Chapter 16
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Tessa
A moan escapes my lips as I sink deeper into the bubble bath. I’m not usually one for stewing in my own filth, but I need some uninterrupted time away from Chase to think. That’s the problem with living in a motel room with another person, no damn privacy. I tilt my head back and close my eyes, my thoughts turning to the one person that’s never very far from my mind.
I’ve lost control of the situation, that much is clear.
Four years. Four fucking years I spent carving Andrew Blackwell out of my heart. After catching a glimpse of his old self yesterday, I all but swooned like a teenager. What the hell happened to Asshole Andrew who hated my guts? That Andrew didn’t complicate matters, didn’t make me have impure thoughts or sweaty palms. He was pissed off and had every right to be.
Asshole Andrew was mean as shit, and a bit of a drunk, but he was a hell of a lot easier to deal with. When he was ripping me apart or giving me nasty looks, I wasn’t trying to figure out the quickest way to rip off his clothes.
I was reacquainted with the side of him I feared was destroyed for good. But like my feelings, it wasn’t destroyed, it was merely in hiding. Waiting for us to be drawn back together.
It’s funny, I keep trying to slap a single label on him, but after yesterday, that’s no longer the case. Yes, he’s angry and vindictive, but he’s also gentle and kind. He’s flawed, and well. . . human. If anything, we’re more compatible than ever.
I’m broken, but now he’s broken too.
My harsh laughter echoes in the small bathroom. If he’s in pieces, it’s because I smashed him. If I’m really honest with myself, I don’t deserve him now, any more than I did the day I met him. The light within him isn’t as bright as it used to be, yet it still outshines me on my best day. Yesterday proved that the darkest parts of my soul still yearn for his sunshine. So, there can be no more kissing, no more moments of weakness. I must be strong, for his sake.
He is the sun and deserves the brightest star in the sky, not a fallen one.
After dinner we will talk, really talk. He has to learn that we can never happen, and there’s nothing that will change that.
After I scrub myself clean and my fingers become little prunes, I get out and dry off. I’ve hogged the bathroom for an hour at least. I’m shocked Chase hasn’t banged on the door once to kick me out. I get changed quickly and open the door. Poking my head out, there’s no sign of him, however, my phone that sits on a chair is blinking with a notification. That can’t be good.
Swole Asshat: Sam picked me up, we get to take Ma home tonight. On your own for dinner.
My fingers type furiously across the screen.
Me: Tell Mama M I’ll be over to visit soon. Also, you SUCK.
Swole Asshat: Have fun, play nice!
Shit. At least I still have Blossom to act as some sort of weird sibling buffer for dinner. I can’t slip up and let my guard down. If he’s allowed back into my heart, I won’t survive losing him again. We have to learn to be just friends; to be around one another without wanting to tear each other’s clothes off. He will always be a prince to me, but it’s half past time he found himself a real princess.
I was always playing pretend. Maybe I still am.
When it’s time to leave, I get in Chase’s beat up car and head over to the restaurant I was given directions to. Inside, I give my name and I’m escorted to a booth in a dimly lit corner of the room.
The place oozes romance.
Just what I need.
I slide in the booth across from Andrew, keeping my eyes downcast. I prop a menu between us like a wall and tap my fingers on the table as I try to read over the options. After a few minutes of silence, I exhale and slam the menu back down on the table.
“Where’s your sister?” I demand.
I need my weird sibling buffer, damn it.
He grins, then, as if he’s been suppressing it, laughs loudly.
“What?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.
“Nothing.” He chuckles. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
I flip my hair and scoff. “Don’t flatter yourself, Blackwell.”
His voice becomes serious. “You look gorgeous tonight.”
My breath hitches and I bite my lip with a smile. I squirm under his flattering gaze, chastising myself for giving him so much power over my emotions.
Since he’s so blatantly checking me out, I decide it’s only fair I return the favor. He’s wearing a sharp blazer with a gray button up beneath that stretches across his sculpted chest. His blond hair is slicked back and he’s recently shaved. Mesmerizing green eyes are lit with amusement.
I inwardly curse the universe.
Couldn’t you have made him a little less beautiful, for Christ’s sake?
“Thank you.” I clear my throat and busy myself once more with the menu, this time to avoid gawking at him from across the table.
Our phones chime at the same time. A twist in the pit of my stomach warns me I won’t be happy with what I read.
Blossom: You know me and Chase never actually planned on joining you right? Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do ;)
I look up with a scowl. “Did you know about this?”
His hands shoot up in protest. “Not a clue.”
“Bastards,” I grumble under my breath. Should have known.
