“How do you like the pancakes?” I ask as Aubree takes another bite of the banana granola pancakes I suggested she order.
Mouth full, she looks up at me and smiles.
“That good, huh?”
She nods, and I lightly smile as I glance back down at my barely eaten omelet. It was nice running into Fallon and hearing how well she’s doing. I’ve known her for years. Since our grandpas were friends, we occasionally hung out at the Canoodle Cover Cabins. I didn’t even think about running into her, which was naïve of me because the town is so small. I should have known she’d ask if Aubree was Cadance, but I’ve been so consumed by what Aubree confessed to me this morning that I didn’t prepare myself for what the town might say to her.
And it hit me harder than I expected.
Just the mere mention of her name twisted my insides. But not twist in the way you’re probably thinking, as if I miss her, because I don’t. I don’t miss her self-importance or her need to always be right. I don’t miss her judgment of this cabin or this town. I don’t miss the way she’d beg me to skip my deadlines and hang out with her. I don’t miss the way she’d constantly want me to stop everything for her because she considered her life more important than mine.
That twist, the nausea that climbed up my throat from the mention of her name, stemmed from the reminder of the heartache I suffered. A slap to the face, waking me up from the haze I’ve been in since yesterday when I took Aubree’s hand and made my vows to her. These feelings I have for Aubree are real. They’re so real that the fear of losing her crept through me while I was talking to Fallon.
She lifts her cup of tea and looks over the mug at me. “You seem like you’re thinking really hard,” she says.
“Why?” I ask, my eyes connecting with hers. “Is steam coming out of my ears?”
She chuckles and sips her tea. “Yes, the steam coming out of your ears rivals the steam from my tea.”
“Impressive. Didn’t think my brain could work that hard.”
She sets her cup down and picks up her fork. She’s sitting cross-legged, which I think is adorable, and she stuffed her cloth napkin in her shirt because apparently, she likes her pancakes drenched in syrup, and she didn’t want to get any drips on her clothes. Just made me like her that much more because I can see that she’s truly opening up now. She’s letting the walls down, something I’ve wanted her to do since day one.
“Care to share what you’re thinking about?” she asks, looking slightly insecure, and I know exactly why.
“Nothing you need to worry about,” I say.
“Why would I worry? Are you worried?”
“No.” I shake my head.
She sets her fork back down and leans in closer. “Are you thinking about Cadance?”
Yup, I knew what I said earlier wouldn’t stop her from asking about Cadance. Hell, it wouldn’t have stopped me from asking about one of her exes. I would have kept pestering her about it until she told me all about the fucker who hurt her.
But I just got Aubree to confess her feelings for me. She’s just starting to open up. The last thing I want to do is make her feel insecure about someone from my past, someone I’m trying to forget. I don’t want Aubree knowing that Cadance slightly broke me. I’m the strong one between us. Aubree’s been through so much. She needs a rock in her life, and I want that to be me. She doesn’t need to see the rock cracked and crumbling.
“Am I thinking about Cadance?” I repeat her question. “No, I’m not.”
She studies me, her eyes not letting up as I lift my mug of coffee to my lips. “Why do I feel like you’re lying to me?” she asks.
“I don’t know,” I answer, hating that insecurity is already taking over her thoughts. “But I don’t want you worrying about anyone in my past. There’s nothing to worry about.”
“Then tell me about her,” Aubree says.
I sigh and set my fork down before moving out of my side of the booth and sliding in next to her. She turns toward me, and I rest my hand on her thigh as I look her in the eyes. “Aubree, I need you to listen to me, okay?”
She nods as those beautiful eyes peer up at me.
“Nothing good will come if we talk about exes that didn’t matter. I like you a lot, and I’d rather spend our time getting to know each other on a deeper level, than the mindless people we dated.”
She twists her lips to the side as she looks down at her lap. “You’re right.” She sighs heavily. “I’m sorry. I guess my insecurities are showing.”
