“Fuck, I’m sorry,” he said, letting go with one hand to put two fingers in his mouth. “I’ll get you ready.”
I jolted as his slick fingers swept between my legs, rolling around my clit in slow circles as if he wasn’t in any kind of hurry. I was quiet as I watched what he was doing to me, and it only took seconds before I was beyond ready.
“Now,” I mumbled frantically, reaching back down to position him. “Please.”
He dislodged his cock and slid his fingers into me once before a low sound of approval came from his throat, then he pulled his hand away so I had room to maneuver.
Once again I positioned him and dropped down, this time taking him to the hilt in one long glide. We both moaned louder than we should have at the sensation, and it wasn’t long before he was staring at my breasts as I bounced above him.
“Son of a bitch.” He groaned, one of his hands dropping to my clit so his thumb could rub gently, matching the rhythm of my movements. It took me a while to come, it always did, but he kept up the pace and didn’t give up until I was coming apart above him as he watched me. As soon as I was done, he used both hands to pull me down as his hips thrust up off the bed, his jaw clenching, nostrils flaring, and a quiet grunt leaving his throat when he came.
We had to make a very uncomfortable trip to the bathroom, hearing Callie and Grease’s low murmurs from her room as we passed it, but soon we crawled back into bed together, all embarrassment forgotten in exchange for exhaustion. He pulled me so that I lay on top of him, and I listened to his heartbeat and breathing slow as he fell asleep, my stomach a mass of nerves.
If we did this—if we tried to make it work and became a couple—I’d eventually screw it up. I knew with certainty that for one reason or another I wouldn’t be able to keep him. What made it even worse was that I wouldn’t be able to keep them either. Cody’s family were the only real family I’d ever known, and I was risking losing them in order to have him.
Falling in with Cody was like playing with a fire that could burn my family’s house to the ground, yet I continued to move closer and closer to the flames.
Chapter 7
Farrah
Callie and I quit our jobs at the salon, which made my anxiety skyrocket, but I had little time to think about it as we packed up the apartments and left for Eugene, Oregon, five days later.
It was amazing how little we were leaving behind, especially me, who’d lived in Sacramento for as long as I could remember. Leaving the city was actually the least of my concerns, though. I was glad to be making a clean break from all of it, both the memories and the people. I didn’t plan to ever go back.
Grease must have talked to Callie, because she’d come to me in the middle of packing up the kitchen to let me know that they decided I could pay a third of the moving expenses. She reasoned that I really had very little to move in comparison to her, Will, and Gram, so she couldn’t let me pay half. It galled her to do it, her body was stiff and her jaw tight as she told me, but there was compassion in her eyes. She understood me in a way that no one else ever would, and even though it killed her to do it, she’d conceded.
Grease and Cody pulled strings with some people they knew up north—they seemed to know everyone—so by the time we got there, Gram and I had apartments in the same complex just a few doors away from each other. It was comforting to know that she would be close by when everything else seemed to be changing at the speed of light. Grease had rented a newer house in a subdivision a few blocks away for Callie and Will, and both Callie and I had cried when we’d finally finished unpacking and it was time for them to go home.
It was the end of an era. I’d lived with Callie, or practically lived with her, since I was sixteen years old, and the thought of living without her was scary as hell. We’d held each other up for so long; it was heartbreaking that she no longer needed me for that. The hardest part, though, was saying good-bye to Will that night. He’d come home as a newborn to our little apartment, and there had never been a day that I hadn’t changed one of his diapers or shared a cup of Cheerios with him.
As irrational and unfair as I knew it was, I couldn’t help but feel a little resentful that Grease was taking them away from me. I’d never say anything, because underneath it all, I was beyond happy for my best friend.
I just wished that everything didn’t have to change.
Once Cody and I helped Gram get her bedroom situated so she’d have a place to sleep, we hugged her good-bye and walked to my apartment for the night. The apartments were right down the sidewalk from each other, but the two doors between them felt like a hundred miles after being so close for so long.
