by Ella Fields
And damn it all to hell, I could never deny him anything he needed.
Swallowing a thick wad of emotion, I could barely recognize the rasping sound of my voice as I said, “Take my right leg and hook it behind your back.”
They’d both been wrapped around him, but when he’d stopped and suggested this lunacy, they’d slipped away.
He did.
“Now,” I said, but no sound came out. I tried again. “Now, fuck me deep and… and touch me.”
“Where?” he said, voice guttural.
“M-my breast.” I squeezed my eyes closed, memories of that night burning like fire against the ice I was now encased in. “Yes, there. Caress my side.” He did. Slowly, he began to thrust, touching me in all the same places Todd had. “A little faster,” I mumbled.
He cursed, doing as I said. A minute later, I began to feel him swell. “Open your eyes.”
“No.”
He paused. “Willa, did you let him fuck you with your eyes shut?”
“I didn’t,” I whispered.
“Open them,” he said, harsh and impatient.
“No!” The shout echoed through the room, and then my tears were escaping my closed lids, racing down my cheeks into my hair.
“Fuck, Willa.” He rolled off me. “Fuck.” I felt him punch the bed. Once, twice, and I curled into myself. Then warm hands were pushing damp hair off my cheeks, and his lips were kissing my eyes. “I’m sorry. Open your eyes, Bug.” Over and over again, he rasped, “I’m sorry. Open them, please.”
When I finally did, green eyes, drowning in tears, stared back at me, and I reached up, catching one before it rolled onto his upper lip. “What have we done?” I wondered aloud.
He searched my face, desperate arms pulling me close. “We fell in love.”
“Why does love have to be like this?” I whispered against his lips, my hands framing his face, thumbs seeking more of his grief.
“It won’t be anymore,” he tried to say, but his voice kept cracking.
I smiled, my soul weary and defeated, then looped my legs around his back as he sank back inside me. “Then is it still love?”
“If it’s us, always.”
Our hips and lips fused. We rocked, and we clung to each other, and to every last drop of a forever never found.
When we crashed back into reality, our hearts and bodies spent, I crawled off the bed. “Get dressed and go, Jackson.”
“Willa, don’t—”
“Stop,” I gritted, every breath cutting. “I mean it. I won’t let you punish me anymore.” My hair tickled my bare shoulders, my head shaking.
As I locked myself in the bathroom and slid down the other side of the door, I wondered if the regret that shone in his eyes and the slow drag of his feet to the door would haunt me forever.
Willa
Sleep was elusive, chased away by every moment I couldn’t recapture and every feeling Jackson had uncovered until I gave up and got ready for work.
The moon was still a solid ball of distant light in the sky as I dragged myself downstairs. Locking the door behind me, I fumbled to open the bakery door. The keys hit the sidewalk with a rattling clang, and I bent down.
A large hand grabbed them, opened my palm, and folded them inside while a scream scraped up my throat. Red rimmed green eyes connected with mine, and a stunned exhale sailed from me. “It’s four thirty in the morning, Jackson.”
“Couldn’t sleep.” His thumb brushed my chin, tracing the underside of my bottom lip, as my eyes studied the darkness pillowing his. “I didn’t tell you something.”
I began to rise. “It doesn’t—”
“I love you.” He stood with me, holding my face. “I’m still and will always fucking be in love with you.” Soft and lingering, his lips pressed to my temple, his harsh intake of breath and his shaking hands causing my chest to burn. “I love you.”
Then, he left me there on the sidewalk with the fading moon.
“Nice doesn’t mean good,” Daphne said, adjusting her phone on the table.
We were scrapbooking in my apartment the following night with Peggy on FaceTime.
Peggy huffed. “So he probably hated it then.”
Daphne folded her sheet of indigo paper in half. “I didn’t say that.”
“Willa?” Peggy said.
“Huh? Oh.” I looked up from the box I’d been perusing. “I don’t see what the big deal is. He said he liked it.” I shrugged, giving my attention back to the photos. “So he liked it.”
