by Kacey Shea
43
Alicia
Oh, my fucking God, this man knows how to fuck. I’ve had good sex before. Or so I thought. But this. This is out-of-my-mind-I-actually-might-scream-so-loud-the-neighbors-call-the-cops-best-sex-of-my-life good. And he’s a dirty talker. Somehow, it doesn’t surprise me. But there’s a liberation that comes from being able to say what you want and demand what you need during sex that isn’t often there.
He doesn’t hold back. Not with filthy words. Not with his body. We’re so fucking compatible in the bedroom. It’d be funny if I weren’t so close to coming again. “Don’t stop. I’m so close.” My fingers dig into the bedsheets, needing to hold on to something.
“Fuck.” He swears and his body goes ridged. He swallows hard, his gaze dropping to where our bodies connect. His skin is slick with a sheen of well-earned sweat. I reach out to touch him, sliding my fingertips along his arm. He’s pinned me to the mattress with his body, one of my legs between us.
I try to draw his eyes back to mine but once again he looks away.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Worry furrows my brow. “Are you not into this?” Fuck. That would be just my luck. He’s pushing all my buttons in the best possible way. What if I’m not doing the same for him? What if he’s not that into me?
“No.” He shakes his head. “Not that.” His jaw clenches as if he’s in physical pain.
“No?” I don’t believe him. I try to move away.
He grabs my hips to keep me still. “It’s good. Too good. Which is why I’m trying not to . . .”
“Come?”
He squeezes his eyes shut. “I don’t want you to hate my come face.”
I laugh. I can’t help it. The sound bursts from my lips, a relief compared to what I thought was going through his head.
He tries to pull away.
“Hey, don’t.” I wrap my legs around the back of his and hug him to me. Still. I can’t stop giggling.
He buries his head into the crook of my neck. “It’s not funny! You’ve made me paranoid!”
“Chase.” I cup his cheeks in my hands and rock my pelvis, encouraging him to move his hips again. “I’m sure I’ll love your come face.”
He groans. “I bet you say that to all the guys.”
“I don’t.” I chuckle, shaking my head. My lips find his and I kiss him. Sweetly at first, until the passionate fire that burns between us builds and takes over, racing like a wildfire through my heart. This. What we have. What we’re doing. It’s reckless. Irresponsible. But the way our bodies fit together feels so damn right. It’s the first time I’ve had sex when I was fully present, consenting, and sober. I never knew it could be like this. Our connection is so intense, the feelings so real.
His body tightens again but this time he doesn’t hold back. With forceful, deliberate thrusts he falls over the edge. His lips part, a groan escapes, and the mere sight of his expression as he orgasms sends a shot of lust through my body. He’s fucking perfect. The most erotic groan leaves his lips. He braces his body over mine, his muscles taut as another shudder runs through him.
I run my hands down his back.
“Fuck.” He pulls out and rolls to the side, staring at the ceiling as his chest heaves with hurried breaths. He glances to the side, meeting my stare. “Please tell me that was good for you.”
So good I already need more. I bite my lip to keep from smiling.
“I mean, it was good but I think we should go again just to be sure.”
His brows lift and his eyes sparkle with delight. “Oh, yeah?”
I nod. “Can we make that happen, or do I need to speak with a manager?”
He pushes up on one arm, his other hand sliding over my hip. “No need. I’m committed to complete customer service. We’ll do this as many times as it takes to satisfy you.”
“Might need all night.” My gaze drifts down to his cock. “That gonna be a problem?”
He chuckles, his face lighting up with his grin. “Oh, you don’t worry about a thing. He’ll rise to the challenge.”
I cover my face, my entire body shaking with my laughter. “Oh, my God. You did not just say that!”
“I did.” He waggles his brows. “I’m here to provide you with sex, chocolate, and lame jokes. All weekend.” He squeezes my ass.
