by Jessop, K. L
“Don’t go. It's dark out and you’re soaked through.” His fingers entwine with mine. “Just lay with me, Everly. That's all I ask.”
My eyes slam shut with his request because even though I’m desperate to run, I want nothing more than to stay with him—to be in his arms, my safe place—but I’ve not been this close to a man in years and even though it’s Adam and I know I’ll be safe, it still scares me.
But I know I have to try; I don’t want to run anymore.
The words leave me in a whisper. “Ok.”
21
Adam
Having Everly as close as she was just now has caused so many feelings to surge through me. Pain. Guilt. Relief. Desire. Bliss. They all mix into one and I can’t work out how or what I should have been feeling. I just know I needed to kiss her and know I didn't want it to stop. Something has shifted in the dark part of my heart that has been numb for so long. The way her hands gripped my shirt told me she was feeling the same electric current that ripped through my body and charged into hers when our mouths collided. She’d felt it. I know she’d felt it. Her trembling body and falling tears confirmed it. I’d been able to taste the saltiness as each one fell so freely. She wanted it, too, and has yearned for it just as hard.
When I pressed myself against her though, I knew I’d done the wrong thing, regardless of how much I know she wants this. The way her body froze made my stomach drop but it is my heart that aches from her reaction—her panic. Why? Why did she panic? I would never hurt Everly, but she’d responded in a way that made me believe she thought I would—she responded in a way that's making me question everything all over again.
“Here.” I hand her a towel and a spare T-shirt and shorts of mine that are amongst a few things I brought from home now that the cabin is liveable again. “I’m sorry; it’s all I have.”
“Thank you,” she says softly, hesitantly taking them from me and turning away. As if she can feel me watching, she looks over her shoulder nervously.
“I’ll give you a minute.” Turning from her, I swallow hard, all too aware that she is changing out of her clothes only a few feet away. The resistance to turn and look at her is difficult but I will myself to focus on the window and watch the sky light up with the strobes from the storm. I don’t want her running because I can’t control the desire that is running like wildfire inside of me.
Fuck, this is hard.
Walking to collect some dry clothes of my own, I quickly strip out of my shorts and replace them with dry ones before peeling the wet shirt from my body and continuing to dry myself with a towel.
“You’ve got a star tattoo,” I hear her murmur.
As I turn to look at her, my breath catches. She’s in only my T-shirt that rests mid-thigh, her legs on full show as her wet, tangled hair somehow falls perfectly over her shoulder. The soft glow of the cabin light dusts against her skin, making her eyes sparkle. She’s beautiful, absolutely fucking beautiful, and the urge to go and pull her against me is excessive.
But I can’t.
She looks at me with a soft smile and I remember she’s awaiting a response. I got the tattoo nine months after she left, a gathering of tiny dots that outline the shape of a star on the left side of my ribs.
“I have.”
“Why?” It’s a breathless whisper and she takes two steps towards me, closing the gap between us and inspecting the ink with her eyes as curiosity runs through her beautiful mind.
I’d needed something to remember her by. It sounds ridiculous now, but at the time I’d been trapped in the swell of grief because I’d lost the girl I loved, and I just needed to be close to her again. The stars had always been a part of who we were, so it seemed like the only thing that made sense at that time.
“So I still had something that reminded me of you,” I admit. Her eyes flash to mine, shock, pain and something I can’t put my finger on, clouding them. They fall back to the tattoo and the second she reaches out her shaky hand and her fingers trace over the ink, my body roars from her touch and my eyes slam shut. My jaws clench, my hands balling at my sides to prevent myself from pulling her against me, laying her on the mattress and spreading her thighs for me to taste, touch and feel every part of her.
When my eyes open and I look at her, I see a tear falling so effortlessly down her cheek as she remains tracing my skin. I hate seeing her this way, so broken, and not knowing why. Reaching out, I brush that little tear away with my thumb before cupping her cheek. When she presses into my hold, her eyes close for a moment before pain washes over her features. Her hand covers mine, and when she moves a fraction and places a soft kiss on the palm of my hand, I swallow hard.
“Come on,” I whisper, entwining our hands once her eyes flutter open. “Let’s lie down. The storm is going to be over us for a while yet.”
I pull back the covers on the makeshift bed, letting her get in first.
As I lie beside her, she puts enough distance between us to make me feel cold. Her body is firm, her breathing shaky and I don’t like the fact that her words are now suppressed. I want my chatty, carefree, relaxed Everly back. It fucking kills me that she’s reacting this way, but I swallow it down and pretend I’ve not noticed her behaviour. As we lay in silence, listening to the thunder humble over us, I can’t bear it any longer.
“Relax, Everly,” I whisper. “You’re not even close and I can feel the tension running off you.”
“I’m sorry,” she says, looking out across the room.
I think back over the last few hours and how much fun we’ve had, and then back over the last few days. I thought we’d had a breakthrough. Everly has been starting to open up—to smile more. The dark times of her father’s passing have been starting to become less frequent. I’ve seen signs of us becoming closer, too, then just like that, she’s shut down on me and is desperate to run when I get intimate. Why? She’s a contradiction I can’t work out. She wants this; I know she does. But it’s what has her so afraid that is concerning me, and I don’t like the thoughts about this scenario that are now running through my head, which is why I find myself saying. “I’m not going to hurt you, Everly.”
