by A. S. Teague
One corner of her mouth sadly tips up, and she replies, “I know.”
Running my fingers over the intricate carvings, I stare at the football that was signed by the entire Falcons organization. Memories of that day flash through my mind, and a new wave of tears starts. I throw the horn on his desk and shuffle back over to Abby’s side. She slides her arm around my waist, and we cry for the boy we both lost.
We sit together on his bed as the day turns to night, not needing to even speak. Eventually, Abby stands and wipes the moisture from her cheeks before turning to me. “He’s helping the only way he knows how, honey.”
“What are you talking about?” I question, pretending that I don’t know who she’s referring to.
She raises an eyebrow, puffy from tears, and says, “Don’t play dumb.” She turns on her heel and walks toward the door. She pauses outside and whispers, “Don’t push him away, Sid. He needs you just as much as you need him right about now.”
After Sidney’s exit from the Rover, I stop myself from chasing her to give her some time to calm down. Seeing her on the ground, in the throes of a panic attack, scared the shit out of me, but Abby insisted that she’d be okay if I just gave her a little space.
An hour later, I stalk up the stairs, intent on forcing her to tell me what was going on. But she’s sitting on Connor’s bed, her arms wrapped around her sister. Not wanting to intrude, I decide to wait for her in her room.
It’s dark by the time she emerges carrying a notebook in one hand and a roll of toilet paper in the other.
“You okay now?” I ask.
Her head pops up, and her red-rimmed eyes widen. “I-I thought you’d gone home,” she stutters.
Pulling my eyebrows together, I stand up off the bed. “Why would I have gone home?” I’m genuinely confused by her behavior today and press, “Do you want me to leave?”
She shakes her head and replies, “No. I mean, yes.” Sighing, she finishes with, “I don’t know what the fuck I want.”
I pull her into my arms, and this time, she doesn’t resist. Her small body sags in my arms. The notebook she’s holding gets crushed between us.
I murmur into her hair, “Baby, I’m not leaving you. Not now. Not ever.”
My heart skips a beat when I realize that what I said is the honest truth. I’m not ever letting this woman go.
Her head bobs in what I assume is a nod, and she sinks even deeper into my chest. I walk backward, still holding her tight, until my legs meet the edge of the bed. After settling her on top of me, I roll us to our sides and tilt her chin up.
“Want to talk?” I ask.
She shakes her head, and I don’t press.
Rubbing circles on her back, I listen until her breathing evens out. Not wanting to disturb her, I don’t bother taking her shoes off. Instead, I slowly remove the now crushed roll of toilet paper and the notebook from her hands and place them on her nightstand.
Once I’ve switched the light off, I settle back into place beside her, gathering her close to my chest. Breathing in the scent of her, I close my eyes and find sleep for the first time in days.
A week after Connor’s funeral, Abby announced that she was taking a job in Seattle and had sold the house.
Furious, I offered twice what it was worth so that Sidney wouldn’t have to move, but she refused, saying that a fresh start was best for both of them. I disagreed, and we argued about it until Sidney stepped in, saying that she didn’t want to stay in the house, either.
Unable to stop the transaction with another buyer from going through, I threw myself into the upcoming move, taking care of as much of it as I could.
The sound of the doorbell wakes me from a restless sleep, and I roll away from Sidney and push out of bed to get dressed.
Sidney mumbles into her pillow, “Who’s here at seven a.m. on a Saturday?”
Leaning over her in the bed, I kiss her head before whispering, “It’s the movers. Don’t worry about it. Just go back to sleep.”
Her eyes fly open, and she springs out of bed, nearly crashing into me. “Movers?” she shrieks.
“Yeah. To start packing up the house,” I reply slowly.
“Why the fuck are there movers here? Who hired movers?”
I run my hand through my hair before huffing, “I did.”
After throwing clothes on and rushing around the room, she stops and puts a hand to her hip. “Why?” Her voice is still high, but she’s no longer shouting.