Just what I thought. Aubree is one of the strongest people I’ve ever met. She’s brave and strong, and she doesn’t take shit from anyone, but when it comes to feelings, when it comes to her heart, she’s not as strong as I think she wishes she was. She’s been hurt several times by multiple people. Starting with her dad, then Amanda, then Matt, and losing Cassidy on top of all of that, it hasn’t been an easy road for her. She’s going to guard herself, and she’s going to fall into thoughts and notions that are damaging to the confidence she’s been able to carry.
Telling her about Cadance and our engagement, our almost marriage, I’m not sure she’d be able to bounce back from that, at least not right now when we’re so new.
“Aubree,” I say. “You need to know that you don’t have anything to be insecure about when it comes to me. I’ve said it from the very beginning. This is just you and me. We’re in this together.”
“I know.” She leans her head against the tall booth seat. “I’m sorry.” She grumbles to herself, shaking her head, “I’ll be better.”
“Stop,” I say, having her look up at me. “You’re perfect. Just offer me a little more trust. All I want is happiness for you.” I smirk. “And now that you’ve finally given in to your feelings, you’re going to find a whole lot of happiness.”
Her face falls flat as she stares at me. “You’re so lame, Wyatt.”
“Lame? Ouch, babe. I thought that was clever.”
“Yes, an old man like yourself would.”
Now it’s my turn to scornfully look at her. “I’m not that old.”
“Old enough to know what dial-up Internet was like.”
I point a finger at my chest and say, “Which makes me a fucking pioneer. You have no idea the kind of stress I suffered when I wanted to check my AOL messaging while my parents were expecting a phone call. It wasn’t easy.”
She pats my cheek. “Poor baby.”
“That’s right, poor baby. I should be compensated for the time I spent listening to that godforsaken screeching while the Internet connected.”
“And who dare I say do you think should compensate you? And what would this compensation be?”
“Well, given you’re a youth, I think it should be you. And frankly, I think compensation should be of the pleasurable kind.”
“Something is seriously wrong with you if you can say something like that in a diner full of trolls. What is wrong with you?”
I grin and lean in close. “When you get to taste a pussy like yours, it’s all you fucking think about, even when there are thousands of trolls staring me down.”
She tilts her head to the side, her previous insecurities washing away when she says, “I don’t know if I should be honored or horrified.”
“Maybe a little of both.”
“I KNOW I’ve said this like one hundred times,” Aubree says as we take a seat on a bench to look over the lake. “But Canoodle is truly adorable. It has the same feel as Almond Bay, but in the mountains. I can see why this place is so special to you.”
I drape my arm behind her and pull her in close. “Yeah, so many great memories were formed here. I couldn’t imagine what I’d have done if Wallace took the cabin.”
“Still haven’t heard from him?”
I shake my head. “No, and I won’t until he’s ready to strike.”
“Are you worried?”
“No, not in the slightest. I covered all my bases. I’ll just have to deal with his cranky ass, but I’m not worried about that, just annoyed.”
“Well, I’m glad about that.” She adjusts the paper gift bag at our feet. “Thank you for the slippers, by the way. And the blanket. And the fuzzy socks. And the sweatshirt.”
I chuckle. “You’re welcome . . . again.”
“You didn’t have to buy me all of those things, you know.”
“Oh, I know, but now that you’re my wife, don’t you think I should be able to spoil you?”
“I don’t know.” She shrugs. “I don’t get the dynamics sometimes. Like . . . am I really your wife? Feels more pretend to me. Are we, I don’t know . . . dating? It’s so backward, it’s confusing.”
I pull her in close to my chest and say, “You’re my wife, we’re dating, and we’re seeing where this goes. Simple as that.”
“You make it seem simple, but it doesn’t feel simple.”
“What doesn’t feel simple about it?” I ask.
“Well, I feel like there is so much I don’t know about you.”
“Probably,” I answer. “What do you want to know?”
“Your parents, you said they eloped, and they wouldn’t be mad about missing your wedding. Were you close with them?”