I reach out to stroke her damp hair and speak with honesty. “I want you—I can’t lie about that—but I’m not going to make you do anything you’re not comfortable with. You can trust me.”
I don’t think she is going to respond until her voice breaks in a tearful whisper. “You promise?”
“I promise.”
“Then can you just hold me?”
As I reach out for her, she turns on her side, curling herself into me. Her face is at the crook of my neck, her arm locked over my chest like she needs to hold on in fear that she’s likely to fall. She’s broken—a lot more broken than I first thought—and my heart tugs, desperate to help her but hurts so much because I have no idea what she needs help with. I’ve always thought it was me who was the problem, but now I’m not so sure. Ten years apart is a long time, and what first made her leave may not be the reason she’s clearly so broken and scared now.
“Don’t shut down on me, okay?” I kiss her forehead. “I’ve got you.”
“Thank you, Adam,” she whispers.
“What for?”
“Helping me breathe.”
My chest tightens. She’s not the only one that can now breathe. Looking at her, I stroke my thumb across her lips and her eyes blink up at me, her big chestnut hues both a mixture of desire and uncertainty. I won’t push her: I respect what she wants, and I'll hold her for as long as she needs, but my God, it's fucking killing me. I want her so bad.
“Do you have any idea how beautiful you are?” I murmur.
She studies me for a moment before she shakes her head gently. Has no one else told her? Why hasn't anyone told her? She's beautiful in every way. I want to tell her every day if she'll let me. As I stroke my thumb along her pink, plump lips once more, the temptation is too great. “Everly Rose, can I kiss you once more?” I ask softly, needing her to say
yes. Still holding my gaze, she searches for something deep within my soul, what, I don't know, and I'm almost certain she's going to pull away from me because of what I've asked but she doesn't. She just confirms her answer with words that are also full of request.
“Just a kiss.”
I trace my fingertip over her cheek acknowledging her words. “Just a kiss.”
I press my lips to hers with grace, softly and tenderly, and when I slip my tongue into her mouth, a little whimper escapes her. Her hand moves to my jaw, her fingers lace through my hair and the tingles shoot all the way down to my toes with her touch like never before. The deeper I kiss her, the harder our hearts pound, mine rapid, hers even greater—I can feel it against my body. My dick aches, and her nipples harden against the thin shirt that is separating us.
I want to pull her closer, but I don't.
I want to trail my hands over her sexy little body, but I don't.
I can't because I made her a promise, and when she feels exactly what she's doing to me, I know I'll lose her. So instead, I cup her cheek and just kiss her in the most delicate way I've ever kissed her before, letting her hands explore my neck and shoulders like she's not had this much contact with anyone in so long.
“Everly,” I whisper against her lips. “Even after all these years, you still drive me crazy.”
* * *
My eyes blink open, waking up to the cabin now in darkness. It’s quiet outside, the rain has stopped, the thunder has passed through, leaving a still in the air. My skin glows from having Everly beside me, my body as satisfied as it can be from having her mouth against mine. Kissing Everly always used to be one of my favourite things—it was an intimacy we both loved when no words where needed but we need a connection that had our hearts racing and our bodies humming.
I’d kissed her again, then again, devouring her existence, making love to her mouth in ways that had whimpers escaping the back of her throat as groans rumbled from mine. She’d trusted me enough to let my hand roam over her body, caressing her back and hips over the top of her shirt. I never touched her in the way I’d wanted, and it killed me not to be able to, but I’d been satisfied with what I had.
She hadn’t hesitated when I’d pulled her close, and when she’d let me kiss the sensitive spot of her neck in wet kisses, I’d felt her body shudder. Our connection, the movements of our lips, the tenderness of each other as our tongues danced, all spoke a thousand words and made me feel a hundred more. Then, I had let her take full advantage of me when her lips pressed against mine once more. She’d kissed me like I was the oxygen she needed in order to keep her alive. She’d been sweet yet powerful and when the palm of her hand pressed against my racing heart and she deepened the kiss, I’d known she knew damn well what she was doing to me. But as I lie here, now in silence, thinking of that passionate moment we shared, my heart locks with uncertainty as I feel the hotness of her tears on my chest, the soft trail of her fingers tracing over my skin while I listen to the words she weeps, thinking that I can’t hear them.
“I’m so sorry, Adam,” she whispers. “You have no idea how much I have missed you. How much I’ve needed you.”
I don’t say anything. I just try to control my rapid heart that has responded to her words—words I’ve wanted to hear but ones I’m now not sure I’m happy to hear. The only part of this that angers me is that she’s telling me when she thinks I’m sleeping because she can’t bring herself to tell me in person. But what comes next is even harder to bear and has my emotions thick in my throat as I try and comprehend everything that’s happening when she softly breaks down at the side of me.
