by Mary Frame
“Thank you,” I tell her sincerely, wiping at my eyes.
“I totally get it.”
They draw me over to a table festooned with ribbons and decorated with superhero paraphernalia. Lucas sets down the sheet cake and I get a closer look. The os in congratulations are Spider-Man and Black Panther faces.
The rest of the spread follows the same theme: Batman bun sandwiches, a fruit tray of strawberries, bananas, and blueberries arranged to make Captain America’s shield, and Wonder Woman lasso fries.
I lift my gaze and lock eyes on Beast.
A thousand thoughts and feelings flash between us, words rendered unnecessary. I walk around the table and reach up. He meets me halfway, kissing me senseless in front of everyone. Whoops and hollers surround us, but it doesn’t matter.
I pull away to look into his face, his arms still around my waist. “Thank you.”
One more quick kiss and then Annabel yanks me away to the dance floor where Jude has set up two Doctor Who–style telephone booths. He explains the challenge—to see who can change into a superhero costume the fastest—and I laugh.
Grace is already inside of one of them pushing buttons and messing with the door, sliding it open and closed.
Granny brought her girlfriend, Elaine, who we all met at supper last weekend. They’re very formal with each other in front of us, but also sweet when they don’t think we’re watching. Elaine makes sure Granny gets an extra-large slice of cake after we eat.
We spend a couple of hours playing games, laughing and talking. Granny wins the superhero challenge. Ranger teases Annabel and Jude about some night when he caught them making out in his office, a story they refuse to elaborate on. Lucas talks to Beast about recipes, and Eliza informs me that when I leave, Beast will be moving from security into the kitchen. Ranger and Eliza also take great delight in teasing me and telling everyone how I manhandle the bar accoutrements and clean like I’m trying to murder all the dirt.
I very vehemently blame Caroline for all of the ill treatment, much to Beast’s delight.
Later, I get a moment to talk with Jude while the others are distracted. Despite a little voice in my head telling me to let it go, this time, I just can’t. “Remember how you told me to take care of Beast’s heart?”
He nods, his gaze curious.
“You should take care of it, too. Make sure when you ask him for help with things that it’s not the morning after a late shift. And that he’s taking time to do what he wants, instead of what makes the rest of you happy.”
His brows lift, mouth popping open. But then he huffs out a breath, pressing his lips together and grimacing. “I suppose you’re right. We do tend to take advantage of his helpful nature and he wouldn’t be the type to deny assistance to anyone.” He tilts his head. “I can see you have his best interests at heart.”
I smile, though I’m sure it looks a little wilted. “Thank you for listening and not getting defensive.”
“When you love someone, it’s not about being right. It’s about doing what’s right. We are none of us perfect.” He nudges his shoulder against mine. “And that’s all right.”
Afterward, Beast drives us back to his house. We’re alone, the others staying behind to help with cleanup.
We walk into the house hand in hand.
“Thank you,” I tell him once we’re in his room together. “Most of the time, even for my birthday, my parents just take me to dinner or whatever. No one has ever done anything like this for me.”
He mouths and signs at the same time to make sure I understand, You’re worth it.
I reach up and grab his face. He leans into me and then we’re kissing. The gentle press of mouths and the slide of tongues are familiar and comforting, but also tinged with a thread of desperation.
This is it.
Our last night. He’s driving me to the airport tomorrow afternoon and then . . . who knows when I’ll be able to kiss him again?
I shove the thoughts away and focus on taking off his clothes. I want nothing more than the press of his skin against mine, his warmth surrounding me. I want to crawl inside him. His lips trail from my mouth to my jaw and down the length of my neck.
“Beast.”
He moves back and looks at me.
“I want you.” I search his face to make sure he understands my meaning. We haven’t had sex yet, but I want it with a force that’s almost frightening in its intensity.
He nods and mouths, Yes. I want you, too. So much.
“Are you sure?”
