Sweeper

by Amy Daws

  The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I hold them back. It’s too soon. I don’t want to scare him away. It’s good enough to think them for now as he moves inside me, pushing me closer and closer to climax with each ragged breath that dances between us.

  Orgasms aren’t just tied to good sex. They’re tied to feelings and emotions. They’re tied to your mind and the connection you feel with someone. Zander wasn’t someone I thought would inspire this in me. It just goes to show you that destiny is the true driver of life.

  “I want you to come in me, Zander,” I husk, my voice ragged as he sucks on my nipples. Heat is building in my center already as I struggle to hold off my climax.

  “Sweetheart,” Zander murmurs against my flesh before his eyes snap to mine. The look of sheer vulnerability in them is breathtaking. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” I cry, my hips swiveling up to meet his thrusts. “I’m so close, Zander. Come with me.”

  “You feel too good,” he grunts, his face looking tortured for a moment as his head hangs above me, shaking side to side. “I don’t think I can stop.”

  “I don’t want you to.”

  “Daphney.” He says my name like a plea, looking down at our bodies.

  “Zander,” I state, tipping his chin up to lock eyes with me. “Look at me.”

  His eyes are devastating as he connects with my gaze. My lips part as I expel a silent cry, and both of our bodies freeze as we climax together in perfect harmony, my release milking his drop for drop. It’s the most erotic, soul-changing experience I’ve ever had, and I immediately commit it to memory to hold onto forever.

  Finally, Zander collapses on top of me. Our bodies are slick with sweat as they rise and fall in unison, struggling to catch our lost breaths. He softens slightly between my legs, and it’s a heady sensation to feel his release drip out of me.

  “Fuck, let me get you a washcloth,” Zander says, pulling out of me and leaving me naked and bereft on the bed without him.

  He’s got that adorable, crooked smile when he returns, his cock still showing signs of life as he lowers the cloth and wipes gently between my legs. It’s tender and sweet.

  He smiles and shakes his head. “I’ve never done that with anyone before.”

  “Me neither,” I giggle, feeling embarrassed and exhilarated all at the same time.

  He finishes and holds the cloth up. “Where should I put this?”

  “There’s a wash bin in the loo.”

  He retreats to the bathroom, and as he’s in there cleaning himself up, a euphoria tingles in my body. Feeling inspired, I pad over to my guitar and grab it off its stand, bringing it back to the bed with me. I sit cross-legged at the foot, holding it in front of my naked breasts. The lacquered wood is cool against my nipples as I begin to play a few chords to a song I haven’t touched in quite some time.

  I lose myself for a moment as I familiarize my mind with the melody. I look up when I see Zander walking back toward the bed. His eyes are focused on me as he sits down and props himself up against the headboard, covering himself with the sheet.

  “Don’t stop, please,” he urges, his eyes glistening in the dark.

  I smile softly and continue, taking in a deep breath before I say, “This is Marisa’s song.”

  His eyebrows lift. “Your sister?”

  I nod thoughtfully. “It’s called ‘Face in the Breeze.’”

  Emotions course through my veins as I begin the first verse.

  Was that you just now

  Touching my face in the breeze?

  Did you hear my call

  As I was down on my knees?

  It felt just like

  The times we fight

  But I know you want for me

  To be happy

  Was that you just now

  Touching my face in the breeze?

  If you could see me now

  Would you like what you see?

  Sometimes I fear

  I’ll never know

  But I know you want for me

  To be happy

  Breezes feel so sweet

  But they can pack a sting

  Like in a storm

  Every now and then

  It’s a salty breeze

  And it burns.

  All I wish, is to know

  If you’re happy?

  All I wish, is to know

  Are you happy?

  I strum the last line and look up, shocked to see tears falling down Zander’s face. I gasp and swing my guitar off my body and place it on the bed before crawling over to him. “Are you okay?” I ask, wrapping my hands around his arm.

  He nods, his body trembling beneath the sheet. “I’m fine.”

