by Jewel E. Ann
But this isn’t our life. This is just a small reward for surviving the hard stuff.
As I tease the curve of her ass with my teeth. She lifts onto her elbows, glancing at me over her shoulder.
I kiss the teeth marks, looking up at her with a grin. She smiles in spite of the glassy emotions held hostage in her eyes.
“Are you marking me?”
“Yes.” I bite a little lower.
Another bite. And another …
She giggles, squirming until she’s escaped to the top of the bed, back pressed to the headboard.
I’m not sure what hurts more, the grenade exploding in my own chest or knowing that beneath that smile of hers, she’s wrecked and lost. And there’s nothing I can do to make it better. Stretching out my legs toward her, I crook a finger.
She bites her lower lip and shakes her head, hugging her knees to her chest. I nod.
She shakes.
My brows lift slightly. She releases a silent sigh and crawls toward me, straddling both of my outstretched legs.
Palming her ass, I guide her down onto me. Her eyes flutter as she grabs my biceps.
“Baby …” I whisper over her lips.
She brushes her mouth over mine, slowly rocking her pelvis against mine. I resist the burning urge to flip her onto her back and fuck her into some grand apology—until she begs for my forgiveness—until every memory of Daisy and Nate vanish forever. Until … she chooses a life with me.
“I didn’t get in the wrong line at the grocery store.”
She stills, moving her hands to my cheeks, so much pain on her face. “I can’t go with you.” More emotions pool in her eyes.
“And I can’t stay.” I cover her hands with mine. “But, Swayz … I didn’t get in the wrong line at the grocery store.”
She blinks out another round of tears. “Fuck you, Daisy.” It’s something between a sob and a laugh.
I smile and nod once. “Fuck you, Daisy.”
We kiss and it’s all us.
I can’t change what’s on the outside. I can’t save her from another life. So I devour her like I may never eat again, or take another breath. And after a few more seconds of this slow build up, I flip her onto her back and try to fuck some sense into her.
I’m not a hero. I’m human. But still … I want the impossible.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
“No,” Griffin grumbles in a sleepy voice, tightening his hold on me as I try to slide out from underneath his arm hooked around my waist.
“I have to pee and text my mom. She thinks I’m coming over.” I already know I have a gazillion missed messages from her. I’m surprised she hasn’t driven over here. The fact that I let her track my phone location is probably the only thing keeping her home.
“I’m leaving you. You’re not leaving me.”
I don’t know whether to laugh or cry. It’s a little too soon and a lot too raw for those words.
He releases me. “Go. I’m kidding. But come back. I’m not done ruining you.”
For another man—Nate.
I’m fine with being Griffin’s ruination. At least I know he can put me back together. The thing is … he’s leaving.
I slip on Griffin’s discarded tee, grab my phone, and go into the bathroom. Yep. Six missed messages and two missed calls.
Me: SO sorry.
Me: Got distracted.
Me: Staying here.
Me: Talk to you in the morning.
Mom: Oh? That’s good. Yes?
Me: It’s still heartbreaking. But, I want it.
Like a drug, the withdrawal is going to suck. I hope to God I survive.
Mom: Love you.
After I’m done in the bathroom, I tiptoe to the kitchen to get a drink of water. It’s starting to snow again. I watch it for a few minutes.
The floor behind me creaks.
“More snow,” I say.
Griffin towers behind me. He takes my glass and drinks the rest of my water before setting the glass off to the side on the kitchen table in front of me.
“I like you in my shirt. I always have.” His hand slides around me, under the front hem of the shirt.
My jaw relaxes, releasing tiny erratic breaths between my parted lips. His fingers tease me while his other hand finds my breast, pinching my nipple. I jerk back against him until his cock nudges my back.
“Bend forward.” His words rasp along my ear. “I’m going to fuck you on our table. Because I can.”
Yeah. He’s ruined me because—Lie on your back, I’m going to gently make love to you—will never do it for me. It will never feed my hunger to be physically and emotionally owned by a man like Griffin.
