Long After

by Cheryl McIntyre

  Annie sits up, pivots on the bed so she’s facing me, and crosses her legs underneath her. “You say that like it’s enough. Like nothing else matters.”

  “It doesn’t. Not really.”

  “Love doesn’t pay for diapers and medical bills.”

  “It doesn’t,” I agree.

  “They’re so young. What if it doesn’t last? And then they have this baby, growing up with two different homes. Two different sets of parents. And that’s if she’s lucky.”

  I’m not a mathematician, but Annie’s mom just celebrated her forty-first birthday. That’d put her about twenty—twenty-one when she was pregnant with Annie. Annie’s dad isn’t around. Hasn’t been for as long as I’ve known her. And I know Guy’s dad was Jenny’s third husband. That has to be hard on any kid. I don’t know why it didn’t occur to me before, but Annie’s desire to always be perfect—to have the perfect relationship—makes more sense to me now. I’m not going to over psychoanalyze her—everybody has issues—it just makes sense.

  “I think,” I begin slowly, choosing my words carefully, “sometimes, people are stupid. They give up too easily or too quickly. Some people don’t understand what they have or they don’t realize how important their presence is. But,” I add, “if two people are meant to be then age doesn’t matter. If they really love each other, they can make it work. They’ll fight to make it work. It depends on the people involved. Not every scenario is going to be the same. Not every relationship is going to have the same outcome.”

  She bites her lip as she contemplates my words. I touch my thumb to her mouth, pulling her lip free, and smooth the skin there. Her gaze drops until she’s staring intently at her sheets.

  “What do you think will happen with us?”

  “Whatever we make happen.”

  Her eyes flick up to meet mine and she smiles. That must have been the right answer because she lowers herself until she’s lying across my chest, her legs interlocking with mine. Strands of her soft, blonde hair fall forward onto my face, but I don’t move them. This, with Annie’s chest pressed against me, her scent engulfing me, her hair, silky smooth against my cheek, this is perfection. Everything she’s tried so hard to achieve is reached in these moments.

  Annie is my definition of perfect.

  “When did you get so smart?” she asks, her voice low and breathy.

  I grin. “I’ve been telling you for years, you just wouldn’t listen. I’m a freaking genius. Einstein ain’t got shit on me.”

  “And you’re losing me.” She pushes her palms into the mattress on either side of my head, as if she’s going to get up, and I grip her hips, pulling her closer.

  “I’m not letting you go,” I whisper. And she can take that any way she wants. Because I don’t mean just at this moment. I want her. All of her. I always have and I always will. I’ll do whatever I need to in order to make her mine.

  “Who said I was going anywhere?”

  I lick my lips as I trail my fingers up her sides. She shivers and brings her face closer. God, I can’t stand how much I love her. It’s consuming me. And I want to tell her so badly—hell, I want to tell everybody I come in contact with—but I’m terrified. Plain and simple. I’d rather never tell her than scare her off.

  “You don’t have to say it when you always have one foot out the door.”

  “My feet are both right here.” She wiggles her toes against my legs, but I don’t laugh.

  “I’m more concerned where your heart is.”

  Annie’s eyes widen and she inches closer until her lips are pressing against mine, feather light. “I don’t know yet. Maybe I don’t have one.”

  My hand slides from her ribs to her chest, resting over her heart. It pounds erratically against my palm. “You have one,” I say. “A good one.” She gasps, pulling the air from my mouth into hers. “It’s okay if it belongs to you,” I continue hoarsely. “I just want you to share it with me someday.”

  “I’m scared.”

  “You don’t ever have to be scared of me. I’ll never hurt you.”

  “No, Chase. You’re the one I have to be the most cautious with. You have the potential to cause the most harm.”

  I sit, pushing her back in order to see her better. “Never. I will never hurt you in any way.” I’m practically yelling, but how the hell can she think I would ever do anything to damage this? Us? Her?

  She shakes her head causing her hair to hide her face. I brush it back, needing to see her expression. Shit. She really is scared of me. She’s shaking and her eyes are glossy. Her bottom lip trembles and she pulls it into her mouth, biting down.