  “You’re not fine. What is it?” I drag my thumb along his tearstained cheeks. “Is it your dad?”

  He expels a garbled noise and shakes his head. “Yeah, I guess so.”

  I inwardly chastise myself for selecting that song of all my songs. So stupid of me when it hasn’t been that long since he lost his father. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have played that one.”

  “No, Daphney. It was beautiful,” he says, grabbing my hands and gripping them between us. “I actually…” He clears his throat harshly. “It made me think about my dad a lot.” He wipes away the tears in his eyes but more dampen his cheeks. “This is a weird thing to say, but…I never cried after he died.”

  I frown, staring at him in the dark. “What?”

  He inhales a deep breath. “I was too busy planning the funeral and taking care of my mom. And then I was playing soccer in Seattle still, and fuck, I don’t know. Somewhere in dealing with all that shit, I just…blocked out the pain.”

  I swallow the knot in my throat as his tormented face tears through me. “I know how you feel.”

  “You do?” Zander asks, his voice guttural as he gazes at me with questions I’m not entirely sure I have the answers to.

  But maybe it’s not answers he needs. Maybe he just needs understanding.

  I steel myself before I continue, “As the youngest of my family, I was so protected when Marisa died that I was literally shielded from so much of the pain everyone was going through in the aftermath. It was like they couldn’t trust that I could handle Theo’s PTSD or Hayden’s thoughts of suicide because he couldn’t stop blaming himself for Marisa’s death. My mum and my dad surrounded me with quietness, and it made me crazy because I wanted to sit in the pain. Wallow in it. I wanted to talk about her, remember her. Acknowledge the loss of her. It’s been ten years, and they still try not to bring up Marisa’s name around me because they don’t want to upset me.”

  “It sounds like they love you,” Zander says, his voice wobbly.

  “I know they do,” I reply honestly. “And I respect that they are grieving in their own unique way. But I also needed to grieve in my own way. Phoebe and I talk about Marisa a lot. Sometimes it’s sad, but usually, it’s funny. Talking about her helps preserve my memories. I want her to still be a part of my life.” I lace my fingers through Zander’s and ask, “Can you tell me more about him?”

  “About my dad?” Zander croaks, his voice rising in surprise.

  I nod slowly. “Yeah, why not?”

  “I’m too emotional to talk.” He scrubs his hands over his face and shakes his head with disgust.

  “That’s okay.” I press myself up beside him and lean my head on his shoulder. “Marisa hated fish but loved to fish in my parents’ pond. She could never do it without one of my brothers there to take the fish off the hook.”

  Zander’s chest vibrates with a soft laugh before he inhales a deep, trembling breath. “My dad was a terrible soccer player.”

  “Really?” I giggle and look up at him. “Where did you get it then?”

  His brows knit together as he blinks up at the ceiling. “I’m not sure, but his lack of skill never stopped him from dribbling a ball around with me. I honestly think him being so terrible gave me wicked confidence.”

  “Th
at’s sweet.” I smile and continue watching him as I ask, “What was he good at?”

  “He was a sudoku puzzle master,” Zander says with a playful lilt to his tone that makes my heart happy.

  “So, that’s where your hobby comes from.” I tighten my grip around his arm and glance at the puzzle book he left on my end table earlier this week.

  Zander smiles and nods. “He made me download this app where we could race each other on the same puzzles. We’d do it a lot when I was on the road for soccer.”

  “Who would win?”

  “Mostly him.” Zander laughs. “Once in a while, I’d beat him, and then he would tell me it was because he didn’t have his glasses on, or my mom was distracting him.”

  “Competitive bloke then?”

  “Oh, yes…and proud. Crazy proud.”

  “Proud of what?” I ask, staring at our hands interlocked together and cherishing the intimacy of this moment.

  “He was proud of me.” Zander’s voice cracks, and I look up to see his face bending with a pained smile. “I never doubted his pride in me. Or his love.”

  My eyes well with tears as I watch him unpack that realization fully. “Your dad sounds lovely.”

