Chapter Fifteen
SHANNON
Nine months ago
Will: You know…it’s a waste of water
Shannon: What the fuck now?
Will: What you do with your showerhead
Shannon: William. I told you bad things happen when you bring that up.
Shannon: I don’t recall making any comments about you *cleaning your rifle*
Will: It’s irresponsible. Most people don’t have that kind of water to waste
Will: You should really delegate management of those priorities to me
Shannon: Mmhmm. I’ll be over here, ignoring you.
Will: Talk to me about those toys.
Shannon: ?
Will: The deep dicking drawer.
Will: If I didn’t have a handle on my masculinity, that drawer would have given me something to think about
Shannon: You’re not making a lot of sense
Will: Yeah I’ve been awake for the past 4 days but I keep wondering which one of those toys you use when you’re thinking about me
Shannon: What gives you the impression I’m thinking about you
Will: You were thinking about me in the shower
Will: And I think about you
Shannon: ….using the deep dicking toys?
Will: No. In my head you just use your fingers
Will: But I have thought about teasing you with them. Seeing how crazy I can get you
Shannon: Aren’t you supposed to be thinking about commando shit? I’m uncomfortable with the idea of you jumping out of airplanes or crawling through mud on your belly while thinking about vibrators.
Will: Whoa. Hold on. Let me write this down. I want to remember the day and time you backhandedly admitted caring about me.
Shannon: I was more concerned with national security and all. I don’t want you invading the wrong country or taking out the wrong dictator or whatever
Will: That’s sweet but the jumping out of aircraft is a small portion of my day. There’s a lot of down time where I can contemplate vibrators relative to your pussy.
Shannon: I do care about you. Don’t say I don’t. That’s rude.
Will: Yeah whatever. You care about my cock
Shannon: I won’t disagree with that statement but I would add that I enjoy other parts of you as well
*
Shannon: I might need you to help me hide a body
Will: I’m your guy
Shannon: You’re my guy
Will: I appreciate that you’ve finally confirmed it.
Shannon: Maybe a few bodies
Will: What kind of damage are we talking? Frat party gone wrong or mass grave? I can handle either one but I’d want an extra pair of hands for the sake of efficiency if we’re in mass grave territory
Will: And I don’t usually ask this but humor me here…who are we burying?
Shannon: Sam clearly has a death wish today
Shannon: And another one of Patrick’s assistants quit
Shannon: She decided she wanted to Occupy Wall Street or join Greenpeace. She said working for us was robbing her soul of its generosity and she needed purpose in her life.
Shannon: We save old homes, for fuck’s sake! We’re actively preventing history from being demolished!
Shannon: And for once, it wasn’t Patrick’s fault but fuck…there are times when I’m 93% sure I’m employing children. Actual children.
Will: Don’t get me started.
Shannon: You can make them run and jump and climb things. I can’t ask an intern to put paper in the copier without a story about her life’s path and my contribution to deforestation
Will: Run and jump and climb? Are you confusing the special ops with playgrounds?
Shannon: Yes, William. Yes, I am.
*
Shannon: Do you wear a thigh holster?
Will: Mmm?
Shannon: You know. On your missions.
Will: Yeah.
Will: Why?
Shannon: I have my reasons
Will: Wait. That’s the weirdest thing you’ve ever asked and we’ve had some strange convos
Shannon: Unlikely
Shannon: I was just wondering
Will: Why don’t I believe that?
Shannon: They’re kind of hot, all right?
Will: Wait a minute.
Will: Wait
Will: Were you watching SEAL porn?
Shannon: This conversation is over
Will: omg you were!
Will: I’ve turned you into a tag chaser. I want to hear all about it.
Shannon: Can you go squeal somewhere else?
Will: Hold on. You were watching porn and you didn’t call me? How many movies have we watched over the phone together? At least 10
Will: You can call me when that Eurotrip movie is on but you can’t call me for PORN?
Will: I expect a call when porn is involved
Shannon: Sigh.
Shannon: I never said I was watching porn
Will: And you haven’t denied it either.
Will: You want me to bring my gear the next time I see you? Give you the real thigh holster experience?
Will: What does it for you, peanut? Some enhanced interrogation? Camo? Underwater knot tying?