I bend forward and rest my cheek on the cold wood, gripping the opposite side of the table. A cool shiver shoots along my spine when he slides up the shirt, exposing my ass. His fingers tease me, fucking me, until I pulse my pelvis against his hand. The head of his cock replaces that hand, and he drives into me on one hard thrust. Followed by another. And another …
The table scrapes along the floor a fraction every time his hips slam against my backside.
It’s him.
It’s me.
It’s us.
Swayze and Griffin—sex on demand.
*
“I want to cry. But I think my tear ducts are broken.” I frown at Griffin when he hands me a cup of coffee.
He returns a sad smile before tipping my chin up with his finger and pressing his lips to mine for an easy kiss. “Good morning.”
“Morning.” Good? I can’t say that.
He’s going to work. He has to know I’m going to work too—at Nate’s house. Yet, he’s showing a shit ton more confidence than I could muster on my best day.
“How do you do that?”
He fills a water bottle at the sink. “Do what?”
“Last night. This morning. The picture. The kiss. The forgotten birthday. Daisy. The returned engagement ring. We’re unraveling and you keep clipping the thread like it’s no big deal. But what’s going to happen when it’s the last piece of the thread?”
“Then I leave.” He slips on his jacket.
I might find a way to squeeze out a few more tears if he keeps saying stuff like that. Shrugging, I shake my head. “So … like no big deal.”
He pulls a beanie onto his head, eyes narrowed a fraction. “It’s a whole fucking big deal. But at this point, I can’t control you, your thoughts, or our fate. You’ve made up your mind. You want to pursue a life that’s not mine. And I’ve made up my mind. I don’t want to watch you walk off a cliff knowing I will never be able to catch you. I can’t put you back together if I don’t know where the pieces fit.”
“This hurts,” I murmur.
He nods several times, opening the back door. “It sure as hell does.” The door closes behind him.
CHAPTER THIRTY
“Hey,” I say, void of all confidence.
“Hey,” Nate says with his back to me as he washes a few bottles.
“She still asleep?”
“Yeah.”
I ease up onto the barstool. When he turns, I’m going to feel all sorts of pain and regret. But I can’t hide forever.
“Things go okay with your parents watching her yesterday?”
“Yeah.”
I nod. One hey and two yeahs … good thing things aren’t awkward.
“I see Dr. Albright next week. We’re going to try hypnosis.”
Nate dries his hands and turns.
“Jesus …” I stand, making my way to him. “What happened to your face?” When I reach to brush my thumb across the cut on his fat lip, he pulls back and sidesteps me, grabbing his coffee container.
“I kissed my best friend.”
“What are you talking—” It hits me. “Griffin? He came here? Yesterday?”
Nate screws the lid on to his container, shooting me a sidelong glance with a crooked smile tugging at his swollen lip. “No. I give him credit for making his point in my office, instead of my ho
use with my parents and Morgan.”
“Nate, I’m so sorry—”
“Sorry?” He chuckles, shaking his head. “That’s Swayze talking. I took a lot of hits for Daisy. And she never felt bad. I’m pretty sure that fell under what a real boyfriend was supposed to do. And I sure as hell wanted to be her real boyfriend. But it makes me feel bad for you, Swayze, that a guy stood up for you, for what the two of you have together, and you’re sorry.”
He leans back against the counter, one hand holding his coffee and his other hand slipped into the front pocket of his dark jeans. “When Jenna and I were on our honeymoon, this guy sitting on the other side of her at an outdoor bar decided to hit on her. Right there in front of me. The shiny wedding ring clearly in plain sight. She politely told him her husband happened to be sitting on the other side of her. The dick had the balls to rest his hand on her leg. I broke his nose. Blood everywhere.
“Jenna grabbed my hand and dragged me into the hotel and straight up to our room. It was the most passionate sex we ever had. All because it turned her on seeing two guys get into it over her.”
“Not the same thing. I kissed you back.”
“Daisy kissed me back.”