  “I thought…” She sighs and closes her eyes. “At the beginning, I thought I loved Loden, but it became clear quickly that I didn’t. Couldn’t. I never gave him my heart. What Loden broke in me was physical and psychological. He messed with something that was already fragile, but I can repair it. I’m working on it.” Her eyes flutter open and she fixes them on me, holding me in place. “You’ve become so important to me. If this doesn’t go well, what you’ll break…I don’t think I’ll be able to fix it.”

  I don’t know how to take that, or how to respond, so I watch her quietly. Give her time to finish her thoughts or take them back if she needs to.

  “I don’t know if I can ever fully give you my heart, but I know I don’t want anyone else to have it.”

  I still have nothing. I’m confused—I don’t know whether to be hurt she doesn’t trust me with her heart, or happy she doesn’t want to give it to anybody else either.

  Though I have fifty questions, I have no words.

  So I kiss her.

  There’s always time to worry later. Right now, I just need her touching me.

  39

  The Heart Never Lies

  Annie

  I’m in limbo and I’ve dragged Chase along with me. We live in this in-between. We hug. We kiss—God, do we kiss. We touch. We make out like high schoolers at a basement party. We go on dates that we don’t refer to as dates. We spend every available free moment together.

  But we’re not together.

  Weeks have passed this way. Just passing and passing. I feel myself slipping, falling for him deeper and deeper. I know he wants more. I want more, too. Every time he touches me I’m ready to take that next step. But then my fear gets the best of me and I pull away. Is there a future with Chase?

  I don’t know. I don’t know anything.

  It’s Halloween and he’s taking me to a party. A costume party. It might feel good to be someone different for a little bit.

  I don’t have the funds to purchase a costume. I was just going to throw something together until Hannah, taking pity on my complete lack of imagination, removes a nurse’s costume from the back of her closet. It’s nothing like a real nurse’s uniform. This is a short, white halter dress with red buckles down the side, ending in a ruffle skirt. It’s complete with a stethoscope and little white hat with a red medical symbol.

  “Eric and I like to role play,” she says with a shrug.

  I crinkle my nose. “I can’t wear this.”

  “It’s been dry-cleaned. Don’t worry.”

  “No,” I say quickly. “It’s not…that. You’re like three inches shorter than I am. It’s going to be really short and I’ll feel—exposed.”

  “You’ll be hot and your guy won’t be able to take his eyes off you.” She grins and wiggles the hanger at me, the dress swaying. I take it, cocking my head to the side.

  “My guy?”

  “Chase? He’s going to love this.”

  “Chase isn’t… We’re not…” I sigh. “Chase isn’t ‘my guy.’”

  “Oh,” she says, stretching out the word. “You’ll still look hot.”

  I stare down at the dress in my hand and decide to go with it. The old Annie would never be caught dead wearing something this…revealing. She was more of a sexy, yet elegant girl, and there’s nothing wrong with that. But this new Annie, she’s vowed to take chanc
es.

  And in all honesty, I want to see Chase’s face when he sees me in this outfit.

  ~*~

  I’m pacing my room, too scared to venture into the common room. I’m having horrible costume remorse and it only gets worse with each pass by my mirror. I look slutty—like I’m trying way too hard.

  There’s a knock, and I freeze, staring at the door. I scramble through my thoughts, trying to come up with an alternative costume quickly. I wish I had my old cheer leading uniform—which, by the way, covered a hell of a lot more than this nurse’s dress.

  The door opens and Chase peeks inside. His eyes fall on me immediately and his mouth parts in surprise. My stomach clenches.

  He steps inside, kicking the door shut behind him. He’s dressed in all black—black tee shirt, black jeans, black worn Converse, and a black leather jacket. His bass is across his back, the strap, also black, angled over his chest.

  Chase’s eyes slowly slide down my body, and then make a languid trip back up. When he lands on my face, he busts out the grin that always causes my heart to race. “You look so fucking good,” he breathes huskily.

  “So do you,” I say. He looks more than good. Mouthwatering comes to mind.

  I watch him pull the bass over his head and prop it against the wall. And then he stalks toward me. “I’m not feeling very well,” he states as one hand slides around my waist. The other toys with the stethoscope hanging between my breasts. “Maybe we should stay in and you can nurse me back to health.”