Will: You want to watch while I do push-ups?
Shannon: Oh my jesus
Shannon: Can we please not talk about this anymore. Or ever again.
Will: Sure. Agree to one thing.
Shannon: Ugh what
Will: You’re not allowed to watch porn without me. Got it?
Shannon: Yes sir.
Will: Ohhhh that was nice.
*
Shannon: Hey. Are you awake?
Will: Yes
Shannon: I can’t sleep. Tell me something interesting.
Will: One of my guys thinks he’s coined a new sex term for visiting each port
Shannon: Right there. That one. That was pretty special.
Will: He calls it “getting in 3 holes of golf”
Shannon: Gross
Shannon: Amusing, and something Riley would totally say, but gross
Shannon: He’d probably aspire to that as well
Will: I like how you automatically understood that one.
Shannon: I have 4 brothers. My office is like a locker room
Shannon: Tell me something else
Will: I want to roll over at 2 in the morning and find you, not a text message
Will: I love talking to you but I hate this
Will: Too real?
Shannon: No.
Shannon: I know exactly what you mean.
*
Will: I’m going down range for a bit
Shannon: Should I understand that comment?
Will: It means I’ll be off the grid.
Shannon: With the baby seals?
Will: No. I have to jump on a mission.
Shannon: A real one? Not training?
Will: Real
Shannon: Oh. Ok.
Shannon: Don’t take out the wrong dictator
Will: I’ll try.
Will: Be good while I’m gone, peanut.
Shannon: I’ll try.
Shannon: Just be careful, ok?
Will: I will.
*
Will: You up
Will: Fuck this has been a long week
Will: I want to talk to you
Will: I miss you
Shannon: How can you miss me? You haven’t spent enough time with me to miss me
Will: Yeah it shocks me too
Shannon: That must have been some mission
Will: Affirmative.
Shannon: Nice to know you made it back in one piece.
Will: Terrorists are a lot like king salmon. Life is great until the seals show up
Will: And don’t think I didn’t notice you worrying about my ass
Will: You going soft on me now?
Shannon: About as soft as your cock
Will: Awwww that’s sweet
Will: Completely false, but sweet
*
Will: Whose soul are you eating today?
Will: Do you wear one of those blinged out wrestling belts? Something with ‘Soul Crusher’ engraved on it? It just sounds like it would be appropriate.
Shannon: You know what they say. Send me to the wolves and I’ll come back leading the pack.
Will: That you do, peanut.
Will: So who are enslaving?
Shannon: Not that it’s any of your goddamn business…but Sam
Will: Well, he deserves it.
Shannon: Don’t you have governments to overthrow or submarines to blow up?
Will: Yes. I’m saving that for after lunch, though.
Will: What did Sam do to earn your wrath?
Shannon: Nothing. He’s just being a bitch.
Will: Is it because he discovered he’s a grown man who needs someone to launder his pants?
Shannon: Would you shut the fuck up?
Will: Yeah, next time I have your pussy to suck on
Will: And thank fuck that’s going to be soon
*
“I can’t hear you,” I said, raising my voice though I knew it wouldn’t help. I glanced at the screen. “Tom? You’re breaking up. I have a good signal but I think there’s something wrong with my phone. It got wet this morning, and it sounds like something is sizzling inside. Hold on, let me get into the terminal.”
I blew my hair out of my face and tucked the phone against my other ear but I was still in shambles. I was morbidly premenstrual and feeling one hundred percent too bloated for these jeans and this bra. I was ready to eat six cheeseburgers and all the chocolate cakes, and I was well past hangry. My quick flight from Boston to Washington, D.C. hung out on the tarmac for three hours before takeoff, and it was packed with dueling high school cheerleading squads and screaming babies. When I stepped off the plane and onto the jetway at Reagan National, my ears were ringing and I couldn’t get “we go tick, tick, boom” out of my head.
And it was a full moon.
This was one of those insane weeks where every item crossed off my to-do list was replaced with another five, and everyone was miserable about something. It was cold and snowy, work on our properties was taking much longer than expected, and another one of Patrick’s assistants quit in a flurry of tears and drama. Oh, and Will and I hadn’t been in the same state in over three months.
