by Karina Halle
There are no words. No thoughts. Just this. Just us, making love under an early sky.
She grabs the edge of the sleeping bag, curling her fingers around it.
I reach down, gliding over her stomach, and place my finger on her clit and rub in small, lazy circles, making her wetter. I work at her until I feel her widen, her legs spreading more, and then I push in again, deeper. Her hips buck up against me and now she’s even tauter. I can plunge deeper and I know I’m hitting all her sweet spots. She gasps and I grab her hip, holding on tight, my fingertips sinking into her soft skin.
She’s so wet and lush, I could lose my body, my heart in her forever.
But I don’t have forever.
The sun is rising higher.
The birdsong fades away, buried by our labored breaths.
I’m close now. So close.
My pace becomes quicker as my balls rise, tighten, threatening to let loose inside of her. They smack against her skin, the slapping noise filling the air as I pound her in and out, in and out, quick and relentless, bringing me to the edge. Droplets of sweat trickle off my forehead, splashing onto her below me.
I groan loudly, unable to keep quiet. Out here, we can scream all we want. The need in me to come is too sharp, too hard, too much. I slide out slowly and watch my thick shaft, shiny with everything she has, then I plunge back in. My whole body shudders.
“Come for me,” I murmur roughly. “Come with me.”
Her eyes meet mine and I’m in love, I’m so in love with her, still in love with her.
Oh fuck me.
I work my fingers into a frenzy, her face contorting, her mouth opening like a flower while I slam into her harder and harder.
“Oh my god!” she cries out. “Oh god, Shane!”
She’s shaking.
I’m shaking.
I swear the ground is shaking too.
Then I’m coming.
Hard.
I take in a deep breath and let out a low, guttural cry as my strained muscles let loose and the orgasm rips down my spine, shooting out through every vein. I see the fucking stars. The moon. The sun. The world.
Then there’s nothing of me left.
I’m empty. Sated.
Spent.
I lean against her, trying to feel my limbs, my grip on her hips slick with sweat. I brush the damp hair off her forehead, grinning at her beautiful face and kiss the small beauty mark on her jaw. She used to hate that mark and Maverick, such a dick, would tease her for it when we were younger. She’d try and cover it with makeup but I always wanted her just like this, clean-faced, flushed and letting me see the real, beautiful Rachel.
“Good morning,” I whisper to her.
She grins at me lazily. “You already said that.”
“But now it’s a real good morning.”
“You can say that again.” She reaches up, running her fingers down my face. “I never thought this would happen.”
I close my eyes at her touch. “What do you mean?”
“I mean when I decided to come back here. You, me…it was never a possibility. I planned on hating you until the day I died.”
I swallow hard. That’s not the best thing to hear after sex, or anytime, really.
She exhales sharply, looks away. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so harsh.”
“I get it,” I tell her. “I really do.”
“Just because I didn’t think it was a possibility, doesn’t mean I didn’t want it to happen.” I frown. She looks at me with big eyes, glacier blue, and I see her truth in them. “I used to wonder about all the what ifs. What if you hadn’t broken up with me, what if I stayed in North Ridge, what if you had run away with me. I would wonder if I’d ever truly love someone the way that I loved you. And I tried. I tried to love. Turns out the hardest person to love was myself.”
“Ain’t that the truth,” I say under my breath, knowing that struggle all too well.
“And I thought, what if I came here and the past was erased and I could just use my heart again to its full extent. But I pushed it away because it wasn’t real. It wasn’t possible. The best I could hope for was closure.”
“And did you get it? Closure, I mean?”
“I thought I did. But then, Shane…what are we doing?”
“What do you mean?”
“This,” she says, pressing her hand against my chest. “Us. This isn’t closure Shane. Is it for you? Is this putting something to rest so we can both walk away, unchained? Or is this slipping the chains back on? This is just opening another door, maybe one that should stay closed.”
I shake my head, not liking this fear in her voice, how she doesn’t see what’s really burning between us. “Love isn’t a chain, Rachel. It’s not a shackle. Love is what sets you free, love doesn’t confine. What I feel for you…it’s wild and it’s raw and it’s as fucking real as that sun above us.”
“And what do you feel for me?” she asks so quietly I lean in to hear her better.
Her question stuns me.
“It’s not obvious?” I ask, running my thumb over her lips before placing my hand at her heart, her soft bare skin warming my palm. “Rachel, I love you. I loved you then, I love you now, and I loved you in all the light and darkness in-between. I love you with a wildness I can’t tame.” I pause, my chest tightening as I feel everything hang in the balance, resting on my words. “Please tell me you feel that from me, that you feel it too. Tell me you’ll at least run with it for a while.”
She stares up at me, her eyes searching mine, looking for all the answers I’ve already given her. “Shane…” she says softly. “This isn’t my home anymore.”
“Yes it is. I’m your home. I’ve always been your home even when you’ve been somewhere else, even when you were hating me, trying to forget me, my heart has been your home.”
God, can’t she see that? See that she always has and always will belong with me?
She closes her eyes and gives a quick shake of her head. “I have to go home soon. I have to.”
“You don’t.”
