Chapter Twenty-Five

AMELIA

“Oh God, yes, harder,” I scream as Aaron drives his hips into mine. Sweat coats his forehead, his eyes closed, his teeth gnawing at my lower lip. “More.”

I dig my fingers into his shoulders while the cold of the kitchen counter on my bottom adds to the pleasure that’s rocketing through me.

“Your pussy’s so damn tight . . . fuck,” Aaron mutters as he pulls me in harder, his cock sliding in out of me at a rapid rate, and in the matter of seconds, I’m coming in the middle of Aaron’s kitchen.

Aaron groans against my ear, his body stilling as his orgasm hits him moments after mine.

Still throbbing, still floating down from the high Aaron sent me on, I rest my forehead against his shoulder and take deep breaths.

I don’t even know how many times he’s made me come. I’ve lost count. But in the matter of twelve hours we’ve had sex in his bed, against his bedroom wall, in the shower, against the shower wall, on the bathroom counter, me over the couch, and now in the kitchen.

I want him again. Amazingly, with each itch he scratches, I only want more.

“Fuck, I love you,” he whispers right before kissing the side of my head, his lips lingering on my skin.

He says those three little words whenever he gets the chance, but he doesn’t just say them to say them. It’s not hard to see how genuine he is when he confesses his love to me, how serious he is about being with me again.

And deep down, I share the same love. I know it’s there. I’m thinking it never left. But I’m cautious with saying those three little words, even though I can feel them bubbling closer and closer with each passing moment I spend with Aaron.

But the last time I said those three little words, I said them to Trey, a man who still crosses my mind, allowing my barely bandaged heart to pinch. I don’t know if I’m ready to say them to another man yet.

Once Aaron cleans up and helps me put his sweatpants back on me—it’s chilly after all—he pulls me from the counter into his bare chest. Encased by him, I glide my hands up his back and enjoy every ripple of his muscles against my palms.

“If it was a work day, I’m pretty sure we’d be screwed. There is no way I would be able to leave you right now.” His chest rumbles against my cheek, his laughter soft.

“I would have to call in sick for sure. Everyone would be asking me why I was walking weird.”

“Are you sore?” he asks, pulling me away to gauge my reaction.

I run a finger over the scruff on his cheek, the same scruff that burned me in the best way possible early in the morning when his head was buried between my thighs. “I am sore, but that’s not going to stop me.”

He winces. “I’m sorry, baby. I should have been more careful.”

“Don’t apologize. I’m not sorry about it, that’s for sure.” I press a kiss against his chest.

He’s so different but the same. It’s strange. Aaron was twenty-five when we met. He was sweet, caring, sexy, and only wanted to make me happy. Now at thirty, he’s the same man, but with an extra coat of testosterone. And muscles. Sex with Aaron has always been amazing, but last night, this morning, I can’t even describe it. I don’t know if he’s ravenous to have me back in his life, or if over the years he’s morphed into someone else in the bedroom, but whatever it is, it’s addicting. I can’t stop myself from touching him, kissing him, making him hum with need.

The way he growls when kissing my neck, or the way his powerful body shifts when I stroke his cock, or the way he drives into me with such force, such abandon, it’s all new, and it’s all I want.

Aaron rubs my back and stares at me, a bit of awe in his eyes. “Is this for real?” he asks. “Are you really in my kitchen, wearing my clothes, kissing me, loving on me?”

“It is and I am.” I smile, unable to hide the joy I feel.

Shaking his head he lets out a long pent-up breath. “Honestly, I never thought I would be able to hold you again, and now you’re here, After last night I could die a happy man.”

“Can I ask you something?” I lower my hands to his hips where I grip him, playing with the elastic of his sweats.

“Ask away.”

“If you talked to me instead of pushing me away, do you think there would have been a way we could have worked everything out, to have the best of both worlds?”

Sighing, he lifts me on the counter so he can look me better in the eyes. He spreads my legs and steps into my space, warming me from the cold counter.

“I’ve thought about it a lot. What if I had taken the chance and tried to make things work?” He shakes his head. “Honestly, I don’t think I was mature enough to make it work. I was still very much attached to making my mom happy even though she didn’t deserve it. I wasn’t in a good position in my career, or my life for that matter. The best thing I had going for me was you, and I didn’t want to be the one who held you back. I needed to make changes. Grow.” He takes a deep breath and continues, “I was the one who always seemed to screw up something in our relationship. I was always apologizing. I saw myself as a roadblock to your drive to earn an education. I didn’t want to be the jealous boyfriend who wondered what you were doing every night while away from me. I think in the end, I would have fucked something up, ending us no matter what. I wasn’t the man capable of walking beside you. Not then.”