  I press my lips together to keep from laughing. He arches a brow as he places the disk part of the stethoscope against his heart.

  I pull the ear pieces from around my neck and slip them into place. It really works and I can hear his heart thumping rapidly in my ears.

  “What do you hear?” he whispers.

  “Your heart. It’s beating really fast.”

  Chase guides them off my head and fixes them in his own ears. My breath hitches as he brings the disk to my chest. It’s warm from being pressed against him, but I still shiver. His eyes flick up to meet mine and I can read the desire burning in them. I step into him, trapping his hand between us.

  “What do you hear?” I repeat his question back to him, though I already know the answer. I can feel my heart pulsing swiftly, pounding against my ribs so forcefully I’m surprised they don’t break.

  “I hear your heart answering mine,” Chase says softly. “It’s like music. I could listen to it all night.” He releases the stethoscope, replacing it with his hand, flush against my skin. “I love how that feels.”

  “So do I.”

  He closes his eyes and I just watch him. He looks like he’s struggling with something, agonizing over some decision. It scares me that it might be me.

  Finally, he opens his eyes, drops his hand as he plucks the ear pieces off, and slides them around my neck. “You ready?” he croaks.

  I nod, because I can’t manage words.

  He definitely likes my costume.

  ~*~

  I’m beginning to really enjoy Halloween parties. Hannah was right. Chase hasn’t been able to take his eyes off me all night. Regardless of the other eighteen “nurses” in the room, his gaze lingers on me. And he continually reaches out, skimming his fingers along the soft ruffles, as if he wants to do more, but only allows himself this.

  His restraint is stronger than mine. It’s getting harder and harder not to touch him as the night goes on.

  We’re standing in a corner, talking to some guy about his elaborate zombie costume, which I admit, is impressive. Chase fingers the hem of my dress absentmindedly, and then he notices my lingering gaze. He sets his cup down, excuses us from the conversation, and grips my hand, tugging me to the dance floor. Without giving me an opportunity to react, he slides his fingers onto my hips, and pulls me against him.

  We should be moving to the music—that’s what people do on a dance floor—but apart from our chests rising and falling with our breaths, we’re still. Chase angles his head down, inching toward me. This goes against our privacy agreement. I mean, I know we aren’t technically telling people—not with words. But kissing in public is a pretty big announcement.

  I don’t care.

  I want him to kiss me.

  I’m bumped from behind, my forehead slamming into Chase’s. “Ow,” I hiss, rubbing my head. Chase’s eyes narrow as he looks past my shoulder. I glance back and gasp. My shoulders tense as my eyes lock on Loden’s retreating form.

  “Are you okay?” Chase asks as his fingers gently guide my chin so that I’m looking at him.

  I nod. “I’m fine, but we should probably go.”

  “He did that on purpose,” Chase seethes.

  “I know.” Which is exactly why I want to leave.

  Chase inhales deeply and releases it harshly. “You’re staying with me tonight.”

  “Okay,” I agree quickly. Like, way too quickly. Rein it in Annie.

  He focuses on me again, visibly relaxing, and he grins. “Bring the stethoscope.”

  40

  All This Time

  Chase

  As many times as I fantasized about Annie, never once did my imagination conjure up Naughty Nurse Annie. I made sure to get a few pictures on my phone for future reference—not that I’ll be forgetting what she looks like any time soon.

  I’m already planning future costumes for her—Supergirl, Wonder Woman, Princess Leia—complete with ear buns—the list goes on and on. I have enough material to keep my fantasies extremely interesting for a long, long time.

  “I don’t have clothes,” Annie says as I shut and lock the door. “I want out of this dress.”

  Why?

  “Oh, don’t let me stop you.” I smirk at her as I prop my bass in the corner and cross my arms. I wiggle my fingers at her, telling her to go right ahead, and then I run them over my chin. Her cheeks flush and I grin widely.

  “I’m not stripping for you,” she says, but there’s no bite to it. It comes out soft, breathy, and sexy as hell.

  I sigh, the air leaving my lungs quickly. “What about a little dance?”

