by McLean, Jay
He wants me.
I want him.
And nothing else matters.
Within moments, our clothes are off, discarded, and it’s almost like a race to see who can get the other off first. He overpowers me when I reach for him, holding my hands in a firm grip above my head as he sidles up beside me. “Spread ‘em,” he orders against my neck, his palm between my legs. I open for him like I always do, and when he slides his fingers deep, deep inside, I almost lose it. Almost. But I concentrate on kissing him, on sliding my tongue painfully slow against his, nibbling on his bottom lip when he pulls away. He takes my breast in his mouth, teeth clamping gently on the tip. My toes curl, and I want to run my hands through his hair, hold him there, but he won’t let go of my wrists. I try to fight him, but it’s futile. Slowly, he brings me back to the edge of release, only to stop, let go of my hands. He kneels over me, his hardness close to my mouth. I lean up on my elbows and part my lips, but he pulls back, smirking that way he does when he knows he’s about to win this little foreplay game we play. And I know it, too. Because he kisses his way down my stomach while grasping a handful of my breast, hard. Last time he did it, his fingertips left bruises. And fuck, was it perfect. I moan when I feel his warm exhale replace the coolness of the air against liquid pleasure. “You have to be quiet, baby,” he murmurs, and then he slides his tongue up the entire length of my slit, and I jolt in response, fingers curling against the sheets. His fingers join a moment later, and I can’t—“Leo, I can’t—”
“Then let go,” he says, right before he sucks hard on my clit, and I try. Honestly, I try to be quiet, but the moan that leaves me is guttural and never-ending.
When I finally come down, I rasp, “Come here.”
He slides over me, his weight held up by his forearms. And then he leans to one side, smiling down at me as he runs the head of his cock between my folds, but he never once enters me. Not even the tip. He stops after a few seconds, and I whine in response. Dropping his forehead to my shoulder, he says, “Fuck, Mia, I don’t have anything.”
“Are you clean?”
“I’ve never not used—”
“I’m on birth—” Before I can even finish, he’s inside me. For the first time in five years, Leo’s in me and—“Crud, I forgot how big you were inside me.”
He smiles against my neck, slowly pumping into me. “You have such a filthy little mouth, Mia Kovács,” he jokes, reaching into the drawer of his nightstand. He pulls out a set of handcuffs. “And now I’m going to make all your filthy little dreams come true.”
My eyes widen while my girly parts throb.
Leo smirks, pulling out of me. “Flip over, hands by the headboard, ass in the air.”
“Am I under arrest, Officer Preston?”
His jaw drops. “Holy fuck, you do have a filthy mouth. And you’re going to make me blow my load already. Flip. The Fuck. Over.”
I do as he asks, smiling against the mattress as I hear the handcuffs click into place. He smacks my ass, just once, before he’s inside me again. Hand pressed down on my neck, he doesn’t make love to me, doesn’t sweeten what we’re doing. He fucks me. He fucks me so hard and so fast, I can barely catch my breath between releases.
It’s not why I came here, and it’s not how I expected this to go, but it’s what we both want, what we need.
And when it’s done, when it’s all over, and we’re both satisfied and trying to settle our breathing, he holds me in his arms. “I love you,” he says.
“I know,” I retort.
He chuckles at this. “Do you still love me?” He’s trying to come off light, but I can hear the genuine concern in the way his voice wavers.
“I’ve loved you for ten years, Leo. I’m pretty sure I’ll love you forever.”
“Pretty sure?”
I giggle into his chest. “I’m sure.”
“Good,” he says, flicking on the lamp on the nightstand.
I look around the room. White walls, nothing on them. It doesn’t smell like paint in here, so he must’ve only painted the outside. Hanging on the door that leads to the bathroom is his uniform. The smile that overtakes me is overwhelming. “I’m proud of you,” I say, then add, “I’m sorry I wasn’t there to see you graduate.”
He runs his hands through my hair. “I understand. I know you needed to heal. Are you okay now?”
“No,” I tell him honestly. “But I will be.”
He kisses the top of my head. “I’m probably going to get as much field training done here, and then I’ll see about getting a transfer to New York.”
I lean up, look down at him, my eyes narrowed. “I thought you wouldn’t want to live there.”
He kisses me once. “It’s not about me anymore, Mia. It’s about him. And you. And you need your support system, and I need you, so…” He shrugs. “I’ll move to New York.”
I watch him, scrutinizing every shift of his eyes and every emotion that passes them. But there’s only one: certainty. I lie back down, my hand flat against his stomach.
And then we spend the next hour talking about anything and everything. I tell him about what the twins said before I got here, and he tells me about the house. It was the only house on the market that suited his needs. The only problem was that it was for sale. He bought the house, with his Dad co-signing the loan, and when he moves to New York, he plans on simply handing over the deed to his dad, and they’ll probably flip it for a profit. I tell him about the therapy I’ve gone through over the past two weeks and how we had just landed when I got all his text messages. I mentioned that we were planning on staying at the farm for a week and that I’d planned to call him once we were there so he could visit if he had time off. And then I tell him the real reason I wanted to come here and why I wanted him to visit the farm. “I want to tell Benny.”
