A Long Time Coming

by Heather Van Fleet

  She growled, freeing herself, somehow, only to push him over onto his back. Damn she was strong. “Then let me take control.” She straddled him, inches from covering him completely. A vixen in disguise, Abigail was damn near evil.

  Shaking his head, he growled, flipping her back over, adoring the soft gasp that spilled from her mouth as he did. “Not this time, Abs…”

  And then he entered her, pushing so deeply inside of her, that he couldn’t stop the growl escaping from his throat if he tried. Dammit…The last time they did this didn’t do the moment justice.

  Giggles of joy were soon outweighed by her moans of pleasure as he pushed in and out of her—over and over—slow, perfect…damn near mind–blowing. Needing to bide his time, and not end this far too early, he went for her mouth again, devouring it like she was the only food he’d had for months. Tasting her tongue, tasting the sweetness of the orange she’d eaten just minutes before on his hot tongue.

  Abigail was like his buffet, and he’d never get his fill.

  Wrapping her legs around his waist gave him the perfect angle to rock further into her. Giving her what she silently asked for, taking what he silently demanded. Sweat ran down the back of his neck, dripping in between his shoulder blades. He shivered at the sensation as she gripped his waist with one hand. Nails dug deep into his skin, the pressure reminding him just how real this moment was. She raked her other set of skillful fingers through his tangled curls, moaning against his throat as the pressure between them increased.

  “Baby, you’ve got to take it easy on me… I won’t last.”

  She groaned into his ear. Jesus Christ, was she smiling? Enjoying this? Because he was beyond fucking serious here. The girl made him all sorts of crazy.

  “Don’t worry…because,” she nibbled against his lobe, “…neither will I. Now go faster…please!”

  Christ…did she say faster? This girl was insatiable, and he loved the hell out of her for it. So he gave her faster—she met him pace by pace—until the moment she stiffened and exploded around him. “Fuck me…” He was doing exactly that, wasn’t he? He grinned, hell yeah he was.

  He pulled back and stared down at her, enjoying the scenery of pleasure morph over her pink–stained cheeks. It was the sweetest sight he’d ever heard and seen. And the last thing he thought of before he exploded himself was that he was now, more than ever, completely and utterly addicted to her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Okay, she was tired, and that was the understatement of the year. It wasn’t just the sexual escapades that had her worn completely to the core, it was the guilt and emotions that accompanied her happiness that made sleep so desperately necessary. Oh, not to mention the fact that she was pregnant.

  Harley drove her to the airport that afternoon, after she and David said their goodbyes in the small space of the bedroom where they’d spent the better part of the night and day. It was easier that way. There was no need to get all mushy and dramatic in front of Harley and Mason, especially since they’d decided to keep their little turn of relationship events to themselves…at least for now. They had to figure it all out before they took their status to the level they were both already secretly committed to ascend.

  Her best friend had to have known that something was up, because the smile she’d worn the entire morning was plastered on her cheeks throughout the drive to the San José airport. But she didn’t ask, surprisingly, which made her worry that Harley’s head was still all messed up from Mason’s marriage demands.

  Getting answers out of her had been impossible, and that was sad, mostly because they used to share everything with each other. But the time and distance apart from one another were evident, and as much as she loved her best friend, she knew they were growing apart. But it was okay. She had David…and their baby. Life was on the fast track to awesomeness, and no matter what, she’d find that perfect, black and white checkered flag at the finish line.

  Surprise registered on her face, and she curled her lips in annoyance as she pulled into her driveway, finding what appeared to be two moving vans parked right outside her garage door. Men in white suits hauled furniture and various items down from the front door, while her mom stood watch on the stoop.

  “Ah, fuck me…” she groaned, pulling up to the curb. She shook her head, pocketing her keys as she left the car. Who in the hell was moving out?

  “Abigail…” her mom cried, racing down the steps. Throwing her short arms around her neck, she sobbed into Abigail’s shoulders, her tank top a wet mess of snot and tears from the annoying blubbering when she pulled away.

