by S. M. West
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Evan ~ 18 years old
EVERYONE’S HERE AS I walk into the apartment. Aunt Lucy, Griff and Tripp’s mother, hugs me tight. Her blue eyes hold nothing but love and understanding, and I figure Ma must have told her my plans.
Uncle Sean, her husband, isn’t here. He’s a good man, but he works long hours and is rarely at family gatherings, even more so now that my father and Uncle Adam are no longer around.
As is typical for our family dinners, the table is loaded with a feast, as Sweetness enters with another dish. She’s beautiful, with her cheeks flushed and her hair hanging in tousled waves down her back. She’s wearing a red shirtdress that falls to just above her knees, and I have to stop myself from ogling her legs.
We share a brief private moment with subtle smiles and a wink from me before she sits across the table from me. With her finally mine, this past year has been the best of my life, and that’s what makes this so hard. Our conversation last night was difficult, and even though we spent the rest of the night in each other’s arms, she’s been quiet.
I only hope she understands that it’s temporary. She’s still got a couple years of high school, and I’m doing what I need to do for me and for our future.
Griff sits down beside her, running his hands through his shaggy blond hair. “Dude, you’ve got to get a haircut,” I joke.
I’d never wear my hair like that. With my thick waves, the longer it gets, the unrulier it is. I’d look like a girl or a wild animal, but it works for Griff. The girls dig it and flock to him.
“Never.” He grabs his locks like he fears I’ll take scissors to them. “You’re just jealous because you could never pull this off.”
“Nah, I leave the pretty boy looks to you.” I chuckle.
“I love the long locks,” Carys says, running her fingers through Griff’s hair. “You look hot.”
It’s harmless flirting, but I wish I were the one she was flirting with. She glances at me and recognizes my struggle, quickly removing her hand with a sweet smile for me.
During dinner, I enjoy the banter and laughter, knowing it’ll be a while before I’m here again. I’m going to miss it, miss them.
Knowing I have something to say, Ry takes matters into his own hands as usual.
“So, Van, when are you going to share your news?”
I shake my head in disappointment; I wanted to say this on my terms. He instantly grasps his fuck-up and shoots me an apologetic gaze. Clearing my throat, I inhale deeply, preparing to sour the mood for some.
“Well, as you know, I’ve decided not to go to college this year.” I pause and take a sip of water. They know that part, but most don’t know the why. “Because I’m joining the Army.”
Sounds of surprise erupt around the table with both Ry and Tripp talking over one another. My gaze locks with Carys’s. She knew I was doing this tonight, but she’s not looking at me. Her eyes are cast into her lap, so unlike the fierce girl she is.
“What the fuck, Van?” Ry and Tripp say in unison, both sets of eyes drilling into me with a barrage of unasked questions.
“Boys, language!” Ma scolds.
“Patrick, I understand you’re upset, but no profanity,” Aunt Lucy adds.
“Sorry,” Ry says. “What about the FBI?”
“It’s not what I want, at least not right now.” I haven’t given up the possibility of joining the Bureau, but it’s not my dream. It’s his, theirs. “I want to serve my country. I want purpose, to know I’m doing good.” Even though it’s true, my response feels practiced. It’s one thing to feel it, and another to try to explain it.
After the death of my parents, I spun out of control internally. To everyone else, I was what they expected of me: the high achiever, the athlete, the dutiful child. On the inside, I was raging. Even with the love and grounding of Ma, Ry, and Carys, a part of me was lost.
I always felt like a part of their family—how could I not? I’d known them all my life and our shared loss only made that bond stronger, but they couldn’t help me with the part that felt robbed of my parents, and I didn’t know how to reconcile that.
How could I come to terms with knowing I’d never get my mom’s loving words again or her killer hug when I needed it the most? Or that I’d never finish learning how to build an engine with my dad? Or ask him how the hell I let the girl of my dreams live her life, while making her understand she had my heart and one day, I’d come to collect? That I wanted forever with her?
