Make Me Yours: The Bellamy Creek Series

by Harlow, Melanie

  Beneath the table, I reached for Cheyenne’s hand.

  * * *

  As we were finishing up tiramisu and coffee, I noticed Cheyenne checking her phone.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  “Everything’s fine,” she said. “I was just checking the time.”

  “What time is it?”

  “Almost ten.”

  “Is it that late already?” Griffin asked, yawning and stretching.

  Blair hit his arm. “Griffin, that’s rude.”

  “What? I get up at six,” he said. “And you get up even earlier.”

  “But you made it sound like you want them to leave.”

  “It’s just my sister and Cole.” Griffin gestured toward us. “If I really wanted them to leave, I’d say it right to their faces.”

  Blair clucked her tongue in disgust and looked at us across the table. “You do not have to go.”

  “Actually, we do,” I said. “Cheyenne and I have to work tomorrow, and I promised Mariah I’d poke my head in and kiss her goodnight.”

  “Won’t she be asleep?” Blair asked.

  “I hope so, but when I called her, she made me swear to do it anyway.”

  She smiled at me. “Such a good dad.”

  A couple minutes later, Cheyenne and I helped clear the table, said goodnight, and headed out. We’d just left their building and started walking down the street toward my car when Cheyenne stopped.

  “What’s wrong? Did you forget something?” I asked.

  “No. I just don’t want to go home yet.” She turned to face me. “I wish we could be alone.”

  “Me too,” I said, feeling like an asshole that I had nowhere to take her. What kind of cretinous basement-dweller still lived with his mother at age thirty-three?

  “I was thinking . . .”

  “What?”

  She turned around and looked back at the building. “I have a key to the garage.”

  “You do?”

  She laughed and shrugged. “Better than nothing, right?”

  I grabbed her arm and started running back up the street.

  “But we need to be quiet,” she said breathlessly, unlocking the door. “I don’t want them to hear us. And we should be quick too.”

  “No fucking problem.” I was already getting hard just thinking about it.

  As soon as the door was shut behind us, I turned the lock and took her hand, leading her out of the lobby area and into the service bay. I’d been in the garage enough times to know my way around, even in the pitch-dark.

  At least, I thought I did.

  “Oh, shit!” I said after knocking over something that clanged noisily as it hit the cement floor.

  Cheyenne started laughing uncontrollably, and to shut her up, I spun her against the wall and kissed her. Unbuttoned her coat. Shrugged mine off my shoulders.

  “Hurry,” she panted.

  “I’m trying,” I said, reaching beneath her skirt. “Fucking winter clothes. What are you wearing?”

  “Tights,” she said. “Hold on. I’ll get them off.” She ditched her boots and whipped off her tights—at least, that’s what I assumed she was doing. It was so dark I couldn’t see shit.

  “Okay,” she said, putting her arms around me.

  “You’re still wearing a giant sweater,” I complained, desperate to get closer to her.

  “I can’t take that off, Cole! We have to hurry!”

  “Okay, okay,” I told her, reaching beneath her skirt once more, this time finding her bare skin. “But I haven’t been able to think about anything but this all week, so you have to give me a minute here.” I stroked her patiently, working my tongue between her lips and my fingers over her clit.

  “Cole, now,” she begged in a heated whisper, rubbing me through my jeans. “I want you right now.”

  I unzipped my jeans and shoved them down just enough to work my cock free and pushed up her skirt. She jumped up, wrapping her legs around me, holding herself aloft while I positioned myself—then groaned loudly as she slid down my shaft.

  “Shhhhh!” she scolded. “Quiet!”

  But it was fucking impossible to be quiet. I wanted her too much, it had been too long, and I had no idea when we’d get this chance again. I had zero control.

  I fucked her savagely, her back against the wall. Against a metal cabinet. Against a tool bench, which was unfortunately on wheels and made a giant rattling noise when I shoved it against some kind of shelving unit—or maybe it was a rack of tires—and then spilled a bunch of its contents on the floor.

  Both of us were loud—between my caveman grunting and Cheyenne’s high-pitched cries, you could hardly hear all the racket made by the tools and equipment we were knocking around.

  But the kicker was that I set her against the side of someone’s SUV right before we both came, and our spontaneous orgasm was so violent we set off the car’s alarm.

  Cheyenne screamed and I cursed, setting her on her feet. “Fuck!”

  “Oh my God!” she shrieked. “Make it stop!”

  “Give me a second,” I said, zipping my pants and frantically wondering if someone was calling the cops right now and a couple of my colleagues were about to show up here and laugh their asses off.

  “We don’t have a second! And I can’t find my tights!”

  Five seconds later, the lights came on and Griffin came barreling into the service bay. “What the fuck, you guys?”

  I stood next to Cheyenne while he grabbed the SUV’s key fob from a rack on the wall, pressed a button, and stopped the noise. Then he turned to face us, and he was not amused.

  He kind of looked like Darlene after the broken plate incident.

  “What. The fuck,” he repeated. But it wasn’t really a question.

  “Sorry,” I said. My heart was still hammering, and the car alarm still rang in my ears.