Peggy groaned. “You’re no help.”
“You’re overthinking it.”
Daphne conceded. “She’s right. Forget it. Just buy the house and move back here already.”
Dash and Peggy were still in New York, being that Peggy had landed an internship right out of school at some type of virtual gaming place. It was coming to an end, though, and she still hadn’t been offered a paying job. Dash was working for his dad, which would be easier if they were back in Magnolia Cove.
I paused on a picture of me and Jackson, plucking it from the box to study it closer.
He was wearing his motocross gear, save for the helmet, which was pinned at his side, and I was pinned on the other.
Our smiles were contagious, and not a speck of space lingered between us. I didn’t care that he was covered in mud and sweat. I was holding the trophy he’d been awarded for coming in first place, and he was holding me.
“Is that from when he raced?” Daphne asked.
“Yeah,” I said, then coughed a little to empty the thickness from my throat. “He stopped when he turned seventeen.” When things got more serious, more complicated with us.
“It’s fun, and I love it,” he’d said one night in his room. “But it’s not my future, and if I treat it that way, I begin to feel myself slipping away from it, losing the excitement.”
I’d thought it an odd thing to say at the time. I’d been too focused on me, on us, and I felt my eyes flutter as I remembered my response.
“But if I’m your future, will you slip away from me?”
“Bug.” He’d laughed, poking my cheek, then cupped the side of my face. “You’re not only my future.” His forehead pressed into mine. “You’re one half of my soul. If you slip away, then a huge part of who I am goes with you.”
“You’re crying,” Peggy said, sounding panicked. “She’s crying, Daphne.”
I swatted at my cheeks, then waved my hand. “I’m fine, it’s just…”
“Memories,” Daphne finished.
“What am I supposed to do here?” I found myself saying what I’d asked myself countless times.
“Whatever feels right,” Peggy said.
Daphne gave her a look, then set her scissors down. “The way I see it is, once upon a time, you guys had every reason not to be together.” She spread her hands. “You did it anyway. But the odds were stacked against you, and like so many of us, you folded.”
Peggy hummed in agreement. “But what’s stopping you now?”
“You,” Daphne answered for me. “Just the two of you.”
“I don’t need new door trim,” I told Victoria for the sixth time the following morning.
She continued to prance around the room with her tape measure, a few waiting customers eyeing her and scuttling out of the way.
“Dennis,” she called, ignoring me. “Hand me my phone, would you?”
As if he were a puppy infatuated with his new owner, Dennis had waited on her since she’d walked through the door an hour ago.
He riffled through her purse, plucked it out, then held the chair for Victoria to stand on while she snapped a hundred photos.
After I’d tended to the customers, two of whom chose to sit outside in the sun, I marched over. “Don’t you have a job to get to?”
“Rude,” Victoria said, taking Dennis’s hand to climb down from the chair. “I rescheduled a few things.”
“A few?” I frowned. “Why?”
Perplexed, a small la
ugh tittered out. “Why? Because I want to make this place shine as much as its owner.” Her brows puckered, and she reached out, smoothing some rogue tendrils of hair off my face.
The sound of a picture being taken had us both turning to Dennis, who shrugged and eased back, setting Victoria’s phone on the table. “I’ll just, ah, go check on those pies.”
“You do that,” I suggested.
“You look tired.”
I was exhausted, but I didn’t admit it.
An ear-piercing shriek dragged our attention to the street. “Willa Grace Grayson.”
My stomach dropped and dunked, quaking my knees.
Victoria hummed. “Now, there’s the reason for those unsightly bags.” She snatched her phone. “About time,” she muttered, tucking her phone away and sliding her purse over her shoulder. “And Thorn sounded much better. Just saying.”
“Willa,” Jackson called again, standing right on the edge of the sidewalk, collecting even more onlookers by the second. “Will you do me the honor of accompanying me to dinner and a movie?”
The room began to shrink, taking every sound, scent, and shape with it, creating a tunnel that contained only me and the boy I used to know.