“Don’t you dare threaten me with a good time, Chase Matthews.” I curl up closer to his side and press my lips to his. Our laughter fades with a few strokes of his tongue, but the lightness inside my soul shines bright. Nothing can steal the joy from this moment and I refuse to freak out or overthink it. At least for tonight.
44
Chase
I wake as the morning light begins to stream in. My body aches in the best way, and my pulse kicks up at the sight of the woman curled into my side. Her hair is extra wild from last night’s activities, the purple strands in need of brushing. But that does nothing to hide her natural beauty.
It hits me that I’ve never shared this—the morning after—while sober. There’s a pang of sadness with that realization, but gratitude quickly chases it away. I still can’t believe she’s here. In my bed. In my life. I want to freeze time and live in the moment.
Closing my eyes, I just breathe and let the feelings swirling inside consume me. It is both liberating and terrifying to feel this much, but that’s the point. For so much of my life I’ve hidden behind a mask, playing the part everyone expected. Shoving down the ugly and uncomfortable memories. But I don’t want to live like that anymore. I’m done with letting fear win. I’m becoming a version of myself I can face in the mirror. I might be broken, but I’m not incapable of goodness.
The rustle of sheets snaps my eyes open again.
Alicia stretches, turning away from me and onto her back with a long sigh. She twists her neck to meet my stare and smiles shyly. “Hey.”
“Hey.” We were uninhibited and carnal last night. She didn’t hold back with her body and neither did I, but somehow in the light of a new day I feel more naked and vulnerable. I wonder if she feels it, too. “I have the best bed, right?”
She nods, grinning. “I’m not moving.”
“Today?” My brows lift with surprise. We had a good time last night but I wasn’t sure how she’d feel this morning.
“Ever.” She turns onto her side and meets my gaze, snuggling into the pillow.
“Well, that’s unfortunate because eventually my uncle will return. And while he might be happy to find you naked in his bed, I am not into sharing.” My hand runs along her hip, wishing the blanket would magically disappear. “Also, I think we’d starve.”
She lets loose a laugh. “Okay, then how about just today?”
“I’m going to make us breakfast.” I press a kiss to her forehead, unable to help myself. I toss the covers off my body and retrieve the pair of boxer briefs discarded at the foot of the bed. I look up to find her staring appreciatively. My chest broadens with confidence. “Don’t get up.” I point with my demand even though she doesn’t appear in any hurry to leave my bed. “I’ll bring you food.”
“You really are a hero.” A soft smile plays at her lips, and her eyes drift shut for more sleep.
I chuckle, shaking my head as I make my way out of the room. I hit the head, brush my teeth, then jog downstairs to wow her with my culinary skills. I’m in the middle of flipping pancakes when my phone rings. Fuck, I never took it upstairs. Didn’t miss it once, really, but the battery has got to be close to dead.
I dash over and pick it up when I see my brother’s name on the caller ID. “Hey, Cam.”
“Hey, Chase!” he says brightly. “Sorry I haven’t called sooner. Things have been crazy around here.”
“Don’t sweat it, man.” I put him on speaker and set my phone on the counter, grabbing the spatula to flip the next set of pancakes.
“You sound good.” He sounds surprised.
“I am good.” Better than, really, but I’m not gonna explain why. Lord knows that would lead to disaster, wha
t with his girlfriend being one of Alicia’s best friends. Besides, it’s not as if we’ve had that conversation yet. The one that defines exactly what it is we’re doing sleeping together. “Are you working today?”
“No, thankfully. Jill and I are meeting up with Kenz and her mom to watch the fireworks tonight.”
“That’s cool.” A pang of homesickness hits me square in the chest. I miss my niece. “Tell Kenslee her favorite uncle misses her.”
“I will.” Silence stretches through the line, so long I almost think we’ve been disconnected. “Chase, I’ve been thinking a lot lately.”
“That’s never good,” I say dryly.
He chuckles, and in my mind I see him scrubbing a hand over his head. “Yeah, well, it happens from time to time. Anyway, this is kinda hard to say, but I’m gonna try anyway.”