“Yes,” I answer as I run my hand over her shoulder, keeping her plastered to me. To my satisfaction, she leans her head against my chest and snuggles in close. “Since it was just us four, we had a strong bond. I know it’s different from what you experienced growing up, but my parents were there for everything. I don’t know, I feel bad talking about it.”
“Because I had a shit father who abused us?” she asks. “Don’t feel bad. It’s not your fault. I want to hear about your childhood and the stories you carry close to your chest. It will make me believe that there are good people out there.”
“There are,” I say, kissing the top of her head. “Very good people, just like you and your siblings.”
“Thank you,” she says softly. “That means a lot, but tell me about your parents.”
“Well, they met in high school,” I say. “Broke up in college. During their senior year, my mom started dating my dad’s friend from high school, which made him incredibly jealous. He told his friend he wasn’t allowed to date her. It became a huge ordeal, and they actually got into a fight.”
“Who?” Aubree asks.
“My dad and his friend. They had to be pulled apart. My dad broke his friend’s nose.”
“Oh my God,” Aubree says. “He was really, really mad.”
“Yeah, pissed. That night, he asked my mom out.”
“What did she say?” Aubree asks.
“Told him to go to hell.” I chuckle, thinking about the story. “It wasn’t until two years later when they were back in their hometown for the holidays that they ran into each other. They were both single, and Dad took advantage of it. According to Mom, he wooed her. Brought her around to all of these Christmas activities, including ice-skating and cocoa in front of a bonfire. And when they just so happened to be under a mistletoe, Dad kissed her. After that, they were never separated again. A month later, they eloped, and well, they’re still together to this day and madly in love. They always told me that when you know it’s the right person, you know.” I kiss the side of her head.
“Are you subtly trying to tell me after a few weeks together, a marriage, and some sex that I’m the right person?”
I laugh. “Well, when you put it like that . . .”
She bumps her shoulder with mine. “We will see where this all goes, but I appreciate your enthusiasm.”
“That’s what I’m here for, babe, to get you to fall head over heels in love with me.”
“I wish you luck. I’m a tough shell to crack.”
“I’ve noticed,” I say. “But no way in hell am I giving up.”
“Good.” She kisses my cheek and then rests her head against me again. “Were your parents writers?”
“No,” I answer. “But Dad has always been an amazing storyteller. I think he could have been an author if he was afforded the luxury to do something with his talents. But back then, he was trying to make money, have a career, and follow along with what his buddies were doing. He went into software engineering, and it worked for him. He had a solid career, but on the weekends, when he was hanging with friends, he’d be the most entertaining of the group.”
“That’s who you get it from.”
“Yup,” I say. “Whereas my mom is more of the quiet one but will lay you down with an unexpected zinger. She’s quiet and hardworking but also knows how to have a good time. Kind of like you.”
“You believe I know how to have a good time?” she asks.
“Yeah, babe. I wouldn’t be hanging out with you if you didn’t.”
“Wow,” she says, making me laugh.
“I was going to say . . . yeah, you know how to have a good time, given what we did on the couch this morning, but I didn’t want you to think that’s the kind of good time my mom was having. The correlation felt off. But if we were to separate the two, I’d say your good time this morning shows just how much fun you can have.”
She lifts up to look at me. “That’s the first time I’ve ever done that position.”
“Well, it was fucking hot. Did you like it?”
“A lot,” she says.
“Good to know.” I tug on a piece of her hair. “What else do you like?”
“Are you really going to ask about sex positions when we’re staring at this beautiful lake?”
“Are the tiny waves lapping at the edge not reminding you of anything?”
She pushes up from me to look me in the eyes. “No. What would it remind me of?”
“The sound . . .” I drag out.
“The sound of what?”
I look her dead in the eyes. “Uh, the sound of your wet pussy?”
“Oh . . . my . . . God,” she replies as I start laughing as she stares at me horrified. “What the hell is wrong with you?”
I laugh so hard I scare a pigeon. Wiping my eyes, I ask, “That doesn’t sound familiar? Because it’s bringing all kinds of memories back to my mind.”