“Shane, please,” she says, staring at me, pleading with her eyes. “Put yourself in my shoes. I have a life over there. I have a condo, a job, a –”
“Yes, I’ve heard it all before,” I snap at her. I inhale deep and sharp, trying to keep my cool. “Look, I know that this isn’t easy and that you’ve worked really hard to build that life there. All I’m asking is that you try and build that life here.”
Her brows knit together delicately. “You say that like you have an idea what it’s like to start over. And how could you? You never left this damn place.”
“Rachel…”
“It’s true.”
“You’d have me every step of the way. You’d have your mother. You’d have Mav and Fox and my dad and grandpa and Del, even Jeanine.”
“But it doesn’t fix everything.”
I stare at her. “What do you need to fix?”
“You think that by coming back here my life will get back on track? Let’s say I find a job here that I do like. Let’s say a bunch of wonderful things align. Do you think that’s going to fix what’s wrong with me, fix this hole inside, fix all the damage that’s been done? Your love is a start Shane, but it’s not enough.”
Whoa.
I jerk my head back, shaking inside.
My love is not enough.
Not enough.
I’m not enough.
“Okay,” I tell her, pushing off of her and getting to my feet. I quickly slip on my briefs and start getting ready. No sense in just lying on a sleeping bag all morning and throwing barbs at each other when there’s important shit to be done.
“Shane,” she says, getting dressed. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Yes, you did,” I tell her, glancing at her as I pull on my jeans. “You have a sharp fucking tongue sometimes, you know that?”
“I know. I’m sorry. Look, I—”
“It doesn’t matter,” I t
ell her quickly, practically ripping the sleeping bag away from under her feet. “We need to get moving. Take Fletcher to the vet, deal with the damn cows some other time.” I glance over at Fletcher who has been snoozing in the grass by Polly all morning. He actually seems a lot better but he’s going to the vet anyway just to make sure. “Fuck, I wouldn’t mind finding that bear right now and giving him a real piece of my mind.”
“Shane. Please. I hate it when you’re mad at me.”
I give her a look. “Then quit saying shit you know I’ll get mad at.”
“You have to understand how fucking broken I am!” She throws her arms out, features strained and red with frustration.
“I do understand!” I yell at her. “I’ve understood from the day I first saw you. The day I decided I was going to protect you no matter what. That I was going to be there for you no matter what. And I know that maybe my love isn’t enough to fix all the horrible shit that was done to you and I know I tried in my own way and I just made things worse and I get that being here is hard and it’s not just about me. Okay, I know. But why can’t I be there for you in the here and now? Why can’t we work through this together? You don’t have to repair yourself on your own.”
“Maybe I do,” she says, rubbing her lips together. “It’s what I’ve been doing so far. Six years is a long time.”
“But it’s not as long as the rest of your life.” I study her, my chest feeling like I’ve got a jackhammer inside, all my nerves on fire. I’m high as the fucking sun one minute and the next I’m slipping in a raven’s grave. “Rachel. Everything you feel you need to do, you don’t need to do it alone anymore. I’m here for you whether you like it or not.”
She watches me for a moment and I can’t tell if she’s just weighing her options or letting anything sink in. Then she just nods at me. “I’m going to go pee.” She goes behind the pines just a few feet away and I turn, giving her privacy, feeling like my heart has been trodden on by a million hooves.
When she returns, I’ve got mostly everything packed up.
Since Sybil didn’t make an appearance during the night, she gets on Polly, I stay on foot and lead the way, Fletcher on the other side of me until I’ve decided he’s had enough and put him up on the horse with Rachel. He’s a pro at this, a dog that can ride.
We do this for hours, until my feet are screaming with pain inside my boots from walking for so long, but I want to give Rachel her distance. She needs it, even if it’s just her up on a horse and me in front of her.
We’re a kilometer from the ranch when I spot the ghostly form of Sybil grazing on the dry grass to the right of us.
“And there she is,” I say, mainly to myself.
Sybil raises her head, eyeing us and I pretend to ignore her, hoping it will spur on her interest. If I go after her and push her, she’ll just back up and run. Usually this tactic doesn’t work as well with horses as it does with humans but after a few moments she slowly starts walking behind us, not wanting to be left behind.
It’s then that Rachel finally says something. Guess it works on her too.
“Shane.”
“Yeah?” I look over my shoulder at her.
She stares at me, her expression open, almost…hopeful. “No matter what happens, I don’t want to leave it like this. We owe each other more than that. After all this time. Can we keep being with each other like this?” She licks her lips, nervous. “Do you think we can just try and make every second count?”
I know what she’s asking. Let’s be together until she leaves. But if my heart is barely holding on now, what’s going to happen to it when she’s gone?
How the fuck can I go through that all over again?
But I’m a fool.
And I’m in love.
So I say yes.
We’ll make every damn second count.
18
Rachel
The next few days crawl past.
The worker’s cottage is thick with dust and heat and all the angry words I’d exchanged with my mother before I left on the ride with Shane.
It’s laden with guilt and hurt and the two of us are too stubborn to break it down, to deal with it, to face it head on.
I faced a bear and lived to tell about it and yet facing truths with my own mother seems scarier than anything else.
