“I’m having the couch.”
I give him a wry smile and duck into my room, changing into a satin nightgown as seductive as the one I was wearing this morning. I slip on some soft boxers underneath and pull on my robe. It leaves little to the imagination but I’m kind of hoping that he won’t need to use his imagination anyway.
Any thoughts of not seducing him left my head at some point this afternoon when he held my hand and kissed my temple as we walked around the museum, admiring the exhibits and absorbing the teachings. It was sweet and it made my heart pound in my chest so hard I couldn’t breathe.
He wants to kiss me, he wants me. I know it. I know he can forgive me for what I did, I know we can move past it.
God, I’m so nervous.
Gulping, I exit my bedroom and immediately take note of the fact he’s in nothing but a black T and black boxers. His legs are stretched out in front of him and crossed at the ankles. His glasses are on the coffee table and his hair is damp. He must have washed his face while I was dressing. I bet he brushed his teeth too. I bet he tastes of mint.
I sit next to him, relishing the fact his gaze is on my thighs. I love my body, every inch of it, and I hope he still does too.
“What are we watching?” I ask quietly. The TV is on and there’s a man with a bald head talking about vampires.
“I just clicked on a recommendation, I’m not even sure.” He turns to face me and teases the end of my braid with his finger. “Today was fun. I can see why you love the city so much. It’s… vibrant.”
“It certainly has something about it. I wish you could have seen it at Christmas. It’s like nothing else.”
He gives me a sympathetic smile. “Is it going to be hard for you to leave?”
“I want to come home, that decision is easy.”
His sympathetic smile brightens. “So you’re definitely coming back?”
“Do you want me to?”
He shifts in his seat, his hazel eyes cast a warming look over my features.
I move closer, curling my legs beneath me so as to have an excuse to touch him. My knees are pressed against his thigh.
“I want you to do whatever makes you happy,” he replies softly, quietly, a breath between us. His eyes flicker to my lips and I take my chance. I lean in and touch my lips to his, testing the waters, praying he thinks I’ve had enough wine to excuse my behavior if he rejects me.
He doesn’t, his head tilts just enough to the side that I get braver and lean into him, pushing my lips to his more forcefully.
I tease the seam of his lips with my tongue as my hand trails up his chest and to his neck.
He doesn’t move against me.
Shit.
He starts to pull away.
Mother fuck nugget.
I push harder, wishing he’d change his mind and kiss me back, but then his hands take my shoulders and move me back and away from him.
He looks me in the eyes, sad and breathing heavier than usual.
I read that totally wrong.
“I am so sorry,” I mumble, feeling as mortified as I likely look. “I shouldn’t have… it was just… I got lost in the moment or something.”
“It’s okay,” he replies, his voice a note higher than a whisper. “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong idea.”
The. Wrong. Idea.
I am humiliated.
I want to cry but that would only embarrass me further. “It was the moment. I shouldn’t have.”
“Are you okay?” he asks, looking concerned. “Do we need to talk about it?”
I bite my lip, fighting a cringe. “I’d rather we didn’t. Let’s just put it down to me having too much wine and reading into shit that’s not there.” Like the fact you kissed my temple and held my hand. What was that? If not a lead into this right now?
“We’ll never be like we were,” he explains despite the fact I just told him not to. “I’m just not—”
“Into me like that,” I finish for him, still fighting a cringe. “It’s okay. I get it. You don’t have to explain. I was… I fucked up pretty badly. I don’t expect anything from you.”
His answering smile is gentle, it doesn’t make me feel good. “It’s not even just that, I’m kind of maybe… I mean there’s this person back home who…”
Oh my God. I really have read this all wrong. FUCK.
“You’re dating somebody?” I squeak, sounding more mouse than human.
He shrugs, looking sheepish. “I suppose so. It’s not serious.”
“But it could be?”
“She’s a great woman.”
But she’s not me. I think bitterly while keeping my face carefully blank. “So why…?” I stop myself, letting my question trail off.
“Why what?”
“Nothing.” I breathe calmly and drain the rest of my wine. I’m not going to question him or his intentions, I’ve clearly read this all wrong and by arguing about it will only bring us both further awkwardness and pain. “This was obviously one massive misunderstanding and I feel terrible.”
“It’s okay, we’ll just pretend it didn’t happen. Would that make you feel better?”
Nope, what would have felt better is a kiss. Your kiss would have made me feel better.
“What’s she like?” I ask even though I definitely don’t want to know.
“She’s a really great woman, she’s very… sophisticated and caring.”
I’m sophisticated and caring. “Good. You deserve somebody who is good to you.”
“You’re okay?”
“Duh. I’m fine. I tried my luck, you knocked me down. It’s not the end of the world and it doesn’t change anything,” I reply. “It’s good closure actually because I wasn’t sure where we might stand if I come home.”
“I’m glad you’ve found a silver lining.” He smiles at me, his hazel eyes full of respect and absolutely no lust or anything else. So what has been with all of the looks and touches today? Did I truly imagine them?
I’m so confused.