“You have serious issues, Wyatt,” she says as she attempts to stand, but I pull her in close before she can get anywhere.
“Can’t run away now, babe, we’re married. That means you must stick with me through all of my insanity. Aren’t you lucky?”
“Somehow, I’m thinking I’m not.”
“AND YOU TOLD me all you could make in the kitchen is peanut butter and jelly,” Aubree says as she sits on the counter, looking adorable in my sweatshirt.
I finish sprinkling some cheese on the noodles and sauce I placed in a baking pan and then wipe my fingers on a dish towel. “This is me trying to impress you as your new husband. If it tastes like shit, please forget I ever attempted this.”
She chuckles as I place the baking pan in the oven and set a timer. “Well, I’m impressed so far. Smells good and looks good.”
“Remember that when you’re eating that.” I spread her legs and move in right in front of her as I place my hands on her hips. “Did you like that I took my shirt off for you so you got a show while I was cooking?”
She rolls her eyes. “It was not necessary.”
“But . . .” I encourage her to continue.
The corner of her lip tilts up. “But it was nice.”
“That’s what I thought. And even though I like this sweatshirt on you, maybe you can join me in the topless cooking show next time. Only fair.”
“I thought this was a show for me, not for you.”
I smooth my hands over her bare thighs since she’s only wearing my sweatshirt and my sweatshirt alone, courtesy of my need to fuck her with my tongue the moment we got home. “It’s a show for both of us.”
She loops her arms around my neck and pulls me closer. “That’s false advertising.”
“Fine . . . consider it your tip for the meal I made you.”
“But if it doesn’t taste good, I won’t tip you.”
My face falls. “That’s fucking rude.”
She laughs such a hearty laugh that it brings a smile to my face.
I love seeing her like this so fucking much. The ease in her expressions, the ease she feels when touching and holding me. She’s vocal and doesn’t hold back but also very understanding and sweet. She’s everything her childhood wasn’t, and I love that about her because I know she could have easily followed in her father’s footsteps. But she chose not to.
“Looks like you’re doing some thinking,” she says as she plays with the short strands of my hair.
“Yeah, just thinking about how amazing you are.”
“Oh?” She wraps her legs around my waist. “Tell me more.”
I lift her into my arms and bring her over to one of the oversized chairs in the living room where I sit us both down. I lean back against the cushion while she straddles my lap.
“Comfortable?” I ask her.
She nods. “Very.”
“Good.” I place my hands on her legs again, my thumbs running along her inner thighs. “I was thinking about how you had a hard childhood, and instead of letting it break you, you decided to make something of yourself. I find that incredibly sexy.” My eyes meet hers. “And I know we haven’t talked about it much, but what I do know is enough for me to know that you were faced with a decision to either sink or float, but you took the next step and soared out of the water.”
She glances away, but I force her to look at me.
“It’s nothing to shy away from, Aubree. Own it.”
Her beautiful green eyes stare back at me. There’s so much soul in them, so much life, I can’t imagine anyone ever wanting to dull her spirit. It’s criminal.
“I know,” she says softly. “Just never really had anyone talk to me the way you do. I mean, Cassidy was always encouraging, and I know she loved me, Ryland and Hattie as well, but growing up, it was like we were all just trying to make it out of that house alive. We didn’t have a chance to compliment or congratulate each other. And you just hand it over so easily.”
“I’m not handing it over,” I say. “I’m stating facts. I’m offering you my honest opinion. There’s no sugarcoating over here. What you hear from me is truth, babe.”
“Is that how your parents were when you were growing up?” she asks. “Encouraging, supportive?”
“Yes,” I answer. “As well as my grandpa. I realize the kind of childhood I was blessed with. I think what I’ve learned from them has transferred over because my goal in life is to try to make people happy, whether through a joke or an escape from reality with my books. Anything to bring more joy into the world.”
“Well, you’re good at it,” she says as her hands fall to my chest. “I know I’ve been happier since you’ve stepped into Almond Bay.”
