Never Let You Go (Never #2)

by Monica Murphy

  “I do.” I curl my fingers around her chin and tip her head back for my kiss just as she lets go of me. I sink into her mouth, going slow, giving her the opportunity to do what she wants. Leave. Stay. And when her lips part and I can feel her suck in a breath, triumph surges through me. I deepen the kiss, sliding my tongue against hers, and she lets me. Move my hand from her chin to her nape and pull her in closer. Angle my head so I can take the kiss deeper . . .

  Molly barks loudly, startling us both, and I pull away from Katie, laughing ruefully at my cock-blocking dog. “She knows how to ruin a moment.”

  “It’s probably best.” Katie withdraws from me, putting distance between us. “Next thing you know we might make a spectacle on my front porch and shock the neighbors.”

  “You think?” I don’t mind the thought, but yeah. We can’t get too wild on her front porch in the middle of her neighborhood.

  “I tend to get carried away when I’m kissing you,” she admits, her cheeks the faintest pink.

  “Then let’s go inside and get carried away,” I tell her, my voice dropping.

  She shakes her head and grabs Molly, pulling her into her lap, using her like some sort of shield. “I don’t think so. We need to talk first.”

  Yeah. She’s probably right. So we’ll talk first.

  And get carried away after.

  Slipping into bed together so we can talk is probably not the best move. I’ll become too easily distracted and so will he, but then again, it’s almost like forced intimacy, having to face each other while in bed and not being able to escape without hurting the other’s feelings. There’s something to be said for being open and honest with each other while lying in bed just wearing our underwear. Molly is on the floor, sleeping on an old blanket. It started to rain after dinner and the rain is still falling, the gentle sound soothing.

  We ate dinner together, keeping the conversation easy, nothing confrontational, nothing too emotional. It was nice, pretending as if everything’s normal. As though we don’t have this overwhelming past that we share, that always seems to rear its ugly head between us at the worst moments.

  When he suggested we go to bed after watching a really bad movie on HBO, I was wary at first. A little scared. But as usual, he put me at ease and said we could talk. And I want to talk. I also want to do a lot more . . .

  I’m lying on my side, facing the window, and he’s snuggled up behind me, one arm around my waist, hand splayed across my stomach. I think of what I should call him and yet again, I’m conflicted. Is he Ethan? Or Will? Can I imagine him as both? Is it fair of me, seeing the divide, to want to get rid of Ethan once and for all?

  “You need to work out everything with your mom and your sister,” he says out of the blue. “I think it’s eating you up, how they don’t approve of us.”

  Sighing, I rest my hand over his. “It does bother me. A lot.”

  “I know. That’s why you can’t let this go on. You need to reach out to them.”

  “They should reach out to me,” I say bitterly.

  “Be the bigger person and do it first. Tell them that you miss them.”

  I do miss them. More than I want to admit. But there’s so much more involved now. There are my feelings for the man in my bed. The dog on the floor that belongs to me as much as she belongs to him. I’m creating new relationships, a little family of my own, and they don’t approve. I need their approval.

  Desperately.

  “They hate you,” I point out. “And I don’t like that. I want it to be easy. Why can’t anything ever be easy for us?”

  He shrugs; I feel the movement of his chest, his shoulders. “Nothing’s ever easy for anyone, Katie. We only see what others want us to see. We don’t know how they suffer behind closed doors. Our pain is particularly large. And obvious. And public.”

  I know he’s right, but I still wish I could change it.

  “And if your mom and sister hate me, then I’ll have to work extra hard to get into their good graces, right? If I want to be with you, I need to accept them, too. I want to accept them and I want them to like me, but I understand why they don’t. It’s only because they’re concerned about you and I appreciate their concern, their protectiveness. My link to your past isn’t a pleasant one. They’d rather forget I existed.”

  “I don’t want to forget you exist,” I confess, my voice soft, my fingers stroking his arm.

  He squeezes me closer. “I never want to forget you exist. You saved me, Katie. Everyone always talks about how I saved you, but you did the same for me. I didn’t see it then, but I know what you did for me now.”

