His midnight blue eyes are oceans of lust and desire. “I want to be inside you,” he says, narrowing his gaze. “But I don’t have any condoms.”
“I’m clean and on the pill,” I urge him, not wanting to wait. “Are you?”
“Clean?” He nods. “I’ve always used protection.”
Without another word, I’m on my back and he’s on top of me, his cock pushing past my entrance filling up my pussy. He stills for a couple of breaths, and my pussy clenches as I feel him throbbing inside me.
“You’re perfect,” his breathless words come out as a prayer.
Then, he kisses me as he pushes himself deeper, so deep I become an extension of him. My throat releases a guttural moan. I expect him to thrust in and out of me wildly, but instead, he takes his time rolling his hips as he pulls out gently and enters me tenderly. I feel loved, worshiped with every movement.
For a second, I surrender completely to the moment. To him. I let my dream become the reality I’ve wished for so many years. Drunk with passion and love, I climax, crying Oliver’s name as he fills me with his seed, and in doing so, fulfills my fantasy. His lips move against mine, then he kisses the top of my head and my ear murmuring words I can’t understand and for one second, I think he says, I love you. But my eyes are so heavy, I disregard his musings and just let myself fall asleep in his arms. At least for one night.
↔
It’s a little after sunrise when I wake up. My head is pounding like a twelve-ton bulldozer just ran over it. It’s probably from dehydration but I’m not used to sleeping this much. There’s a soft snore next to me. I glance at Oliver, taking him in like a picture I can’t keep. My hand trembles, hovering over his head. If I could just fix his hair, pretend this was just like old times—that would be perfect.
But it isn’t. Ollie’s lying fucking naked next to me. He looks so good like this, warm and calm against the sheets. This is the one thing I always dreamed of having, aside from my own TV show.
I take a deep breath, forcing myself out of bed. I slip my clothes on, grabbing my phone off the nightstand. There’s so much to do today, and I’m already behind. I creep down the stairs quietly. It’s been awhile, but I know how to avoid every creaky floorboard in this place.
The cicadas are shrieking in the distance, reminding me that this isn’t a dream. I guess I don’t have to pinch myself to see if I’m dreaming. Their cries are just as loud as the pain in my chest. Everything feels tight, too tight.
The fridge hums as I tiptoe past the kitchen. I’ll have to come back later to wash the dishes. It’s not like this is the first time I’ve left them there for a day or two before returning. There’s only so much of this house I can take at one time.
It’s pure and inviting because of how much time I spent here as a kid. When the restaurant was too busy, or the house was too quiet, the Tanner’s house was my home away from home. Josey designated me to check on the house periodically, and sometimes, I feel like this is my house more than my apartment. I sigh, slipping my shoes on before walking out the front door, locking it as I leave with my spare key.
The shitty thing about leaving home, is that it’s never the same once you leave. In some ways, it stops being the place to land when things get hard. It constantly shifts. Stray for too long and the ground disappears underneath you, leaving behind only a memory of what used to be.
That’s the problem with Ollie’s house, and all of Knox Ridge, for that matter.
Blythe’s isn’t too far from here. I can get there in maybe fifteen minutes if I walk at a fast pace. The farther I get from Oliver, the more reality washes over me. Things become clearer. What we had was good ... too good to be true, honestly.
I shiver, wishing I’d brought my sweater with me from last night, or stolen one of Ollie’s old hoodies from his closet. But that would’ve caused a commotion, and probably woken him. I had to get out of there as fast as I could. There’s no use waking him up and dealing with the fall out of what will be the most awkward let down in history.
Oliver is a sweet guy. He really tries to be there for other people. But this was too much. He can’t just offer a pity fuck and hope that smooths everything over. That’s all it was, anyway. He’s always got to fix things for everyone, even when he doesn’t have all the answers. He just jumped head first into the best solution he could think of to make me less miserable.
I should appreciate it. But as my stomach twists itself in knots, I have to clutch myself tighter. I’m trying to keep it together long enough to get inside of the restaurant. The air is still brisk, slinking its way down my throat painfully like an icy shard.
An apology and a pity fuck aren’t what I need. I needed closure. I needed Ollie to say that we were never going to be like that, and that he’s sorry for leading me on. I can’t deal with being halfway in between something and nothing for years on end. Not anymore. That was the only solace I had while we weren’t talking—that he couldn’t hurt me if we didn’t have contact.
The stairs into Blythe’s are short and not steep, but this morning the feat feels harder than climbing Mount Everest. I fumble with the keys as I unlock the front door. I glance at the clock on the wall. The delivery guy should be here any minute.
I scrub my face, heading toward the bathroom to splash some water on me. When I stare at myself in the mirror—wet, cold, and with purple bags under my eyes—I feel like screaming. When did my life become a series of one bad decision after another? When did happiness become a vague fairytale instead of a regular fucking emotion?
I can’t stand to look at myself any longer and head toward the bar. This isn’t the face of someone who’s living, but rather just coasting, existing. I thought my rock bottom was when I stopped being able to afford my own groceries. I never thought it could get worse.