I raise a brow. “Is that so? Even at the beginning?”
She shakes her head. “No, at the beginning, I wanted to wring your neck. But then somewhere along the way, I slowly loosened up and started to see you for the man you are. Kind and sweet and thoughtful. You took my thoughts, my feelings into consideration, and that’s never happened before. Not even with my siblings, and I don’t say that to slight them because we’ve been through so much. But with Amanda as a best friend, she didn’t care about me. Matt, he brushed my idea of a beautiful life to the side and said it wasn’t good enough. My father considered me his servant rather than his own flesh and blood.” Her eyes connect with mine. “You’re the first person in my life to want to know what I want.” Her hands smooth up my chest as she leans forward. “You’re special to me, Wyatt. You’ve made me feel like I matter. You’ve made me feel like I have something to offer this world.”
I cup her cheek and bring her in closer. “Because you do matter, Aubree.”
“Thank you,” she says right before she closes the space between us and kisses me, soft and tender. Her hands barely grip my face before she leads her kisses over my jaw, down my neck, and then to my chest as she slides between my legs and kneels on the ground in front of me.
“Aubree . . .” I whisper as she reaches for the hem of my sweatpants and pulls them down, letting my cock spring forward. “Baby.”
She moves her hair to the side and brings her sultry lips to the tip of my cock, where she runs her tongue around the head, circling it over and over, driving me crazy with desire.
Desire to have that mouth all over my length.
Desire to bring my cock to the back of her throat.
Desire to fuck her right here on the chair.
She sits back for a second to take off her sweatshirt, leaving her naked in front of me. My eyes immediately fall to her chest, where her nipples are hard. She’s already turned on. I fucking love that about her. That going down on me will make her just as hot as me. She returns to my cock, where she grips the base and starts pumping while she sucks on the head with a force I don’t think I was fucking ready for.
“Christ,” I groan, my head falling back on the chair cushion. “So good—” She brings me back to her throat, sucking me all the way in, and my eyes roll to the back of my head. “Fucking hell,” I whisper.
She pulls away, pumps me a few times, and then dips her mouth over my length again, to the point that she gags, and it’s the best thing I’ve ever experienced. Fuck, I’m obsessed with that.
“Again,” I say, helping her with her hair as it tries to get in her way.
She takes me to the back of her throat again, this time holding it for a few seconds. She swallows, gags, and pulls away.
“Fuck,” I drag out. “Baby, that’s so fucking good. Again.”
She pumps my length, her thumbs working up and down a thick vein on the underside of my dick before she swirls her tongue over the head again and then brings me all the way to the back of her throat, gagging for a third time, and that’s all I fucking need.
I pull her head away and stand from the chair. I pull her up off the floor and bend her over the arm of the chair, moving in behind her.
“I’m going to come quickly,” I say as I kick her feet wide and spread her. I move my hand between her legs and find her wet pussy ready for me. “I fucking love how turned on you are. Such a good girl.”
I position my cock at her entrance and thrust into her, bottoming out in one solid pulse.
“Oh my God,” she yells, her back arching.
I lean over her, my chest to her back as I wrap my hand around her neck and pull her slightly back so she can hear the way she turns me on, my lips so close to her ear.
“This pussy has a chokehold on me,” I whisper as my thumb runs up the column of her neck. “You make me so goddamn hard.”
I start to pump into her, loving how she clenches around me with every thrust, knowing what I need. So I reach around to her front and grip her breast in my hand, rolling her nipple between my fingers.
“And these tits, Aubree. Fuck, they’re so hot.”
I thrust hard and pinch her nipple, causing her to let out a large moan.
“That’s it, baby. I want to hear you.”
I roll her nipple, making her squirm beneath me as I continue to pump into her, my own orgasm building.
“Ma-massage my . . . clit,” she says, breathless.
I bring my other hand between her legs, find her soaking center, and start circling two fingers over the sensitive nub. Around and around, and with every circle, her inner walls spasm against my cock.