This man, this sweet, caring man. Does he not understand his worth in this relationship? Does he not get how much he contributes to my happiness?

“This isn’t a one-way street, Aaron. You’re not the only one who gets something out of this relationship. You have a way of making me feel cherished, special, understood and I think that’s rare.”

“I’m sorry.” He lets out a long breath. “I’m not very good at seeing my worth, never have been. I’ve always felt second best my whole life, never good enough.” He runs a hand over his face and laughs sardonically. “Shit, talk about mom issues.”

“Hey.” I still him. “You’re important to me, and I see the worth in you.” I kiss the space above his heart. “Don’t let how your mom treats you determine the incredible man you are.”

His strong hands pull me into his chest, and he hugs me hard, his lips pressing against my head. “I love you, Amelia. So damn much.”

We stay there, in his kitchen wrapped around each other for longer than expected, just enjoying the feel of once again being in each other’s arms. I never thought moving to Binghamton would bring this, but I’m damn glad that I did.

The sound of my stomach gurgling breaks the silence between us. Chuckling, Aaron puts a few inches between us and looks at me. “Hungry?”

Shyly I nod. “I think my stomach is trying to communicate to me.”

“Sounds like it.” He presses a kiss against my forehead and steps toward his fridge. “Let me see what I have.” When he opens the fridge door, he winces. “Shit.” A low chuckle comes out of him as he scratches his chest. “Uh, I kind of have beer and that’s it.”

I roll my eyes. “Why am I not surprised?” I hop off the counter. “Come on, I have food at my place.”

“Lucky Charms?” he asks, looking a little too excited.

“Lucky Charms puts unwanted weight on my hips, so no. I have Special K, cereal, and eggs. Which I’m shocked you don’t have any eggs, Mr. I-Eat-Ten-a-Day.”

“It’s not ten.” He laughs behind me and grabs a sweatshirt from his coat closet. He quickly puts it on before we head outside.

“Whatever, you should always have eggs.”

“I planned on going to the store today, but I was wrapped up in something.”

I slip on my shoes and head out his front door. “Are you complaining?”

“Fuck. No.” He steps out on the porch and then quickly heads back in his house. “Shit, I need shoes. The ground is frozen. Give me a second, I’ll be right over.”

“Hurry up, my stomach isn’t going to wait.” He places a chaste kiss on my lips and takes off into the house.

Smiling, I fold my arms over my chest and walk to my house, my eyes transfixed on the ground below me, remembering the last twelve hours and how delightfully real they were. I’m back with Aaron Walters. It’s almost unbelievable. After the way we left everything, I never thought we’d be together again. It’s as if we needed to break up to be put back together again. And for my precious father to have helped me open my eyes, I’m in awe. And so thankful. I know I’ll need to talk to Trey at some point, but right now, I’m in a dazed state of euphoria.

Shaking my head, I make it to my walkway and halt in place when I see someone on my porch. My heart jumps in its place when I step back, startled. About to flee to Aaron’s, my hand to my chest, a scream ready to pop out, I make eye contact with the man in front of me.

Trey?

It almost feels like the world around me fades to black as my eyes zero in on Trey. My muscles seize on me, my heart sputters in my chest as he takes a step forward, agony painted across his face.

I don’t know if I can do this, if I can see him again. Not yet.

“Oh my God, you scared me.” I step back and try to catch my breath.

“I’m sorry.” His voice sounds tattered, broken, which only adds to the anxiety rolling through me.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” My fingers tremble over my lips in disbelief.

He steps forward, running his hand over his hair. I take a moment to observe him. Trey doesn’t seem to be doing well. His hair is unruly, unlike his usually well-kept hairdo, he’s wearing sweats and a long-sleeved T-shirt that looks rumpled, and there are dark circles under his eyes, eyes that once were bright but now seem dull.

Did he take the breakup hard? I’m kind of surprised, given I haven’t heard from him besides his one text. His intention to switch our entire life around to accommodate his needs rather than our needs still makes me angry. Honestly, I’m surprised to see him here.