  “What the hell, Mom? What’s going on?”

  Wiping at her blotchy red face, her mother stared up at her with a look that pissed her off and scared the crap out of her. “Your dad, honey…he’s…he’s leaving us. He’s sleeping with…someone from work.” She spat the words out, like they were poison in her mouth.

  Hell no…this was not her father’s doing entirely. “Don’t fucking lie to me, Mom,” she dropped her arms to her side, backing away from her mother. “I know all about Bob the builder and his extra work load in the basement,” face paling, her mom pressed a hand to her throat. An unreadable expression passed through her eyes.

  “I…I have no idea what you’re talking about. I would never cheat on daddy. You know that!”

  Shaking her head, Abigail ran back to her car, grabbing her bag from the back seat, completely ignoring her mother’s pleas from behind. The lady has some girlie nuts that was for damn sure.

  “Save it, Mom. I really don’t want to hear it right now,” she shoved past her, ramming into her shoulder as she darted angrily towards the house. Jesus, she knew it was getting bad, but for her mother to lie about it was completely ridiculous.

  “Don’t you walk away from me, young lady!” Her voice rose; gone were the fake tears and the sappy, sadness of her voice. “I am your mother, you are the daughter, and you will respect me.”

  Arguing with her was a wasted effort. Turning to face her in the dining room, she jabbed a finger in her mother’s face, letting her have it—tears of anger and hatred, years of frustration over never having a mom who cared like she should came raging out. “You are never going to be entrusted with that title again, you hear me? I. Hate. You. You are no longer my mother.”

  God, she was not a hater. If anything, she loved more than she should have. But her mother was a sorry excuse of a woman, and it was about time she knew it.

  Yelling words were lost behind her as she tottered up the stairs towards her room. She’d have to move out of there—soon. Dropping her bag on the bed, she took to pacing the floor, needing to figure this out. She and David were fragile, their relationship was so new, and asking him to move in with her somewhere was out of the question. Flipping on the computer, she decided she’d check out the ads online, determine whether there was some sort of apartment for rent. She sat back in her chair, waiting for the slow–as–shit laptop to boot up.

  Damn. This was not how she envisioned herself coming home from Santa Cruz, especially after what had happened. Leaning back in her chair, she took a few deep breaths, trying to calm her nerves. She knew she’d have to call her dad—it was obvious he was pretty damn upset if he wasn’t even around to supervise the move of his stuff. But that phone call was not high on her to–do list today. She knew he’d be a mess. Her dad was the only thing that kept their family from falling apart. Granted, she was almost nineteen, but it still wasn’t a good feeling to know that your parents were on the fast track to divorce. She knew one thing though: Those were four footprints she’d never follow along. Marriage and love lasted, no matter how sexy the secretary was, or how hot the home repair dude appeared.

  After twenty minutes of scrolling, and finding absolutely nothing that fit into her price range, Abigail picked up the phone, needing to talk to someone, needing to talk to David. She missed him already, and hearing his voice would cure all her ailments. He was like the perfect balance in her rocky worl
d.

  Picking up on the first ring, the sound of his words filled her with every emotion she could grasp hold of that was good. “Abs? You there? Hello?”

  Saying hello herself was almost impossible as the tears and sobs choked her. But she managed, with a smile on her face as she did. “Hey, I’m home.”

  A breathy sigh of obvious relief echoed over the phone, and she smiled, almost envisioning him dragging his hand through his hair. “God, I miss you so much already.”

  Giddiness almost replaced her sadness. He…was missing her… Those words had never sounded sweeter. “I miss you too…” Toying with the end of her hair, she blew out a breath, needing to tell him—needing his opinion on what to do even more. “My dad’s moving out. My mom’s cheating on him. Supposedly he’s sleeping with someone in his office, but I don’t believe it because my dad would never do that. He loves my mom and me too much.” Blabbering was her biggest habit whenever she got overwhelmed, and that was exactly the emotion plaguing her body. What would David say in response though?