“I never wanted to leave you. I swear. But I didn't have a choice. I was left with no choice. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.” She kisses my chest, curling herself into me as my heart rips in two and my temples pulse. “You have always been my one and only, Adam. It’s always been you. It’s only ever been you.”
That’s all it takes. Closing my eyes, I let a stray tear fall as my heart burns in raw pain. If only she knew how much she hurt me. If only she knew how much I still want her. If only I knew what I did that was so terrible that had her running when she never wanted to leave. I need to know. I’ve respected her wishes and not pushed her into telling me, but this changes everything. She can't say these things to me and not tell me the real reason why she fled. I need those answers that I know will crush me. I’ve waited too long and hurt too often. I can’t do this anymore. I need to know because if I don't, she’s not the only one that’s going to be surrounded in darkness.
22
Adam
I always love the smell of the air after a good storm. It recharges the growth, cleanses the environment and brings out the smallest of insects that you may not have noticed hours before. As I sit by the lake, looking out over the still water, I watch the birds dipping and diving. There’s nothing but tranquillity around me, and it makes me realise why I could never leave. Keswick is a beautiful place full of good people, a community that looks out for each other making it more of a home than you might ever think it would become. But today, as I sit here at the edge of the pier, thinking about last night, my mood isn’t how it should be.
I don’t want to be here today.
I don’t want to be in this place I call home.
I don’t want to be around people that care about me.
I just want to be on my own, away from everything. I want to rewind my life back and erase the last five weeks—be that man I was before she returned.
I may not be a truly happy man, I may not have voiced how lonely I really am, but I am a man—a man with dreams and a career that I fulfil every hour that each day gives me. I’ve worked my arse off to become a better person because I wanted to escape the life I had and start a new one. And I somehow did. But now I’m back to fucking square one because she’s consumed me once again, just like she did when she first walked into my class, turning my world. I was beginning to get a hold on life once more, but I don’t feel like a man today. I don’t know how or what I feel, but I don’t want to be consumed by this deep, enraged unknown feeling that’s suffocating me. I am a fool for even thinking that getting close to her again would change things for the better. I am a fool to believe Mr Braithwaite’s words and to try to look after his daughter because all the times I’ve been there for her, who the hell has been there for me? Mac and Mum, yes, but they don’t know the extent of how I felt about Everly and don’t know the half of how I feel for her now. Closure doesn’t even come into this because I seem to be on this spinning wheel that never stops. The words Everly spoke are invading my thoughts to the point I can’t think straight and what has fucked me off more than ever is that when I woke to the warmth of the sun this morning, the coldness soon crept over my skin when I realised she was gone. I shouldn’t be surprised as it’s what she does, but I thought we’d made a breakthrough.
Our relationship has switched gears, the electric charge that’s between us has made its connections. Then, just like last night didn’t happen or didn’t matter, she took off.
She’s hurt me all over again and what’s worse is I fucking fell for it. I don't know how much longer I can go on pretending that everything is fine when it clearly isn't. I don't care about what's happened over the weeks. I don't care that she's hurting. I've been there for her when I didn't have to be. Now, it's my time, and I'm not going to stop until I get those goddamn fucking answers.
“There you are?”
I hear her voice from behind and my eyes drift closed. I don’t say anything; I just focus on the water as I hear her pad down the pier.
“I’ve just been to the cabin, but you weren’t there.”
Not nice when someone just takes off is it?
“I woke and you’d gone,” I say abruptly, just as the smell of something delicious hits my senses.
Sitting beside me, she holds out a bag. “I went to check on Mum and get us breakfast.”
She’s not lying:
she’s changed her clothes, her hair is braided and—as I’ve already noticed—she has food. I should feel like an arsehole for jumping to conclusions, but I don’t. I’m past the point of caring.
“I’ve got bacon rolls and coffee. You hungry?”
“No.”
“You need to eat.” She nudges my shoulder and smiles, but I just look right at her. Her smile fades and uncertainty is in her eyes as the tension between us draws up like a thick heavy wall.
“Like I said. I’m not hungry.”
“What’s wrong, Adam? Have I done something to upset you?”
An unexpected laugh rumbles from my throat. “What makes you think that?” I turn to look at her, her big chestnut eyes locked on mine, confusion running through her features that is making me want to reach out and touch her to let her know even now, she still has me. But the arsehole part of me doesn’t give a shit right now, and it’s that side of me that’s roaring out stronger than ever. Yes, she’s done something. She’s done a lot of fucking things.
“I-I don’t know. But after last night I thought we were getting somewhere and you’re—”
“What? I’m what?”
“Being a complete arse and confusing me.” Her soft voice changes and the fight in her is starting to creep through.
I raise my brows, astonished that I’m the one being blamed here. “I'm confusing you?”
“Yes.”
“Right. Whatever.” I wave her off.
“Are you pissed because I didn't have sex with you last night?”
“No.”
“Then what the hell is your problem because you’re acting like a child and I can't be dealing with shit like this.”
“Oh poor, Everly. It’s always about you isn’t it?”
I can feel her eyes burning into me even after I’ve looked away. My blood is burning with frustration and guilt.