By the time we walked inside my apartment, I felt the creeping tightness in my chest that signaled an epic panic attack. I tried to use my breathing exercises, repeating over and over in my head that I was fine and it was just my mind playing tricks on me, but it didn’t seem to help. Finally, I squeezed my eyes closed in defeat, begging my body not to break down in front of Cody.
But it was no use.
My fingers began to tingle as I stumbled toward my bedroom, and I barely heard Cody’s voice asking me what was wrong before I started panting. I wheezed, unable to get enough air, and dropped to the floor to grab the garbage bag holding the quilt from my bed. I just needed my quilt and I’d be okay. Someone had tied a knot in the top of the bag that I couldn’t pry loose, and I felt tears running down my face as Cody knelt down beside me to still my frantic fingers.
“You’re scaring me, Ladybug. What’s going on?” he asked urgently, turning my face up so he could look at me.
“Need my blankie. In the bag.” I continued to wheeze as more tears poured from my eyes. Oh God, I needed my blanket.
“Okay, babe, I got it,” he said, reassuring me as he dug his fingers into the bag to rip open the sides. I made a soft noise in my throat as I saw the familiar wedding ring pattern, and reached my hands into the open bag next to his, the sight and feel of the soft stitching promising relief. We pulled it free together, and I was sobbing and shaking as I hurriedly unfolded it. Once it was opened up between us, I lay down on my side and pulled it over my entire body, covering myself from head to toe.
The shaking stopped almost instantly, fading to small tremors, but it took a while for my breathing to get back to normal. I lay inside my safe place, soothed by the feel of Cody’s hand rubbing comfortingly up and down my back. Finally exhaustion set in, and I got enough air in my lungs. We were quiet for a few moments, relief palpable between us, before I saw his hand grab the side of the quilt as if to pull it away.
“Not yet!” I rasped insistently, pulling back at the cover.
“Okay,” he said softly, and relaxed his hand.
He was quiet for a moment before he shifted, and then suddenly he was under the blanket with me, pulling it over his head so we were face-to-face, cocooned in darkness.
“This okay?” he whispered.
“Yeah.” I sniffled once and wiped the back of my hand beneath my nose.
“What was that, Ladybug?” He reached out a hand to cup my cheek, and the soft gesture almost had me sobbing again.
“A panic attack,” I said quietly. “Why are we whispering?”
“I don’t know,” he said, a little louder. “How often does this happen? Why the hell would you have a panic attack?”
I debated trying to play it off, but knew he’d see right through any smoke screen I threw up. He always had.
“It doesn’t happen very often. A few times a year, maybe? It happened a lot as a kid, but they aren’t as bad since I moved in with Callie.”
“How did I not know about this?”
“I don’t think anyone knows except for Gram. She found me freaking the hell out one day, and she used one of the quilts your aunt Lily made to cover me up.”
“This quilt?”
“Yep, she gave it to me after that. I had my own blanket when I was a kid, but after I . . . left my mom’s, it was gone. I’m not sure how
Gram knew to cover me up, I was pretty out of it by the time she’d found me.”
“I think one of my uncles had panic attacks as a kid.”
“Makes sense,” I murmured as he laid his arm out in front of him so I could snuggle against his chest.
“Why would you have a panic attack, Ladybug?”
“Good question,” I joked dryly. “I’m not real good with change. I think maybe moving and all of this shit just caught up to me. I’m sorry.”
I hated calling attention to myself. No, that wasn’t true. I hated inadvertently calling attention to myself. I had no problem stealing the attention of a roomful of people, putting on a show, but I hated being the center of attention if I wasn’t able to control it. Panic attacks were the ultimate loss of control and I loathed them, especially when someone witnessed them. After Gram had caught me during one of the worst ones I’d ever had, I was so embarrassed I’d stopped talking to her for a week.