  “Sorry,” echoed Cheyenne. She wore her skirt but no tights, and covered one bare foot with the other. About ten feet away, closer to the door, I could see where her black tights had been abandoned.

  “Um, I can explain,” I said.

  “No, don’t.” Griffin held up his hand and started heading for the door. “Really. Just don’t.”

  “I’ll lock up,” Cheyenne called, like she was trying to be helpful.

  Griffin said nothing and disappeared, leaving Cheyenne and I alone again. We looked at each other.

  “Oops,” I said, unable to hide a grin. “Sorry. That was a bit loud. And rough.”

  “I liked it.”

  “Your brother didn’t.”

  “No,” she said, laughing as she went and scooped up her tights. “He really didn’t. Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  * * *

  I pulled into her driveway and put my car in park. “I guess Griffin knows about us for sure now, huh?”

  Cheyenne giggled. “The whole block might know about us for sure now.”

  I grimaced. “I was afraid the police would show up when that alarm went off.”

  “Oh my God, can you imagine? I would have died. Died.”

  “You and me both.” I exhaled, stroking the back of her hand with my thumb, wishing I didn’t have to say goodbye to her, even for the night. “I’ll be glad when things are different and we don’t have to sneak around.”

  “Me too.”

  “Once I’m in the new house, things will get easier.” But then I frowned, remembering what Jessalyn had said about sleepovers. How long would we have to wait?

  “I’m nervous about tomorrow night,” Cheyenne said quietly, “about how Mariah will react. I’m trying not to be, but I am.”

  “I understand,” I said, putting my arm around her and holding her as closely as I could. “But remember that Jessalyn said resistance would only be natural, even though she loves you.”

  “I know. I just really, really want it to go well.”

  “Me too.” I kissed the top of her head. “But even if she’s upset tomorrow night, it doesn’t mean she w
on’t come around eventually.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry—I’m sure you’re nervous too. I don’t want to make it harder on you.”

  “You’re not. Now you better get inside, before I lose my mind and try to get your clothes off in the back seat.”

  She laughed, pressing her hand to my cheek and her lips to mine. “Call me tomorrow. And good luck.”

  After making sure she got in safely, I went home and put my car in the garage. As I was walking to the back door, I couldn’t help admitting I was nervous about tomorrow night. There was a very real possibility that Mariah would not be comfortable with our relationship.

  And what would I do then? Give Cheyenne up? Go back to secretly longing for her? Spend all my nights alone, missing her?

  No. It was out of the question. I’d just have to work harder to make Mariah understand that I had enough room in my heart for both of them.

  I was willing to fight for her.

  Upstairs, I snuck into Mariah’s room, and looked down at her sweet, sleeping angel face, then bent to place a kiss on her forehead. It’s going to be okay, baby, I promised her silently. You don’t have to be afraid. You’re never going to lose me.

  But that night, after slipping beneath the covers, I did something I hadn’t done in years—closed my eyes and said a prayer.

  It wasn’t that I didn’t believe in God, but our relationship had been a bit strained after losing Trisha. I’d never understood how a God who was supposed to be good and just had allowed something like that to happen. It was an unsettling feeling, to have your faith stolen. To wake up one morning believing in something, and by nightfall, discover that belief has been destroyed. It made it hard to trust your instincts. Hard to plan for the future. Hard to believe that you can protect those you love—or protect yourself. Nothing was promised. Nothing was certain. And prayers went unanswered all the time.

  But tonight, I found myself willing to try again.

  Nineteen

  Cole

  The following evening, Mariah and I left for the ice rink as soon as I got home from work.

  It was crowded, but we had fun circling the ice together hand in hand, and she showed off some of her moves from her figure skating class. She recognized a few classmates, and I was more than happy to stand to the side with the other parents while they darted around the rink, playing games and judging one another’s attempts at fancy twirls and jumps.

  When we were done skating, we put our boots back on, tossed our skates in the car, and walked down to our favorite pizzeria. The owner greeted me with a handshake and made a big deal about how tall Mariah was getting before seating us in a red vinyl booth along the wall.

  We ordered soft drinks and pizza, and I gave Mariah some quarters to go play video games while we waited for the food to arrive. I told myself I wasn’t putting off the conversation, I was just ensuring she was in the best possible mood before broaching a difficult topic. No sense in trying to talk seriously to her while she was hungry, or grumpy that I wouldn’t give her any game time like I usually did.

  While she was gone, I looked at a TV screen that hung in the corner, barely registering the hockey game that was on. I sipped a Coke, wishing it was a beer, but knowing I needed to stay clear-headed. I texted Cheyenne that I was at the pizzeria and promised to call her when I got home.

  And I twisted my wedding band around my finger. I’d dug it out of the drawer and put it on at the last minute, although I wasn’t even sure exactly why. Maybe I thought it would soften the blow of my announcement. Maybe I wanted to reassure her that I took my promises seriously. Maybe I hoped it would show her that she could still trust me to protect her from her fears.

  Eventually she returned and the pizza was placed on a tall stand in the middle of our table. After sending her to the bathroom to wash her hands, I served her a piece and took one for myself, although my stomach was too knotted up to eat.