Chapter Eighty-Six
Mia
“Mama! Ahhhh! Mama!”
“Crap!” I sit up. “Where are my clothes?!”
“Mamaaaa!”
“Here.” Leo’s already out of bed, throwing my clothes at me while still managing to shrug on his boxers.
“Mama!”
“I’m coming, buddy! Just stay there!” I shout, slipping on my underwear. I hiss at Leo, “Give me your T-shirt!”
“What?!”
“Your T-shirt! You don’t need it. It’ll take me too long to—”
He throws me the T-shirt, whacking me straight in the face. He laughs. I do not. I slip on the top and run out of the room and into the one next to it. I open the door and flick on the light, and then I freeze. Benny gasps. “Whoa! Where are we, Mama?”
The room is painted blue, but not just one blue. There are flecks of different shades like we’re in outer space, and this is another planet, and… I run my finger along the irregular glittery swirls on the wall. It feels like… like—“It’s crushed rock,” Leo says, leaning against the doorframe.
“Leo!” Benny squeals, getting out of bed to hug him, but only for a second because this room—his room—is too… too… I don’t even know how to describe it. All the furniture is wooden. There’s a bed, desk, and three bookshelves. I glance at Leo. “Is this…” I trail off.
He nods. This is the furniture from his childhood bedroom.
Benny’s covers have a smooth pebble print, the same as his pillowcases. One of the bookshelves has books, the other is empty, and the third one displays all types of rocks and minerals with an overhead light on each shelf. Even the lamps are made of everything Benny loves. Benny’s walking from one spot to the next, his eyes wide, just like his smile as he gasps at every new thing he discovers.
“Leo,” I breathe out. “This is—”
“Is this my room?” Benny practically squeals, jumping on the bed.
“It is if you ever stay here,” Leo says, pushing off the frame. “I’m glad you like it, buddy.”
“I love it!” Benny says, wrapping his arms around Leo’s neck. “And I love youuuu!”
Leo ch
uckles. “I love you, too. And I missed you.”
“Me too!” He releases Leo to jump off the bed and inspect the mineral collection on his bookshelf. “I never want to leave!”
I move to Leo and nudge his side with my elbow. “That was your plan, wasn’t it?” I whisper.
Leo looks down at me, smiling sheepishly.
I roll my eyes. “Hey, Benny,” I call out, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Come here, buddy. Leo and I have something we want to tell you.”
Leo’s eyes widen. “Right now?” he mouths.
I shrug. “Why not?” I mouth back.
His grin is ridiculous. Benny stands in front of us, his eyes shifting between Leo and me. “So,” I start, and then stop because I never planned out exactly what I’d say.
“Sooo?” Benny sings, swinging his hips from side to side.
I lower my gaze, try to gather my thoughts. “So, do you remember when you asked me about your dad? And how I told you that he and Mama were very much in love and that your dad was a good man and that everything good… in you,” I say, tickling his belly. He squirms, and I add, “…came from your dad?”
Benny shakes his head. “I don’t remember.”
Well. There goes that. I sigh. And then I just tell him. “Benny, Leo’s your dad.”
Benny looks at Leo, who’s smiling so big his cheeks must ache with the force. Then Benny’s focus switches to me, his eyebrows pushed to the middle. “Like how Tammy’s going to be your mom?”
“No.” I shake my head.
Leo sighs, his shoulders deflating.
“I mean, like, he’s your dad.”
“No, he’s not,” Benny says. “He’s my Leo.”
My lips part, but I don’t know what to say. A beeping sounds from somewhere in the house, and Leo stands. “That’s my alarm. I have to get in the shower and go.” He drops a kiss on my forehead, then Benny’s, before leaving the room.
“Go play, buddy,” I tell Benny, before going after Leo.
He’s already in the master bathroom, switching on the shower. He turns to me, and I think I’m about to have to talk him down off a ledge, but then he barks out a guffaw, his head throwing back. “Why did we think that a four-year-old would even understand?!” he laughs out.
“I…” I shake my head.
“Like, what are we supposed to tell him?” he says, unable to quit chuckling. “That I blew a load so deep and powerful inside you that it broke through the condom, and nine months later boom, welcome to the world, Bennett!”
It starts as a giggle and then turns to all-out, silent, uncontrollable laughter that has me losing my breath. My eyes water as I hold on to my stomach, trying to relieve the ache.
Leo’s still laughing as he drops his boxer shorts and stands in front of me in all his naked glory. He gets under the stream, pours liquid soap on a loofa, and starts scrubbing himself clean. It’s such a strange, intimate, ordinary moment that I almost forget everything that happened in the past few weeks. I push away the memories because I don’t want to remember them. This house, this home—it can be our bubble.
“You keep looking at me like that, Mia, and I’ll be late for my first day.”
After a quick grope of Leo’s parts—him, in his uniform? Jesus, take the wheel—Leo gives us a tour of the house. There are two bedrooms and two bathrooms upstairs. The downstairs consists of the living room, laundry room and kitchen, and another smaller room off that kitchen. “Spare bedroom and your office—for if, or when, you might need to work from here,” he says, kissing my temple. He opens up the sliding door off the living room to an expansive yard and lets Benny free.