My phone buzzes in my back pocket. The delivery guy is running late this morning. I slump against the bar. Just perfect. I can’t get a guy. I can’t keep up with a restaurant or my sister. I can’t even get fucking fish here on time.
“I think it’s time to call it quits,” I say out loud to no one.
I’ll start looking up the number of a local realtor in a minute. But first, I flip through the contacts on my phone. It rings for a few seconds before someone on the other line picks up.
“Javier?” I say. “It’s Kaitlynn. If the offer’s still open, I’d love to take it.”
I don’t pay much attention as he rambles excitedly, talking about plans and how great LA is. I sigh, nodding along as he talks. It isn’t perfect, but relief washes over me for what feels like the first time in five years. Everything is going to be okay. New city, new life ... a new chance to be the person I deserve to be.
After I hang up with him, I call the realtor leaving her a message and promising to send a detailed email in a couple of hours. The last call is harder, but I have to make it for my own good.
“Do you know what time it is?” Kelsey’s groggy and snappy voice answers.
Time for me to take control of my life.
“I wanted to let you know that I’m selling Blythe’s,” I inform her, glancing at the restaurant one last time.
Remembering Mom and Dad has me almost in tears because whoever buys this place won’t care about their fights, their kisses, or the way they taught me how to prepare the best peach cobbler in all of Knox Ridge.
“Well, send me my cut when you have the cash.”
“Your cut?” I huff. “I paid you more than what this restaurant was worth. Whatever I get from it will be mine.”
“That’s not fair.”
“What’s not fair is running the place to the ground when it was one of the best restaurants in Knox Ridge. What’s not fair is selling our family home without giving me a cent … your attitude isn’t fair. I needed you when they died, and you only appeared after I had already taken care of everything. I’m done with you, Kelsey.”
“Well, I’m done with you too. I went to fucking Knox Ridge to help you and you d
idn’t pay me.”
“You never helped me,” I remind her, my voice echoing through the empty restaurant. “Until you grow up and realize that I’m your sister, don’t bother talking to me.”
“Is this because you’re sleeping with my ex?”
“What are you talking about?”
“There’s a rumor going around that you hired Oliver and now you’re fucking the help. Which is kind of disgusting. He was mine.”
“We’re not together, but if we were, it’s not any of your damn business. You two broke up years ago, and you’re a married woman.”
“Ah, little Katy is still pining for him. He chose me over you—just remember that.”
“Grow up, Kelsey. When you do, give me a call.”
I hang up, locking the restaurant and driving away toward my new life.
15
Oliver
Where is she? Kaitlynn isn’t answering my calls. I’ve been looking for her since the moment I woke up. She wasn’t at my house. She wasn’t at her apartment. The restaurant is empty. The fish is outside, which is so unlike her.
Where are you? I’m putting the fish in the freezer. Call me. We need to talk.
She doesn’t answer, so I start ripping up the carpet like we planned. The floor is in almost perfect condition. It just needs to be sanded and polished. Hopefully, I can convince her to close on Monday too. I understand the soup kitchen is important to her. But with that extra day, I should be able to finish with the floors, and then we can buy the new furniture.
Would she let me be her business partner if I asked? Would that be too much? Maybe we should start by discussing what happened yesterday. I’m not one to talk about feelings, but I want her to know that I love her.
All these years, I’ve been such an idiot. I dated Kelsey, when I should’ve dated Kaitlynn. I was too scared of losing Kaitlynn to give us a real shot. It was safer to remain friends.
While I was in the service, I should have reached out to her. There were times when I was tempted to visit her. But I didn’t see the point. At least, I didn’t see it then. Now I regret all the opportunities I missed out on by being a coward.
Oliver: It’s two o’clock. Where the fuck are you? I’m worried.
Kaitlynn: Just landed in LA. I took the job offer. Please give the realtor your keys when she drops by.
What the fuck? She gave up on us, just like that. I thought things were improving. I glance around the restaurant. We’ve been working so hard on this place, and each other, or so I thought. We were so close. Why did she run like that?
I exhale harshly before calling her. The phone rings for so long that I assume she’s sending me to voicemail. But finally, she does pick up.
“Hey,” she says.
“You’re kidding, right?” I ask. “You’re fucking with me. You’re in your apartment, and you’re on your way over right now.”
“Uh, no,” she says. “I’m in LA. I just told you that.”
“What the literal fuck, Kaitlynn? You have a restaurant. You have responsibilities, and people who depend on you. You can’t just drop everything and leave.”
“I’m selling the restaurant,” she says curtly. “I’m sure the next owner will rehire whoever needs a job.”
“What about the people who count on their Monday meal?”
“If I’d stayed in Knox Ridge, I wouldn’t have been able to feed them in a month or two,” she says. “Or myself, for that matter.”
I hear her make a sound that’s sort of like a muffled sob.
“I need to start taking care of Kaitlynn,” she says.
“That’s what I’m here for. That’s what I was trying to do,” I insist.
“I need a more permanent solution, but I appreciate your kindness.”
“What about us?” I ask desperately.
“There is no us,” she says. “There’s never been an us. We aren’t anything, Ollie. Just a couple of strangers who ran into each other.”
Before I can argue, she hangs up.