  “He was.” The muscle in Zander’s jaw tics. “I miss him every day.”

  I kiss Zander’s shoulder, remaining silent as I watch him because I don’t think he’s talking to me right now.

  “He was so easy to love. And he was just one of those good guys who was selfless in all things.”

  I nod and see flashes of my sister. She was easy to love too. Warm and bright. Silly and forgiving. I idolized her and am to a point now where I’m grateful to have had the time I did have with her. I hope someday Zander can feel that way about his father, too.

  Zander tucks his fingers under my chin and raises my face to look at him. “Thank you for tonight.”

  “For making you cry?” I reply with a laugh. “Oh, anytime.”

  He shakes his head. “Not just for tonight…just…thank you for being the one thing I can count on right now.”

  My brows puzzle over that bizarre response. I open my mouth to ask what he means, but he leans forward and presses a tender kiss to my lips. I taste the salt of his tears as he pulls away and murmurs, “Now can we please go to sleep? After unloading all that baggage, I just want to fall asleep with you in my arms.”

  “Of course,” I respond as we shift down into the bed, situating the covers over top of us.

  I lay across Zander’s chest, and he kisses the top of my head and exhales a sigh that feels like it weighs a million pounds. I look up at him and say, “You should definitely talk about him more.”

  Zander nods, his eyes already closed as he mumbles, “I will.”

  I relish in the feel of his heartbeat beneath my palm and am shocked when only moments later, he’s sound asleep.

  Zander

  I wake to the sound of distant knocking and am disoriented for a moment before realizing that I’m not in my own bed. I’m in Daphney’s bed, currently wrapped around her like she’s my own life-sized teddy bear. Well, this is certainly new for me.

  Gently, I remove my arm from her naked waist and pull the cover up over her shoulder before rolling onto my back. Jesus, what was that last night? Did I fucking cry in front of my new girlfriend on night one? Girlfriend…that’s new for me as well.

  Not that I’ve never had a girlfriend, but it’s been a while. A long while. I turn my head and watch the slow rise and fall of Daphney’s shoulders and can’t help but smile. She’s everything I never realized I needed. She’s comforting and funny, heartfelt and challenging. It was easy to fall for her. I could use a little easy in my life.

  In the background, my eyes catch sight of her guitar, and a wave of sadness hits me all over again. Listening to Daphney sing last night broke that dam inside me that I’ve been fighting with for the better part of a year. She looked like an angel with her guitar in front of her naked body. And her voice melted away all the hard parts of me that have calcified since my dad passed away.

  I was finally able to grieve him last night. Miss him. My eyes sting with tears again, and I wipe away the dampness in them. For fuck’s sake, what is my deal? I’ve gone the past year unable to shed a single tear over the loss of him, and one song from Daphney has unearthed a fucking spigot inside my body. I need to get my shit together.

  The knocking sound from earlier resumes, and I hear the familiar voice of Link call out, “Come on, dude, the coffee is getting cold.”

  “I’ll call his phone,” Knight’s voice murmurs a bit more quietly.

  I cringe at how loud they sound out there. These walls really are paper thin. Thankfully, Daphney isn’t moving a muscle. She must be exhausted after I basically had an emotional meltdown in front of her and then begged her to cuddle with me. She probably slept like shit worrying about the psychopath in her bed.

  I quietly shift out of bed and slip my boxers on before grabbing my keys and vibrating phone off the counter. I pad barefoot out into the hallway and open Daphney’s door to find both Knight and Link standing in front of mine. Their eyes swerve over to me, and they open their mouths to say something, but I press my finger over my lips. “Shut up. She’s still sleeping,” I whisper as I close her door behind me.

  “You spent the night?” Link whisper-shouts.

  I roll my eyes and gesture for them to follow me into my place. I unlock the door and stand back to let them in. “You still have to keep your voices down. You can hear a pin drop through these walls.”