“Honestly, I’m glad. I’ve been wanting to talk just the two of us.”
“About that—” I start.
“I want to hear everything. What was it like in La Grande?”
What? That’s not what I was expecting at all.
I wait to reply until after the waiter has taken our orders. “So, what exactly do you want to know?”
He shrugs. “Everything? You wanted us to be friends again. This seems like a good start.”
Good, this is good. I was worried for nothing.
I take a deep breath and start from the beginning. “Well, honestly, it was horrible at first. . .”
Over our meal I tell him about the past four years of my life, only leaving out a few details of my rocky beginning. I talk about my waitressing, and he tells me about his college classes. I share my more recent interest in writing and learn that he continued with his artwork and is turning a small profit from it. We catch up on one another’s lives, and the more we talk, the more I feel at ease.
I’m reminded of the hours we would lie together and talk in our castle as kids. We began our journey in this world as friends, and I’m confident that’s how it was always meant to be. By the end of dinner, I’m lighter, and I’m grateful we had this time alone.
With matching smiles, we step out of the restaurant and into the brisk night. Before we can cross the parking lot, Andrew stops and turns to me. “I want to take you somewhere.”
“Andrew. . .”
“What, past your bedtime?” he teases.
I roll my eyes. “You know that’s not why. Maybe another time, okay?” I don’t let him respond, instead, I flip around and continue to my car.
Don’t, Andrew. Don’t say it.
“Please?” he calls out.
Closing my eyes, I stop and let out a sigh, but I don’t turn back.
“What if I said it was something important, for our friendship?” He stresses the word, and this time I do turn. Half his face hides in the shadows. There’s just enough light for me to make out the desperation shining in his emerald eyes.
“Alright,” I say with a resigning sigh.
His face breaks out in a beautiful smile. “This way then.” He nods for me to follow him. Wherever we’re going must be within walking distance.
Our steps fall in sync as we walk in silence. Each shining streetlamp is the only thing breaking the monotony of the darkened path. After a few minutes, I glance at him furtively, but his gaze is fixed ahead. His shoulders are stiff, and his jaw is clenched.
What does he want to show me that could cause him such worry?
When he finally comes to a stop, it’s in front of a nondescript building with no windows. A metal sign above the door reads, Memento Gallery. I glance over to Andrew, but he’s busy pulling out a set of keys to unlock the front door. When it swings open, the pit of my stomach twists in knots.
I’m reminded of the day I returned to my childhood home. Strangely, back then I knew that crossing the threshold into that house would change everything. It’s the exact feeling I have now.
Steeling myself, I lock up my knees and resist the urge to flee.
No more will I run because I’m afraid of change—of truth.
I choose to have both the heart of a princess and the strength of a reaper.
With as much courage as I can muster, I follow Andrew into the strange building. He hits a switch and the lights power on with a low hum. The large room opens into hallways that flow from one to the next like a small maze. Lamps hanging from the ceiling spotlight the canvases lining the walls. There are benches placed strategically in the middle to allow guests to sit and take in the beauty all around them.
Andrew’s voice echoes when he speaks, “Memento Gallery is featuring one of my art collections this week. My paintings are in the last room, but I thought you might like to see the rest of the art here as well. There are a lot of amazing pieces.”
I nod in amazement as I admire the painting closest to me. The black and gray swirls in the work make me dizzy, but at the same time, draw me in. “Wow,” I breathe.
“That’s one of my favorite abstract paintings. It’s titled, Desolate. The artist is a little strange, but I think that comes with the profession.” He chuckles.
“Okay, pause and rewind. Your artwork is in a gallery?” I throw my hands in the air and gesture to the art surrounding us. “That’s amazing.”
He grins sheepishly. “Yeah, it’s crazy. I couldn’t believe it when people offered to display my work or sell it in their shops. It’s been surreal.”
“Guess that makes you a real artist, huh, Blackwell?”
He shrugs. “I never really thought about it, but I suppose I am. You ready to see more?” Underneath his excitement is a hidden emotion I can’t pinpoint. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t make me nervous.
What is he not telling me?
My suspicion falls away as I stroll through the hallways and give my full attention to each work of art. It’s fascinating how a painting can elicit such a range of emotions. A single stroke of paint can hum with joy while others ring out with chaos and destruction.
As I turn another corner, my eyes are drawn to a large painting of a dragon. My mouth forms a little O as I admire it. Billowing smoke shoots out of the dragon’s snout and seems to roll right off the canvas. The level of detail is incredible, right down to each glistening scale and sharp fang. The glint in the large reptilian eye sends a shiver down my spine.
