Wrapped Up in You

by Talia Hibbert

  Gravy was supposed to lick away the amniotic fluids surrounding her babies—Abbie had seen enough cat births to know that—but she must be too cold or too tired or both because it wasn’t happening. “I’m going to have to do this,” Abbie said out loud, and reached for the tiny new-born lump of fur and gunk, grateful for her gloves.

  “Okay,” Will said. “I’m going to keep talking.”

  “Yes,” she said softly, so softly the wind and the snow whipped her words away. “Please.” Because that ocean of affection she’d been so terrified of drowning in? His every word was a warm, gentle wave buoying her up. And suddenly she was floating.

  “I messed things up this week, Abs,” he told her, leaning into the side of her body as she worked, letting his forehead rest against her temple. Protecting her from the worst of the cold, yes—and brushing his soft lips against her icy cheek, pressing his words into her skin like a secret. “I had this big plan—I was going to quit my job and move back home and work my way into your life, and then a year would pass and I’d be yours and you wouldn’t even know how it happened.”

  She choked out a laugh as she gently wiped the tiny, mewling kitten semi-clean. “What?”

  “Yeah. Because I could tell, even from miles away, that you were struggling, and I guess I thought I could sneak past all the walls you put up and be there for you, be with you, whether you liked it or not. But that was never going to work. You make choices, and they’re deliberate, and whether they keep me out or in, they’re yours. That’s one of the things I love about you. Ignoring that made no sense.”

  Abbie’s pulse stuttered as she tucked the kitten close to its mother, as she turned to Will and unravelled the scarf from around his neck for another blanket. “Love,” she repeated carefully, swallowing hard, refusing to add any inflection. “Love.” Her lips shaped the word hungrily. And for the first time, leaning toward the most obvious interpretation of what he’d said felt less like hubris and more like hope.

  “Yeah,” he told her, and she heard it in his voice, felt it in his gaze. Maybe it had always been there. Maybe the way he looked at her, like he could see every little thing—like he wanted to see every little thing, no matter how tough or awkward or difficult—had always been love.

  And then he confirmed that possibility, with the same brilliant ease he did everything. “Yeah, I love you, Abs. It took me a while to figure out what it was—by the time I did, you were off to uni, and then you found someone else, and I felt like I’d never done anything so stupid as let you go, and it was too late. I just hope I’ve made up for it by loving you ever since.

  “Because I have. I’ve loved you every second we’ve spent apart and every week we’ve spent together. I love you when you’re hurting, and I love you when you’re careful, and I love you when you’re not sure if it’s safe to love me back. I know you can’t help worrying, but I wish I’d told you from the fucking start that—that there’s nothing you can do to make me stop. I’m tried and tested, Abbie. I’ve been halfway around the world, loving you. I’ve been an usher at your fucking wedding, loving you.” He laughed, sounding genuinely disbelieving. “I literally cannot stop. And I should’ve told you before, because if there’s anything I can do to make you feel even the tiniest bit safer, I want to do that. I do. So I’m sorry. And that’s everything. That’s all.”

  “Oh,” Abbie said, very, very softly. And then she was silent. She waited while Gravy’s second kitten was born, grateful beyond belief that it was done quickly. She wrapped the little snuffling thing up next to its mother and its sibling. And then, very quickly, with her filthy, gloved hands held safely out to the sides, she turned to face Will and kissed him.

  He must’ve been surprised, because he made this baffled noise in the back of his throat, and it took him a split second to kiss her back. But he did. He couldn’t touch her either, was still holding the brambles aside, and so they spent a long, hungry moment pressed together, mouth to mouth and body to body, holding each other with nothing but every emotion they poured into that kiss.