We made plans to spend a long weekend together in January, but a blizzard shut down the airports. Will made some noise about knowing where to find a snow mobile, but he was on the opposite end of the country and wasn’t getting to me, even with all his connections. Instead, we video chatted while we both watched The Day After Tomorrow. I thought it was a good choice considering the whole epic snowfall situation; Will thought my humor was frighteningly dark.
Neither of us ever brought up Christmas Eve…but I replayed that conversation daily.
We lost two more weekends when he was pulled from baby SEAL training to handle an overseas mission. The certain danger he faced hit me harder than ever before, and it tore me apart. The worry was paralyzing. I scoured the Internet for incidents involving special operations, and kept cable news on the background all night. Until I heard from him and he confirmed he was perfectly safe, I was a frantic mess and the most difficult part was knowing there was nothing I could do.
When his call came through, telling me that he was alive and well and hopping a flight back to the base in Virginia, no one could have stopped me from going to him. It didn’t matter that this weekend was terrible for me, work-wise, or that Sam was notably depressed, or that we only had one day together since Will was due on base Sunday morning.
“Sam is being very strange,” Tom said.
“He’s always strange. It’s his signature look,” I said.
“Right, yes, I know that. However,” Tom said, taking a breath, “he seems really…off. I’ve been ordering him lunch every day like you asked, but he didn’t even notice me when I walked into his office. He was just staring out the window. When I came back three hours later, he hadn’t eaten anything. Also, I don’t believe he’s sleeping. Did you talk to him before heading out?”
A slow-moving group of cheerleaders ahead of me burst into shouts and chants as they marched up the jetway, and I edged around them. The terminal smelled like cinnamon rolls and teriyaki, and in a perverse way, that combination sounded great. “Sometimes he does that. Staring out the window. It’s his creative process. I don’t know what else to tell you. We had breakfast a few weeks ago and everything was fine, but other than that, he doesn’t talk to me much. And you know what, Tom? I can’t chase him down every time he sneezes or frowns. Neither can you. We have a goddamn business to run and he’s not a toddler.”
“Business to run; no toddlers. Got it.” I heard papers shuffling on his end. “Talk to me about the building you picked up in the South End.”
I stared at the patterned carpet beneath my feet. “I need Matt to check it out before I decide. If nothing else, it’s a hot area and I’ll be able to dump it for a profit.”
“Two of the properties you’re watching in Cambridge were sold today.”
“Motherfuck,” I groaned. I tugged my bag higher on my shoulder while I scanned the terminal for ground transportation signs. Will was driving up from Virginia, and we agreed to meet at The Jefferson, near DuPont Circle. “Ask Patrick to walk the other one I was looking at, and make an offer if—”
But Will wasn’t at the hotel. He was striding toward me, his hands fisted at his sides and a sharp scowl across his face. He shook his head and relieved me of my bag. “You could have canoed here faster than that fucking flight.” His arm curled around my waist, tugging me close to him, and he snatched the phone from my hand. “She’ll call you back next week.”
He ended the call and slipped the device into his back pocket.
“You could have waited a minute for me to finish,” I said, head reclined against his chest.
Will tipped my chin up and crushed his lips to mine. “They’ve had you all week. All month. All fucking winter. It’s been ninety-seven goddamn days since I’ve seen you and I’m not sharing. It’s my turn now,” he whispered into my cheek. “I have been climbing the walls waiting for you, peanut.”
“I know, I know, and my flight…” I trailed off as Will’s hands landed on my hips and he wrapped his arms around me. “I’m sorry.”
“No, Shannon, it’s not your fault,” he said, his lips pressed to my jaw. “I couldn’t wait in the hotel room any longer. I was losing my fucking mind.”
We made our way through the airport and into a taxi. We stayed close, always touching and leaning into each other, and this was different from the wild urgency of desire, but it was still a powerful tide of emotions, all swirling together, washing over me, dragging me from the safety of the shore. I was drowning in Will, and as he banded his arms around me and squeezed tight for the tenth time this evening, I knew this wasn’t scheduled sex anymore. It was tipping into affection and concern and other feelings.
It was scary, but then it wasn’t.
I knew scary things—death and disease, violence and abuse—and this wasn’t like that. This was warm and happy and special, and maybe…maybe it was finally my turn.