“Let’s just watch the movie and pretend I didn’t do what I did and let’s never mention this again,” I say with a quick nod.
He chuckles and relaxes so easily, turning the volume up and pulling the blanket over his lap.
But it’s eating at me. It’s really nagging me in a bad way.
“I really wish you’d take my bed,” I murmur an hour later. The movie isn’t finished but I’m struggling to keep my eyes open.
“Go,” he orders, smiling at me in the dark.
“Thank you for coming today. It was a really nice surprise.”
His smile broadens. “It has been fun.”
I stand, stretch, and take my battered ego to my empty bed.
I really read that wrong. This is good though. This is the closure I needed to get past that chapter of my life. Travis is moving on, now I can too.
Of course it still hurts a little, I was horribly elated when I found out he was still single and hadn’t introduced any women to the parentals in the past decade, but I let that optimism transform into something that was never there. Did I honestly believe that we could just pick up where we left off?
I’m such an ass.
I fall asleep easier than I thought I would. I’m so tired.
The next morning, I apologize over breakfast and after lunch I escort him to the airport. We hug, we say goodbye, and I head home, calling Molly on the way. Molly who I had coffee with at Thanksgiving, Molly who has been a steady friend from the past since I got back in touch.
“I am so confused,” I inform her.
“Hit me with it.”
And I do, I lay it all on her, praying for her wisdom.
It’s Molly that collects me from the airport with her three-year-old daughter holding up a sign that reads,
“Welcome home from REHAB!”
“Don’t you just think you’re sooooo funny,” I comment, hugging my smiling friend and then her gorgeous little girl who I’ve seen many pictures of.
At
Thanksgiving I didn’t get to meet Aria, her daughter, purely because Molly needed space from being a mother for a few hours and was worried I’d feel as though Aria was cramping our style. Totally not the case.
“It is so good to see you,” Molly tells me for the fifth time.
“Mommy got me a unicorn sucker!” Aria declares, showing me the sticky-looking treat.
“That looks yummy,” I tell the little girl and then look to her mom and say with so much gratitude, “Thank you for coming to get me.”
“It’s no problem. I totally get it.”
My dad just couldn’t get the time off work and I didn’t want to trouble Shonda. After our past I find it hard to ask her for anything. It’s my issue not hers and I’m working through it. As for Travis, well I didn’t want to ask him because I’m dreading seeing him. We have talked consistently since he visited just over a month ago, but an awkwardness over what happened still hangs between us and I’m trying to limit how much time we spend together alone.
He said he wasn’t interested but that’s the only thing that tells me he isn’t. The messages and mixed signals I’m getting from him scream otherwise.
Molly thinks he’s doing it on purpose, stringing me along to hurt me as revenge but I don’t think that’s it.
“What time did you say your interview was again?”
“Noon,” I respond, checking my watch. “Think we can make it? I told them I might be late because of the flight being delayed.”
“How did they take that?”
“They were great, it can’t be helped. And do I want to work for a boss who doesn’t understand that I don’t control the planes?”
“Hell to the no,” she finishes for me. “Are you nervous?”
“Not really, Dad really pimped me out. This is one of three hospitals within a hundred miles that have blown up my inbox. They’re really desperate for surgeons.”
“So why Sacramento first?”
“It makes sense for me to be close to Travis, because then Dad and Shonda won’t have to pick and choose which way to go.”
“And you won’t move back home?”
“No, I couldn’t go back to small-town life now, besides, I don’t desire an hour commute to work every morning.”
She hums thoughtfully. “I totally feel that. Cella asked about you last week funnily enough.”
“Did you tell her to stick her head up her…” I’m about to say a bad word but then I remember the three-year-old who is clutching my hand and her mother’s. “Cake.”
“I like cake,” Aria declares, grinning up at me.
“Me too, especially lemon cake.”
“Chocolate cake with sprinkles.”
I wink at her and look back at Molly who is looking really guilty all of a sudden. “What did you do?”
“I may or may not have told her you’d be in town.”
I stop and a person behind me almost collides with my back. “Why would you do that?”
“She’s really sorry for abandoning you.”
“And I should care becausssse?”
She shrugs, smiles, and raises a brow at me. “Because aren’t you seeking forgiveness for the exact same thing?”
“You are such a cake,” I grumble and she throws her head back and laughs.
“A right cake.”
“Whatever.”
“Can we get cake?” Aria asks giddily.
“Later, Aunty Raven has a job interview soon.”
I smile at my newfound title and we swing the little girl all the way through the airport.
Raven: Fancy a late lunch or early dinner?
Travis: We FaceTiming over food again?
Yep, we’ve done that, propped our phone’s up while out in cafés or just sitting in our homes eating food. It was fun and only slightly embarrassing.
Raven: No, I’m in Sacramento, can you pick me up from Shiners Children’s Hospital?
Raven: Unless you’re busy or working! If you are it’s totally fine, I have Molly on standby and Dad finishes work in a few hours.
Travis: I’m not busy. I’ll be there soon.