“Right there. Yes, Wyatt. Don’t stop.”
Needing to brace myself because I feel my orgasm on the very edge, I release her breast and grip her hip as I start to feverishly pound into her. My legs slap hers, my grunts become erratic, and my fingers work overtime on her clit.
“Yes, yes, Wyatt. Oh God . . . oh fuck . . .” Her body tenses.
Her breath goes still.
On a long yet loud moan, she comes on my cock, squeezing it so tight with her spasms that I pump two more times, then still as my balls tighten and I spill into her.
“Motherfucker,” I cry out as I nearly black out from the pure pleasure striking through me.
Rolling.
Gripping.
Making me weak in the knees as I lean forward and use her for support.
I catch my breath and kiss her shoulder as I say, “Jesus, Aubree.”
She swallows and lets out a deep breath. “Talk to yourself.”
I chuckle and kiss her back again. “It’s you, babe, you started this.”
“And you finished it.”
I pull out of her and then lift her into my arms and take her upstairs, straight to the bathroom, where I set her on the counter.
She squeaks and clings to me. “Cold,” she says.
Chuckling, I reply, “Sorry.”
Slowly, she lowers herself down, and when I know she’s good, I step away and turn on the shower. When I turn to look at her, she lifts her brow and says, “What do you think you’re doing?”
I shrug. “Trying to get you to shower with me.”
“Isn’t there food in the oven?”
“Oh shit,” I say on a laugh. “You’re right. Uh . . .” I look around, trying to figure out what to do.
“Rinse yourself off, and I’ll listen for the food. But don’t even try to coerce me into that shower with you.”
I study her, waiting for her to change her mind, but when she doesn’t, I say, “Fine, but you owe me a shower.”
“We’ll see about that,” she replies, then leans in and presses a kiss to my lips.
I moan into her mouth, but she pushes me away. “Focus, Wyatt. I’m hungry, and I won’t let you burn that dinner. I need to see just how good of a cook you are.”
Smiling, I say, “Fine, but I’m having you for dessert.”
“SO . . .?” I ask, watching her take another bite of my cheesy pasta noodles.
She glances up at me, her fork midway to her mouth as she says, “So what?”
“Uh, how do you like my dinner?”
She leans back in her chair and sets her fork down before placing her hands on her lap. “It’s decent.”
“Decent?” I nearly shout. “Aubree, you can’t be serious. This is fucking delightful.” I fork a noodle and pull it up toward my mouth, the mozzarella stretching with it. “Look at this. You don’t get this kind of stretch just anywhere. This is formed from a master at work. Me being the master.”
“You’re going from I don’t cook much to a master? That is quite the jump.”
“Babe,” I level with her. “Come on. This shit is good.”
She grins and picks up her fork. “Yes, it’s very good.”
I smack the table and shout, “I knew it! Fuck, look at me being husband of the year.”
“Wow,” she says. “If this is what the standards for being a great husband are, they’re pretty low.”
“You might be right about that. Let’s call it a stepping stone to becoming a great husband.”
“Much better.”
“Do you know what a stepping stone for you to becoming a great wife could be?” I ask.
Her eyes narrow. “I’m afraid to even ask. Knowing you, you’re going to say something idiotic like blow jobs every night.”
“Babe, that’s just expected, the standard.”
“In your dreams.”
I laugh and push back from the table slightly. “I wasn’t going to say that, but you know, if you want to make that a ritual, I’m all for it. Totally up to you.” She rolls her eyes. “I was going to say sitting on my lap.”
“What is it with you and using your body as my own personal seating device?”
I chuckle. “I like you on me. I like you near me. I like touching you. Feeling you. Is that such a crime?”
“When you put it that way, no,” she says as she stands from her chair and brings her plate next to mine. Then she sits on my lap, and I wrap my arm around her waist and rest my chin on her shoulder. “Better?” she asks.
“Much. Such a good wife.” I kiss her shoulder and sigh into her back, feeling fully content, like this is what it was supposed to be all along.
