“Maybe she’s seeing someone that makes her want to take care of herself,” he offered gently.
I considered it, accepting he might be onto something, and rolled my eyes as I found my smile. “God, I hate you.”
“We’ve already established that’s not true,” he teased, squeezing me before kissing my cheek.
My hands left the railing to lay over his tattooed forearms. It was hard to believe this relationship thing was new for us when it came so naturally. This affection. The love we were finally being honest about. It was the easiest thing in the world and I choked on the knowledge that, once again, he made everything okay.
I shook my head. “God, I’m so fucking happy you’re here right now.”
“Yeah, so am I. You ready to go back in?”
With a deep breath, I nodded, and he took my hand in his, leading me back inside. We walked through to the dining room, where Mom was sitting patiently, eating her cottage pie like nothing had happened. She looked up with an apologetic smile and tapped the table, requesting that I sit down beside her.
“I know this is weird, Ky—”
“Mom, why didn’t you tell me sooner?” I blurted out, unaware that it had even been something I was thinking. “You could’ve told me. You didn’t have to keep it to yourself.”
“I didn’t want to say anything until I was sure it was serious,” she offered.
“Mom, I’m not a little kid,” I reminded her gently.
Sighing, she nodded. “I know that, honey, but I also know how difficult it was for you, when your father passed—”
“For me? I thought it was pretty freakin’ difficult for both of us,” I disputed, utterly bewildered that she could imply that it was only one-sided.
Mom nodded, a sympathetic apology glassing over her eyes. “Kylie, I didn’t actually change a whole lot after your father’s death; you just didn’t realize it, until he wasn’t here to be a distraction.”
I shook my head. “Mom, don’t—”
“Honey,” she interrupted, laying her hand over mine. “Listen to me. I devoted so much of my life to worrying about him and caring for him—defending him, even. And when he was gone, I didn’t know how to pick myself up again. I didn’t even know who I was, it had been so long.”
My lips parted with a quiet gasp. Was that the truth? Had her love for my father and devotion to taking care of him caused her to lose herself?
“I loved your father, you know that, and I would never in a million years take back my time with him. As trying and heartbreaking as it was. But, I also had ambitions and dreams, and I had to give those up for him, because of who he was. I forgot what it was to be myself, and it wasn’t until I met Richard, that I remembered.”
She picked up a biscuit and took a bite before pointing it in Devin’s direction. “You’re lucky you’ve had this one,” she said, her mouth full. “I’m lucky for that as well. I’ve always known you were okay, as long as he was around.”
That makes two of us. I swallowed at the lump in my throat. “So, Richard, huh?” I asked with a little smile while squeezing Devin’s hand in mine. “How did you meet him?”
Mom’s cheeks pinked. “At the grocery store. We just … got to talking in the checkout line.”
“What does he do?” Devin asked.
“He’s, um … in business management,” she replied.
“Like you, KJ,” he said with a gentle grin and a nudge against my ribs.
I nodded slowly and bit my lip before teasing, “So, is he the inspiration behind the redecorating?”
She smiled, a twinge of sadness evident in her melodic laugh. “No. I realized a while ago that I couldn’t keep living with your father’s ghost forever. I was holding him back from finally being free, and I couldn’t keep doing that to him.”
Not like he had done to her. I knew she wanted to say it, after what she had just confessed to me. The things I had been too blind to see for myself.
“But he did help me with the house,” she admitted. “I couldn’t do it myself.”
“You could’ve called. I—”
“We,” Devin interrupted, his hand pulsing around mine.
“We would’ve helped,” I told her, hurt that she hadn’t thought to call, but she held up her hand.
“No,” she said, stern. “I wasn’t going to do that to you. You had already been through enough, and you were off, living your life. Richard offered, and—”
“Wait.” A hot flash of angry sadness waved over me. “So, you just allowed a stranger to throw away all of Daddy’s stuff?” I snapped. “Maybe I would’ve liked a say in what happened to his things, Mom.”