“Don’t say you’re fucking sorry. I’m sorry. I should have figured out how to help you instead of standing there with my dick in my hand like a fucking idiot.”
“You did exactly what I needed you to do,” I told him with a kiss. “And now I’m ready to get up.”
We decided to take a shower and head to bed, both of us exhausted from the long drive and unloading boxes all day, and I didn’t once question if he would be staying over. We were in his city and he had his own place to sleep in, but it honestly never crossed my mind to ask him to leave. I hated how quiet the apartment was, and I was happy that he was going to be there with me all night. Like Scarlett O’Hara, I told myself I’d deal with the empty apartment tomorrow.
We’d christened the shower and fallen into bed naked, choosing a soft bed and clean sheets over going through the boxes and bags in my room. I was almost asleep when Cody leaned up on one elbow to look at me.
“You’re sleeping naked from now on,” he ordered me quietly.
“You’re getting spoiled because I can’t find my box of clothes. Don’t push your luck,” I mumbled back, my cheek pressed into the pillow.
“Ladybug, if I’m here, you’re sleeping naked. You can argue all you want, but you know I’m just going to strip you down anyway.” He leaned down to kiss my bare shoulder, running his tongue to the back of my neck. “What’s this?”
“My tattoo. You’ve seen it.”
“No, I remember when you got it, but your hair’s usually down or you’ve got a scarf on. What is it?” he asked, running his tongue along the back of my neck, causing my tired body to clench weakly in pleasure.
“An echo,” I answered sleepily, my eyes popping open as I felt his body go stiff beside me.
“You tattooed an echo on your fucking neck?” he yelled, his anger completely baffling me.
“That’s what I said,” I answered sharply, rolling over and scooting into a sitting position to hide the offending tattoo. “What’s your problem?”
I was being a bitch. I knew it as I spit the words at him, but I couldn’t help myself. For some reason, I was feeling really embarrassed about him finding fault with something on my body. Even though it had nothing to do with my shape, it still caused my insecurities to flare up like a bottle rocket. And when they did, I had my own way to deal with it. I didn’t do insecure; I did smug disinterest.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now?” he mumbled under his breath in frustration, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You know what, I’m gonna head out.”
“What?” I almost gasped, but held it in by sheer force of will. I wasn’t going to give him that power—not ever. My emotions belonged to me and no one else. He’d never know that his words were like a slap across my face.
“I’m gonna head to my place at the club and make sure everything’s cool. I haven’t been there in a while and I need to check in.” He spoke easily as he pulled on his clothes and boots, but his frustration was evident as he moved around the room, his movements sharp and jerky as he refused to look at me.
I hated the thought of him leaving, not only because he was so obviously angry, but also because I was nervous to stay in my new apartment all by myself. I didn’t say a word as he grabbed his wallet off the floor and headed to the door, though. I’d long ago promised myself that I’d never again beg anyone for anything, and that was what I knew it would be—me begging him to stay. If he wanted to leave, I wouldn’t stop him. They all left at one point or another; maybe it was better that we hadn’t gotten any deeper into whatever we were doing.
So I watched him stonily, building my internal defenses against Cody as he turned his head to nod good-bye, and without a word was gone.
I sat in bed for a few minutes, calmly trying to figure out what had set him off, but the only reason I could come up with was some odd jealousy. It didn’t make any sense that Cody would feel jealous of a tattoo in memory of a dead man. It wasn’t even a big tattoo, just an eraser-sized circle on the left with half circles to the right, starting small and growing steadily larger. It was shorter than the pinky on my left hand; I’d measured it.
I thought about crawling under my quilt, but refused to cower just because he’d left. That wasn’t me. Instead, I started going through all my boxes until I found the one holding most of my clothes. Once I’d dressed in my pajamas, though, I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. It was silent in the apartment aside from the humming of the refrigerator, and it felt like the walls were closing in on me as I grabbed my phone out of my purse and checked the time.