  I love you, she thought, fucking wild with it, dizzy with it, breathless with it, and hoped he could taste it on her tongue, hoped he picked it up when he bit her lower lip, hoped he could feel it in the aching rock of her hips against his. Because she tasted it on him, felt it from him, heard it in those searingly honest words that ran around and around her head. “I’m tried and tested, Abbie. I literally cannot stop.” She didn’t want to need that; she wanted to simply, blithely trust him, or rather, to trust that things could be good, that nightmares weren’t always waiting around the corner. But she wasn’t quite there yet, and he knew it, and he didn’t mind. He was willing to give her those words instead, a lifeline when she needed it, and surely he had no idea—he could have no fucking idea—how much that meant to her.

  Pulling away from him might be the hardest thing she’d ever done, but they had newborn kittens out in a blizzard here, so they didn’t have much of a choice. He groaned when she broke the kiss, and it was so fucking surreal how obvious this man was about wanting her. She didn’t think she’d ever had that. She hadn’t known she needed it.

  “Kittens,” she breathed. “We should … move them.”

  “Yeah,” he said, “yeah.” Then he smiled. “Hey.”

  “What?”

  “You’re mine as fuck.”

  She laughed as she picked up the cats, feeling younger than she had in years, feeling the way she used to, when they were just them and nothing was complicated. “That doesn’t make any sense, William.”

  “It doesn’t need to, Abigail.” He released the brambles and took the cats from her arms, ignoring his allergies as always. “Mine as fuck. Remember it.”

  “I still need to—I have things I need to do,” she told him, trying not to get ahead of herself, feeling like a helium balloon. “I think I should maybe go back to therapy.”

  “Probably,” he agreed as they stood up.

  “Hey!”

  “What? I went back to therapy after I thought I was done.”

  She stared at him through the snow. “You went to therapy?”

  “I lived in California. You have to do that kind of shit over there, or you’ll never fit in.” But then, after a moment, he gave her one of his rare, serious looks and said, “I’ll tell you about it sometime.”

  “Okay,” she said. “Thank you,” she said. I love you, she thought.

  And like he’d read her fucking mind, he said, “I love you,” right back.

  She couldn’t believe those were words they’d exchanged, never mind feelings they’d actually felt. Her heart had been swallowed up by a beam of sunshine, and she felt herself glowing all the way back to the house. They were opening the scarlet front door when it occurred to her—she wanted to give him sunshine too, wanted to make him feel the way she did, which meant she had to give him back whatever he gave her. “I, erm ... I mean, when you said just now that you loved me, I should’ve said—”

  He looked down at her, a smile in his voice and a bundle of cats in his arms. “There’s no should, Abs. I said I understood where you’re at, and I meant it.” She thanked God her glasses were steaming up from the house’s warmth, because if she could see his gorgeous fucking face in finer detail as he said this, she might faint with the perfection of it all. “You already told me you loved me today,” he continued. “I bet that’s you done for the rest of the week.”

  She laughed, dizzy with affection, with adoration. “I can do better.”

  “But I don’t want better,” he said calmly. “I like what I’ve got. You’re in charge here, you know. Anything that changes between us will be your choice.” His eyes turned her inside out. “All I ever wanted was to be yours. Am I?”

  “Yes,” she breathed. God, yes.

  He grinned, happier than she’d ever seen him. Including that one time when a butterfly had landed on his nose,
which was saying something. “Then I’m good. Now call your brother and tell him to bring Ms Tricia back here. Someone smarter than us needs to take a look at these cats.”

  “Oh, shit, yeah.” She took off her gloves, snatched her phone from her pocket, and followed Will into the family room as she dialled. Jase picked up while Will was bent beneath the Christmas tree, depositing Gravy and her kittens under the red-and-gold baubles.

  “You found her?” was Jase’s immediate greeting.

  “Yep. We’re at the house. Also, she gave birth.”

  There was a shrill “What?” in the background, then a few grunts and sounds of a struggle before Grandma, predictably, took over the phone. “What happened?”

  “Two kittens delivered safely,” Abbie reported, while Will gathered more blankets and dragged a few cushions off the sofa. There might be weird afterbirth stains, but she was pretty confident Grandma wouldn’t mind. “She seemed really tired and cold outside, but she’s licking the first one now, and the second one’s feeding, so that’s a good sign, right?”