I try to call her again, but the call goes directly to voicemail. Instead of leaving, I stay in the restaurant, sanding the floors. I still can’t believe she did this. I tried to fix the building. I tried to keep her restaurant up and running. I tried to be her friend first. I thought we were getting somewhere. I thought she saw the same potential that I saw in this place. In us.
I keep pushing the sander, letting the vibrations numb my hands since it can’t numb my heart. What did she mean by saying we aren’t anything? She’s the one writing fucking letters about how there’s a pull between us, and we’re destined for each other and all of that shit. She wasn’t making that up. I know Kaitlynn.
So really, the question is, why is she so insistent on lying to herself? She talks about Knox Ridge likes it’s horrible, but I know she loves it. She loves this place and everything about it. I sigh, wiping the sweat from my brow. I take a long look around the dining room. It looks decent enough.
Fuck, I worked all day and it feels like I got nothing done. The renovations aren’t finished, and the new appliances arrive next week. I wonder if this is what her life’s been like, working hard by herself to get next to nowhere.
I take a deep breath as I unplug the sander. It’s been five years since her parents died. Her sister’s never around ... she has what? One friend? Her staff is a revolving door, and she can barely keep this place open. I knew her finances weren’t great, but the way she was talking about them earlier …
The more I think about it, the more I can’t imagine how she kept all this going for so long. When she talks about the restaurant, she sounds like some of my veteran buddies—worn out, jaded, and disillusioned about why she even did this in the first place.
On my way home, I think more about our future. I don’t know what I’m going to do, but I don’t want to quit. Now that I’ve had her, I can’t imagine my life without her. As I pass the old movie theatre, I remember that I haven’t called my mom in two days. I better do it now before she has my neck.
“Hi, Huey,” she says as she picks up on the third ring. “How are you, hun?”
“I’m fine,” I lie.
“I can smell the horse shit from here, sweetheart,” she says. “Now why don’t you tell me what’s wrong?”
“Kaitlynn left for LA,” I tell her.
“Oh,” she says. “So, when are you moving?”
“Moving where?”
“LA ... that is what you called tell me, right?” she says slowly. “That you’re moving to California with your girlfriend.”
“No, Mom. She’s not my girlfriend.”
“Well, why not? That’s what everyone’s been talking about for the last three weeks.”
“Everyone?”
“Dear, really,” she says. “You think you’re discrete with all that flirting you’ve been doing around Blythe’s? You think a friend just offers to fix up his friend’s restaurant and then invites her over to his place?”
“How do you know about that?”
“I still Skype in for my knitting circle,” she says primly.
“Why I am not surprised?” I say with a sigh.
“Close your mouth, dear,” she says. “I know the look you’re giving me. I have to say, if you aren’t dating her and she’s in LA, what the hell are you still doing in Knox Ridge?”
“I need to finish renovating the house …”
“The house you haven’t started on yet because you’ve been making googly eyes at Kaitlynn Blythe?”
I groan. “What’s your point?”
“Get off your cute little heinie and go get your girl back.”
“But—”
“No buts, Oliver Hugh Tanner,” she says. “I kept quiet when you blew it with her the first time. You should have never dated that spray tan she calls a sister. I won’t let you spoil things for yourself again.”
Well, I can’t argue with that.
As if reading my mind, she says, “Huey, if I sound stern, it’s only because
I want what’s best for you. And I have never seen anyone or anything make you as happy as Katy does. So why in God’s name are you standing in your own way again?”
“You’re right,” I say.
“I know,” she says matter-of-factly. “I’m always right. Call me when you land in LA.”
She hangs up before I can argue with her. Dammit, what’s with women and hanging up on me like that?
I start looking up flights to LA. A little while later, the real estate agent shows up asking for the key. I turn away, merely saying that there was a mistake and the restaurant isn’t for sale. I buy a ticket for early the next morning and head to bed, pretending like I’ll actually get some sleep tonight.
But it’s impossible because I’ve never had to deal with someone else’s feelings. What can I say to convince her to come back, when everything I tried to do for her wasn’t enough?
16
Kaitlynn
We finish the tour of the studio with Javier’s business partner around noon. They don’t have a kitchen yet. Which is good because we can discuss what appliances I want to put in. Not that I’ve touched a kitchen appliance from this century in years.
They said it might take a bit to finish the kitchen. So we’ll start taping in about a month. Unless Javier gets permission from one of his buddies to use his restaurant for filming. Honestly, I don’t want to fuck around in someone else’s kitchen. Especially if it’s during business hours. I know how crazy a commercial kitchen can get, and I don’t want Javier to piss a restaurant owner off like that. No matter how much he says, “it’s fine.”
But I need a paycheck in the meantime. The apartments in this city are outrageously expensive. It was easier to live here back when I had a roommate to share the rent. A cab to the studio cost me more than a fancy meal at the Ivy. Next time I’ll just take an Uber. And to top it all off, my luggage got lost during our connection in Atlanta. The last time I checked with the airline, it was on its way to New York and they didn’t know when they could route it to LA. So who knows when I’ll have a clean pair of underwear.
Cards of Love: Knight of Wands Page 8