For a moment, as my climax sends me soaring, I don’t know where he ends and I begin. He is me and I am him and the whole world is us.
And I know I’m truly home.
When our orgasms finally subside, he withdraws and rolls onto his back, one arm over his forehead.
Elation fills me. Elation mixed with love mixed with peace.
I haven’t figured everything out yet, but I will. I must. For Braden and for me.
For us.
Chapter Sixteen
“Stay,” he says softly, his eyes closed.
“I can’t.”
“Please.”
Braden hardly ever says please, but he’s said it several times tonight. I want to stay. I want to sleep in his arms and wake up together. Make passionate morning love—the kind where morning breath and bedhead don’t matter.
But even though I’m at home with Braden, I’m also in my hometown, and I need to be respectful of my parents.
I kiss his lips lightly. “I want to stay more than anything, but I can’t. I hope you understand.”
He nods. “I’ll walk you down.”
I laugh out loud. “Braden, Liberty, Kansas is the safest place in the world.”
“Doesn’t matter. I’ll walk you down anyway.” He gets up, pulls his slacks back on, and slides his bare feet into his dress shoes. He grabs his shirt and buttons a few buttons.
Man, he looks sexy. Just fucked and sexy.
I hastily dress as well, and we leave the hotel room.
“You want to come over for breakfast in the morning?” I ask. “You’ll get better coffee from my mom than at the Sunrise.”
He kisses my cheek lightly. “What time?”
“Around eight, I guess. My mom and dad get up with the birds, but I won’t be ready for public viewing until eight.”
“Okay. I’ll be there.”
“I can pick you up.”
“That’s okay. I’ll get there.”
I smile. “Okay, Braden. Thanks.”
“For what?”
“For…tonight. For telling me a little about your childhood. For…”
He lifts his eyebrows.
“…everything,” I finish.
“I love you, Skye,” he says. “I’m trying.”
“So am I. Goodnight.”
…
Even though I long to be in Braden’s arms, I sleep better than I have in a long time. I wake up refreshed and feeling alive.
Braden and I will work things out. I feel certain. But he’s not my only issue. I still need to work out my friendship with Tessa. It’s an hour later in Boston, so I can catch her on her way to work. I grab my phone and make the call.
“Hi there! This is Tessa. I’m either on another call or out clubbing! Leave a message and I’ll call you back right away. Or whenever I feel like it!” Then a giggle.
I sigh. I don’t really want to leave a message, but she’ll see my number and know I called. I have to leave something.
“Hey, Tess, it’s me. I’m at my parents’ for a week. Just needed to get away. I miss you. Call me, okay? Let’s work this out.”
Not my most eloquent message, but I think I got my point across. I head to the shower. It’s seven, and Braden will be here in an hour.
After my shower, I amble to the kitchen, where Mom’s working on some pie crust.
“Morning, sweetie.”
“Hey, Mom. I invited Braden for breakfast at eight. I hope that’s okay.”
“Of course. I’ll whip up some apple turnovers with some of this crust. Will he like that?”
“He’s kind of a bacon and eggs guy, but I think he’ll love it.”
She laughs. “He can have bacon and eggs, too. We have plenty.”
“I’ll make it.”
“Don’t be silly. I’m happy to do it. Your dad and I really like him, Skye.”
How can they not? He was amazing last night. More friendly than I’ve ever seen him. “I do, too. But…we’re not actually together right now. I hope we can fix it.”
“I’m sure you can. He’s lucky to have you.”
My lips curl into a smile. “You think so?”
“Of course I do.”
“Mom…?”
“Hmm?”
I sigh. My talk with Braden last night brought back memories I’ve never quite gotten over. “What happened between you and Dad those months when I was seven?”
“Skye…” She wipes the flour from her hands onto her apron and turns to look at me.
“Please. I’m an adult now. I can handle it.”
She sighs. “Why do you need to rehash all that?”
“We used the good china last night,” I say absently.
“Yes. So?”
“I remember breaking a plate once, and that day…” I open the refrigerator door and stare into it, not looking for anything in particular. “I’m trying to figure some things out.”
“Close the refrigerator,” Mom says. “You’re wasting electricity.”
I chuckle softly. So like my mother. I close the door and meet her gaze.
“I don’t like to think about those days,” Mom says.
“I know that, and I’m sorry. But it means a lot to me.”
She turns back to her crust, picking up the rolling pin. “Why? Why should it mean anything to you? You were a child.”
“Because it’s important to me.”
Mom cuts large triangles in the rolled out pie crust, seeming intent not to look at me again. “We put this to bed long ago. You haven’t asked me about it in years.”