“He’s causing a scene,” Victoria said, nudging me. “Get out there and end it.” Flo made a hissing noise, and Victoria added, “I mean, you know, put him out of his misery.”
But my feet had become two blocks of concrete. I couldn’t move them forward, even if I wanted to, and I wasn’t sure I did.
“Bug?” he called, the whine of the megaphone echoing. “Don’t make me come in there.”
Laughter sank inside the tunnel he’d created, laughter and hushed murmurs.
Backing away from the windows, I felt my head and heart shake.
The megaphone protested, hitting the sidewalk with a crash as the door opened and closed and I entered the kitchen.
An arm wrapped around my waist before I could close myself inside the bathroom, heated words rushing into my ear. “Bug, talk to me.” Turning me in his arms, he pressed me into the counter, then lifted me to sit atop it, and moved between my legs.
The hope and fear in his eyes caused my heart and mind to riot further, my fingers fluttering to his face, rubbing the stubble cresting his lower cheeks and jaw. “This, us, isn’t what you hoped it would be. It’s been broken now. We’ll never be perfect, Jackson.”
“I know,” he said. “I know, but there’s no one else I’d rather be imperfect with.” When I didn’t respond, he continued, “I fucked up, okay? There were so many things I should’ve done differently. We were both so young and so fucking sure of ourselves.”
I laughed at that, offering a sad smile. “We really were.”
“I’m a stubborn asshole, and I’m painfully aware of that.” His hands squeezed my waist. “We made a huge mess, Bug, but we’re almost done cleaning it up.”
“Why now? What makes you think we can do this?”
His lashes lowered, lips parting. “Because we tried to go without, and it didn’t work.” Eyes opening and searching mine, his voice was ragged. “Because in trying to forget, we lost six years.” His hand skated up my back, holding the back of my head, as his dropped down to rest on mine. “I won’t make it another six without you.” Smirking, he linked his fingers with mine over his cheek. “You can’t do that to me.”
A hoarse breath of laughter left me. “You can’t guilt me, you toad.”
“No, but I can love you.” Earnest greens held me suspended. “If you’ll let me.”
“There’s nothing stopping us now,” I said, as though it were a bad thing.
Jackson grinned. “Just us.”
My eyes closed, my heart a stampede of butterflies trying to escape the thundering cage encasing them.
I wasn’t sure if we could make it. I wasn’t sure if we could endure much more than we already had. I wasn’t sure if we’d survive any more damage.
And I wasn’t sure I could live without knowing if we could.
My eyes opened. “One date. But if you screw it up, Jacks—”
His kiss was hard and firm, a promise and a thank you. “I won’t.”
Wrapping my arms around his neck, I tucked my nose against his skin, inhaling, coming home, and I felt him do the same.
We didn’t leave the kitchen, our only movement the rise and fall of our chests, but we didn’t need to.
The sound of the door opening reached us, then Dennis yelled, “It’s a done deal!”
Cheers erupted, the clapping, whistling, and laughter loud enough to find their way inside.
“Bug?”
My eyelids fluttered. “Hmm?”
“You really need to rename this bakery.”
His arms, holding me impossibly close, tightened as I laughed.
FIVE YEARS LATER
Jackson
One date turned into three, and then it was as if nothing had changed, and the sun had decided to shine over our small pocket of the world once more.
But that wasn’t entirely true. Many things had changed. And with those changes came new discoveries, fresh arguments, and strange family dinners.
The trees curved, the wind gathering speed as nightfall approached.
Willa raced around the trunk of a looming oak, her hands raised, button nose scrunching as she snarled.
“Wrong mouse, Bug.”
She splayed her hand at me, hissing, “Or is it?”
I laughed as she launched onto my back, and I hoisted her higher as we waded through the ankle-deep grass.
“They better have stayed away from the creek,” I muttered, eyes skimming the water up ahead, and the woods beyond.
“You only told them a hundred times.” She nibbled my earlobe. “They know.”
