Remember When 3: The Finale (Remember Trilogy #3) (5 page)

Chapter 7

ASSIS
TED LIVING

  
The ache in his voice caused the tremors to start, made my heart race with anticipation. He was always able to do this to me. Always able to drive me over the brink with just a few spoken words, a few well-executed touches. Oh, please. Who am I kidding? He could
look
at me the right way and it was enough to make me fall to pieces.

  
I know it may seem odd that we were hooking up while the repast was still happening downstairs. But I didn’t let myself feel too guilty. Trip was entitled to a little happiness after all he’d been through. We were allowed to embrace
life
.

  
I ran my fingers over the pale scars at his forearm, the remnants from when he broke it years before, a faint reminder of the self-destructive boy he once was. It was at total odds with the reformed man in my arms, the generous, thriving person he’d become.
It wasn’t an easy transition to make, and he’d worked really hard to come so far.

   So,
I knew Trip needed this. He needed to know he was still breathing. Needed to know that he’d kicked his habit—when his father couldn’t—and that he wouldn’t end up on a slab before the age of sixty. At least not from drinking, anyway. He needed to feel alive. He needed to feel loved. Hell,
I
needed it.

  
It was amazing, knowing this man loved me. That was a fact. Our timing may have sucked, but the feelings had already been confirmed. Years ago.

   At least his were.

   He didn’t know that I had chosen to love him back. I needed to rectify that right now. I took a deep breath and said the words I thought I’d never get the chance to say to him, the words I’d never
allowed
myself to say. Well, not on purpose anyway.

  
“I love you.”

   He lifted his head and looked at me in disbelief.
“What?”

  
Oh God. Too soon? Is this just supposed to be sex right now?

  
I wanted to die. I wanted to stuff the words back into my mouth, wishing I’d never said them. Maybe I could laugh and play it off like a joke, like I didn’t really mean it.

  
No. I immediately shook the negative thoughts aside. I would not go down this road again. I would never fail to put my heart on the line when it came to Trip ever again. We’d lost too much time because of my insecurities and our inability to communicate properly.

  
Never. Again.

   I put my hands on either side of his neck, my thumbs brushing along his jaw.
I was scared, but I looked directly into his eyes and said it again. “I’m in love with you, Trip. I love you. I always have.”

   It looked as though he’d been
slapped in the face by my words. Pain drifted across his features as he dropped his head and shook it. “I know.”

   Not the words I was
imagining, and the unexpectedness made me laugh.

   “You
know
? Oh my God. Did you just Han Solo me?”

   I felt him shaking with laughter against my body before any sound came out of his mouth. When it did, it sent us both into a fit of giggles, as I joking
ly tried to shove the big galoot off of me.

  
“Okay. Where’s my dress? This was a big mistake. I take it back. I meant to say ‘
Up yours, Chester
’.”

   He pinned me to the mattress
with his heavy body, settling himself between my legs again, explaining, “You didn’t let me finish! I was trying to say
I know
you love me. I know, and it’s incredible.” He looked down at me, his eyes a shifting pool of blue, the corner of his lip quirked into a lopsided smile as he gently swiped my hair behind my ear. He buried his face against my neck, his breath tickling against my skin as he whispered softly, “Because I am
completely
in love with you right back.”

   It only took fifteen freaking years, but
we managed to finally recite our lines properly.
I love you. Well, I love you, too.
Jesus. Isn’t that how normal people do it?

  
He raised his head and smiled into my eyes as he requested, “Say it again.”

   “What? Han Solo? Does that turn you on, nerd?
Should I Leia my hair and throw on a gold bikini?” God, he was so cute. Just look at that face.

  
His grin was infectious. “Yes. Eventually. But right now I just want to hear you say it. Say it again.”

  
I stopped laughing and met his eyes. “I love y—”

  
My words were cut off with a gasp as he slid into me with a groan; proudly, confidently, holding himself still, letting my body get used to the feel of him inside me. Again.

  
It was as if he’d never left me, as if the two of us had always been joined together, as if we were always meant to be.

  
He didn’t. We had. We were.

  
“Say it again.”

   “I love you.”

   He pulled out almost fully, then slid back in—
slowly
—full-length this time, which was almost my undoing.
Oh God yes.
I twined my fingers in his hair and arched toward him as he repeated the movement, his arm wrapped around my middle, holding me fixed to him, gliding in and out of me leisurely, as if we had all the time in the world. Each time he entered me, he plunged just a little harder, a little faster, picking up the pace ever so slightly until he was rocking against me in an unhurried, steady rhythm, a never-ending slow-dance that threatened to completely shatter my heart.

  
This man in my arms. This beautiful man who was capable of beautiful things, in as well as out of the bedroom. The exquisiteness of his touch, the weight of his words, the tender care he took to make me feel loved, cherished… unbelievably turned on. It was too much emotion. Bittersweet and wonderful, being in the bed of the man I loved deep down to my core; my heart, my soul. The man I had loved—and would continue to love—forever.

  
Trip’s voice cracked on a rough whisper. “Open your eyes.”

  
When I did, I saw him looking into my eyes, heavy-lidded, full of adoration and wanting. Making sure I knew he was with me. Only me.

   “I love you, Lay.”

   His words brought the fresh sting of tears, and my eyes began to leak even as my heart swelled.