I kept it bottled and managed the best I could. The Wolfes helped immeasurably, but I also needed structure and discipline, a way to work out and channel my anger and resentment in a positive way.
“Excuse me.” Carys clears a few things from the table.
“Let me help.” I jump from my seat.
“No.” Her voice is sharp, her tears now evident. Her pain stings, although it’s understandable. I’ve had time to digest this and even with that, it’s still difficult, whereas for her, it’s still new, and she’s reeling.
“I’ll help.” Griff nods, reassuring me that he’ll make sure she’s okay.
While I hate this, not going to her, she needs space. My emotions run the gamut from unease to relief to have gotten this off my chest.
“I know this is a surprise, but this is something I want to do.”
“Dude, that’s cool,” Tripp says. “We’ll miss you. You better keep in touch.”
“I will.” My eyes never waver from Ry, willing him to let me know he’s okay with this.
“What about your beaut?” he asks, a glint in his blue eyes.
“What about her?” I know where he’s going with this, and it still surprises me how we think the same way sometimes.
“What?” Tripp asks, clueless.
“Van got a bike today,” he responds before turning his attention back to me. “What are you going to do with her?”
On my eighteenth birthday, not too long ago, Ma gave me some of my inheritance. My parents came from nothing, yet with their deaths, there was a fair amount to provide for my future, with the sale of my family home and the insurance money.
“Well, I was going to ask you to take care of her for me.”
“Fuckin’ A!”
“Rylan Adam Wolfe, one more outburst with that language and I’ll wash your mouth out with soap!” Ma exclaims.
The table erupts in laughter as Ry, giddy with the prospect of being the keeper of my bike, demands Tripp come see it. Griff enters as we’re leaving and abandons his offer to help in the kitchen. Both mothers encourage us to go, promising to help Carys clean up.
Torn between staying to help, talking to Carys, and showing off my new bike, I waver. Ry senses my apprehension and sidles up beside me, clamping his hand firmly on my shoulder.
“We won’t be long. Give her some space and talk to her after.” His voice is low, so only I can hear. “She’ll come around. We’re going to fucking miss you, asshole, but we want you to be happy. If this is what you want, then we want it for you.”
Then
Carys ~ 15 years old
LYING ON MY STOMACH, I fruitlessly attempt to block out my misery. I want to support him, I truly do, and he needs to do this, but I’m devastated.
His palm gently rests on my lower back, his warmth seeping into me, and my eyes flutter closed. I’m going to miss this, his touch, his nearness. I better start getting used to missing him.
On my next inhale, I twirl and leap from the bed, spinning on my heel to face him.
“What do you want?” My anger at the unfairness of it all is irrational and the last thing he needs, but I can’t seem to help it.
“To talk.”
“I think you said more than enough at dinner.” I turn in the direction of the door.
He latches onto my arm before I even clear the bed, pulling me into his torso.
“I’m going to talk, then. I leave tomorrow and I’ve got something to say.” His voice is low, yet loaded with authority.
&
nbsp; “Not my problem.” I scowl like the teenager I am.
“Get dressed,” he orders. “Put on pants, we’re going for a ride.”
“Earth to Evan, not sure if this whole joining the Army thing is messing with your mind, because in case you forgot, you don’t have a car. So I don’t know where you think we’re riding to because I’m not hopping on the subway at this time of night.” My voice is snarky and unattractive.
“We’re going on my bike.” My eyes widen in astonishment. “You’ve got ten minutes to get out of that sexy-as-fuck dress and get your ass outside in the alley.”
“A bike? Sexy?” I blurt out incoherently.
Evan reaches the door and turns to face me. “Sweetness, you could wear a brown paper bag and you’d be sexy. Ten minutes, and Sweetness…” He pauses, making sure my eyes are on him. “Don’t make me have to come upstairs to get you. You’ll regret it.”