Will led me to our room, and he was pretty cute with my Burberry tote on his arm. “That really works for you,” I said, pointing at the bag.
“Yeah?” he asked, holding the door open for me. “You’re sure it goes with my shoes?”
“And the belt,” I laughed. He pulled my coat over my shoulders then dropped to his knees behind me, dragging his fingers down my sides. He stayed there, his face resting on my backside, and all the noise of ‘What is this and what are we doing?’ around me quieted.
His fingers moved under my shirt and to my belly, smoothing over my skin and dipping beneath my jeans, and then he freed the buttons at my waist. The denim slipped over my hips, and I bent to help him with my lace-up boots. “What kind of shoes are these? Do these things ever end?”
“You want to talk about my boots?”
“No, I want to get your boots off, and your pants and your shirt and everything else,” he said, laughing. “Maybe next time you go with the ones that zip, you know, when ripping your clothes off will be part of the agenda.”
Once the boots were abandoned alongside my jeans, and Will was kissing his way up from my ankles, heat was pumping through my veins, awakening all my nerves and filling me with this need to feel him against me and pour all my words and thoughts, and hopes and fears, and the everything building up inside me over him, over us.
I sent my shirt and bra sailing through the air, and then I started tearing his jeans off. “I want you on the bed,” I whispered.
“I love your scent,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about this for months.” His teeth scraped over my upper thigh, pausing to bite along the line of my panties. “And I love it when you start handing out orders.” He stood, scooped me up, and marched toward the bed. “You’re hot when you’re bossy.”
He set me on the bed—for once, no tossing—and immediately crawled over me. His cock was heavy on my leg, and I arched up, starved for him. An impatient, whiny noise rattled in my throat and he chuckled, kissing the valley between my breasts.
Will shrugged out of his shirt, and my eyes landed on a measure of gauze banded around his bicep. There were tiny spots of blood seeping through. I bolted up and feathered my fingers over him. “What the hell happened to you?”
He glanced at his arm, his eyebrows lifting as if he was seeing the wound for the first time. “Oh, it’s nothing. Just a flesh wound.”
“A flesh wound?” I repeated. I might have screeched. Couldn’t be sure. “What does that mean?”
He tore the gauze off and balled it up, exposing a line of stitches the length of my hand. “The bullet barely hit me. I didn’t even notice until we were back on base.”
“You were shot?” Definitely screeched that time.
His face softened and he leaned down to brush his lips over mine. “It’s okay,” he said. “It happens, and I live to fight another day. There are far worse things than a flesh wound.”
“But that’s just it,” I said, tears—dumb, hormone-fueled tears—threatening behind my eyes. I was bare save for my panties, my hands wrapped around Will’s arm. “Worse things could happen, and I can’t do anything to stop it. I can protect everyone but you, and you need it the most.”
“Baby, no, you can’t worry about that,” he said, pulling me into his lap. He kissed my hair, my temple, my jaw.
“But what if something did happen,” I continued. “Would I even know?”
I watched his throat bob, and I knew I wasn’t going to like the response. “I’m sure Lo would hear.” He rubbed his chin over my shoulder and held me tighter. “Listen. We can talk about this tomorrow. The only thing happening to me tonight is death by blue balls.”
“You’re sure you’re all right?” I asked. “Am I going to find any other injuries?”
I felt him smile against my neck as he pressed my hand to his cock. “I don’t know. You might need to give me a thorough inspection.”
“I’m not kidding,” I said, stroking him. “I want to know that you’re okay.”
“Peanut, everything I need is in my lap.”
Will’s hand traveled up my belly to squeeze my breast, and it stole my breath. “Owww,” I moaned. Not a good moan. “Don’t, please don’t.”
He leaned back, his hands suspended away from my body. “What did I do?”
I shifted in his lap. “My boobs hurt.”
Will peered at me with concerned eyes. “Oh. Okay. I’m sorry.”
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” I said. “My boobs always hurt the week before my period.”
“Oh. Okay,” he repeated, nodding.
“Shit,” I said, noticing his pinched expression. It was the same way I looked whenever the boys talked about sweaty balls or dick chafing in my presence. “Sorry about the ick factor. Didn’t mean to over share.”