  “I had no idea, Abigail. I knew things weren’t the greatest at home, but…shit…I’m sorry. I fly in late tonight. I’ll have my dad drop me off. I’ll be there for you. In any way you want me to.”

  He would, she knew that. David Anderson was the best guy ever—stand up, loving, a giver, never a taker. His love was always there, even when you didn’t deserve it. And to know that she had him in her corner was all that she needed to get through this.

  “No, it’s okay. It’ll be late, and I have to get up and work in the morning before school, so I’m going to go to sleep early.” She gnawed on her lip, shutting her eyes at the silence on the other end of the line. What a piss–poor excuse! She wanted him there—in her bed—holding her, telling her that things would be okay. But again, she had to stand on her own two feet. She was never going to let anyone fight her emotional battles for her. She had to do that all by herself.

  “Oh…” His eventual reply was despondent, downright wretched as a matter of fact. Fear dominated the thoughts in her head, and she flexed and un–flexed her hand. The last thing she wanted was for him to think that she was pushing him away.

  Determined to set this right, she sat up straight in her chair and pressed her free hand to her throat as she spoke. “But tomorrow night, don’t forget…”

  “Forget about our first official date? Hell, Abigail, I’ve had this date planned for fourteen years, you really don’t think I’d forget the one thing I’ve lived for, do you?”

  Grinning, she stood up only to settle on top of her comforter. Not bothering to pull it back, she curled into a fetal position and lay on her side, tucking the phone between her head and the pillow.

  Jesus, was she sixteen again? Never had she gotten so giddy over simply talking to a boy on the phone. “Well then, are you going to tell me what to wear?” Shutting her eyes, she grinned at her sneaky, dirty thoughts. Hopefully whatever she wore wouldn’t be on for long.

  “Hmm… Just…be comfy. And make sure you bring a jacket too. Other than that, I’ve got this all taken care of, so no worries.”

  “Okay Mr. Super Planner, I will do that then.”

  God, she was a freaking kid here, wanting nothing more than to suddenly stuff her face into the pillow and squeal. It was amazing how he could get her out of a depressing funk with a few simple words.

  “Abigail, I just want to say thank you…”

  She blinked. Now that was random. “For what exactly?”

  “For giving me a chance again, for never stopping in your pursuit of making me happy… For being the one person I could always count on, besides Harley. And for helping me live again.” He sucked in a breath, his final words coming out more quietly than the previous, “For giving me something to want to live for.”

  Wow…what could she possibly say to that? She swallowed, wanting to cry and squeal at his words. “Hey…that’s all you. You made the final choice, and I just went along happily for the ride.”

  “Damn, you have no idea do you?”

  Narrowing her eyes, she spoke, her anger mounting at his obvious self–doubt. “Yes, I do. You are strong…it just took you a little while to realize what you wanted. And that’s okay. We all move at our own paces in life. Take it from me. I like ninety…you’re like, forty–five. Together, we met in the middle at seventy, and that speed is perfectly fine by me.” She shrugged; it was the truth.

  “Abs, dammit… You are the only reason I chose to move on. You are my whole life, my whole world. And no matter what you think, no matter how you feel, just go with it—let me have you as my light, let me show you the tunnel I’ve been down for so long—just so we can find the happiness we both deserve…together.”

  There went his poetic words again. If there was ever a man who knew how to rock her soul, her entire being with a single speech, it was David—her baby’s father—her reason, just as much as his. They’d get through their issues; find that light he spoke of together, as one pair that simply belonged together.

  * * *

  “You don’t look good, David.” Nice…his dad was in rare, ass–holish form tonight apparently. He was tired, yeah, but he was happy, damn happy as a matter of fact. And that meant something, at least to him it did.

  He didn’t want any part of small talk tonight, but his dad was his ride home, so he needed to be on civil ground with the guy who seemed annoyed at the simple prospect of picking up his one–legged son from the airport at eleven at night.

  “Yeah, I didn’t get much sleep.”