As he shuts the door, I gaze at my full-length mirror. I want to see what he sees. My hair’s piled high in a messy bun, my dress is wrinkled, my cheeks are flushed, my eyes glassy and lips red. I look disheveled, not sexy.
The boy’s on crack, but I don’t care. He thinks I’m sexy. A wave of excitement surges through me, but it’s quickly doused by the reminder that he leaves tomorrow. Anger steamrolls my joy. I’m almost tempted to disobey, to see how empty his threat is, but I want to go for a ride.
As quickly as possible, I’m outside in the alley in skinny black jeans and a long-sleeved white linen tunic. Evan’s backing out his striking motorcycle, his helmet already on. The air is thick with heat and humidity and the night sky is black, no stars visible with the city lights.
He marches over to me with an extra helmet in hand and gingerly places it on my head, tucking a few stray strands of hair into the sides. My head feels heavier, but it fits perfectly. His fingers brush my neck, sending a shiver down my spine as he secures the clasp.
“Smart thinking, an extra helmet for all your girlfriends,” I say, even though we’ve been seeing each other exclusively for the past year.
He’s my boyfriend, and he’s never had sex. He’s told me he’s waiting for me. He says there’s no one else but me, but what does that even mean, with him leaving? My ire is alive and well, despite my high at being mere moments away from mounting the beast in front of us.
“This is your helmet. No other girls are getting on this bike with me but you.” His voice is firm.
It’s silly and not surprising, but I needed to hear that. I needed to know that even though he’s going, I’m still the one. He takes my hand and leads me to the bike. Hopping on, he pats the space behind him and I straddle it, scooting as close to him as possible.
I dangle my arms at my sides and Evan wraps them tightly around his hard abdomen. My chest is plastered to his broad back and the closeness makes me quiver. Before I can catch my breath, he taps my thigh, signaling the start of the ride.
I hang on for dear life as the wind assaults us while we bob and weave through the city toward the quieter roads. The lights and sounds are a tilt-a-whirl zipping by me.
Goose bumps bloom along my skin and my belly rockets with the roar of the engine rapidly climbing in speed. Tightening my hold, my fingers curl, digging into the steel ridges of his stomach. My breasts are heavy, on fire with the delicious friction caused by rubbing against him.
I’m drowning in the pulsing of this beastly machine between my legs and his hard body tight along mine. His spicy, masculine scent only intensifies the indescribable ache building within me, crawling from my core to my chest, searching, screaming for something.
It’s insatiable. Uncomfortable. Almost unbearable. I cling to him, resting my helmeted head on his back and briefly closing my eyes to get a grip. My senses are on overload, but I don’t want to miss a thing.
His strong, steady heartbeat can barely be heard over the mighty engine and whipping wind, but its rhythm echoes within me. I don’t think I’ll ever be closer to Evan, and I’m loving every single overwhelming second of it.
Lifting my head at the cessation of the hypnotic humming of the engine, I see we’re back in the alley back behind the bar. I glance down at my watch, realizing we’ve been gone for two hours—the shortest but most exhilarating two hours of my life.
Helping me off the bike, he unclasps and removes my helmet. I stand in the alley finger-combing my unkempt hair while he puts the bike away. The ride was awesome. I’m lighter and less angry, although we haven’t talked.
There’s nothing to say. I want to be supportive, but if I’m being honest, I don’t want him to go. I can’t imagine what he has to say. I’m pretty sure there’s nothing to help me come to terms with this. He’s leaving me.
“That was amazing!”
Evan strides to stand directly in front of me. The tips of our shoes touch as the street light illuminates his handsome features, his deep, expressive eyes twinkling and the scruff along his jaw making him rugged and wild. His eyebrows lift as he grins, accentuating his delicious dimples.
“Yeah, it was.”
“When did you get the bike?” I try to hide my disappointment at not knowing about that, too. Seems like he has a lot of things I don’t know about.
“I got it for my birthday using some of the insurance money.”
“Your birthday’s in April and it’s August, that makes no sense.”