Me and her.
It feels so right. And if I have to address the elephant in my room, not hers, this connection I have with her feels significantly stronger than the one I had with Cadance. Looking back on that relationship, it almost seems like she was a stepping stone as well because without her leaving me the night before our wedding, I never would have felt the pressure to come to Almond Bay. I never would have sought out Aubree. I never would have reconnected with Ryland and Hattie and especially Mac.
I’m ashamed to say it, but it was hard to keep in touch when Clarke passed. It makes me wonder if that’s the reason he made me part owner of the farm . . .
“Hey, Aubree?”
“Hmm?” She turns to look me in the eyes.
“Do you ever think about why Cassidy and Clarke left me part of the farm?”
She takes a sip of her drink quickly and then answers, “When I first found out, every day. I constantly thought about how it was such a huge inconvenience to me and didn’t quite understand why they would do something like that.”
“Do you have an understanding now?” I ask.
“I have a thought.”
“What is it?” I ask.
“Well, this might sound a little morbid, but a part of me thinks they did it for this exact instance, where something happened to the both of them, and they wanted to keep us close together. I know they made the change after Mac was born. The lawyer told Ryland and me, so maybe it was their attempt to keep the families bonded.”
“That’s what I was thinking just now.” My grip on her grows tighter as I say, “I’m ashamed to admit it, but I don’t think I’d have stayed connected if it wasn’t for the farm.” I drag my hand over my face. “Jesus, I’m such an asshole.”
“You’re not,” she says.
“No, I kind of am.” I lean back in the chair, guilt swarming me. “Clarke and I were never that close. We were there for each other when we needed help, but we were very different. I was immersed in the world of fiction. I was enamored by crimes and murder and suspense, whereas he had a helping heart, one of pure gold, and wanted to spend his life serving as a humanitarian. I was proud of him, and he was proud of me, but that was as far as it went. I know when he got Cassidy pregnant, it was a kink in his plans. He grew slightly more distant after they moved in together, and I know it was because he struggled with his goals and responsibilities. I should have helped him. I should have been there for him more.”
Aubree forces me to look her in the eyes when she says, “Trust me when I say this, Wyatt. Playing the would have, should have, could have game about a lost sibling will get you absolutely nowhere. I played it for months after we lost Cassidy. I still play it on occasion, and it’s done nothing but made me increasingly more frustrated. You can’t expect yourself to change the past with thoughts in the present. The best thing you can do to honor your brother is to do what you think he’d have wanted. If that means staying connected with the Rowleys, with Mac, then that’s what you do.”
“But it took my own selfishness to finally connect. Clarke never would have acted the way that I did.”
“Probably not,” Aubree says as she lifts my head and lightly runs her thumb over my cheek. “But it shouldn’t matter how you got here. What matters is that you are here and you promised you would keep in touch, even after . . . well”—she grows quiet—“after all this ends.”
And there it is, the shared elephant in the room.
Because we said this is for a year, but now that we’re dating, what does that all really mean? Hell if I fucking know, and I’m pretty sure she has no clue either. We’re both at a disadvantage and unsure of where to go from here. But I do know one thing. I like her and don’t want to think about an end.
“Maybe it doesn’t have to,” I say.
“What do you mean?” she asks, looking confused.
I bring my hand to her thigh and gently rub my palm over her soft skin. “Maybe we don’t put a time limit on anything. Not on this marriage, not on this dating. I want us to be able to explore this, us freely without the pressure of anxiety of it ending in a year.” I press my palm to her hip and hold her tight. “I like you, Aubree, a lot, and I want to give this a fair shot.”
Her hand runs up my chest as she says, “I’d like that, Wyatt. A lot.”
“Good,” I say as I move in to kiss her neck, my hand sliding under her shirt. “Because I’m starting to grow addicted.”
She spins on my lap and straddles me, letting me slide my hand all the way up to her breast while her head falls to the side, giving me full access to her neck.
Yup, fucking addicting.