   “
Hey… hey, why are you crying?” He gave a little chuckle in understanding, swiping the moisture from my cheeks and saying, “It’s okay, babe. We’re okay now.”

   It was hard to believe, even though I knew he was right.
It was just that we had a million unsaid things between us, a million hurts to heal. It was scary to think that our chance for happiness could be ruined again by misunderstandings. I didn’t think I’d survive if things didn’t work out for us this time.

  
Jeebus. I needed to turn my brain off. Why was I allowing myself to worry about tomorrow and the unlikely demise of us when I finally had him exactly where I wanted right then?

  
“Trip?” I said through tear-blurred eyes. “I’m just so happy right now.”

  
That made him laugh. “You sure have a weird way of showing it, babe.” He lowered his mouth toward mine again. “Luckily, I know the right way.”

  
His kiss was sweet, but heated, his lips brushing against mine in waves. I felt the current stirring, this beautiful man holding my gaze locked to his, his incredible body rocking against mine, bringing me right to the edge of the cliff, willing me to fall.

  
I allowed the electric charges to overtake me, looking right into his face for as long as I could, until I came, unashamed, the tears slinking from my eyes and down my cheeks. It made a small smile appear across his gorgeous face as he quickened his pace to match the tremors cascading along my insides, finally growling into the air as his every muscle tensed and his movements stilled.

   He collapsed on top of my body, still joined with me, and rolled us to our sides
, the both of us breathless. I thought it would be nice to stay like that for a few days, just lounge around with him inside me indefinitely, but I guessed it would’ve been kinda hard to do stuff like drive a car or go to the bathroom. But for now, it was nice.

   It was insane to think it had been so many years since we’d done this. At least I knew it wouldn’t be another fourteen years before the next time. How did we survive without each other all that time?
We were always meant to be together. Always would be.

   Trip
felt it, too. He was actually tearing up himself as he said, “My God, every time, it never fails. You happen to me all over again.” He swiped a palm across my cheek and added, “I never stopped loving you, Lay. You were always with me.
Everywhere
.”

* * *

   We did a quick cleanup in his bathroom and got dressed again. My heart always broke a little whenever I had to watch Trip put his clothes back on. It was just such a crying shame.

  
He grabbed my hand and led me around the hall, pointing out the framed pictures from his life. I may have been biased, but Trip was absolutely the most adorable little boy you’d ever want to see in your life. His hair was a much lighter shade of blond, and he looked like a filthy mess in most of the shots. Too freaking cute.

   I was laughing about that when I turned to see Trip staring at a framed portrait of his father. He had his hands jammed into his pockets and was shooting daggers at the image of the man whose life was being celebrated downstairs.

   “Trip?” I asked warily. He was wound too tightly, a mousetrap that could snap with the slightest provocation. I didn’t want to set him off.

  
Too late.

  
“Asshole!” he spat, throwing a fist at the wall next to his father’s head, denting the sheetrock. It wasn’t a satisfying jab, I guess, because he threw another punch, this one harder, cracking the wall. And then he took another. I stepped backwards as he continued thrashing the wall, eventually going for his real target, landing a punch against the man’s smiling jaw, splintering the glass. “Son of a bitch!” He ripped the picture fully off the wall and threw it to the ground.

  
At that, his angry rage quickly turned to collapsed sobbing as he buried his face and elbows against the damaged wall, his arms wrapped over his head, his right hand a bloody mess. “I hate him
so much
.”

  
I didn’t know the right way to console him, and I was hesitant to do so when he was in the middle of such a tirade. I decided to try out a rational angle when I said, “Trip. You don’t mean that.”

   He whirled on me then, his eyes chips of ice as he answered, “
Yes, I do! He died a long time ago, Lay.” He pointed to the ruined picture on the ground. “That man who was my father died years ago.”

   I am the poster ch
ild for stubbornness during my anger, so I decided to let Trip have his. I smoothed some hair off of his forehead and kissed him there, soothing the raging beast. I slipped a hand down his arm and gripped his wrist, saying, “Okay. But let’s get you cleaned up, alright?”

   He looked down at his hand in confusion, as if the appendage attached to his body wasn’t his own,
finally realizing that it was bleeding. I took him into the bathroom and ran his hand under the water, picking out the occasional shard of glass imbedded in his skin. I worked in silence, not knowing what to say. He was angry, and I wasn’t used to seeing him like that.

   But of course he was angry. H
e had every right to be.

   I
Bactined and Band-Aided his knuckles, then dug out a dustpan and broom from the same closet where I’d found the first-aid kit.

   “You don’t need to do that,
” Trip said as I ignored him.

   I swept
up the glass and drywall debris while he gathered the remains of the portrait, depositing it in a spare bedroom, a sheepish expression on his face. We worked in silence, Trip in no mood to talk and me not wanting to say the wrong thing. The mess had been taken care of, but there wasn’t much we could do about the wall at that moment.

  
He pulled a new picture down from the spare room, and I used my heel to hammer its nail in the appropriate spot. That must have been enough to break the last of Trip’s anguish, because he kind of laughed as he looked on.

  
I held the shoe up and gave it a wiggle. “Girl hammer.”

   When I was done,
I slipped it back onto my foot, hung the picture over the hole, and dusted off my hands. “Well, that’s that.”