“Kylie,” she said, gently stroking her thumb over the back of my hand. Treating me like a kid and I guess, in some ways, I was still trapped there. A little girl, still grieving the loss of her daddy. “There are boxes of some of his things in your old room. Which, by the way, was another reason I wanted you to come by. You’re not obligated to take everything, but you can go through them and decide what you’d like to keep.”
I nodded, relaxing with a deep breath. “Thank you,” I said, and then added, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—"
Mom folded her hand around mine. “It’s okay, honey. You’re allowed to react. I’m just glad it’s out in the open,” she said, making her relief obvious with a whoosh of air passing through her lips. “What was it you wanted to tell me?”
“Um …” It took me a moment to remember my words, and at the sight of Devin’s hand wrapped around mine, they came back to me. “Oh, uh, so … Dev and I are together now.”
I wish I could’ve mustered the enthusiasm to back the words up. I wish I could’ve jumped up and down and celebrated in the way I wanted to, but I was emotionally spent, unsure of how to process everything all at once, and so my announcement was lackluster.
So was Mom’s reaction.
She tipped her head to the side, scrunching her eyes and nose. “This is news?”
I turned to Devin, shocked. “Uh, well, yeah …” I said, and he nodded.
Mom, obviously flustered, touched the back of her neck. “I, um … well, I just always assumed that was the type of relationship you two had.”
“What? No!” I protested with a blunt laugh, appalled. I stared at her disbelieving. “Was that why you had such a problem with us living together?”
“She had a problem with us living together?” Devin chimed in.
“She called me a slut!”
“You called her a slut?” Devin asked her, laughing.
Mom actually giggled, covering her mouth with a hand. “I did not call you a slut, Kylie. I mean, seriously …”
“You might as well have called me a slut. You said a self-respecting woman doesn’t shack up with some guy she’s not even committed to.”
Mom laughed again. “I thought you had a, um, special friendship.”
Devin’s laughter continued as he leaned back in his chair. “Holy hell, your mom thought we were friends with benefits.”
“Well, what was I supposed to think?” She continued giggling, the flush deepening on her cheeks. “Honestly, I always thought it was more than that, but I wasn’t sure either of you would ever commit, so you just took what you could get, which was why—”
“Why you called me a slut. Right.” I shook my head, with my smile tugging at my lips.
“Oh God,” she said, playfully rolling her eyes as she shoved at my shoulder. I missed this side of her. “Anyway, I’m thrilled for the two of you. How long has this been going on?”
“Yesterday,” Devin said, dropping my hand to finally dive back into a room-temperature dinner. Mom tried asking him if she could reheat it but he just shook his head.
“And you came over here instead of spending time together?” she asked, flattening her hands over her chest. Complimented.
“Well, we got dinner out of the deal, so it wasn’t a complete loss,” Dev answered with his mouth full, and I shoved hard against him. He only laugh
ed. “Anyway, when you come down, you can stay in the other bedroom, because we won’t be using it.”
“You guys waste no time, huh,” Mom replied dryly, a little smile tugging at the corners of her mouth while she tried to keep a stern expression.
Devin cleared his throat and put down his fork, and judging from the look on his face, he was about to say something serious. He turned to my mom. “If I’m being totally honest, Mrs. James, I’ve already wasted the last thirteen years of my life. So, if that means running out and spending a couple grand on a bed, so that I can finally start living my life the way I want it, then …” He shrugged. “Then, you know, that’s what I gotta do.”
He lifted my hand, brushed his lips against my knuckles and casually resumed eating, as though he hadn’t just shut my mother down with a speech meant for cheesy romantic movies. I swallowed, floating on a mixed wave of emotions, and I glanced at my mother. I was surprised to find her eyes glossing over with tears and she smiled when she met my gaze.
“Any man who’s willing to disrespect his potential mother-in-law, to defend what he has, with the woman he loves, is a man worth holding on to,” she said affirmatively, nodding, and then she added, “and Devin, you better start calling me Grace.”