  “You were mad I forced you to go to the police station.”

  “It’s hard to leave your only home, no matter how awful it is,” he whispers against my temple.

  “I can be your home now.” I pick his hand up and kiss the back of it. “I want to be.”

  “You already are,” he admits.

  We lie together wrapped around each other for a long time, silent and thoughtful, my mind racing, his . . . I’m not sure what he’s thinking, but I wish I knew.

  “I’m confused,” I finally say, running my thumb back and forth across the back of his hand.

  “About what?”

  “What name I should call you.” My voice is small. I know it doesn’t make him happy when I call him Will. I need to watch myself, but it’s as if I can’t help it.

  He sighs, and it stirs the tiny hairs grazing my forehead. “I worked my hardest to get rid of Will. I didn’t want to be him. And the moment I legally changed my name, I felt like a new person with a second chance. I needed that second chance, Katie.”

  “I know. I know you don’t like thinking of yourself as Will.”

  “Will represents him,” he says vehemently, his arm tightening around me, clutching me close. “We pretty much share the same name.”

  “But you’re not him. To me, Will was my savior, my hero. Will is the boy who understands, who knows what I suffered because he suffered it, too. I don’t want to lose him, no matter how badly you want to forget.”

  It’s quiet again and I want to say more, but what? I’ll just end up talking in circles.

  “For you I’d do just about anything,” he says, his voice a little shaky. “And if you want to call me Will, I guess . . . I guess I can agree to that. But it won’t be easy, and I might snap at you on occasion. That name—it’s only associated with bad things. At least, it is for me.”

  “Not for me. Will is the only positive thing that happened to me that summer.” I turn to face him, resting my hand against his cheek as I stare up into his eyes. Our legs tangle together and he has both of his arms around me now, holding me close. He’s so warm, so solid and firm and strong, and all mine, if I want him.

  And I do want him. So much, my bones ache and my blood sings and my heart races in anticipation.

  “You make me want to be him again. To be Will,” he admits, dipping his head so our mouths are mere inches away from each other. “That’s something I never thought would happen.”

  “I like that.” He kisses me, stealing my words, and I let him, getting lost in the taste of his lips, warm and damp, his tongue seeking mine, his hands wandering all over my bare skin. I lose myself in his taste, in his touch, my hands everywhere, too, touching as much of him as I can.

  The last time I saw Sheila, she told me I needed to be patient with Will. I needed to understand his feelings about the two names, the divide of his life. He was once Will and now he’s Ethan. He might never want to combine the two, no matter how much I do want to merge them.

  “Katie.” He whispers my name against my lips as he rolls me over so I’m lying beneath him, his hips pressed to mine. I open my eyes to find him studying me, his dark gaze roaming all over my face. “I need to know that you’re with me not just because I’m Will, but because you like the man I am today, too. We can’t remain stuck in our past.”

  “I don’t want us stuck in our past,” I start to explain
but he shakes his head once, cutting me off.

  “I need you here,” he says. “Now. I want you in my present, in my future. I don’t ever want to let you go.”

  I stare up at him, see the uncertainty in his eyes, the fear. He’s scared of my answer and I’m terrified of disappointing him.

  But worse, I’m even more terrified of losing him. I can’t imagine doing that. Not again. Not ever.

  “I’m here for you,” I say, my voice strong, so loud I hear Molly offer up a little bark in answer. “Right now. And I care about you. Not just as the boy I knew in my past, but the man that you are, too. I need you in my life. I don’t—I don’t want to lose you.”

  “You’re never going to lose me. I’ll make sure of that.” He kisses me, taking over, taking command. Raining kisses all over my skin, his fingers between my legs, spreading my thighs, pushing himself inside me, his mouth fused with mine as he rocks into me, again and again, until I’m lost. Lost in the feeling, lost in him. Ethan.

  Will.

  The boy of my past. The man of my future. The one I can never, ever let go.