We avoid each other. My mother spends a lot of time in the main house with Hank and Dick. I spend my days with Shane, including going to the vet with Fletcher. The lucky dog only needed a dose of antibiotics for the small wound and some time off his sprained leg. The rest of the time, it’s like the old days, me helping Shane around the ranch with whatever he needs.
And then there’s the sex.
Oh yes.
I knew that when we had come back to the ranch after being out on the range that things would be different between the two of us. I knew that as good as the sex was, as needed as it was, it was something we should probably avoid doing again. It made us intimate and through intimacy we fought.
And made up.
Again and again.
Making every second count.
Even though I know being with him is just going to make things harder in the end, I can’t stay away from Shane any more than he can stay away from me. My hands yearn to touch him, my lips burn to kiss him. As swift and helpless as a raft on the river, I am drawn to him repeatedly, ignoring where the current is leading us. It’s in his arms where I feel myself becoming more alive, where I transform.
I grew up feeling like a weed in the garden, unwanted, cowering, left to die. Bit by bit, year by year, I worked through it and tried to grow, to blossom, and it came, slowly, but surely. I learned to let myself bloom. But when I’m with Shane, it’s more than letting myself take up space and shine. He makes me want to grow wild, to run rampant, to unapologetically thrive.
I just wish it didn’t scare me so damn much.
Because even if this is for a short time, how on earth is my heart going to survive when I leave? He told me he still loved me, something I’d slowly come to realize out here at Ravenswood Ranch. He told me he never stopped and I felt it in the marrow of my bones, a truth that I can’t shake, that I can’t escape from. He loves me fiercely, with abandon, the kind of love that sets fire to things until we’re standing in the ashes.
And in those seconds we have together, I’m trying so fucking hard to keep myself together, to not let his love consume me.
Because, god, how easy that would be.
Then, good news comes in. My mother has a surgery scheduled.
I decide to drive her. I know it’s not ideal but like hell I wouldn’t be there for her. That’s the thing about family, about loved ones, is even when you’re at odds with each other, even when there are more negative emotions rolling out of you than good, you won’t abandon them. You’ll be there for them.
At least that’s what I’m learning.
I’ve been learning a lot these days.
The drive to Vancouver is long and awkward. Painfully so. We barely talk. She’s lost in her own thoughts and I’m lost in mine.
To be honest, I’m not just scared because of what’s going on between Shane and I, I’m scared for my mother. I know that the surgery is routine, that she should be fine. That this is about nipping something in the bud, taking out the cancer before it has a chance to ravage her. But sometimes she just seems so weak and unhealthy that I’m not sure how strong she really is. She’s been thriving too while being at the Nelson’s, but even so, she’s not quite optimal. I think, for the both of us, the road to recovery is a long one.
We go straight to the hospital where we’re introduced to Doctor Fielding and the nurses. He explains to us, as Doctor Cooper did back in North Ridge, exactly what the surgery entails. It’s a pre-emptive strike, especially for patients who haven’t yet experienced the mass effects of cancer yet. He explains how it will leave my mother in a much weaker position than before we started, but the alternative is, of course, cancer. We don’
t have a choice.
She’ll be in ICU for a few days after surgery, assisted by a breathing tube and, if anxious, heavily medicated, then will be recovering. After a week or so, she’ll be discharged and we’re free to go. In the meantime, I’ll be renting a room in a hotel around the corner and spending most of my days in the hospital.
It doesn’t sound so bad but what makes it worse is that my mother is barely looking at me, even when the doctor is laying out all the potential complications, and for a woman of her age and health, there are a lot.
It isn’t until the next day, the day of her surgery, when both of us are waiting around in a small, sterile room, that she taps me on the back of the hand and brings something out of her purse.
It’s a bunch of tissue and I watch, enraptured, as she carefully starts unfolding each piece until I’m surprised at the sight.
A dried wishbone sits in the middle of the tissues.
“What is this?” I ask her.
“It’s for you,” she says, picking it up with shaking hands. “When we first came to Ravenswood Ranch a few weeks ago and Hank had made us that chicken, I took the wishbone aside and saved it.”
Tears are already starting to well up in my eyes.
“I remember that necklace,” she goes on. “The one Shane gave to you for Christmas that one year. You loved it so much, never took it off until you did. I knew it meant something to you.” She pauses, looking down at the wishbone with fondness. “I saw this and I knew you should have it. You should have something to wish on again.”
I press my lips together, trying to keep my sobs in check.
No dice.
“I’m so sorry mom,” I cry out, wrapping my arms around her. “I’m so sorry for the things I’ve said to you. I don’t mean any of them. I love you. I don’t want to lose you, I don’t.” I whisper, “I’m so scared.”
“Oh, sweetie,” she says to me, holding me back. Even though she’s fragile, she has some strength to her, strength and warmth I can feel seep into my bones. Even after everything, there’s something about a mother’s hug that sets the world back on its axis, makes it spin, brings back the days and the nights, a balance. “You don’t have to be sorry. I know you’re angry and you have every single right to be. You can be angry with me for the rest of your life and I know I deserve it and more.”