He smiles. Pulls his phone from his pocket and types, Worried about my virtue?
“I am, like, three years older than you. Practically a cougar.”
His smile widens. Consider me corrupted. I giggle, and this time he signs, I want only you. Everything. You.
My laughter dies. I force the word through the lump in my throat. “Yes.”
Then his hands are at my clothes, unbuttoning my work blouse, his large fingers trembling as he slides each button out of the small holes.
As soon as my top meets the floor, I’m tugging at his T-shirt. He pulls it over his head and then the rest of our clothes find themselves tangled together around us.
I’m a jumble of sensations. The press of his mouth to mine, the whisper of his hands mapping out my body with the tips of his fingers. I push him down to the bed and then straddle him. The hard length of him pressing my most sensitive spot yanks a gasp of pleasure from me. I am not going to last long, at least not this first time.
“Condom?”
He nods at the bedside table and I lean over to grab it, sheathing him before our mouths connect again. I sit up, wanting to watch him even as I possess him.
Grabbing his length between us, I position him and then settle myself around his length. I move slowly, taking care, adjusting to his size. He fills me, stretching me in the best of ways until we are fully merged. Once he’s all the way in, I maintain our visual connection, not wanting to let go of it even for a second. His eyes gleam, dark as night. His fingers trace up my skin, giant hands clasping around my nape, thumbs brushing my cheeks, holding me with a fierce devotion I feel all the way down to my toes.
For long moments we breathe together, joined in the most intimate of ways.
Then I start moving.
Before long, he’s gasping, his hands moving down, clenching my hips. I move with rhythmic slowness, up and down. The pent-up emotion, the love, the loss, it’s all there in the rigid line of his body, his taut cheeks, his skin stretched tight over his bones. His features are stark, hardened with passion.
I move faster. His hands smooth up my skin, thrumming at my nipples, then one hand slides between our bodies, rubbing me just how he knows I like it. An orgasm rips through me like a tidal wave, his name on my lips.
He pumps up into me, his hands seizing my hips.
Then he’s shuddering, gasping, falling with me and we land back on the earth together.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“They really gave me a hard time at the airport over my Wakandan passport.”
–Overheard at Comic-Com
* * *
“You’ll never understand how much I’m going to miss you. We’ve had good times and bad times, but you’ve come to mean so much to me.”
Kylo Hen’s shimmering feathers twitch with her jerky neck movements, one golden eye flickering at me before she pecks at my shoes.
“I know, I know. You’ll miss me, too, in your own little birdie way. Don’t forget about me. Be good for Granny. Try to stay out of the moonshine.”
“Fred girl,” Granny calls from outside the coop.
“Coming,” I yell back.
Granny is waiting for me in the middle of the yard. “Beast is here to drive you to the airport.”
We walk up to the house together and we’re halfway there before Granny speaks again. “Grace is hiding somewhere. I’m not sure she’ll be out to say goodbye.”
I nod, unable to speak through the l
ump forming in my throat.
“She doesn’t deal with people leaving the way most of us do. We’re sad, but we know it’s not forever. She hasn’t quite figured that bit out yet. She doesn’t know that just because someone leaves, it doesn’t mean they’re gone.” With that, Granny puts an arm around my shoulders. “Be patient. Stay in touch. She’ll come around. It will be good for her.
“Thanks, Granny. I will. And thank you for . . . everything. You saved me at a time when I didn’t even know I needed the rescue.”
“Oh, Fred girl, don’t you know? You saved us, too.”
I manage to hold it together while saying goodbye to the others. Jude carries my bag to the truck before giving me a hard, swift hug, followed by Fitz. I only have the one bag, everything else was shipped, and there wasn’t much.
Reese and Annabel squish me between them, promising to text and call.
Granny gives me one last hug, squeezing me tight. “Give your momma my regards, and tell Scarlett to bring that handsome man and his family down for a visit.”
“I will.”