  “So I wanted to talk to you about something,” I said as she picked all the pepperoni off her slice.

  “What?”

  “Well, first I want you to know that you are the most important person in the world to me, and your feelings matter more than anything.”

  “‘Kay,” she said, licking her fingers.

  “And you know how much I love you, right? How much I will always love you?”

  She gave me a weird look. “Yeah.”

  “Good.” I was tempted to pull the folded-up piece of notebook paper from my jeans pocket, but I didn’t. “Okay. Good.”

  “Are you going away somewhere?” Her voice shook slightly.

  “No,” I said firmly. “Nope, I’m not going anywhere.”

  “Okay, good.” She picked up her slice of pizza and took a bite.

  “I will never leave you. You understand that? It’s you and me forever, kiddo.”

  She nodded and smiled, her mouth full. “In our new house.”

  “In our new house.” I cleared my throat. “But sometimes moms and dads who don’t have a husband or wife anymore like to spend time with someone their own age. Sometimes they get a little lonely being on their own without a partner, and they meet someone they like spending time with, and they . . . they want to date that person.”

  “You mean you met someone you want to date?”

  “Yes.”

  Mariah’s face fell. “Oh.”

  “Does that make you sad?”

  She set her pizza down. “Kind of.”

  My chest tightened, and I reached across the table for her hand. “Is it that you feel scared I won’t want to spend time with you anymore? Because that would never happen.”

  She shook her head. “It’s not that. It’s just . . . I was hoping you would date Miss Cheyenne. Not some new person.”

  My jaw fell open. “You were hoping I’d date Miss Cheyenne?”

  “Well, yes.” She shrugged. “I love Miss Cheyenne. And she comes over a lot. And she needs a boyfriend, so I thought maybe it could be you.”

  I laughed, letting go of her hand. “She needs a boyfriend?”

  “Yes. Well, she didn’t say it like that, but I’m pretty sure she wants one.”

  I shook my head, amazed. “Mariah, I do want to date Cheyenne. That’s who I’m talking about.”

  She perked right up. “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yay!” She picked up her pizza again and took another bite.

  I waited for her to say something else—put up some semblance of resistance—but she didn’t.

  There was no fucking way this could be that easy.

  I scratched my head. “Do you—do you want to ask me anything?”

  Mariah chomped on her pizza for a moment. “Are you guys going to get married?”

  “I haven’t thought that far ahead yet.”

  “I think you should. Then she can live with us.”

  My head was spinning. “Well . . . I’ll think about that.”

  “But Daddy, if you’re going to ask her to marry you, you should definitely take off that other wedding ring you wear. It might make her feel bad.”

  My jaw hung open. “It won’t—it wouldn’t—bother you if I took it off? You once asked me to wear it every day.”

  “Did I?” She looked surprised and amused, as if she were hearing a cute story about something she’d done as a toddler.

  “Yes. When you were afraid I’d get remarried and move away.”

  “Oh,” she said, nodding in understanding. “Yeah, I remember that. It was, like, in kindergarten.”

  “Right.”

  “I don’t think that anymore. I know you wouldn’t leave me.”

  “That’s true,” I said seriously. “I would never leave you.”

  “If you did get married to Miss Cheyenne, would you have kids?”

  I was beginning to feel like I was being pranked. “I haven’t thought about that either.”

  “I really want a little sister,” she said. “But not a little brother, so don’t have any boy babi
es.”

  “Okay,” I said, laughing nervously. “Well, I’m not sure it works like that, but I’m glad to know you’re open to the idea of being a big sister.”

  She grinned. “I am. I think I’d be a really good big sister.”

  “I think so too.” I stared at the pizza on my plate like it was a foreign object, then looked up at Mariah again, hardly recognizing her. “You’re sure you’re okay with this? You’re not worried at all?”

  “No. Should I be?”

  “No,” I said quickly. “Not at all. I just . . . want to be sure I’m addressing all your concerns. I know sometimes you worry about me.”

  “But you said I shouldn’t worry.” Her face grew uneasy, and I told myself to stop digging around for a problem where there clearly wasn’t one.

  “That’s right—you shouldn’t. Nothing is going to change just because Cheyenne and I like being together.”

  “Good. So are you like . . . in love?”

  I rolled my eyes, trying to relax. “Now you’re just being silly.”

  “It’s not silly. I want to know,” she said, setting her slice of pizza down again. “Because it has to be the kind of love that’s real, not the kind that wears the fancy costume. Because that kind fades away, and she doesn’t want that.”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about. I feel like I’m on another planet right now.”

  Mariah sighed, like she was the parent trying to explain something, and I was the kid refusing to get it. “Never mind. Just make sure you love her the right way.”

  “I’ll try. Is that all?”

  “That’s all. Can we eat now?”

  “Yes.” I picked up my pizza and took a bite without tasting it.

  Was this for real? Just like that, there was nothing standing in the way of Cheyenne and I being together? No resistance? No tears? No fight?

  I couldn’t help feeling like I’d just been handed the keys to the castle, but the place had been unlocked to begin with.

  Where was the moat? Where was the drawbridge?

  Where was the goddamn dragon?