  A groan of disapproval slipped from his father’s mouth as he reached for David’s bag and slung it over his shoulder. He almost stopped him, almost reached out to grab the fucking thing himself. Tell the asshole that he could get it and find a ride home, too. But again, he needed to just keep his mouth shut because arguing with his big mountain man of a grumpy father was never a good idea. The guy got ugly–mean when he wanted to, with a temper that came out with more vengeance than any one man should carry around. Guess in a way he was more like his father than he thought.

  Silently, they made their way through the airport and towards the car. With an hour drive home ahead of them, David slipped in his earbuds, needing to escape with the music on his iPod. But twenty minutes into the drive, they were ripped from his ears. The sound of his father’s harrumphs filled the car instead.

  “Christ Dad, what’s your problem tonight?”

  Through gritted teeth, his father growled back. “My problem, Son, is you.”

  Well shit. Toot his mother–fucking horn. The man was finally going to get it all out there, wasn’t he? He smirked through his anger. This ought to be interesting. “Yep, I know it is.” He sat back in his seat, ready to take it and ready to just let it slide off his shoulders until it stuck inside his heart and built up to a point of eruption. He’d deal with it then, but for now, he’d live in denial.

  “No, I don’t think you do know, David Paul.” He cleared his throat, his tone falling from pissed, to angry, to downright detached in a matter of seconds. “It’s your mother. She’s—”

  “A train wreck? Yeah, I already knew that.”

  “No, god dammit.” His hand slapped down on the console between them. He beat against the hard leather as he spoke. “Stop that. Stop the attitude. Stop with the insults. You have no idea what you’re saying anymore.” David scoffed, shutting his mouth, sealing it into a tight line, capturing the retort on his tongue before it fell out. It was better to just take it all in when the man got like this, and arguing with a guy who was twice his size wasn’t wise.

  “David, she’s sick…and you need to fix things between the two of you—fix your bad attitude. Not to forget the fact that you need to fix your fucking life, before it’s too late!”

  If there was ever a time he felt as though his breath was stolen in its entirety from his lungs, then it was this once. Because apparently his father didn’t just think of him as a waste of space, he also thought of him as wo
rthless. The truth hurt. But to hear it from someone who helped give you life, hurt even more.

  Sighing, he pressed his face into his palms, trying to gain some composure, not wanting the man to see how badly his words affected him. Little did his father know that his life was on the verge of being fixed. In fact, it was currently being held together by a metaphorical Abigail Band–Aid. He just didn’t need his dad or his mom to know yet; not until he knew for sure himself what was going on.

  But damn, he was trying, really, and truly trying.

  “Okay, so what do you mean, she’s sick?” He swallowed the lump that ate away at the sides of his throat before the rest of the words slipped through his dry lips. “Does she have a cold or something? I mean she gets so fucking worked up about shit, and she always gets sick because of that…”

  Growling, his dad spat his words out on an angry whisper, “Christ David, that’s what I’m talking about. I can’t take you home to her if you’re going to continue to act that way.”

  “Well excuse, fucking, me. Just drop me off now along the side of the road. I’ll find somewhere else to go. Maybe I’ll just take my ass back to California and live with my sister. She at least gives a shit about me.”

  The tires peeled against the wet road, and he reached for the handle as his dad slammed against the brakes along the side of the highway. He shoved the gear into park before shutting down the ignition. “You are an ungrateful, selfish bastard. You know that?”

  “Ha, thanks, Dad. Love you too.”

  “Dammit, David, this is not how I wanted this to go tonight. We need to talk.”

  Shaking his head, David threw his hands up into the air, “Go on then. I’m waiting. I know I disgust you. I know I’m not the son you wanted to have. But you get what you get, and if you don’t want me, then I don’t have to be at home anymore.”

  “Is that what you think?” Exasperation filled his father’s words. His eyes were blurred with both anger and tears as he flipped the interior dash light on. “Because let me tell you something, David. I could care fucking less how many legs you have, Son. I will always love you, and I will always be proud of you and what you’ve become. But what I’m not proud of is how far you’ve let yourself go. You are tough, and it’s time you showed it again.”