  My lips turn up as I hold her gaze. Her eyes narrow, watching me closely. “Dance?”

  I drop onto the couch, stretching my legs out, and resting my arms along the back cushion. “If you won’t strip for me, dance for me.”

  She presses her lips together, fighting a smile. “In your dreams.”

  “You can’t even imagine,” I murmur. Before she can respond, I continue. “How about jumping jacks?”

  She scowls, lips still pursed.

  “Toe touches?”

  Now she crosses her arms, her high-heeled toe tapping into the carpet.

  “Okay, okay. How about you “accidently” drop your stethoscope right here on the floor,” I suggest, pointing in front of me. “And then you can just…bend down and slowly pick it up.”

  “Or,” she adds, holding up her finger, “I could just strangle you with it.”

  “Oh, kinky.”

  “Chase,” she says my name softly, her breath quivering. “I just really want to change and lay in bed with you.”

  “Fine,” I concede because how can I not? I want her lying in my bed with me too. I push myself up and take a tee shirt from my drawer. I hold it out to her, but don’t let go when she tries to take it. “But I want you there all night.”

  She swallows nervously, which makes me nervous in turn. I was kidding about strip teases and toe touches—well, not really. If she was willing to do any one of the things I suggested, I’d have happily watched. But I was only messing with her to get her riled. Her sleeping in my bed all night I’m dead serious about.

  “Okay.” Her voice is so quiet I barely hear it. She looks down, her eyes focusing on the shirt between us. I release it and she pads over to the bathroom, closing the door behind her. I inhale deeply and kick my shoes off, pushing them out of the way. I tug my shirt over my head, tossing it onto the arm of the couch. Next I unbuckle my
belt, pulling it loose from my jeans, and drop it on top of my shirt. I just get my socks off when Annie steps out of the bathroom.

  Damn.

  She looked sexy in the nurse’s outfit, but she’s gut-wrenchingly beautiful in my tee shirt. Her hair falls loosely around her shoulders, soft and smooth. I hear her quick intake of breath as her eyes eat me up hungrily. She’s seen me in less, but her gaze burns as if it’s the first time she’s set eyes on me.

  When she looks at me like that, it’s so hard to maintain my self-control. I track her as she moves in my direction, each step purposeful. Stopping in front me, her bare toes touching mine, she places one hand on my stomach. Her palm is warm against my skin, the pressure firm, but gentle.

  My muscles twitch as she begins a slow, torturous journey up my abdomen. Her fingertips trace over my ribs, my collar bones, my Adam’s apple. They continue onto my shoulders and down the length of my arms. She’s careful to make contact with every inch of my heated flesh.

  And it feels indescribably good.

  She looks up at me, her eyes meeting mine before she circles around me leisurely. Her hands never cease their exploration as they travel along my shoulder blades, my spine, and finally, hesitantly, grazing over my jean clad ass.

  She never says a word and neither do I. As she makes the full circle, coming back to stand in front of me, I simply guide her back until her legs are pressed to the side of my bed. I take her hands, lowering her to a sitting position, and then I push her back, fluidly lying her down.

  Where my upper half is exposed, she’s exactly opposite. I start at her feet, running my fingers across her toes. They’re painted a soft pink that somehow fits Annie so well. It makes me smile. I take my time, vigilantly taking each one between my fingers and wiggling them. I caress the bottoms of her feet, making her squirm, and then I smooth my palms over the tops.

  My hands settle on her legs, her skin soft under my touch, and her breathing becomes shallow. I keep going. She feels amazing. I can’t decide what was better—her hands on me, or mine on her.

  I make it to her thighs, pressed tightly together. I slide both hands in between, pulling them apart, and her lips part as her chest rises quickly.

  Definitely my hands on her.

  This is unbelievably painful right now. I’m lodged tightly against my zipper with no more room left in my pants. I close my eyes for a second, taking a calming breath.

  It doesn’t help.

  I stroke my now shaking hand along her inner thigh and feel the goose bumps rise beneath my fingertips. I watch her face closely as I make a light sweep across her center. She gasps, her eyes flicking to meet mine.

  I do it again, firmer this time and her hips flex into my hand.