“That’s just it. I don’t feel her like you do. You remember all of her. I don’t. So what if it wasn’t Daisy who kissed you back?”
His lips twist, forehead drawn inward. “It doesn’t matter. I kissed Daisy. I would never have kissed you had you not been her in my head at that moment.”
I shake my head. “How can you say that for sure?”
“Because you’re engaged to another man.” His voice escalates to the edge of control. “That’s not me. I don’t touch what’s not mine. I have morals. I’m a professor. A father. I’m not a thief.”
I rub the empty spot where my engagement ring used to reside. Nate’s gaze follows my movement.
“Swayze …” He grimaces.
Fisting my left hand, I cover it with my right hand. “It wasn’t you. It was me. I gave it back. He didn’t ask for it. But I can’t pretend that I wasn’t her. I can’t pretend that Doug Mann isn’t a murderer. And I can’t ask him to love me—to marry me—if I can’t tell him who I am.”
“Go apologize. Salvage it. Beg. Grovel. Whatever it takes.” Nate snatches his coat from the back of the sofa and puts it on.
“What? Did you not hear me?”
Zipping his coat, he glances up at me. “Perfectly.”
“He beat you up!” My sanity wanes.
Nate chuckles. “I stood in front of him and willingly took three solid punches. Not gonna lie, my face hurts more than it used to. Could be my age. But I can promise you … I didn’t get beaten up.”
Slipping his bag over his shoulder, he stops in front of me. “Had I found out you told him about the kiss and he didn’t pay me a visit, I would have been sorely disappointed in him.”
“He’s leaving. I’m staying.”
“Don’t be stupid. Let her go.”
I laugh. “That’s rich coming from the guy who named his daughter after her. The guy who visits her grave.”
He stares at me, unblinking, for a few seconds. “Make sure the front door is locked. Have a good day.”
*
I have a good day. Then I have another good day. And this good day streak continues into the following week. Nate masters treating me like a nanny. Griffin masters fucking me like it’s a sport. Even Scott and Sherri stop by a few times to chat like nothing is going on.
My mom is the only one besides me who sees the devastation just around the corner. She stops trying to talk “sense” into me. Instead, she vows to be the one to catch me if I jump off that cliff.
And today I’m getting ready to nudge closer to that cliff.
Dr. Albright smiles. “I’m going to start slow, just to see if and how you respond. If this works, we’ll start with easy stuff. Happy memories. Let’s not risk ruining your holidays with bringing forth a possible murder memory.”
I nod, releasing a long breath. “You’re the only one who doesn’t think my need to know is crazy. Thank you.”
A sad smile curls her mouth. “You’re welcome. But I’m sorry that you’re losing Griffin over this. I see both sides. They can’t really see your side. As someone old enough to be your grandmother, I empathize with the feeling that you’re young and this has the potential to change you—and maybe not in a good way. I believed our unconscious minds never bring forth more than we can handle. But after I had nightmares about a death, I realized the worst case scenario, albeit a slight chance, can happen. I was lucky to be able to have those same memories repressed.”
“But not knowing and feeling so much anguish is its own kind of torture.”
She nods several times.
I relax on her sofa. Since I’m an unofficial patient, she suggested we do this at her house. I worry about not remembering. I worry about remembering. I worry about everything until my mind starts to relax and all I hear is Dr. Albright’s voice.
*
Two hours later, I walk through the back door after my mom drops me off. She agreed to be my chauffeur per Dr. Albright’s suggestion.
It takes me a few seconds to find Griffin perched on the sofa, watching ESPN. There are boxes everywhere, some empty, some taped and labeled, and some half-packed.
“Hi.” He shuts off the TV.
“Hi.” I close the door behind me and shrug off my coat. “You’ve been busy.”
“Yeah.” He sits up, resting his elbows on his knees. “It’s about done. The rest of the stuff I’m leaving for you.”
Yeah. This is happening.
I nod. “Thanks. But don’t leave anything that you want or need. Really, I can replace whatever.”