  The phone line buzzes as I wait impatiently, tapping my fingers on the edge of the metal table in front of me. How I hate waiting for a call to go through. Takes forever with this shit phone process the prison has.

  Finally the familiar click, and Lisa’s voice purrs over the line.

  “Aaron. So good to hear from you.” Her voice is warm and inviting, like she’s talking to an old friend.

  My grip tightens on the receiver. She’s a pretty piece, Lisa Swanson. A little old for my tastes—I’d peg her at around my age, maybe a little younger, but still. I’d fuck her. She’s glamorous, with a curvy body, cold, cold blue eyes, and a thirst for blood. Those eyes, that thirst . . .

  Lisa reminds me of myself.

  “They wouldn’t let me watch the interview,” I tell her, allowing the frustration to tinge my voice. I’m fucking mad that I couldn’t watch my finest moment on television last night. Fucking unfair is what it is.

  “I heard; such a shame. I’ll do my best to get a tape over to you so you can watch it privately. I’ll talk with someone. See if I can pull some strings.” She always knows just how to smooth my ruffled feathers. “The ratings were spectacular, Aaron. We had a 2.9 rating last night, and that’s just with live views. Not all of the DVR and streaming views have been counted yet. I think we could jump over three when it’s all said and done.” She sighs happily, like a woman who’s just been well pleasured.

  She starts talking all that ratings and TV mumbo jumbo and I wouldn’t be surprised at all if she creams her panties. She gets off on that stuff. Me, I don’t get it, and don’t really give a shit, either.

  “That’s just great, Lisa. But I have another question.” I pause, letting the crackling air fill with anticipation before I drop my bomb. “I have sources telling me my boy and that girl are in a relationship. As in, they’re fucking each other.”

  Lisa’s quiet for a moment, like she needs to digest what I just told her. Well, fuck that. She needs to listen up and tell me the truth. Fast. Just the idea of my son with that girl . . .

  It turns my stomach. Makes me feel like I’m gonna puke. Why her? Why would he want my sloppy seconds?

  When she still doesn’t say anything I’m on the verge of exploding.

  “Is that for real?” I shout into the receiver. “Is my son fucking that stupid girl or what?”

  “Aaron,” Lisa immediately chastises, her voice low and calm, as if she were speaking to a naughty child. “You shouldn’t talk like that about Katherine Watts.”

  I practically growl at hearing that bitch’s name. “Fuck her. And fuck that asshole son of mine, too. They are together, aren’t they? Jesus H. Christ. Why didn’t you tell me? Hell, why didn’t you expose them so all the world could give them endless shit?”

  The two of them together would flip people’s crazy switches. I’m sure of it. They’d deem it unnatural. Accuse them of having a weird connection—accuse my boy of being the one who did her wrong all those years ago. Not me.

  Him.

  “I’ve been waiting for more confirmation. We’re on it, but we wanted to be sure before anything was said,” she murmurs. “They’ve been spotted together over the last week or two, but nothing has been caught on film.”

  I have friends—friends on the outside who are linked to my friends on the inside. One of them started spying on Katie Watts after I paid a decent sum of money. It was easy. Little bitch didn’t hide herself too well and he found her with minimal digging. And what my friend saw after only a few days of watching her just about made me lose my mind.

  My very own son at her house, spending time with her like they’re some sort of romantic couple. It’s disgusting, what they’re doing. I don’t understand what he sees in her. Just following in his father’s footsteps, is that the deal?

  I doubt it. There’s more to their relationship than that. I just can’t figure out what.

  “You lied. You kept that from me and I don’t like it,” I say, my temper rising. She’s done nothing but help me, but does she really want to help me? Or help herself?

  Her supposed kindness makes me mad. She turned her back on me when she knew my son was banging Katie Watts. She just didn’t have the nerve to tell me. I’d guess Lisa Swanson is really nothing but a no-good dirty liar.

  That’s probably half the reason why I like her, but I don’t want her lying to me.

  “You’re right. I should’ve told you,” she says.