“Amelia, can we talk for a moment?”

Caught off guard, not really knowing what to do, I nod while a little voice in the back of my head is sending me warning signals. I can’t decipher them. I walk to my porch and take a seat on the wicker love seat. Trey takes a seat next to me, his shoulders slumping. The morning air is crisp, making my nose run and my bones quiver. I fold my hands together and push them between my knees to keep them warm.

“Can you at least look at me for a second?” he asks, almost sounding desperate. I didn’t realize I wasn’t. Maybe it’s because I don’t want to see the hurt in his eyes. I want to believe in my heart and mind that Trey wasn’t affected by our breakup, that I was the only one hurt. But when I see him, when I make eye contact, I know that’s the furthest thing from the truth.

He presses his hand on my knee, sending some warmth up my leg. With his head down, he says, “I’m such a fucking fool. I don’t know what I was thinking.” He’s shaking his head now, only to look me in the eyes. “I was an idiot thinking I could take you away from the future we planned. I was insensitive when it came to your father, and I got caught up in my own career trajectory rather than considering my very own quality of life. Our life.”

I don’t want to hear this. I don’t want him saying these words to me, these words of regret, of sorrow. Breaking up with Trey was so much easier when I knew he had a different plan in life, but now that he’s re-evaluating, it’s too much to handle. It’s confusing me . . .

“I love you, Amelia, and I was an idiot to let you go.” He takes my hands in his. “I will do anything to get you back, because I’m miserable without you. Without hearing your voice before I go to bed, without receiving your loving text messages throughout the day, without seeing that beautiful face pop up on my phone. I can’t fucking stand it, being away from you, knowing I completely fucked up. You’re the best thing to happen to me, and I’d be an idiot to throw that away for a job opportunity.”

Tears well in my eyes as a knot twists and turns in the pit of my stomach. There is so much regret in his face, in his body posture, in the way he’s pleading.

I don’t know what to say. But I know I need to speak some of my anger within me. Everything he said is only about him. He’s miserable. He wants to hear my voice. He wants my text messages. He wants to see my face. He can’t stand being away from me. I’m the best thing for him.

“Trey, I left last Friday. I haven’t heard from you except for a few texts. You could have driven up on the weekend. Or did you go straight back into work for another ten hours without giving me a thought?”

He looks sheepish. Did he really go back to work as if nothing had happened between us?

“Trey?”

“I had to go back in, because there was—”

“No. Stop. Please stop. You made promises to me that you broke. Nothing’s changed.” But at the mention of promises, I think about another man who did the same thing.

Aaron.

His promises, his apology, his reasoning. Our connection, last night, the future he wants . . . the future I agreed to. With him.

My heartbeat is rapidly speeding to an abnormal pace, a pace that’s making my breathing start to become labored.

“Hey, are you okay?” Trey asks, one of his hands going to my face. I can’t seem to focus on him, my eyes feeling wild, erratic. “Amelia, talk to me, sweetheart.”

“I don’t . . . I don’t want this—”

The sound of rapidly approaching footsteps breaks my eye contact with Trey just in time to see Aaron jog onto my porch. You can see the minute he sees Trey because his jovial expression switches to panic. His eyes run skittishly between us, skimming over our connected hands and back to Trey.

My tongue feels twisted, my throat completely choked up. I never wanted these two to meet. I never wanted to be in this position where my heart reaches out to two men. But does it? Does it really reach out to two men?

They’re two different chapters in my life, two chapters that are now colliding in the worst way possible.

Silence stretches between us for what seems like a lifetime until Trey stands, his hands leaving mine, and steps toward Aaron, as if he’s trying to get a better look at him. How do I explain Aaron to Trey? I wring my hands together, wracking my brain for some kind of words when Trey says, “Aaron?”

What?

How the hell does Trey know Aaron? Confused, I look between the two of them, trying to understand their connection, how they might possibly know each other. Did I show Trey a picture one time? That doesn’t seem like something I would do, especially since ex-boyfriends are meant to stay in the past.

I’m about to question Trey when Aaron deflates right in front of me and says, “Trey.” It’s as if he knows Trey. Well, I guess he did see his picture that day on the mantel. His shoulders slump, his hand pulls on the back of his neck, he’s showing all the signs of being defeated. But why? Why isn’t he by my side? Where has confident Aaron gone?