It seems like all she’s done since we lost Connor is yell, and I haven’t been able to figure out if she’s grieving or if it’s me. I’ve tried talking to her several times, but every time I bring it up, she changes the subject or walks away. I even suggested counseling, but all that did was buy me a night of the silent treatment.
Frustrated by yet another outburst, I shout back, “So you wouldn’t have to worry about it! Fuck, Sidney. You’ve got enough on your plate.”
Her shoulders fall, and she shakes her head. “You’re right. I do. But, Breccan, I can’t have strangers packing my stuff up.” She motions around the room. “I’ll never be able to find it. They just sling shit in boxes and don’t worry about organizing it at all.”
Rolling my eyes, I assure her, “I’m sure it’ll be organized.”
The doorbell rings again.
I turn to go answer it. “But, if you want, I’ll tell them that we’ve changed our mind.”
She sits on the edge of the bed and sighs. Shoulders slumping, she begins picking at her nails. “No. Let them in. They can start in the kitchen.”
I take a step forward and bend down to kiss her, but she looks away and my lips land on her ear. Gritting my teeth, I let out a curse and stalk away to answer the door.
Sidney’s sorting through a box in the kitchen of my apartment three days later when Tripp and Rebecca come walking through the door.
“Knock, knock,” Rebecca calls as she waltzes in, a bottle of wine in each hand. “Who wants wine?”
Struggling to shut the door while holding to-go bags, Tripp grumbles, “No, Reb, I got it. Don’t worry.”
After pushing herself off the floor, Sidney brushes the seat of her pants and looks to me. “What’s going on?”
“We brought dinner,” Tripp answers, waving the bags in the air. “Steaks.”
Sidney’s expression hardens, and she purses her lips together. Crossing her arms over her chest, she narrows her eyes on me.
I was coming down the hall when they walked in but stopped in the doorway when Sidney stood.
“Uh, Breccan called and asked us to pick something up. Hope that’s okay?” Rebecca says, opening one of the wine bottles and pouring a glass. She extends the wine to Sidney, who grabs it, her eyes never leaving me, and takes several gulps.
“Seriously?” she hisses. “I told you I was cooking tonight!” She swings her arm, sloshing wine all over her hand. “I’ve got chicken thawing on the fucking counter.”
Dropping the bags on the table, Tripp backs away and says, “Uh, Rebecca. Don’t we have something to do tonight?”
Rebecca’s head bobs, and if it weren’t for the tension in the room, I would have laughed at the sight.
“Yeah,” she says. “We do, actually. Sorry to interrupt y’all.” Turning, she picks up one of the bottles of wine before glancing at Sidney and placing it back on the counter. “I’ll, uh, just leave these here.”
They’re out the door before either of us has a chance to protest.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I ask the ground, “What is your problem lately?”
I didn’t expect Sidney to bounce back to her old self any time soon, but her behavior seems to have little to do with Connor’s absence and more to do with my presence. The only time I’ve seen her visibly upset by anything is if it involves me.
“What did I do this time?” I grumble.
“Everything!” she shouts.
I snap my head up. “Excuse me?”
“Dammit, Breccan. Stop making
decisions for me!” She gestures toward the food that’s growing cold on the table. “I didn’t fucking ask for takeout. I told you I was cooking. I—”
“Sidney, you’ve got so much going on. The last thing you need to do is worry about fixing me dinner.” I come to within a foot of her, and while I desperately want to pull her into my arms, the daggers she’s shooting from her eyes root me in place.
Taking a step forward, she screeches, “I wasn’t making dinner for you!” She points a finger in my chest. “I need to do something, anything.” She wildly waves her hands around before pushing them into her hair. “I’m going crazy sitting around, doing nothing, while you’ve all but taken over my life!” Letting out a strangled cry, she begins to sob and drops to her knees.
I kneel in front of her.
But she shoves me away. “Don’t touch me!”
Ignoring her, I wrap my arms around her as she pushes against me. “I’m not leaving you alone.”