He chuckles. “You remember, for my 18th birthday, Ma gave me some of my inheritance? I used some of it for the bike. It’s one of the few things I’ve always wanted. I was determined to get it before I left.” His tone is smooth, heavy, and promising—promising what, I’m not sure.
I nod, knowing he has always wanted a bike. With a one track mind, I switch the conversation to what I really want to know.
“What time do you leave tomorrow?” I inhale, preparing for the answer but knowing I won’t ever be truly ready.
“Early,” he whispers.
Biting my bottom lip to stifle my displeasure, I steel myself for the days to come without him.
“Evan, why are you leaving me?” I whimper, sadness spilling out with my words.
I’ve already asked him, but can’t seem to come to terms with it. Normally I’d be more considerate, try to hide my hurt from him, but I’m lashing out at the unfairness of it all. We’ve run out of time, all because of him. He never gave us a chance.
“I’m not leaving you. Never.” He advances, and I match him step for step in the opposite direction until my back hits the brick wall.
His hands rest on either side of my head, his body now pressing into me. His proximity sucks all the air from my lungs, and a whoosh flies through my belly, causing me to shiver.
“You cold?” His warm hands rub along my upper arms.
I shake my head as words elude me; having him near is like a dream and a nightmare. I want all of him, but he’s been taking his time with me, never going too far, and now, will we ever get a chance?
He hasn’t even left, yet his absence is a wide chasm where my chest used to be. Raw. Agonizing. Dark.
Softly, he peppers kisses along my jaw before his mouth covers mine. Fastening my hands onto his waist, I draw him in until we’re glued together.
His tongue fills my mouth; we’re thoroughly tasting each other. I bestow every bit of my love, longing, and desire into our kiss. Not knowing when or if there will be a next one is what keeps me lost in him.
A growl emerges from his lips as his hands bunch my hair, holding my head in place. Breaking our kiss, he peers down at me, his unruly dark locks falling into his eyes. I tenderly brush his hair to the side. Cupping my face, his thumb softly glides over the apples of my cheeks.
While we’ve only just begun, have only been truly together for a year, it feels like the end. I struggle to keep my emotions under wraps, to keep the water brimming in my eyes from spilling. My mind is whirling with a myriad of questions and regrets. I’m not only mourning the loss of tomorrow, but also of yesterday.
“
Sweetness.” Evan calmly and quietly takes me in his arms, holding me tight to his body, and I can’t help but collapse into his embrace. I love him so much. Even when I’m upset with him, I can’t resist him.
“I’m sorry about this, I really am. I love you,” he whispers, kissing the top of my head.
“No, don’t apologize for leaving. You need to do this and I support it, but know this: when you get back—and you will come back—you and me?” I motion my finger between the two of us. “We are on!”
His chuckle vibrates in my chest, weakening my knees and sending a spiraling need through my belly. These sensations are thrilling and devastating because I don’t know what to do with them. I want him so badly, but he refuses to go all the way with me.
“Hell yeah.” His low rumbling words are still on his lips as they land on mine. It’s a chaste kiss, but no less sweet or wanting. “You bet your ass we’re on when I get back. It’s a date for the rest of our lives. Know this: loving you is never a conscious choice. It just is, always. I can’t recall a time when I didn’t love you, when you weren’t my everything.” He kisses me again. “But Sweetness, you must promise me something.” His voice is now serious, the weight of his gaze on me.
“What?”
“While I’m gone, you live your life. I’m not encouraging dating, but if you want to, date. I don’t want you waiting, biding your time until I come back.”
“You’re fine if I date?” My incredulity is clear in my voice.
“I’m not wild about it, but I’m not going to be a dick and say you can’t.”
“Wait a sec, you’re fine with me dating, kissing, making out and having sex with other guys?” My voice is no longer calm.
“No,” he grinds out. “That’s not what I said. I’m not fine with fucking any of it, but I’m not going to shackle you to me before I’m back here in front of you ready to start our life together.”