I brace myself for disappointment and hurt. I deserve it, whatever he has to say, but it won’t lessen the pain. “I’m listening.”
“Was I a good brother?”
His question practically knocks me of my feet. I turn off the burner and remove the pancakes from the pan, picking up the phone to take him off speaker and settle into one of the kitchen chairs that looks out at the beach. “Yes, of course.” My brows crinkle with distress. “Cam, why would you even ask that?”
“Because I should’ve said something. Stepped in. I watched you spiral for months. I knew you were out of control and I did nothing.”
He feels guilt for my drinking, for what I did to Maverick, and I hate that I’ve done this to him. “Cam, I was the one who got behind the wheel. Me. No one else did that.”
“But—”
“No, you can’t go back and play the what if game. It gets you nowhere.” It brings no peace. “I know because I’ve done it myself.”
“I wish I had been able to stop it.”
“Cam. My drinking has always been a problem.” For longer than anyone knows. Bigger than I ever realized. “I’m doing well here. I’m making big changes. I—” I don’t know why the words get stuck in my throat. Why it’s so hard to say. It’s not as if I haven’t said them during dozens of meetings.
“I’m an alcoholic, Cam, and I’m getting help. I’m sober now. But every day is a struggle, and just because I made the decision to quit drinking doesn’t mean I’m in the clear.” I don’t want to offer him false hope, but I can give him honesty. The lump in my throat thickens with emotion but I push past it, desperate to say this without falling apart.
“I’m sorry for the hurt and worry I’ve caused you. I’m sorry I made you think any of this was your fault. I hate that I put you in a position where you had to keep Kenz from me—for her health and safety—and I promise I will continue to get better so you never have to do that again.” I swipe the tears from my eyes before they get the chance to fall.
“Chase.” My brother’s voice cracks and he clears his throat. “I love you, brother. You know that, right?”
I’ve always known, but hearing it releases a few more tears. “I love you, too.”
“If you need anything. Anything at all. Call, okay?” He’s always been in my corner, and even after everything I’ve done, he still is.
“I will. Thank you.”
“For what?”
“For never giving up on me.” I press my fist to my mouth so I won’t cry.
“Never.” Maybe I imagine it, but I think he’s crying, too. It’s a big deal because we’re not a family that was raised to show emotion. My dad brought us up with a stoic strength, where tears were for wusses and real men didn’t cry. Yet I think he got that all wrong. These past weeks in AA, I’ve seen many grown men shed tears over mistakes and hurt they’ve caused others. Tears can be healing, a baptism that bring forth new life.
The kitchen timer rings out, signaling the bacon in the oven should be done. “I won’t keep you any longer.” I stand and walk over to the stove, pulling a pair of oven mitts from the drawer. “But thank you for calling. I’m really glad you did.”
“Me, too. Take care, Chase.”
I end the call, my soul feeling lighter than when I started the day. Today, we might be celebrating the independence of this country, but for me it takes on new meaning. I’m celebrating the independence of my soul, no longer held captive by a substance. I have Alicia to thank for showing me the path. A smile works its way back onto my lips as I plate the food and load it onto a tray with drinks, thankful we get to celebrate it together.
“Tell me again why this is fun?” Alicia calls out, stomping through the sand to collect the Frisbee she failed to catch. I still don’t understand how someone with two older brothers isn’t more into sports.
“I mean, it’s fun if you catch it every now and then,” I shout back.
She shoots me a glare.
“We can stop anytime.”
She scoops up the Frisbee and smiles. “Now. Let’s quit now.”
I laugh, shaking my head as I meet her back at our blanket. The beach behind my uncle’s house is private, but it’s active today, filled with people walking the shore or attending celebrations at one of the neighborhood houses.
She tosses the Frisbee at my chest and plops onto the blanket with the dramatic flair of Scarlett O’Hara. “Thank God that’s over.”
“Hey.” I pretend to be insulted. “No complaining. Not after you made me do yoga yesterday.”