  “Yes,” Grandma agreed. “Well done. We’re heading back.”

  Abbie felt a bit glowy about that “Well done.” Maybe listening to Chitra talk about pool births and placentas for months had made her ready for anything, or maybe her own habit of imagining worst-case scenarios had done that. Whatever the case, she was glad she hadn’t fucked up Gravy’s babies.

  Putting the phone down, she relayed the message to Will. He nodded, peeled off his gloves, and reached for her. “So…” he said. One of his hands slid beneath the coat she still hadn’t taken off, settling at her hip with a possessiveness she shouldn’t enjoy so much. His other hand rose to her hair, tugging gently at a coil behind her ear. “Are we going to say anything?”

  And Abbie learned another thing she hadn’t known about herself: she liked being with a man who asked instead of told. She liked it a whole fucking lot.

  * * *

  Were they going to tell her family, that was what Will meant. He was only asking for clarity, though, not because he needed to share. Will didn’t need anything right now except what he had: Abbie, looking at him with all the secret affection her dark eyes could convey, loving him silently in a way that was so fucking loud, it reverberated through his bones.

  He was on cloud nine, and he expected to stay there for the rest of his life. So, yeah, he didn’t need a damn thing. But after years of this hollow, hungry yearning, and a couple days of fucking things up by holding back, he’d decided that straightforward communication was his very best shot at keeping hold of this miracle.

  And he would keep hold of this. Of her. Gently, yes, as gently as she needed, but he wasn’t ever letting go.

  She rolled her lips inward, looking adorably awkward at the prospect of talking about their feelings yet again—and to people other than each other. But he was impressed, because instead of blurting out God, no, with all the horror she obviously felt, Abbie took a breath and managed a smile. “I could be wrong, but I think Grandma’s kind of been shipping us. She really shoved us together these last two days.”

  Well, shit. That was … that was true, wasn’t it? Will grinned. “Always knew she was a woman of taste.”

  “And Jase basically thinks we should get married.”

  Will grinned wider. “He is my best friend for a reason.”

  He could see Abbie’s apprehension at that—she probably hadn’t expected him to respond so enthusiastically, or so seriously. He released her hair and stroked her face, his fingertips gliding over her brow, her temple, along the line of her jaw. Everywhere he touched, tension seemed to ease out of her. “I’m just asking, Abbie,” he said softly. “I’m asking what you want to do because I care about the answer. I care about what you want.” It had occurred to him recently, that he should tell her things like that—should say what seemed so obvious to him out loud. Because it wasn’t obvious to Abigail, and if he didn’t show her his heart, how the fuck was she supposed to learn it? He wasn’t leaving her in the dark anymore, to stumble around with nothing but her hopes and her fears.

  Not ever.

  She gave a tentative smile, and his heart squeezed at the sight. “Okay. Well … I think they’d be pleased, but I also think that talking about … about our feelings for each other was a lot, and we don’t exactly know what this is going to look like, or at least I don’t, and—”

  “One year,” he said softly.

  She blinked. “Hm?”

  “That’s how long I was going to wait,” he reminded her, “before I asked you out. One year of being with you however you wanted before I ever brought up my feelings. I might’ve failed on the feelings part, but we can still wait a year, if you want.”

  Her lips parted for a breathless moment, and she leaned into him, just a tiny bit. Just enough for him to feel the warmth of her fledging trust, chasing away the blizzard’s chill. “You’re rather dedicated,” she said dryly, but she looked at him with so much soul-deep affection he almost passed out. Really, he felt a little light-headed. The fucking eyes on this woman.

  “Yeah,” he said hoarsely. “Dedicated. That I am.”

  “And perfect,” she added quietly, fondly. “You’re rather incredibly perfect.”

  “You told me you have things you need to work out,” he said, fighting the loopiest fucking grin of all time because this was supposed to be a serious adult conversation about boundaries or whatever the fuck. “So do what you gotta do, Abs, and in the meantime, I’ll still be here, and we’ll still be us. Okay?” You’re safe with me. You’re trying for me. And you will never fucking regret it.