Shivering, I squeezed her thighs. She was always poking fun at how pedantic I could be. One of us had to be. Willa was more inclined to let them explore. Let them be kids, she’d say.
No thanks. I remembered exactly what we’d gotten up to as kids when our parents weren’t looking. “Since when have they ever listened to a word we’ve said?”
Her hands tightened around my neck, her giggle warming my ear and chest. “True.”
Willa screamed, and I jumped back a step, almost dropping her, as Drew and Dane hurtled out of the dense sprawl of thicket before us.
“Shit,” I hissed, my heart pounding.
Willa was in tears, climbing down my back, stumbling with laughter to our three-year-old twin tyrants.
“We scared ya’s!” Drew held his belly, laughing, while his brother ran over to see if I was okay.
Dane patted my cheeks, his huge green eyes narrowed with concern. “You okay, Daddy?”
“Yeah, bud.” I nodded, laughing a little now that the shock had worn off.
“We scared you good, huh?” he asked, a hesitant smile causing his lone dimple to appear.
“You sure did.” I pulled him to me, rubbing his waves of brown hair.
“Can’t believe we scared Dad,” Drew kept repeating to his brother with a little too much glee for my liking as we walked back.
Willa’s hand squeezed mine as I helped her over a log. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
I snorted, watching Dane stop to inspect a mound of ants. “Dane, don’t touch.”
“Oh, cool!” Drew raced over and crouched down.
“That they’re soon going to be devising ways to scare the piss out of me?” I asked Willa. “Yeah, I know.”
She giggled, and I tugged her to me to steal her bottom lip with my teeth.
“I don’t thinks they are sleepin’ after all,” I heard Dane say.
“Fuck.” I tore away and collected Drew and the stick he’d been trying to prod the ant’s nest with. “I said don’t touch.”
Willa laughed but grabbed Dane’s hand, and we headed back to the tents.
“Honestly,” Mom said later as she exited the twins’ tent, slapping at her arm. “I thought you bought the best repe
llent they had.”
Dad hid his smirk behind his beer, and I dropped my cards once Daniel laid his out.
He grinned. “Should’ve put more money down.”
Dad grunted, then began collecting them all and reshuffling. “Another round.”
“I’m good,” I said, rising and stretching my arms over my head.
“Well, I’m not. I’ve been bitten three times,” Mom said, standing above Willa, who was laying on the picnic rug, staring up at the stars.
Willa sighed. “You won’t die, Mom.” At our wedding rehearsal, four years ago, Willa began calling Victoria Mom again, and I soon followed suit. Victoria had cried, and then blamed it on the upcoming nuptials.
“We’ll see,” Mom responded.
I couldn’t help but laugh, and she pursed her lips, turning to me. “Oh, shut it.”
“Didn’t say a word.”
“You never have to,” she said, but she was smiling. She brushed my arm, walking over to join Daniel and Dad by the fire.
I gestured to the woods, and Willa bit her lip, nodding.
They didn’t ask where we were going, and we didn’t tell. The boys were asleep, so my only concern was getting between Willa’s smooth thighs as soon as fucking possible.
We were on day two of camping and weren’t leaving until tomorrow.
It’d been Dad’s idea to invite Daniel, much to Victoria’s dismay.
She and Willa’s dad still didn’t exactly see eye to eye on a lot of things, but they were civil. It was Dad who’d formed a friendship with him after randomly suggesting we invite him for Christmas.
The first Christmas we’d all spent together had been awkward at first, but eventually, once everyone had relaxed, it was pretty awesome.
It was there that I’d proposed. Dad had helped me set up the old tent outside, and Victoria had bought new fairy lights.
We were married the following Valentine’s Day.
“Don’t waste any time, do you?” Daniel had said when I’d asked his permission two weeks beforehand.
“I’ve wasted too much.”
At that, his brows had jumped, and his smile was all the confirmation I’d needed. He’d nodded, then clapped me on the shoulder with, “Nothing too gaudy. You know she’d hate it.”