She grins, the sly smile teasing her lips. “Oh, as if that was such a hardship. I saw you checking out my ass, and you certainly reaped the benefits last night.” Her brows rise with her pointed stare.
I can’t help but laugh, raising my hands in defeat. “I have no complaints. None whatsoever.” We haven’t discussed last night or whether it’s something she wants to repeat this evening. When I brought her breakfast in bed, she was dressed for the day, and we’ve fallen into a familiar, comfortable comradery. Which I’m totally good with. Sure, I really want to kiss her right now, and yeah, hauling her over my shoulder to march back inside the house for some naughty fun has crossed my mind a few times. But I also enjoy her company as we tick things off our Lame-O Independence Day list. The other can wait. I’m not about to fuck up our friendship, so I’m following her lead.
I reach into the cooler and produce two bottled lemonades, handing her one before settling onto the blanket. We people watch and soak up the sun, the faint hint of laugher, music, and joy filling the afternoon breeze.
“Can I ask you something?” I turn my head to meet her stare. It’s something I’ve wondered all summer, but it’s on my mind today. Maybe because of my earlier conversation with Cam.
“Always.”
“I don’t want you to get mad or offended.”
She rolls her eyes, but doesn’t seem annoyed in the slightest. “I can’t promise that.”
My face scrunches and I wince. “I’m already screwing this up, aren’t I?”
“Hey.” She reaches out and touches my arm, drawing my gaze to hers. Her eyes are serious, devoid of humor. “We said we’d always speak the truth, even when it’s hard. Even if it hurts. What’s on your mind?”
“Why do you tell everyone in meetings you’ve been sober for over a year?”
45
Alicia
One year ago
“Alicia, sweetheart. Go get your father, please. It’s almost time for dinner, and everyone’s here.”
I’ll take any excuse to leave this kitchen. Mom’s been on edge and snappy all night. She gets this way each time they entertain. Makes me wonder why she bothers inviting all of Daddy’s colleagues and friends if she doesn’t enjoy it.
“Is he in his office?”
“Probably. I don’t know.” She shakes her head, exasperated. “Just find him.”
“Oh-kay.” I drag out the word and refrain from rolling my eyes even though I’d like to. I walk down the hall to his study and knock at the closed door. When there’s no response, I push it open and find the room empty. I sigh, wandering inside to hide for a moment. These func
tions are the worst for my sobriety. Drinking used to help me get through them, and now that I don’t have that defense in my toolbox, I feel extra exposed. It’s harder to smile and not speak my mind. Harder to meet my parents’ expectations. To be polite.
I wander toward my father’s giant mahogany desk. As a kid I idolized him. This room even. It’s always held this sense of power, and I’d sneak inside whenever Mom’s nagging got too much. He let me hide out while he worked, as long as I didn’t interrupt. I’d bring a book, or listen to music with my headphones while the melodic rhythm of his fingers tapping on the keyboard settled my soul. This room always provided a temporary escape from the world when it got to be too much, and even though I haven’t lived in this house for over five years, I guess it still does.
My fingertips run across the smooth grain, following the curve of the desk until my gaze catches on the stack of letters at the edge. My breath hitches and unease prickles my spine, because there in black ink is my name written on the letter laying atop the pile. It’s addressed by hand in a print that’s both familiar and strange.
I glance over my shoulder. I’m alone. Curiosity for what’s in that letter pushes me to pick it up. There’s no one to see me snoop. Besides, it is addressed to me. Maybe Daddy meant to give it to me later. Every now and then my mail still comes here instead of my condo.
I start to open the flap on the envelope, but it opens easily because the seal’s already broken. Someone’s already read what’s inside.
“Hey.” My brother Eddie causes me to jump. He laughs from where he leans against the door frame. “You okay?”
“Jesus. You scared me.” I press a hand to my heart. I don’t know why, but I hold the letter behind my back. “I’m looking for Dad.”