  She looked up at him as if she couldn’t see anything else. “Okay, Will,” she said. And then she kissed him so hard he felt weak.

  Epilogue

  @AbbieGrl: Have you seen this?

  @DoURe1dMe: Uh … is that supposed to be me?

  @AbbieGrl: It’s Captain X getting pegged by Captain Marvel

  @DoURe1dMe: INTERESTING … how do you feel about wearing spandex?

  one year later

  Abbie woke to the click of the bedroom door closing. The space beside her was warm but empty. Will had just left. Cracking open one eye, she fumbled for her phone, knocking her anxiety meds off the bedside table in the process. According to her display, it was 7:38 and she had a text from Chitra.

  Merry Christmas, Aunty!

  Attached was a picture of baby Jaya dressed as a tiny Santa. Abbie smiled, and fell back to sleep before she could reply.

  When she woke again, it was slower, sweeter, easier the second time around. Winter sun spilled through the curtains to bathe her face. The mattress beneath her shifted as Will slipped back into bed.

  “Abbie-girl,” he murmured. “I’m cold.”

  Such a bad liar. Will must’ve just gotten back from his run, which he insisted on every day—yes, even Christmas Day—not because he was a gym owner who had to maintain a certain level of fitness, but because, for reasons she would never understand, he really fucking enjoyed it. So maybe he had been cold for a minute, out there in the frost. But after a couple miles and a hot shower, he must be warm again.

  And yet, when his big hand smoothed over her side, she shivered.

  “I know you’re awake.” She could hear the grin in his voice. Could feel it against her skin, his body curving around her as he kissed the back of her neck.

  “Yes,” she admitted, “I’m awake.” Then she rolled over because neck kisses were wonderful, but mouth to mouth was better.

  He was beautiful, as always. Golden and glowing and looking at her with a love so intense she could practically feel it—warming her as surely as the blankets around them, holding her tight like this bed held off the early-morning chill. Wrapped up in this man was her favourite place to be. And these days, she was confident—even in her wobbly moments—that he felt the same.

 
“I love you,” she murmured, and trailed her fingers down, down, down, over the planes of his beloved body.

  Will grunted as his lips glided over hers. “I love you back, baby.”

  She smiled against his mouth and wrapped her fingers around the hot, hard length of him. “Merry Christmas?”

  “Merry fucking Christmas,” he agreed. Then he cupped her aching sex with one big palm and sucked in a breath when he found her wet.

  She was still naked from last night. He was naked from the shower. He pushed her onto her back and palmed her hips with desperate hands. His body settled between her thighs, and just that—just the weight, the heat, and maybe the knowledge that he wanted her again—lit Abbie up like the spark of a match.

  She wrapped her legs around him and whimpered. The first time they’d had sex, about six months ago now, she’d been quiet. Bitten her lip. Bitten her tongue. He hadn’t told her to stop it; he’d just touched her with deliberate affection, with burning intent and shameless adoration, and he’d shown her everything he’d felt, and eventually—eventually—she’d found herself moaning beneath him one day without an ounce of self-consciousness and no idea how they’d gotten there.

  Well, she supposed she had some idea. Abbie had been working hard this past year, for herself, and Will had done exactly what he’d promised to do. He’d held her hand.

  Now his hand slid, slow and tender, up her body. Worshipping the thickness of her waist, massaging the weight of her breast, stroking the length of her throat. Enjoying, teasing, taking his fucking time. He broke their kiss to ease his thumb into her mouth, then watched with stormy eyes as she sucked, hard and wet. When she was done, he reached down between their bodies and pressed that thumb between her thighs, massaging easy circles over her swollen clit.

  She swallowed a moan, not because she wanted to, but because they had to be at least a little quiet. He nuzzled her cheek, her jaw, her throat, and kept going. Kept going. Just when she thought she might beg for more, he murmured roughly, “Want it?”