I capture their attention as I stand. I take them in, trying to connect the dots. Aaron avoids looking at me, and Trey is puzzled as to why Aaron is on the porch. But when their eyes meet mine, their vivid blue eyes, my heart catches in my chest.

Oh my God.

No. Surely not.

With my voice shaky, my body humming with awareness, I ask, “Trey, how do you know Aaron?”

Without skipping a beat, Trey says, “He’s my biological brother.”

I know the earth spins on its axis at a consistent pace, never slowing down and never speeding up. I know this is a true scientific fact, but I swear to you, at this moment in time, with both Aaron and Trey staring at me, their eyes burning a hole in my soul, the earth stands still, the air stagnant around us. For a brief moment in time, everything around our little threesome pauses as I try to wrap my head around what Trey just said.

They are brothers. The two loves of my life are brothers. And from the looks of it, from the guilty expression Aaron is wearing, he’s known.

He’s fucking known. It’s written all over his face.

When? How long? A million questions roll through me as my mind flashes back to a few weeks ago, when Aaron was in my house, waiting on a rent check from me. He was in my living room, when I came back, I saw him looking at a picture of Trey and me. Did he know then? He must have. And he kept it a secret this entire time, never bothering to tell me?

Turning to Aaron, I state, “You knew, didn’t you? You knew I was dating Trey, that I was dating your brother, and you didn’t say anything.” My voice gets louder, angrier as I press him with my questions.

Aaron doesn’t look me in the eye, instead, he avoids me at all costs, his feet shifting beneath him. “I knew,” he admits, his voice full of sorrow, so quiet I almost didn’t hear him.

Trey looks between us, trying to understand what’s happening, and then realization hits him. “Aaron. This is Aaron? The guy who broke you, shattered your heart? That’s this Aaron?”

I nod.

“You’re fucking kidding me, right?” I’ve never seen Trey so distraught. Even when I eventually shared my relationship with Aaron, he was angry, but quietly supportive. I can only attribute this out-of-character display of fury to his emotional state. He looks ragged. A little lost. Trey turns to Aaron, and I see rage starting to flex in his arms. “Do you realize what you did to her?” Trey’s voice rises, and I worry about the neighbors. “Do you understand the kind of mental dent you put in Amelia? Her ability to love, to let people in?” Growing angrier by the second, Trey steps up to Aaron, only a few inches shorter than him and says, “You’re a fucking asshole.” And before I can stop him, Trey pushes Aaron off the porch, causing Aaron to stumble backward and fall to the ground.

Not giving Aaron a chance to get back up on his feet, Trey charges after him, saying, “Why the hell are you here?” Trey pounces on Aaron, straddling him and lands a punch to his face. I scream, placing my hands over my mouth for a brief second before I go after Trey, but when I reach them, Aaron flips Trey to his back and cocks his arm. I grab hold of his pulsing bicep but struggle to hold it.

“Stop,” I cry out. “Stop right now.” Tears fall from my eyes as I try to hold Aaron back.

“Go ahead, punch me, fucking do it. I know you’ve wanted to do it for years. Just fucking do it already. It won’t change anything, though. You’re such an asshole.”

Blood drips from Aaron’s nose, his eyes are trained on Trey, and fury radiates in every muscle of his body. For once in my life, I feel afraid of Aaron.

“Do it,” Trey says, egging him on. I’ve never seen this behavior in Trey before. He seems to be more than angry at Aaron for what he did to me. He is . . . taunting him. But why?

“Stop it,” I repeat. They’re both so lost in their own world.

Aaron pauses and pushes off Trey. I scoot back and watch as Aaron flips the hood of his sweatshirt over his head.

“You’re not worth it,” Aaron says before walking toward me. The look in his face can only be described as utter devastation. In a low voice, he says, “I’m sorry, Amelia. I’m so fucking sorry.”

Not giving me a chance to respond, he takes off toward his truck and pulls keys from his pocket to unlock it. The truck roars to life, and in the matter of seconds, he’s taking off down the road, leaving only his sorrow in his wake. What just happened?

Bewilderment, anger, pain, and doubt overwhelm me. The biggest question is why. Why did he hide what he knew? Why didn’t he stay to help me understand, especially after he’d told me less than an hour ago how much he loved me and I was his forever? The worst thing? These feelings are horribly familiar. Watching him leave me, feeling confused, hurt, and angry.

What just happened?