  “You’re damn straight.”

  “If you want me to leak the news tomorrow, I can. I have a source who claims he caught them on camera.”

  “That sounds real good, Lisa.” I run a hand along my chin and jaw. “Real good.” Perfect. I breathe deep, relish the calmness washing over me. Every single thing I say to Lisa is calculated. Sometimes my emotions get the best of me. My rage. My frustration. But she seems to make it better.

  Every single time.

  “Perfect. So that’ll be my gift to you.” She hesitates once more and I eat up the quiet, the stillness on her end, the faint buzz that’s always there when I talk to someone on the damn phone. Not that I take a lot of calls, but still.

  There’s something reassuring about talking to another human being on the outside. It reminds me that life’s still happening, still carrying on. All while I sit here in my cell, pace the length of my cage, and dream of getting out. Someday it could come true.

  Someday it might become a reality.

  “A gift, huh?” I chuckle. “I’d like to have something a lot more exciting as a gift from you, Lisa.”

  She laughs, but it sounds strained. Like she doesn’t mean it. “I’m sure you would. Just . . . I’ll take care of this. My way of showing appreciation for you allowing me to speak with you.”

  “Why are you always so nice to me, Lisa?” I’m serious in asking my question. She’s the only media type who’s ever given me the time of day. Who’s ever given me a chance to speak and let me tell my side of the story. “Why are you doing this?”

  “Oh darling, because I have a heart of gold.” She laughs, a throaty, sexy sound that sends a shiver through all my good parts. “And for ratings, of course—always for the ratings. You and your son earn me a shit ton of them.”

  I bet we do.

  The small cluster of reporters waiting outside in front of my house early this morning was the first indication that something was up. The numerous calls on my phone from unknown numbers were another clue. Fear clawed its way up my throat as I peeked out between the blinds at the reporters milling about on the sidewalk just on the other side of my fence. They won’t cross the line to come on my front yard because they know I could call the police and report them for trespassing.

  I so would, too.

  Mrs. Anderson is out in her yard, yelling and carrying on, trying to shoo them away as if they were annoying giant insects buzzing around. If only it were that easy to get rid of
them, I’d be out there doing the same thing. I can’t quite understand what she’s saying—I’m only able to catch a few words, like nuisance and pains in my ass—but I can tell she’s extremely irritated on my behalf. I’ll need to send her a big box of candy or maybe a beautiful fall-themed bouquet as a thank-you after this whatever-it-could-be is over. I know she’s a fan of the See’s Candy Nuts and Chews variety box . . .

  My mind is taking me elsewhere so I don’t have to focus on the crap that’s unfolding right in front of me. Crap I don’t even understand.

  “What’s going on?”

  I whirl around at the first sound of Will’s scratchy-with-sleep voice, resting my hand on my chest, over my racing heart. Yes, I can’t think of him as Ethan anymore. I really don’t call him much of anything right now to his face but in my mixed-up brain, he’s Will. He always will be.

  “There are reporters out there,” I whisper, my gaze lingering on him. He’s wearing a pair of sweats and nothing else, the waistband sitting low on his hips, looking as if he makes one wrong move, they could fall and reveal . . . everything. Everything I touched last night, because our unspoken theme for the evening was exploration. As in, he let me explore to my heart’s content. It had been . . . enlightening.

  Electrifying.

  Freaking focus!

  “Why are they here?” He comes toward me, peeking over my head through the blinds, then letting them carefully snap back into place. “What the hell is going on?”

  He sounds as confused as I feel. “I don’t know. Should we turn on the news?”

  “One of those annoying morning shows?” It’s pretty early, not even eight o’clock. I’d just made coffee when I realized I could hear voices out front.

  I nod mutely. “But not out here. Let’s go back in my bedroom.”

  We both scurry down the hall and into my room, diving under the covers as I grab the remote from the bedside table and turn the TV on. Molly snoozes on the end of the bed, oblivious to any trouble outside. “She’s a terrible guard dog,” I point out as I enter the channel I want.