She continues to struggle, and after a few moments, I give up the fight, letting her go. Springing to her feet, she wipes the tears from her face and then races down the hall.
Deciding to wait until tomorrow to deal with it, I sit at the table to have dinner alone for the third night in a row.
It’s been a tense week since the dinner fiasco. Sidney’s refused to get out of bed for the last two days, and nothing I said would convince her otherwise.
She isn’t sleeping at night, instead tossing and turning, which makes it impossible for me to get any sleep, either. The little bit of sleep I am getting is filled with dreams of Connor.
In my dreams, he would always ask me why I wasn’t there for him when he died. Why I didn’t try harder to save him. I would wake in a cold sweat only to find Sidney lying awake beside me.
Several times, I tried to hold her, not only to comfort her, but because I needed to feel her in my arms. But, every time, she would roll away and pretend to be asleep. After several nights in a row of her rejection, I quit trying.
It’s after noon, so I decide that it’s time for Sidney to get out of bed.
Strolling into the bedroom, I see that she was already awake. “Morning, sleeping beauty,” I say, handing her a steaming mug of coffee. “Or should I say afternoon.”
She took a sip and rewards me with the first smile I’ve seen in what feels like ages. Encouraged, I crawl into bed and cuddle up next to her. She leans against me and gives me a kiss on my cheek.
After weeks of barely having been able to touch her, my body immediately responds to her show of affection. I run my hand up her bare thigh, which causes my cock to spring to life. She sets her cup on the nightstand and then wraps both arms around my shoulders, tilting her head to expose her bare neck.
Following her lead, I trail kisses on her soft skin, my need to be inside her suddenly unbearable. Growling, I nip her neck with my teeth, which elicits a moan that causes my balls to tighten. When she palms my cock through my shorts, I can’t fight it anymore.
Rolling my hips against her hand, I’m desperate for the friction.
Suddenly, she releases my dick, and I groan in objection. My disappointment vanishes when she grins wickedly at me and then pushes me on to my back.
She works my gym shorts down my hips, my cock springing free, and the sight of her licking her lips before leaning down to take me in her mouth making it jump.
Starting at the base, she runs her tongue up my shaft and then takes me all the way into her mouth.
“Fuuuuuuck,” I groan as she begins pumping my cock with one hand while licking and sucking me deep.
In only a matter of minutes I feel my orgasm tingling in my balls. I pull on Sid’s shoulder, intent on getting inside her before I come, but she gives a slight shake of her head and continues to work me.
“Shiiiit,” I hiss as the orgasm blasts through me.
She continues to suck me until I’m lying spineless on the bed, panting. Licking her lips, she crawls up the bed and then lays her cheek on my bare chest. Wrapping my arms around her, I breathe in her scent.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers—so quietly that it’s almost imperceptible. She traces circles across my abs.
“Don’t be sorry, Sid.”
“I know I’ve been pretty unbearable.” She laughs, but it’s devoid of any humor. “I’m trying though.”
We lie in a comfortable silence for a while, and eventually, she slides from the bed.
“Where ya going?” I ask.
Facing me, she murmurs, “Shower. I’ll be out soon.” She blows me a kiss and turns back toward the bathroom.
I want her to come back to bed, but I don’t get the chance to tell her. Blowing a breath out, I drag myself out of bed. Then I throw a pair of sweats on before trudging out of the room.
It’s half an hour later when, smiling sheepishly, she appears in the living room, her wet hair sticking up everywhere.
Padding into the kitchen, she asks “Do we still have coffee?”
I nod and grab a mug to pour her a fresh cup.
Propping her hip on the counter, she questions, “So, when are you going back to the gym?”
“Oh, I hit the fitness center earlier this morning, so my workout’s done for the day,” I tell her while scrolling through e-mails on my phone.
“No, I meant to start training again.” she clarifies, peeling a banana.
Glad to see her finally eating something without being forced to, I smile at her. Her tongue darts out, moistening her lower lip. I groan in approval, and she tosses me a mischievous grin, flicking her tongue out again. This time, she circles the tip of the banana before sealing her lips around it and sucking deep. Her eyes flutter shut, and she lets out a moan.