Dragging my eyes away, I move to the next piece. Once more, I’m consumed with powerful and raw emotions. Sitting upon a hill is a white castle so beautiful Cinderella would be envious. There has to be a hundred little windows on the twisting towers that burst through wispy white clouds and reach to the heavens.
Goosebumps breakout across my neck and shoulders.
Every atom in my body vibrates and hums for me to look at the next painting.
I turn my body, but my eyes snap shut.
After everything that’s happened, you’re scared of a little picture, Reaper?
Taking several deep breaths, I will my irrational fear to subside. Feeling more foolish by the second, I finally give in and open my eyes. Looking up, my heart leaps into my throat. Two large canvases hang on the wall before me.
The first painting is dark and excruciating to gaze upon.
Against a grimy brick wall, sits a skinny girl in tattered clothes. The sad child with long, dark hair and a tear-stained face couldn’t be more than eight years old. Hands wrapped around her knees, eyes brimming with fear, her head tilts to the sky as she cries. My lip quivers and I’m forced to look away in shame.
Swallowing hard, I turn to the canvas that hangs beside it. It’s the same girl with the same dainty nose and blue eyes, but she’s no longer a child. Her rags have transformed into a glittering ball gown. Those big blue eyes once brimming with despair, now shine with joy. A small smirk plays on her lips as she sits upon a gold throne. Atop her head of curls sits a familiar jeweled crown.
Instinctively, I grasp the matching crown around my neck.
It’s the same fairy tale told time and time again, spanning centuries—the peasant to the princess. Yet, there is no denying that this time the princess is supposed to be me.
Tears that had begun to cloud my vision now roll down my cheeks.
I see it now. I see everything.
Hanging just to the left is a painting of a valiant prince fighting off a giant monster. It’s Andrew and my father. The first canvas, with the scary dragon, that was my mother.
The castle. . . It’s our castle. Even more beautiful than my imagination could have ever created.
I whip around and spot him across the room, silently observing me. Seeing the change in my demeanor, his eyes widen and he takes a nervous step toward me.
My voice cracks when I speak, “You remember?”
His eyes fill with tears and his mouth opens, but no sound comes out. His voice having failed him, all he can do is nod.
A strangled noise escapes my throat. Dazed, I take a wobbly step forward. Two more, a little quicker now, less hesitant. Then, I’m running.
“YOU REMEMBER!” I scream, laughing at the same time as I fly across the room. I jump into his arms with such force that I knock us both to the ground. I let out a breathless giggle when he makes an “oomph” sound from beneath me.
Pinning him to the ground, I ask, “Are you okay?” My curls spill down beside his face as I look deep into his eyes, searching for the truth.
“I’m okay. Think you bruised my tailbone though.” He winces with a small laugh.
Like a broken record, I repeat myself, “You remember.”
Can it be true?
Please, God, let it be fucking true.
His lips press into a thin line. “I can’t believe I forgot.” His hand reaches up to cradle my cheek and with a sigh I nuzzle against it.
“I’m the one who should be sorry. It’s all my fault.” Tears stream down my flushed cheeks.
“Shhh, please don’t cry. You know I’ve always hated that,” he murmurs trying to wipe away my tears with his thumb. Always hated. Because he remembers hating it. The simple thought makes me cry even harder. “Please forgive me f—for leaving you alone with those monsters. Please forgive me for forgetting you, princess,” he whispers, eyes full of sorrow, pleading with me to ease his pain.
I shake my head fiercely. “There’s nothing to forgive, God, I just missed you so much, Andrew.” I bring my forehead to his and savor every second of this moment I’ve waited for, for so long. This moment I was sure would never come.
He remembers me.
“I missed you too. I felt so f—fucking incomplete without the memories of you. I knew something was missing, but it was always out of reach. You were right in front of me the whole time, the whole f—fucking time.” A sob escapes my throat as I look into his emerald eyes, and for the first time in ten years, he looks at me and truly sees me.
He won’t ever look through me again.
I have my Andrew back.
He brushes a strand of hair out of my face and tucks it behind my ear. “The thing is, I don’t think I ever completely forgot you.”
My eyebrows knit together in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I found all these old pictures I drew when I was in Chicago. I would sketch pictures of a girl with blue eyes and dark hair over and over. Once, Dad asked me who it was, and I got so angry. I screamed at him that I didn’t know.” His face twists in pain. “They should have told me about you, they knew I forgot, but they decided it was something I needed to remember on my own. . . I wish they hadn’t,” he admits.
My mind reels with the gravity of his words. “You remembered me?”