Ten o’clock. Not too late, thank God.
“Hey, Gram.” I smiled when she answered, hearing music playing softly in the background. “Want some company?”
She didn’t ask where Cody was when I got there, and didn’t say a word about why I wasn’t in my own apartment. Instead, after a long look at my face and a squeeze on my bicep, she put me to work unpacking dishes and utensils into her kitchen cupboards while she bustled around setting out canisters and a bread box on her counter.
Gram kept me busy until I felt ready to drop, then without any discussion turned off the lights and led me into her box-filled bedroom. We climbed into her bed together, each of us rolling to face the outside of the bed—our backs almost touching—and fell asleep like we’d done for months after Echo was killed.
It was only a few hours later that I woke up to someone lifting me from the bed. My heart began to thump loudly in my ears as I wondered what was going on, but my sense of self-preservation kept my limbs relaxed. I opened my eyes into slits to see the shadow of Gram standing in the doorway, and I suddenly recognized the scent of the person who’d picked me up.
“Taking her home,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss Gram’s forehead as he passed. “Thanks, Gram.”
I was still pretending to be asleep as we reached the living room, but I felt tears begin to form as Gram called out quietly to Cody.
“You wanted this, Cody. You waited her out and you chased her, now you’ve got her. But you need to remember that she’s a lot softer than she lets on. Today’s been a hard day for her, moving into a new place without Callie and Will. She’s dealt with a lot in her lifetime, spent years protecting herself from people she shouldn’t have had to. It takes quite a bit for her to trust someone.” She paused for a moment, the air heavy with tension. “It doesn’t take much to break that trust, son. You keep that in mind before you go leaving her again when she needs you.”
“I won’t do it again,” he answered quietly, tightening his hold on me.
“See that you don’t.”
Chapter 8
Farrah
The next morning I was up early, the sound of Cody’s soft snoring irritating me like nails on a chalkboard. I tried to stay in bed—the early morning hours were no friend of mine—but soon realized it was a lost cause. His body heat and the heavy arm draped over my waist felt as if they were suffocating me.
He’d been right that night when we’d argued about my living arrangements. Our relationship had started lo
ng before we’d started having sex. We’d begun some strange cat-and-mouse game years before, both of us pushing and pulling at each other until neither of us knew which way was up. I never knew if he would ignore me or be in my face, but I always knew that he would be there, watching and waiting for his moment. It was something I’d foolishly grown to count on.
Now, though, the chase was over. He’d gotten what he wanted, and I didn’t mean the sex. He’d somehow convinced me to start a relationship—not that I’d taken much convincing—and we were sleeping in the same bed and spending time together. The lines of where I ended and he began had become blurred.
I’d had my own life in Sacramento with a job, apartment, friends . . . and now my world seemed to revolve around Cody. We were making plans dependent upon what the other person wanted to do, eating our meals together, visiting Gram together. It was beginning to feel like too much.
It had only been a few days, I knew that, but that was exactly why I was having such a hard time. Before, when he’d leave, I knew he was coming back. There was no reason for him not to come back. We’d been friends, and any spats we’d had were forgiven and easily forgotten. But I knew now that we were trying to be something more, life would no longer be so simple.
As I quietly unpacked my toiletries and the few household items that didn’t require me to walk back into the room with Sleeping Beauty, I came to the realization that I was completely and utterly fucked. After less than a week, I’d been ready to curl up in bed and cry like a little girl because Cody had gotten pissed and left. If I continued on the path we were racing down, losing him would break me in a way that I might never come back from . . . and I knew I’d lose him. The only question was when.
My normal beauty routine didn’t calm me like it usually did as I got ready for the day, my elaborate victory-roll hairstyle and flawless eyeliner failing to take my mind off the man sleeping in my bed. I had to make a decision, and whatever decision I made could potentially change the entire course of my life. How did someone deal with crap like that at nine in the morning? It was unnatural.