passing through my skin, erasing the terrible dream.
 

"So do you want to go out tonight, or stay in?" he asks.

"I don't know, what do you want to do?"

"Well, it's a bit of a walk to town, but it's nice. I saw a moose the other night," he says. "But we could always stay in. Though we could try and get you a ride while we're there. You know, for tomorrow."

His voice cracks and sharp, cold sadness stabs through my heart. "I could just stay."

But we've discussed it before and I know I can't. My dad would go crazy for one thing, and I need to finish school, so I'll have more choices next year.

"It's only for a few more months, then I'll come home," he mutters, his hand running down my cheek, but I'm not sure he knows he's doing it.

"I might not be able to wait that long," I say and I don't know why. I truly don't want to make him feel any worse than he already does.

"You will, Gail, you're all kinds of strong. You just have to believe you can," he says. And maybe he's right, because sometimes he seems to know me better than I know myself.

"I think I'd rather stay in," I say later, as the setting sun is bleeding into the pure white blanket of snow covering the world outside the window.

"Me too," he says and hugs me from behind, his hands holding onto mine across my belly.
 

The thought of leaving is freezing my insides, my body so heavy and hard inside, that it immediately swallows up the spark of heat roused by his touch.

He kisses my neck softly and I lean back into him, let him hold me up. His lips travel down to my shoulder, back up to my ear, nibbling on my earlobe.

"I thought we could do all those things we won't get to for awhile," he whispers, and a shudder racks through me, ending in a sob.

"Or not," he mutters and kisses the top of my head, his gaze melting into me through the nearly translucent reflection in the window.

I pull away and take his hand, lead him to the bedroom.

Once there, I push him down so he's sitting on the edge of the bed and take a few steps back. He licks his lips as I pull my sweater off and my boobs pop free. I'm not actually wearing any underwear, but I wish were so I could do this properly.
 

Only it doesn't matter, because his eyes are like feathers all over my skin, and I'm glowing, perfect, as beautiful as I'll ever be.
 

I walk toward him slowly, naked, floating as though suspended on invisible ropes. He rises and runs his hands across my stomach, my breasts, wrapping them around my neck as he pulls me in for a kiss, his lips soft, and tender, his tongue hard, demanding entry. Which I grant. And always will.
 

I help him take off his own clothes, slowly, like it's the last time. And then I'm laying on my back in the center of the bed, his tongue sending sparks across my body as it traces the path down my neck, across the soft rise of my breasts, twirling around my right nipple before traveling to my left. The spot between my legs is so hot it's cold. I trash against the bed as his tongue passes across it, right before his lips wrap around my lower ones, the pressure relentless. He licks across my hole and back up, opening me up, every bump on his tongue sending off fireworks.

But I can't let him do this on his own.

I prop myself up on elbow and ask him to climb on the bed with me. He lies back and I kneel my his side, my fingers wrapped around his throbbing cock. But he pulls me up on top of him before I can take it in my mouth, his breath hot on my pussy again, his cock just inches from my mouth.
 

I suck the head in, just as his tongue passes over the tender spot at the top of my opening. I take more of him into my mouth, sucking gently, seeing how much I can swallow. His tongue is back on my lower lips, suckling them, sending shivers down my legs. I moan as his tongue enters me again, hard and insistent. His cock twitches in my throat, and I know he's close, so I pull my mouth off, because this can't end. I lick the side of his shaft, his tongue circling my tender spot, making me whimper, yearn to have him inside me.

I release him and lie down on my back, spreading my legs wide. He needs no more invitation than that, though his eyes are searching inside mine, and I don't know what for.
 

I shudder as he presses into me, but he doesn't relent until he's buried as deep as it will go. I nearly cry out as he pulls back out, the emptiness too vast, too cold.
 

But he's back inside in an instant and then his thrusts start building speed, his shaft brushing against my tender spot each time, his cock expanding inside me, and soon it will be all over.
 

Tears well from my heart, bubble up my throat, spill from my eyes because I can't stop them. I'm sobbing so hard the bed is shaking beneath me.

"What is it, Gail?" he asks, but soft like he already knows. He moves to pull out of me, but I clamp my thighs around his waist, my muscles shaking from the effort.

"Stay," I manage through the sobs still racking me. This is how it's supposed to be. I will never be whole without him.
 

He lets me cry and doesn't try to move again, his eyes brimming with all the sadness flowing through my body now.

It's like we're sitting by the edge of some slow flowing river, moonlight reflecting off the clear water, which will soon take one of us forever.

On the morning of January 1
st
, I wake up with my arms wrapped around Scott's neck, and his around mine. I kiss his cheek and pull away, tears like a bowling ball in my chest.