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Devin
The last time I was in Kylie’s old bedroom, I was helping her pack her things. Boxing up clothes and trinkets, old CDs and pictures.
Years later, there were still a few empty boxes sitting untouched on the floor. Layered in dust and time.
The boxes on the bed, were newer and sealed. Kylie slowly approached them with caution, hands shaking at her sides. I closed the door behind us and I took two hurried steps past her, standing at the bed.
“Do you want me to do it?” I offered gently.
“No, I think I’m okay,” she said in a voice stronger than I had expected and she took the final step to the bed. Placing her hands over the lid of the first box. Her deep breath was controlled, her fingers firm, but I stood at the ready. Prepared to catch her.
Kylie’s eyes lifted to mine. “I never realized how much of her life was given up, because of him.”
Then she shook her head, taking a step backward. “Well, no, I know things were fucked up. He was addicted to drugs, for crying out loud. Shit was far from normal, I know that, but … she stayed with him. She could’ve left if she was so miserable.”
My jaw tightened and tensed. “Love doesn’t always give us a choice, KJ.”
“We always have a choice,” she disputed, her expression stony and unmoving.
I looked down to her and shook my head. “I never did.”
She scoffed, fingertips scraping over cardboard. “You’re telling me that you would stay by my side, even if that meant giving up everything you—” Her words came to an abrupt halt as a certain realization dawned over her. I watched her features loosen and her lips part. Her eyes softened and raised back to mine, and she shook her head. “Devin … I never—”
“Before you say anything, I want you to know that I don’t regret anything I’ve done. I don’t regret the store. I don’t regret the years I’ve spent in construction. I regret absolutely nothing, okay? So, don’t feel guilty for how I’ve spent a huge chunk of my life, because it brought me here,” I said assertively, holding her gaze with mine and meaning every single word.
“In my old bedroom. Yeah, that’s a really great place to be,” she said quietly, shaking her head.
“I’m with you, aren’t I?”
She shrugged. “Yeah, but—”
“Yeah, well, that is the greatest place I could ever be,” I said. I took her hands from the box and turned her body to stand parallel to mine. Brought her fingers to my neck, laid them over my skin, and reached down to rest my hands on her hips. “Sometimes love is sacrifice, Kylie.”
“But my mom acts like she was miserable,” she said, as I pulled her into me, flush with my body.
“Sometimes love makes us miserable.”
“Have I made you miserable?”
I thought about that for a moment, looking into her eyes of blue and bluer still. I thought about my words, how I’d string them together if I were writing a song. What would bring the most impact in fewer words? But without my notebook, I couldn’t visualize them, and so all I could say was simply, “The only pain I’ve ever felt is yours.”
That seemed to do the trick, as her lower lip tucked between her teeth and her eyes swam in their pools of tears.
“My dad was in a lot of pain,” she said in a hushed voice.
“Then I can imagine your mom was also,” I said. “Imagine going through so much of your life, feeling someone else’s pain, and then suddenly being free of it. I know I wouldn’t know what the fuck to do with myself.”
She shook her head and tightened her grip on my neck. “I’d rather feel your pain and be miserable than ever be without you. I won’t ever be able to move on from this, not from you.”
I smiled, my throat tightening at the unexpected emotional turn the evening was taking, and I nodded. “I think good old Edgar has a quote for that, doesn’t he?”
Her eyes stared up into mine as she recited, “’Love like mine can never be gotten over.’”
I bowed my head and touched my forehead to hers. “I’m right there with you, baby.”
Craning her neck, she grazed her lips over mine and I shuddered at the touch. I hadn’t grown accustomed to this; kissing her whenever I wanted, touching her when I had the urge. Well, of course I hadn’t—I had thirteen years of longing to make up for.
“I don’t want you to forget you have a dream,” she whispered, her lips dancing over mine as she spoke. Her words hot on my skin. “Not for me.”
“You are my dream,” I said, closing my eyes to her touch, her voice. My hands slid down over her hips to grip her thighs in my palms and I lifted her up, hooking her legs around my waist.