“Good luck with your new job, and remember, the road to hell wasn’t paved in a day.”
I laugh. “I’ll always remember that, Granny.”
And then I’m in the truck with Beast, heading down the driveway, then through Blue Falls, down Main Street. Past the Finer Diner. Past the H-E-B, waving to Ol’ Roy.
It’s both the longest and shortest drive in the whole damn world. I want to get it over with, but at the same time I want it to never end.
Beast parks at the curb, gets my bag out of the back, and opens my door for me. People move around us, dragging their luggage.
I can’t meet his eyes. I might lose it. He kisses me with my eyes shut, like that will keep the emotion away. Tears threaten to overwhelm me, especially when the kiss turns into gentle pecks, first my top lip, then the bottom, brushing his nose against mine before pulling away, his hands surrounding the back of my neck.
I keep my eyes shut. “You’ll come to visit as soon as you can?”
But of course, he can’t answer unless I open my eyes. His thumbs brush my cheeks and I blink my eyes open.
I immediately want to close them again. Beast’s eyes are glassy, lined in red.
I can’t handle this.
“The very first break in school, we’ll see each other. We’ll make it happen.”
He nods.
“Why does a few months feel like a lifetime?”
He kisses me again, this time harder and swifter.
“Can we have phone sext?”
That generates a smile, a small upturning of his lips, but it doesn’t chase the shadows from his eyes.
“I better go.” My mouth is dry, my stomach threatening to revolt.
I want to say it. I almost say it.
I love you.
But I can’t. It’s too hard.
Instead I kiss him, one last time.
“This isn’t goodbye. It’s see you later.”
And on that super lame parting—which fits, considering our history—I grab my bag and walk inside. I don’t look back. If I do, I might not be strong enough to leave.
The flight home is a blur. I can’t see much through my tears. My mind keeps going back to those final moments with Beast and everything that I’m leaving behind.
Now I understand why Bella was so depressed in New Moon. We may as well be Edward and Bella . . . minus the sparkly skin and blood drinking and you know, gross and questionable hundred-year age gap.
My seatmate gives me a wide berth, but things start looking better when I’ve downed three of those little booze containers.
I manage to pull myself together by the time the plane is taxiing on the runway at JFK.
Exiting the terminal, a group of people clustered near the escalator wave at me. It’s my parents, along with Scarlett, Guy, and his two little sisters, Emma and Ava.
They’re holding up signs. Scarlett’s reads Welcome Home and Prosper with the Vulcan hand sign drawn next to it. Dad’s makes me laugh out loud: Fred, I am your father. There’s another one, but Emma swings it toward Ava’s head right as I’m trying to read it.
I wave and run toward them, and then I’m surrounded by family and friends.
“I missed all of you,” I say between hugs and cheek kisses.
I breathe in my mother’s lemony scent. It is good to be home.
This time, when my eyes blur, I can’t help but smile, too.
Apartment hunting in New York City is like trying to defeat the White Walkers blindfolded with one hand tied behind my back. I spend a few days searching ads and listings before I find something larger than a closet without twenty percent broker fees.
And I don’t even find it myself.
My phone rings in the morning, a week after moving back. I’m in my old bedroom, moping around like a scrub, un-showered, unhappy, reveling in misery, but trying nonetheless.
“I emailed you a number and address. Call it and tell them Sophia sent you.”
“Hi Grace, it’s so nice to hear from you.”
She sighs.
“Stop rolling your eyes at me.”
“I didn’t.”
“You always sigh when you’re rolling your eyes at me.”
She’s quiet for a moment. “Fine.”
I grab my laptop from where I left it on my nightstand and pull up my email. “So what’s this number you want me to call?”
“I found an apartment for you, it’s one subway ride to your work, and it’s in Manhattan. There are no broker fees, it’s rent controlled, and it’s a thousand square feet and in your budget.”
“Grace . . . you didn’t kill someone, did you?”