“Subconsciously I did. Crazy, isn’t it?”
I blow out a big breath. “Crazy.” Feeling overwhelmed, I let my body sag against his, resting my head against his chest. His arms automatically wrap around me. “Just. . . don’t let me go,” I beg.
“Never again, princess.”
Those three little words shoot a multitude of emotions surging through my veins.
Fear.
Hope.
Love.
Desire.
Grabbing him roughly by the collar of his shirt, I slide back and force his body into a sitting position. I wrap my legs around his waist and press the core of my body against him. His hands drop to my hips as he emits a low groan of surprise.
In his eyes, I find my own whirling emotions of love and lust reflected back at me. I shove away all the doubts and worries that plague me. With a handful of my curls, he guides my face to his until our lips are almost touching. The fire in his intense gaze is as earth shattering as the rapid rise and fall of his chest.
Time around us slows to a crawl.
We kiss with the fluttering excitement of our first time, and the desperate vigor that it could be our last. I roll my tongue across his bottom lip and moan when I taste the faintest hint of cinnamon. Adrenaline pulses through my veins as I explore his body, a small part of me still trying to register that I finally have all of him back. My fingers run through and tug at his thick hair as my other hand slides under his shirt and over his hard muscles.
Feeling dizzy, I pull away from his swollen lips and gasp for air.
He kisses down my throat, and in one move my top is torn away and his mouth moves to my chest. I hiss with pleasure when his teeth rake across the swell of my breasts, just above my lace bra. I yank his blazer down his shoulders and use it to force our bodies closer. I writhe in need as his hardened dick presses against my stomach.
His blazing eyes snap to mine, and with a squeal of surprise, I’m flipped onto my back. His lips are back on mine in an instant. I wrap a possessive hand around his neck to pull him in for a deeper kiss. Arching my back, I lift off the floor and allow him to reach around and snap off my bra.
When I fall back to the cold floor, he pauses to drink in my exposed body. “Fuck, you look so much better naked.” My giggle turns to a moan when he dips down and licks between my heaving breasts, his warm breath sending a ripple of goose bumps across my torso.
His lips brush across my raised skin and I cry out when he reaches my nipple, swirling around before his teeth nip me. His lips graze across my skin as he travels to specific parts of my body; he kisses my shoulder, each forearm, my ribs. With a start, I realize he’s sought out each and every marred part of my skin. Not a single scar is left without the touch of his warm lips. It’s as if he’s certain he can erase all the pain that befell me.
And like magic in a fairytale, it does disappear, if only till the clock strikes midnight.
It’s not until his generous mouth reaches my navel, that he stops to look up at me. “Are you sure this what you want?” His husky voice is just above a whisper.
“Yes.” A fucking million times yes.
Popping open the top buttons of my jeans, he drags down the zipper ever so slowly. As if the sexual tension between us isn’t already the strongest drug known to mankind. He wants to tease me. I open my mouth to rush him, but his knee applies a sudden pressure between my legs that has pleasure shooting through me.
“Fucking hell,” I moan, biting down on my lip with excitement.
My jeans and panties are tugged off. Rising to his knees, he crosses an arm over his chest and tears off his shirt in one fell swoop. For the second time, I notice the small tattoo on his chest. This time, I rein in my focus and actually take a second to examine it. Across his heart is a crown, a different style to the one I wear around my neck, his is one fit for a king. I reach out and press my palm against the design. Beneath the ink, his heart pounds for me.
Even when he was pissed off that I had left, something pushed him to get the symbol of our childhood love etched into his skin. The sentiment behind the gesture serves to drive my desire into a frenzy. His mouth tilts into a smirk as he feels the shift.
Biting down on my bottom lip, I ignore his demand to be still and move to my knees. Undoing his jeans, I yank them down with his boxers before sliding them across the room and out of the way. My face is inches away from the throbbing head of his dick. I lick my lips and look up into his eyes. With a shake of his head, he drops down and crawls forward, forcing me to lie back on the floor.
“Tonight, is about you,” he growls.
My thighs are wrenched apart. His fingers slip between them as he begins to rub in slow, circular motions. His face disappears between my legs where he licks and nips the inside of my thighs as he continues to rub me. My breath hitches as my eyes glaze over. The multiple sensations are pushing my body into overdrive. My toes clench as the pleasure begins to rise, a flame stoked into a raging fire that threatens to burn me alive.
I hear a tsking sound and snap open my eyes when his hand slides away, and I’m left writhing, my flushed body crying out for more.
“Andrew. . .” his name is a plea on my tongue.
