Chapter 12
Makenna
I resisted the urge to watch Brewer go back home. My body was trembling with heat as the ghost of his cock still throbbed against my thigh. I could hear Ana padding around in the house. Calling out my name in that tired little voice to see where I had gone. I rubbed at my tits, trying to get my nipples to go back down and stop hurting before I walked myself back inside.
I brushed my hand across my forehead as Ana ran into my leg.
“Hey there, sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed.”
“Where’s Mr. Brewer?”
“He went home, sweetie.”
“But we didn’t finish reading.”
“I’m sure you and I can finish reading tomorrow,” I said.
“No, tonight.”
“Ana-”
“Please, Mommy?”
I sighed and looked over at the book on the floor. I kissed my daughter on top of her forehead, then went to pick up the book. I smiled at the green cover as I turned it over, my mind flooding back to my own childhood. There was a small boy catching an apple from a tree. It had been my favorite book as a child. All of my books were borrowed, of course. My parents couldn’t hardly afford the clothes I was growing out of, much less extra things like books. But what my neighbors had they let me borrow and I was thankful for it.
I loved that book so much that they gifted it to me for my birthday. It was the only brand-new thing I had ever owned as a child and I treasured that gift.
“Mom?” Ana asked.
“Coming sweetie. Let’s get you upstairs.”
I scooped a tired Ana up into my arms and started up the steps with her. My body was still pulsing with heat and I tried to shove Brewer out of my mind. I had to tuck my daughter in. I had to get her to bed. Then I needed to take a shower-- a very cold shower-- and get myself ready for bed. I had another full day of work tomorrow with a lot more to learn, and I wanted to be at my best.
And when I was daydreaming about Brewer’s lips on my neck, I wasn’t at my best.
“Read it to me?” Ana asked.
“Slip underneath those covers and I will,” I said.
Ana hunkered down underneath her covers before cuddling up to my side. Her head fell to my bosom and I bit back a groan of pain. My entire body felt like it was coursing with unused energy. From my nose to my toes, my body ached for a release. A release I hadn’t had in years and craved for in the early hours of the morning.
Those were my favorite moments with a man.
Rolling over, straddling his hips at three in the morning, and waking him up with my warmth.
I started the book over and felt Ana nestle into my body. I cradled her close as the lines fell softly from my lips. There was a point in time where I had this book memorized. Where I could recite the opening pages without even looking down at them. The unbridled love that tree had for her little boy and how the tree was willing to give anything and everything it had to make sure that boy was taken care of and happy. It was the type of parent I wanted to be for Ana.
And the type of woman I wanted to be for a man.
I read through all the pages long after Ana had fallen asleep. I read it more for myself than for her. Flashes of my childhood came back to me. Of my mother rocking me on the porch swing and my father kissing my head whenever he came home from work. He was employed at the steel mill before it shut down, and his inability to find another job spiraled him into an alcoholic state. He wasn’t a mean drunk. Just… tired. Unable to provide for his family except for what unemployment would give him. And my mother worked tirelessly to try and provide for the family when she couldn’t help him.
Fix him.
Lift him up any longer.
My father was drunk and passed out through most of my teenage years and my mother was working two jobs, so she wasn’t there much. All of my clothes were found at garage sales and church functions that felt their job was to reach out into the community and clothe the children some parents couldn’t afford. I could remember my mother spending her last few dollars on as many canned goods as she could buy. She’d cook up rice and heat up green beans and corn, then grab a rare soda she could afford from time to time and we’d call it dinner.
All while my father was snoring with a beer bottle in his hand.
I didn’t blame my parents for my childhood. They did the best they could. Daddy broke his back at the steel mill trying to provide for us, and when they closed it down he didn’t even get a severance. Lost his measly pension and our idiotic health insurance. No one would hire a man who didn’t finish his high school education and his bull-headed pride wouldn’t allow him to drop low enough to work part-time in a grocery store or stock shelves for the local pharmacy.
I wasn’t angry with them.
But I wanted better for Ana because of what I went through with them.
I read through the entire book before I closed it and put it on Ana’s bedside table. I kissed the top of her head and settled her into bed as I stared down at her face. Every single day, she looked more and more like her father. More and more like the man I was prepared to give my all to. There were days when the sun reflected in her eyes and I could swear he was there with us. Smiling at us and running around with her in the front yard.
Then there were days where it hurt too much to look at her. Days where I was glad she was in school because the memory of her father was too much to stomach.
“I’m sorry,” I said breathlessly. “I promise I’ll do better.”