  Link points at the wall that separates Daphney’s and my apartment. “Why were you sleeping over? I thought you said one of your rules was no sleepovers.”

  “It’s none of your business,” I snap, my jaw taut with irritation because I have enough to unpack in my fucking head, I don’t need to worry about Link’s and Knight’s opinion about my relationship status with Daphney. I stand in front of my dining room table and cross my arms over my chest. “What are you guys doing here?”

  “We thought you might need moral support when you open the envelope,” Knight says as he sets down the coffee carrier on the kitchen counter. “We brought coffee.”

  I laugh and rub the sleep out of my eyes. “You think coffee is going to lessen the sting of what’s in that envelope?”

  Knight shrugs and pins me with a look. “I don’t think anything will, man.”

  I chew my lip nervously and grab the envelope on the table behind me. It feels heavier than it ever has before. I tap it on the palm of my hand. “I think I’ve decided not to open it.”

  “What?” Link asks, walking over to me. “You’re joking, right?”

  I shrug and shake my head. “I don’t think I want to know the truth.”

  “You said you did,” Knight offers, his eyes narrowing on me in challenge.

  “Well, that was before…”

  “Before what?” Link asks.

  “Before…I don’t know. Before I made a life here maybe? I just feel differently now.” I drop the envelope back on the table and stride over to my dresser. I throw on a white T-shirt and turn to look at my two friends. “I don’t think I need to know.”

  Knight hits me with a look. “I think you do.”

  “You were team ignorance is bliss before,” I retort. “What’s changed?”

  Knight’s eyes look grave on me. “You need closure, man. Your head wasn’t in the game on Saturday. This is why.”

  I roll my eyes. “Don’t spit out more sports psychobabble on me.”

  “It’s not sport psychology. It’s just common sense,” Knight snaps, his nostrils flaring with irritation. “That envelope is going to haunt you the same way that letter haunts you.”

  I hesitate with how to respond next because deep down, I know Knight’s right. This envelope is like a forbidden fruit. You have to know how it tastes because it’s staring right back at you. Only I have a feeling I’m not going to like how any of this tastes.

  But then
I think about my dad, and losing him, and the fact that I didn’t shed a fucking tear until last night with Daphney. I know why that is. I was suppressing my grief because I was focusing on the fact that my dad may have lied to me my entire life. But after pouring my heart out to Daphney, maybe I’m okay now. Maybe Daphney fixed me.

  I shake my head at my two teammates, who are staring at me like I’ve got two heads. “Stop looking at me like that!” I snap as my frustration with the pressure they’re putting on me builds. “You guys don’t know how hard this is.”

  “Yes, we do,” Link interjects, tucking his hair behind his ears and grabbing the envelope off the table. “We’ve watched you struggle with this since day one. Just finish the job you set out to do. You didn’t use Daphney to score an invite to that Harris family dinner for nothing, right?”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about.” My voice cracks because hearing him throw my own words back in my face is like a dagger through my fucking gut.

  “Seriously!” Link exclaims, slamming the envelope against my chest. “This is your answer. This is why you took her on a double-decker bus tour—to get close enough to grab a DNA sample of Vaughn. Now you have to open this shit and deal with it, or you’ll feel like you’re living a lie the rest of your life.”

  “I already feel like I’m living a lie,” I shout, my voice ringing in my ears as I slam the envelope back down on the table. “I don’t even know who the fuck I am anymore. I feel like I’m lying to everybody. My mom, my manager, my teammates, my girlfriend. Hell, I even feel like I’m lying to my own father!”

  “What girlfriend?” Link asks, his face contorting with confusion.

  I rake my hands through my hair and look up at the ceiling, my head spinning. I don’t want to talk about this with these guys. I know they mean well, but I should never have opened up about all this to them in the first place. I made the mistake of opening up to Jude in Seattle, and he’s the one that got me into this fucking mess. Now I’ve doubled down on that mistake with these guys. Maybe telling Daphney about my dad was a mistake last night too. I’m better on my own. I always have been.