Moving back up my body, his face hovers over mine. “The first time I make you scream, it sure as hell isn’t going to be from my fingers,” he assures me with a devilish grin.
“Oh, my fucking hell,” I groan.
Lowering himself, his lips find mine and I forget whatever words my mush brain was trying to form. His pulsing dick thrusts inside me as I quake with an involuntary shudder. It’s a feeling unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before. My vision wavers from the pure ecstasy of how he fills me.
With each thrust, he gets a little faster, goes a little deeper, and I find myself grinding against him in desperation. Wanting it, needing the release with every fiber of my being.
Wave after wave of pleasure rolls through me each time he rocks back and forth. We fall in sync as he gives and I take. Each thrust sending me closer to the edge.
When he lowers his body flush against mine, I wrap my arms around his back, digging my nails into his skin.
“Fuck,” I moan. Every muscle in my body is clenched tight as I’m wound up like a top.
“I’ve got you now, let it all go,” he hums in my ear.
And I do.
My back arches and I scream at the top of my lungs, clawing at his flesh as a powerful feeling rips through me, threatening to mend or destroy me, body and soul.
Releasing my death grip around his forearms, I relax my taut muscles and fall back to the floor with a thud. Rolling over, he lies beside me, the room filled with the sound of our heavy breathing. As my thrumming heart begins to slow, I look over to find a dopey grin on his face. I laugh, and even to me it’s a beautiful, light sound. In fact, I don’t think a happier sound has ever come out of me.
“Jesus, Andrew.” I gasp, still trying to catch my breath.
He laughs. “Fucking tell me about it, that was. . . incredible.”
As we lie side by side, our fingers interlaced, we fall into a peaceful silence as the delirious high begins to ebb away and the reality of what I’ve learned settles in.
I release a deep exhale. “I still can’t believe you remember.”
Rolling onto his side, Andrew props onto his elbow and regards me with a serious look. “I can’t believe I forgot about you, about us.” Guilt clouds his features.
“So, you remember. . . everything?”
“Everything.” He nods.
“Hmmm, okay then. What did you get me on my ninth birthday?” I narrow my eyes suspiciously.
He chuckles. “The same thing I got you every year. Crappy week old birthday cake and a book.”
For a moment I look away. “Not every year,” I murmur.
He reaches over and lets his fingers brush across the crown that lays flat against my skin. “No, I suppose you’re right. I guess this means you liked it?” He gives me a lopsided grin, and I let out a strangled laugh.
“It was perfect,” my voice hitches as I hold back fresh tears.
“I told you I would get you a crown, didn’t I?” He brushes a strand of hair out of my face.
I nod as my watery eyes glisten thinking back to his childhood promise.
“Do you remember. . . what happened?” The events of that day are branded into my soul. I’m cursed to remember every single detail like it was yesterday. It’s the one thing I hope he can’t remember.
“I remember your father, how he towered over me like some sort of monster. When he kicked you, it was the first time I felt rage and knew true hatred. I wanted to kill him so badly, but I was helpless. Nothing but a child. Then you got up. I screamed your name, and you got back up. I remember feeling so amazed, thinking how courageous you were to stand up for me. You were so brave, Tessa, but then. . . there was a sharp pain, a loud ringing in my ears. I could see you, feel you, but my mouth wouldn’t move to tell you it was okay. That was the worst part of it all, hearing you scream and not being able to comfort you.”
He was on death’s doorstep and his only thought was to comfort me. His capacity for selflessness never ceases to amaze me.
“I’m so sorry, Andrew. I should have been more careful, I was a fucking idiot—”
“Stop.” His hand cups my cheek, kind eyes searching my face. “It’s okay. I don’t blame you, sweetheart, and I won’t allow you to carry around this guilt any more, do you hear me?”
I look away; tears streaming down my cheeks.
His fingers tug my chin back, forcing me to return to his gaze. “Promise me,” he begs. Sorrow darkens his expression.
“Okay,” I croak out, and I’m rewarded with a smile.
He collapses onto his back and pats his chest. I crawl closer and nuzzle into the crook of his neck. Wrapping my leg around him, I close my eyes as exhaustion sets in.
“Are you still angry with me?” I ask, grateful I can no longer see his face.
He sighs before answering. “I’m still hurt that you left, but time, and getting to have you back in my life, will heal my heart faster than anything else in this world ever could.”
I smile against his bare chest as a blanket of weariness settles over me. I struggle to keep my eyes open, terrified to wake up and find it was all just a beautiful dream.
Please don’t take him away from me again.
I send my exhausted plea out to the universe, but no answer comes back.