I wiped at the tear caressing my cheek as I slid from her bed. I walked through the doorway of her room and shut it behind me before I fell against it. I had done her such a disservice with my ex. I was weak after her father died. After my husband was killed. I clung to the first guy who tolerated a widowed mother and he was the most pathetic excuse for a man that could’ve ever lived. Controlling. Manipulative. Had no issues raising his voice. In my desperate attempt to find someone to fill the love I no longer had, I put my daughter in harm’s way. Her formative years were filled with arguing and raised voices and name-calling and dramatic storm-outs.
There were days where I felt I didn’t deserve the beauty of my daughter.
And I was having one of those days.
I needed to forget about Brewer. About my want for him. Ana was the most important thing, and I couldn’t allow myself to get side-tracked by him. I had just run from an impossible situation to try and start a new life for myself in an entirely different state. The last thing I needed to do was fuck that up for myself.
Fuck that up for Ana.
Raking my hand through my hair, I stumbled down the stairs. My emotions were getting the better of me and I felt myself spiraling. I opened the front door and stepped out onto the porch, hoping some fresh air would help settle my mind. Darkness blanketed the small town of Redding, and as I breathed in the dusty air a tear trickled down my cheek.
Then, it happened.
He popped back into my mind.
The wind kicked up and swirled around my body and I couldn’t help but think about the way his hands traced the lines of my body. The way his lips pressed salaciously into mine. The care he took. The way he looked into my eyes. My ex had never looked at me like that. Never touched me like that. My ex’s movements were always selfish, but Brewer’s were controlled. Purposeful. Filled with intent.
I felt that guilty heat settle between my legs as my eyes opened back up.
I couldn’t think about this. I couldn’t indulge those types of thoughts. I had a life to get up and going and a daughter I had to consider in all this. I was a mother. A caretaker. The sole provider for our family. I couldn’t lose sight of that. I couldn’t throw myself at another man and expect things to turn out all right. Women only got one chance at that type of happiness, and I’d had mine. All throughout high school. All throughout my pregnancy with Ana.
I did have it, and it was selfish of me to go searching for it again.
But the more I tried to forget about Brewer, the harder the wind whipped. It was like the entire earth was screaming at me to stop. Screaming at my mind to settle down with the thoughts and emotions running rampant throughout my body. I felt my legs crumbling as my eyes settled on Brewer’s porch. I couldn’t. I shouldn’t. I didn’t need to.
Didn’t have to.
But then I saw it. A light come on that lit up his porch. My hips became restless and I shuffled from foot to foot as my cheeks began to flush. It trickled down my neck as the throbbing between my legs overtook my mind.
I didn’t simply want him.
I ached for him.
I opened the door and locked it from the inside before I closed it again. Then my legs started down from the porch. Across the lawn. Across Brewer’s driveway. I was walking up to his porch. Stepping onto his porch. Poising my hand to knock against his door.
There was no going back. If I did this-- if I opened this can of worms-- I would have to deal with the consequences.
My daughter would have to deal with the consequences.
I faltered in my actions and my hand dropped to my side. Tears welled in my eyes as my mind came to a blinding halt. I felt like I was going insane. Brewer couldn’t possibly want a woman like me. I was damaged. Alone. No family or friends. I had Ana. And while she was the most incredible kid in the world, many men would call her ‘baggage’. And Brewer? He was… a man. A tried and true, respectable, chiseled rock of a man. With bulging veins and callused skin and a deep, dark voice that called to a very primal part of my life.
Of my mind.
Of my body.
I wiped away the tears streaming down my face as the wind kicked up again.
It swirled my hair around my shoulders and dried the tears from my eyes. It wrapped around my waist and almost knocked me off balance. I stumbled and tried to catch myself as I drew in a deep breath, my heart slamming against my sternum at a thousand miles a second.
Maybe I needed to get him out of my system. Maybe one moment with him seen through to completion would put my mind where it needed to be for the coming weeks. I bit down onto the inside of my cheek and cleared my throat as the wind began to die down again.
Then, I picked my hand up and knocked on his door.
At first, I didn’t hear anything. There was a light on in the house, but there was no movement. I snickered and shook my head, chastising myself for what a stupid idea this was. And then, a desperation took over my actions. My head started swimming again with thoughts of him and the need for his body against mine was unrelenting. My nipples were engorged, scraping against my bra and the heat in my pelvis was burning the inside of my thighs. I rose my hand and knocked again, a little more frantically than the first time.
And when I didn’t hear a sound, I decided to use my voice.
“Brewer? Are you in there?”
And I hoped he was. For my sake and the sake of my job tomorrow, I hoped he was in there. Listening to my voice and debating on whether or not to open the door.
Because I wanted him to.
I really, really wanted him to.