Despite having just been on the receiving end of that sexy mouth, my cock thickens and I have to adjust myself.
She opens her eyes and grins wide at me, the banana causing her cheeks to puff out like a chipmunk.
Laughing at how ridiculous she looks, I say absentmindedly, “I’m not.”
Confusion lines her face, and she almost chokes while trying to swallow her mouthful. “What do you mean you’re not?”
Shrugging, I repeat, “I’m not. I’m done training. I’m done fighting.”
The banana falls to the floor, and she sputters, “But…but why?” Her eyes are wide, and she looks like she’s about to fall into a panic attack.
I’ve seen enough of those the last few weeks to sense it creeping up on her. “What’s the matter?” I ask, concerned.
“I just… I don’t understand. Why aren’t you going to fight anymore?”
I lift my shoulders again. “I have nothing left to prove.”
Sidney blinks at me and leans her hip against the counter weakly, lifting one hand. “Well, what are you going to do if you don’t fight?” she squeaks.
“I dunno. I’ll figure it out I guess.”
“Oh, God,” she moans. Panic fills her eyes once more.
“Hey,” I say, standing to walk over to her. “Why are you so upset? I thought you’d be glad to know I don’t have to leave all the time to go to the gym or train out of town.”
“No!” she exclaims. “God, Breccan! You just don’t get it, do you?”
The disappointment I was feeling about her reaction morphs into anger, and I raise my voice to match hers. “No. Sidney, I don’t! I don’t fucking get it! Why don’t you help me understand?” My chest heaves, and I stalk to the fridge and yank the door open. I pull out a beer and take a long swig before turning back to her, “I’m waiting. Please, Sidney. Enlighten me on what the fuck it is I’ve been doing so fucking wrong for the last month!”
“You’re smothering me!” she shouts. “Fuck, Breccan. You’ve done everything. You’ve made every decision. You won’t even let me cook!”
“What’s wrong with that? You need time to grieve. You don’t need to worry about fucking dinner,” I spit.
Throwing her hands out to her sides, she says, “Yes, I do! I need to be able to
make my own choices. You can’t control everything.”
“No, Sidney, you can’t control everything!”
Her head snaps back as if I physically slapped her. She tries to speak, but I don’t give her a chance.
“It doesn’t matter how many fucking lists you make or how religious you are about taking your vitamin on time every day. God, don’t you see? In the end, what’s going to be is going to be and you can’t change that!” I bellow.
Tears stream down her cheeks. “You don’t understand. You don’t understand me at all.” She lets out a strangled sob and turns, gripping the edge of the counter.
“Yes, I do,” I say, my voice softer. Placing my beer on the counter beside her hand, I spin her toward me and tip her chin up.
She cuts her eyes away, refusing to meet my gaze, but I speak anyway.
“I loved him too, Sidney. I miss him too. I hate seeing these.” I swipe a tear that’s rolling down her cheek. “I just want to make everything easy for you so you have time to mourn. Do you think I enjoyed picking out his casket? God, do you think I wanted to clean his room out? Fuck no. I did that for you.” My voice breaks, and I have to swallow hard to keep the emotion from clogging my voice. “I love you. Jesus, I love you,” I tell her, engulfing her in my arms.
Her sobs vibrate my chest, and I take several deep breaths to keep from losing it.
She pushes away from me and looks up, her eyes swollen and still shimmering with tears. “I love you too.”
Relief floods my veins.
It’s short-lived.
“But I just can’t do this right now. I think”—she breaks off and clears her throat—“I think I need some space.” She looks away from me.
Rage bubbles up inside me. I grab the bottle of beer I set on the counter. Spinning, I launch it into my living room. It explodes as it hits the wall, liquid and foam spraying everywhere.
“Breccan!” Sidney screams.
I found her. I found the woman I want to spend my life with. And she needs space.