“Hey,” he says, taking both my hands in his. I try to grope him again, but he slaps my hand away. I scowl. “Can you guys be here when I get back, or do you have to go?”
“We’ll be here,” I assure.
“Yeah?”
I nod. “I’ll work on the whole Dad thing, too.”
He chuckles. “Walk me out?”
I call out, “Benny! Leo—I mean, your dad is leaving. Come say goodbye.”
“Oh, that’s good. Let’s just keep doing that,” Leo mumbles.
Benny and I walk with Leo out to his truck. “Good luck, daddy,” I say, kissing him quickly. When he pulls away, his eyes flash with heat... and I don’t quite understand why.
“Bye, Leo! Good luck!” Benny says, jumping in his spot until Leo picks him up and holds him tight.
“I’ll keep this recharge all day,” Leo tells him. He keeps his hold on our son as he kisses me once more.
“You’re going to do great, okay? Don’t worry.”
Leo shakes his head, putting Benny back on his feet. “I stopped worrying the moment you showed up.”
Benny and I stand side by side as Leo reverses onto the road, honking twice before taking off. Once he’s gone, Benny turns, looks up at me. “What do you want to do today, Mama?”
“What do you want to do?”
“Can we visit Preston?”
“You remember Preston?” It’s not like Benny to remember people’s names, especially from over two weeks ago.
Benny nods. “He’s my best friend,” he says, pulling me toward the house. “Can I keep playing in my room?”
“It’s a pretty cool room, huh?”
“It’s my favorite place in the world.”
“It is?”
“Where’s your favorite place in the world, Mama?”
I inhale a sharp breath, let it out slowly. “Maybe one day soon, I’ll show you.”
Benny spends the morning running between his bedroom and the yard, traipsing dirt throughout the house. Leo doesn’t have a lot of furniture, not even a couch or kitchen table, but he has enough cleaning products to service a small hotel. I make sure to clean up as much as I can. Surprisingly, his kitchen is pretty stocked up, and honestly, I’m impressed. He went from grilled chicken and steamed vegetables to—going by the ingredients he has—making pasta sauce from scratch. It must be all the impromptu cooking lessons I gave him in the barn.
I call Dad and let him know that we’re safe, and then, because I’m bored, I steal a piece of paper and a crayon—not blue—from Benny’s room, sit on the floor of the living room and draw out a quick floor plan of the house and where I recommend the furniture go for when he decides to buy it. Here, there’s only an old fold-out chair in front of a TV that’s sitting on a makeshift table and a bookshelf. Last night, when we went into the bedroom, it was too dark to see anything in there… and I was a little preoccupied with other things. This morning, I noticed that his bedroom is lined with open stacks of books piled taller than Benny. I assume that’s where all the books from the shelves in Benny’s room went. On this shelf, there are only a few books. I get up to inspect them. One has a black cover, no title, no author. Not even an image. It’s just a plain black book. But, the pages look worn, and the spine’s cracked in multiple places. When I flip through it, I notice Leo’s handwriting in the margins, as well as highlighted passages. I put it back on the shelf and move to the others. They’re all composition notebooks, and I pull one out and flip through it. It’s Leo’s handwriting, which is what I expected. What I don’t expect is my name. I should put it back. I know I should, but I don’t. The words jump from the page, and when I look at the date scrawled at the top—the date I gave birth to our son—Leo’s written declaration of love fills all the holes in my heart, all the gaps in my memories.
Mia,
Before the crying and the yelling and the truth, there was everything.
There was you, a girl I’d been in love with since love was a choice, and you were naked and sitting on the edge of the bed. The morning sun filtered through the cracks of the blinds, and they made what parts of your irises I could see from your half-closed lids look like honey. Sweet.
Like you.
You were half asleep, and you asked me twice for the time. Your voice was rough from lack of use, but it was still soft, pure, perfect.
Li
ke you.
I took my time dressing you, taking your ankles in my hands and slipping on your shorts, and when your hands landed on my shoulders to rise just a little so I could bring them over your hips, there was a moment.
One single, insignificant moment.
It surged through me like a blast of lightning right through my chest.
I envisioned a life with you, and it wasn’t because you were naked and you were mine. It was your hands on me. Depending on me to keep you grounded. Keep you safe. But help you rise. You didn’t notice that I stared at you then, and the visions I had weren’t blurred or hazy. They were clear and concise, and this, I thought to myself. This is what I want forever and a day.
A lifetime of single, insignificant moments.
I used to think of you as my sunrise, but in that moment, I realized you were the sun, the stars, the moon, the sky, the ground, and everything in between.
Before the crying and the yelling and the truth, there was you.
And you were everything.
Chapter Eighty-Seven
Mia
There are four composition notebooks in total, and I go through each one, my heart racing as I read the same words in various orders, various proses, but it’s all the same declaration. He’d written it so many times, as if it was that important to him, he had to make it perfect.