“Don’t say that. Don’t give up because of me,” she protested, as I walked blindly to where her old dresser stood. The white chest of drawers, covered in stickers from pop-punk bands from her youth.
“Baby, I’ve never been more committed to anything in my entire life,” I said, sliding her onto the surface and fitting my hips between her open thighs.
“You’re insane,” she said, shaking her head and teasing the ends of my hair with wandering fingertips, creeping up the back of my head. Pulling me down to her waiting lips.
“’I was never insane, except upon occasions when my heart was touched,’” I quoted. I kissed her mouth and her hands slid to cup my face, holding me back, and I delved into the oceanic depths of her eyes.
“I have a question,” she said, her eyes fixated on seeking her answers from somewhere dark and deep within my soul. I nodded soundlessly, unable to speak, and she asked, “How long have you spent memorizing Poe?”
One side of my mouth lifted into a smile, remembering the nights I’d spent, reading and pinning his lines to the walls of my memory. Allowing the words that moved her, to move me as well. Opening my heart to them, asking them to mean something to me in the way they meant to her.
“A while,” I said, looking down at the alignment of our bodies, and I chuckled inappropriately in a moment that didn’t deserve laughter.
“What’s so funny?” she asked, whispering.
“Your dresser is a perfect height. It’s like, your parents knew you’d one day be with a—”
“A giant?” she offered, brushing her lips against mine before breaking out into a grin.
I laughed. “I was going to say a tall guy, but a giant works.”
“You’re a little taller than tall,” she argued.
“I’m average,” I said, lowering my brows and leaning back, my eyes pinned to hers.
“You’re six-foot-five.”
“Yeah, and?”
“Average is like … six-foot, Devin.”
“God, whatever,” I laughed, rolling my eyes.
“An
d I really don’t want to think about my parents, planning for me to have sex on the dresser they bought for me when I was five. That’s gross,” she grimaced, looking down at the faded and peeling paint.
Pulling her further to its edge, pressing myself between her legs, I dropped my mouth to her ear. “Who said anything about sex?” I growled.
She gasped, and whether that was due to my obvious ploy at seduction, or my hard-on pressed between her open thighs, I couldn’t say. I groaned and gently touched my lips behind her ear. Whispering kisses along her neck until I reached the soft, hollow place between her throat and collarbone. My lips parted, tasting her delicate skin with just the tip of my tongue, drawing another gasp from her lips, accompanied by a moan. Her head tipped back, purple hair cascading over my hands.
“Devin … I can’t …”
I stopped kissing her neck, afraid I had taken a step too far, too soon. Afraid I had been too pushy, too presumptive. “That’s fine. We can take it sl—”
“No,” she responded, pressing her heels against my legs. Drawing me in, as she contradicted, “I just can’t right now … not here …”
Those words made me suddenly aware that her mother was sitting in the living room, just down the hallway, and I groaned. The thought of being caught, even at thirty-six, sent a bolt of charged excitement down my spine and straight to my groin.
I slid a hand up over her back and into her hair, winding coiled tendrils of violet around my fingers.
“I can be amazingly quiet when I want to be,” I whispered to prove my point, and she groaned.
“So, you’re saying, you wanted me to hear you all those times, back at home.”
With my hand tangled in the mass of her impossibly soft hair, I gently pulled back, exposing the length of her throat. Arching her back. Pressing her breasts to my chest.
“Maybe,” I said, and I sank my teeth into her neck. Her sharp intake of breath was another surge of heat and desperation to my dick. I released and moved my mouth to her ear. “Maybe I wanted to make you jealous. Maybe I wanted you to know what you were missing out on.”
Her hands were in my hair, wrenching me away from her neck. Pulling me, with a startling amount of strength, until my open mouth was over hers. Her tongue probed deep, wrestling against mine. Grasping for the reins, fighting to win control. I tugged at her hair, forcing her mouth away from mine. Her blue eyes opened, staring at me with pouty lips, open and gasping.
Daisies & Devin Page 18