“No.” She laughs and my heart squeezes a little. “I did a little digging. For me, this was nothing. But it’s going be snapped up soon. You need to call them today.”
“I will. Assuming this isn’t some elaborate trick because you want me to come back to Blue Falls and strangle you.”
She chuckles. “Don’t be a stranger.”
“I’ll call you every day.”
Tapping in the background. She’s on her computer, even now. “Not necessary. Email me.”
“Why? So you can hack my accounts?”
She groans. “I’d only do things that were nice.”
“I know.”
She blows out a breath. “I’m sorry. I didn’t say goodbye.”
“It’s okay. I understand. I’m sad, too. It’s okay to be sad, but I’ll always be your friend. And I’ll always be a phone call or plane ride away.”
We hang up and I call the number in her email, rattling off the address I’m inquiring about when someone answers.
There’s a long pause. “We haven’t even listed that property yet.”
How did she . . . I remember her other instructions. “Uh, Sophia sent me.”
“Oh. Right. Did you want to take a look today?”
“Yes. Please.”
Miraculously, the apartment is perfect and because I have my paperwork and down payment ready—because that’s how you do it in New York if you want to get it done—I can move in within the next two weeks.
Later that afternoon, while I’m presenting a well-thought-out argument to my parents on the benefits of eating takeout as opposed to my mother’s cooking, I get a text from Beast.
Did you get the apartment?
A heat wave rolls through my body and I race upstairs to get away from my parents’ prying gazes.
I got it! Did Grace tell you?
A few long seconds pass before he replies. She did. She told me about emailing you the details, but I convinced her to call.
I lie down on my bed, clutching my phone like a lifeline. You can be very convincing. Thank you. The place is perfect. How are things in BF?
It’s good. Picking up extra shifts at Bodean’s to help in the kitchen.
There’s another long pause with the text bubble dotting my screen.
I
miss you.
I miss you, too. And then before I can chicken out, I tug down my tank top, take a probably not that sexy but topless duck-face selfie, and send the picture.
His response is immediate. Damn. I think you’re trying to kill me.
I laugh and wish I could see his face, his dark gaze capturing me like a fist.
He’s still typing. You’re too gorgeous. Now I want to get on the next flight to New York.
I wouldn’t stop you.
I’m coming to visit as soon as I can.
It’s not soon enough.
The very next day, the whirlwind begins. Shopping, working, moving into my new place. Staying busy and occupied is literally the only reason I haven’t totally lost my shit.
I’ve exchanged some texts with the others, not just Beast. It’s not the same and my heart aches with the loss, the yearning unbearable if I dwell on it for too long. So I don’t. Instead, I keep going.
The job is brilliant. Everyone is awesome and into geeky pop culture. I have to work with a marketing team, which is scary at first, but they actually listen to me like I’m a human being with value and insight.
To celebrate, my parents take me with them to Blossom on Ninth for Thursday night dinner.
It’s not Sunday supper at Granny’s. There are no “Dearly beloveds,” and it’s just me and the parents, but I make an attempt to enjoy myself nonetheless.
I text Beast on my way home in the cab but don’t get a response. A glance at the clock tells me why. He’s working. An ache builds in my chest. I wish I could see his face. I miss him so much.
Tears threaten and I force myself to take a deep breath and avert my attention to unpacking my apartment.
It’s almost finished. I didn’t have much to begin with. My parents gave me an old hand-me-down sofa and TV set. I brought my old bed from home. I have a small kitchen and dining nook, which opens into the living room, and then there’s a small bedroom and connecting bathroom with a claw-foot tub and standing shower. It’s practically a mansion by New York standards.
Once I’ve finished hanging a picture on the wall, my only picture, I step back to admire it. Beast mailed it to me last week to celebrate my new pad. It’s a framed quote from Stan Lee. “If you have an idea that you genuinely think is good, don’t let some idiot talk you out of it,” I read out loud.