Except him. I can’t replace him.
“Do I want to know if it worked?” He clasps his hands together.
“It worked. We didn’t go too far. Happy memories. They weren’t all clear, but I felt them. Like my mom and dad—Daisy’s mom and dad. It was more than a disconnected vision or memory. It was deeper.” I want to tell him every tiny detail. That’s what we do. We share everything. But when I see the anguish on his face that he can’t quite hide, I realize that’s not us anymore. We’re on the verge of not being us. And I know deep down, Griffin was hoping hypnosis wouldn’t work on me.
I can’t blame him for wanting something so badly. For wanting me so badly.
“We’re waiting until after Christmas to go any further.”
He stands. “The moving truck is coming the Monday after Christmas.”
“Oh … I thought you weren’t leaving until after New Years.”
“I want a chance to acclimate for a few days before I start my job. Get settled.”
We’ve discussed a lot. We’ve avoided a lot. We’ve skirted many topics in favor of just being in the moment with each other. I’ve never asked him this one question, and he’s never offered it to me either.
“Where are you moving to?”
He grabs the tape from the coffee table and seals a box. “I think it’s best for you to not know that.”
“You what?” I try to keep my jaw from actually touching the ground.
“It has to be a clean break. I don’t want you thinking about me and where I’m at. I don’t want you second-guessing your decision and showing up on my doorstep because you need me to put you back together, only for us both to realize you still don’t know who you are—but you had a weak moment and we’re back at square one again.”
Ouch.
He tosses the tape on the sofa and gives me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry.”
My head inches side to side. “No. I deserve—”
Griffin wraps his arms around me. “Everything. And I wasn’t trying to be mean. I just need everything or nothing. And I want every last minute of everything we have left. But I can’t live my life wondering if we’re really over. If you’re going to change your mind. It will drive me fucking crazy.”
“Griff …”
“Maybe it just wasn’t our time.” He kisses the top of my head.
I pull back, looking at him. Really looking at him. Yes, I’ve always thought he has an old soul. And most of the time he has this militant control over his emotions where I have none. He’s showed me silent anger, pent-up anger, a clenched jaw, and the kind of anger that just walks away.
Silence seeps in. I see the conflict in his eyes. His jaw clenches. And he crashes his lips against mine, almost knocking me off my feet. It’s hard. It’s painful to depths beyond any physical sensation.
My hands push on his chest. He resists me. I push harder. He lets me go, both of us breathless.
“Say it.”
That sharply-angled jaw of his clenches again. “Say what?”
“Everything.”
Tipping his chin down, he scratches the back of his neck. “What are you talking about?” His voice is thick.
“I can take it. I’m stronger than you think I am.”
He turns back to the boxes, shaking his head. “I’m going to carry these boxes out to the garage. Will you hold open the door?”
“Say it.”
He ignores me, stacking two boxes on top of each other and picking them up. I back up to the door, pressing my back against it.
“Open the door.”
“Say it.”
“Swayze, open the damn door.”
“Say. It.”
“You don’t know what you’re—”
“Say it!”
“I HATE THAT YOU’RE STAYING!”
Clunk.
The boxes hit the floor.
“I hate that this life isn’t good enough for you. I hate that you’re choosing a life you know nothing about over a life with me. I hate that this small part of me actually believes that you were her. I hate the way you look at him. I hate that you had that stupid picture of him. I hate that you let him lay one fucking finger on you. And I …” He blinks and a tear slides down his cheek. “I want so desperately to hate you, but I don’t. I love you…” he swallows hard, nostrils flaring as he tries to control his emotions “…and loving you right now is incredibly fucking miserable.”
Maybe … just maybe dying and trying on a new life wouldn’t be such a bad idea. Maybe I would get a life without Doug Mann. A life without memories of the one before. Maybe I’d get a normal life. A normal childhood. A normal name. And I would find normal love. Maybe a boring job and a doting husband. Two kids and a dog. Simple and average would feel extraordinary.