Rubbing the back of my neck, I try to walk for my bed. I’m tired, and tomorrow will be another long day of custom work, chores, and repairs to get ready for the next storm, whenever it hits.

But I don’t go to my bed. Opening my bedroom door, I head across the hall to hers, and I knock. I just want to make sure she’s alright. If she’s crying, I’ll fucking kill myself.

“Come in,” she calls.

My heart starts pumping harder. I open the door.

The room is dark, lit only by the soft glow of the space heater, and I lean against the doorframe and find her in bed.

She sits up, the blanket falling to her waist as she looks over at me.

I trail my eyes down her little white half shirt, my mouth going suddenly dry at the glimpse of her panties peeking out of the sheet.

“Showered?” I ask.

She nods.

I can’t see her eyes very well, but when she straightens her spine, stretching out her body and drawing my eyes to her bare stomach, I feel my arms ache with the emptiness.

“Hungry?” I fight to keep my tone level.

She shakes her head.

I take a swig of the beer, looking at her.

“Warm enough?”

She cocks her head playfully. And she shakes it again.

I smile to myself, even through the sinking in my stomach.

I really wish I could’ve surprised myself and been stronger. I wish I wasn’t such a lousy piece of shit.

She climbs out of bed and walks over to me, taking the bottle out of my hand and wrapping her arms around my neck so I can lift her up.

Her legs circle me like a belt, and I grip her ass.

“Wanna come into my bed tonight?”

She buries her face in my neck and holds me tight, her breath and body warm and wanting on my skin.

God, this feels good.

And I carry her into my bedroom, slamming the door and hiding us away.

This will end.

Just not tonight.

Tiernan

I wake with a start, my fingers aching as I slowly unclench them from the sheet. I blink a few times, seeing the time on the clock come into view.

1:21.

The room is dark, and I turn over onto my back, the cool air hitting my bare breasts. I quickly pull the sheet up, covering myself as I remember everything we just did a couple hours ago.

And in the truck yesterday.

I reach down, slipping my hand between my legs, the raw skin stinging a little and my thigh muscles aching.

I smile a little.

I’m glad it was him.

What I told him last night was true. No one’s first time is good, but mine was. It hurt, but he was careful with me.

He wasn’t selfish or mean or impatient.

I look over, but he’s not in bed. I should probably get back to my own, actually.

A light glows from the bathroom, and I sit up and slide my hand under the sheets, finding my panties and shirt. Swinging my legs over the side of the bed, I slip them both on and stand up, stretching. I wet my dry lips as I pull off the rubber band on my wrist and tie back my hair, walking for the sink to get a glass of water.

But as soon as I step into the bathroom, I see Jake standing in front of the mirror turned to the side, with his arm raised, and gazing at the tattoo on his hip.

My Mexico.

He catches my eyes in the mirror, and I drop mine, backing out of the bathroom.

“Where are you going?” I hear him ask.

I stop and step back into view, but I just want to be gone now. Out of his way.

I rub my eyes. “Just giving you your privacy,” I mutter and make to escape again.

“Why?”

I hesitate, shifting on my feet.

Because…

You didn’t ask me to come in. I don’t want to intrude.

Because I know what this is.

And I’m not her.

He stares at me through the mirror as he turns on the water and fills up a glass.

Without letting myself think, I walk over and press my forehead to his back, close my eyes, and wrap my arms around his waist.

He stills, letting me.

I don’t know why I do it, but the feel of him—of someone warm and strong—in my arms makes this weird feeling swell in my chest, and I lay my cheek against his spine, hearing his heart beat.

It feels good to feel this. To be touched. To ask for what I need even if he wants me to leave. Just for a minute.

Finally, I sigh and pull away, but he catches my arms around his stomach before I escape and tugs me back into place.

“Stay.”

My chin trembles, my heart races, and tears fill my eyes.

I dip my head back into his back and try not to cry.

He’s not my parents.

He’s not my parents.

He wants me around.

It’s okay.

I draw in a deep breath and release it slowly. It’s okay.

He stands there silently, thankfully not asking any fucking questions about why I’m almost crying again as I hug him. He just holds my arms in front of him, hanging onto me in a way.

“Are you thinking about her?” I ask.

But he remains silent as he dumps out his water and sets the glass down.

“It’s okay if you are.”

“I’ve never really talked about her,” he says in almost a whisper, “to anyone but you.”

I snake my hand back around his waist, breathing in the smell of his skin. “What did she do that you liked?” I say.

He inhales a deep breath and takes my hand, leading me over to the shower.

“Her hands in my hair,” he replies, turning on the shower.

He tests the water and then turns around, coming behind me and pulling out my rubber band, so he can tie my hair up higher into a bun on the top of my head.

I grin at the gesture. Was he like this with her? Probably more so. If he’s this sweet with me, what was he like with a woman he loved?

I feel his fingers under the hem of my shirt, and I stop him, turning around and shaking my head.

Holding his eyes, I peel back the curtain and step into the shower, letting the water soak me. His eyes fall down my body as the water trickles down my stomach and thighs, the white shirt and silk panties molding to my skin.

Just like she would’ve looked when they swam together.

I lean against the wall and watch as he pushes his pants down his legs, his cock already stiff.

God. Three times in the truck. Once in the bed. Apparently, I wasn’t too much for him to handle. Or vice versa.

He closes the curtain, darkness and steam filling the shower and our eyes still locked.

He presses into me, but I keep my hands at my side.

“And what did you do then?” I ask. “After she ran her hands through your hair?”

He lifts my leg, and I bite my lip as he pulls my wet panties to the side and pushes inside of me.

I dig my nails into his arms, the pain and sting from being entered once again mixing with the pleasure of being filled. His mouth hovers over mine, breathing through his teeth as he pumps his dick.

“Close your eyes,” I pant with his thrusting. “Make love to her.”

He shuts his eyes, and I circle my arms around his neck, hanging on as he lifts Flora into his arms and fucks her against the wall. I run my hand up the back of his head and over the top, threading my fingers through his hair, relishing the sweet ache deep inside.

I moan between our kisses, the water on his mouth warm and sweet. I close my eyes, too, letting him go back. Letting him sink into the fantasy, because I want him to remember how he loved her and know how lucky she was to have him. That it wasn’t his fault.