I smile and bite my lip. I had a very successful interview and I absolutely loved the hospital, but it would mean staying in my current field which is pediatrics. I’m actually quite happy with that. I always desired becoming a psychiatrist and maybe one day, when I tire of this route, I will. For now I’m finding it hard to believe that any other hospital will offer me what this one has.
But first I need to clear the air with Travis, and then Cella because she tried calling me twenty minutes ago. I ignored it.
Though this decision must be for me and not for anybody else, but Travis’ happiness is important to me. I hurt him badly once, I don’t ever want to do that again.
I wait outside feeling hopeful for my future when Travis pulls into a visitor bay and climbs out of his car.
I’m surprised by the handsome smile on his shaven face and the open arms he extends.
I race to him and throw myself into his body, making him grunt and laugh. He smells like the aftershave I know him so well for, peppery, spicy, male. I inhale deeply yet secretly as his chin rests on top of my head.
“Missed you, Trav,” I whisper and feel his body tense. He really hates it when I say his name like that but he still won’t tell me why. I wonder if it’s a trigger for bad memories. I try not to say it but sometimes it slips out.
“Where are your things? Are you staying over?”
I shake my head. “Molly took them to Dad’s.”
I realize we’re still holding each other, chest to chest, my leg partly in between his, and quickly step back. I kiss his cheek and wipe my lipstick stain from it as he leans around me to open the car door.
“Where are you taking me?” I ask as I click my seatbelt into place.
“Home, I’m cooking for you,” he replies, smiling. “First stop, grocery store.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah, I’m majorly craving steak and all the good places are fully booked. I’m not gambling with somewhere new tonight, not if it’s the only time I’m going to see you until June.”
I smile at him sweetly. “Thanks, Trav.”
A muscle ticks in his jaw and he shifts in his seat. We reverse out of the parking bay and head to get groceries. An easy task.
I follow him around, my hand in his. He took it, he grabbed my hand as we walked through the doors. It tingled and burned where he held it. I tried not to think about it too much. I already made that mistake once.
He releases it when we start piling items into the cart, thick-looking steaks, bottles of red wine, the expensive kind. I wonder how and when he got so into wine at such a young age. He looked at each label before carefully selecting what he deemed the perfect red for steak.
When the cart is nearly full of junk food, healthy food, and dinner food, we check out and pile the bags into the trunk of his car. Laughing and chatting easily the entire time.
It’s so easy to be with him when we’re together. I don’t understand how he doesn’t feel it. The intense longing that seems to flicker between us. But I suppose that’s a good thing because despite his mixed messages, I’m finally starting to see him as the friend he always wanted me to see him as. Well, the friend he wanted me to see him as after we reconnected.
Still I can’t deny the fact I’d totally roll around with him in bed should he offer. I really hope he offers.
I help him unload the groceries and put them away, guessing where they go as he heats the grill. I love the smell of charcoal as it burns. It’s smoky and so nice.
I watch him season the steaks, rubbing the meat with furious fingers as I sip wine and talk to him about my favorite patients.
He listens intently, smiling at me over his shoulder every so often. He’s so easy to talk to. Gah. I’m never getting over this crush I have on him. This crush I’ve always had on him. My body thinks he’s mine and I wonder if it always will.
“You sure you don�
��t need help?” I ask as he puts the seasoned and oiled cut potatoes into the oven.
“I’m done, just the salad now.” He prepares that with ease too and sets a timer on the oven as the grill still burns outside.
“Since when did you become a master chef?”
“I’ve always been able to cook, Raven,” he replies, smirking. “We just never left the bedroom for long enough for me to show you.”
I almost choke on my wine. Tingles erupt in my core, making my womb clench. Fuck.
It’s the first time he has voluntarily spoken about our past dalliances.
“We were young and virile, I certainly miss those days,” I mutter into my glass, taking another healthy gulp.
He smiles differently at me and I feel his eyes linger on my breasts before he inhales sharply and looks away. What was that?
Nope, I’m not gonna read into it. I’m just going to enjoy my brief time here as his friend and go to Dad’s and pretend like I’m not still crushing on my stepbrother.
“How are things going with that woman you’re seeing?”
His shoulders tense. “Leah?”
“Are you seeing anyone else?”
He chuckles nervously. “No, she’s good.”
“I guess I’m lucky you didn’t have plans with her tonight.”
“She’s a busy woman,” he replies, and my hand squeezes my wine glass so hard I worry it might break so I calm myself with a few long breaths. “Like I said, it’s nothing serious.”
“You’re still dating her and it’s not serious yet? It has been a couple of months.”
“Keeping track of my sex life are you?” he mutters in jest but the word sex slices through me like a sharp blade. “We’re both busy, we see each other when we can.”
I drain the rest of my glass and move to pour myself another. “That’s like Seamus and me then.” I’m lying, Seamus is already dating somebody else. That ship sailed as I knew it would.
“You’re dating the doctor?”
Why the fuck did I say that? Now I’ve got to die with the fucking lie. Mother fuck. What is wrong with me?
“No,” I correct and sip more wine. “How’s dinner coming?”
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