He rubbed his hands together for a long moment, and fitted his chest against my back. “There’s nothing icky about a functional uterus,” he said. “Tell me if this is all right.”
His warm hands settled on the sore undersides of my breasts, massaging with the gentlest strokes imaginable, and I couldn’t recall anyone ever touching me with such tenderness. Those hyper-hormonal tears slid down my cheeks, and I didn’t try to stop them.
“Good?” he asked. I murmured in agreement and snuggled into him. “Anything else hurt?”
I shook my head. “No, I just feel fat, and I’m irritable and tired, and I’m so hungry, but none of that matters because I haven’t seen you in forever and you’ve been shot and I don’t want to waste any of this time because my boobs are being moody and I’m crying like a bitch. And you have to leave in twenty-nine hours.”
“You’re counting, too?” He kissed a line from my shoulder to my earlobe. “There’s something I want you to let me try.”
“If you think we’re having anal sex right now, you’ve truly misinterpreted what I’m saying.”
“You have a filthy mind, peanut. Really filthy.” Will laughed against my neck, and I smiled through my tears. “That’s not what I want. I want you to let me take care of you. You think you can handle that?”
Six months ago, the answer would have been a definitive no. Maybe even three months ago, or last week. But that desperate need for control wasn’t clawing at me right now. I listened for it, waiting to hear the noise of all the things I should be worrying about, and I searched for it, waiting for the snap of anxious adrenaline to tighten across my shoulders, but it didn’t come to me. All I had was the heat of Will’s chest against my back, his hands on my breasts, and the bubbly pressure of feeling possessed.
“I don’t think I know how,” I said, sniffling, “to let you.”
“Let me show you,” he whispered.
I wasn’t sure how long he held me, and I didn’t protest when he carried me into the bathroom like a freaking doll. The tub was gorgeous, and when he filled it with water, I tried to explain that I wasn’t a bath girl. I never felt particularly clean afterward. Most bubble bath formulas left my skin irritated. I got bored quickly. Will wasn’t interested in my opinions on the topic, and said, “Stop arguing with me. Get in the fucking tub and relax.”
But this was nice. I did relax, and repeatedly toed the knob for more hot water. When I emerged from the heavy steam, Will was seated on the end of the bed, watching college basketball. He was wearing the same faded jeans he wore last summer, at Matt and Lauren’s place, a dark green Killer Dana t-shirt. My heart was too full to be a single organ in my chest because what I felt for him right now couldn’t be contained with muscle and blood alone.
“Come on,” he said. “You need to eat.” He cradled my head against his chest while running his hand down my back. “And after you eat, I’m going to kiss your entire body.”
We nestled up against the headboard, drinking wine, eating cheeseburgers and cupcakes from room service, and watching a marathon of Arrested Development. Will pointed at the television and said, “I imagine this is what your office is like.”
“No,” I said, studying the dysfunctional family of real estate developers. I could see the similarities when I looked at the right angle. “Well, no, not exactly. We’re not hiding anything in a banana stand, and Patrick would die if someone called him a real estate developer.”
Will turned to me, his brow furrowed. “I never asked you how you got into this work.”
“Family business,” I said, and reached for my wine.
His brow was still furrowed. “The family business is architecture. You’re not an architect.”
“Oh, you don’t need to remind me,” I groaned. “Every time I’m in a meeting with one of the boys and I make a comment about anything that isn’t the property’s listing price, someone always says ‘Shan, we’ll handle the building if you handle the selling.’ I’ve learned to make them believe they come up with every idea on their own now.”
Will released a long, impatient sigh that morphed into a growl. “I hate your brothers,” he said under his breath.
“You do not,” I said. “You don’t know them. You just run around, all macho and pissed off, and threaten to kick the shit out of them when they annoy me. My brothers are a handful but they aren’t that bad.”
“I hate hearing about you dealing with one issue or another because they dropped some balls, or these shitty things they say to you, or all the things that happened when you were a kid and—”
I pressed my fingers to his lips and shook my head. “Not tonight, commando. We only have a few hours, and we’re not leasing that time to my brothers.”
He grabbed my wrist and placed a kiss on my palm, nodding. “Tell me how you got into not-architecture.”
I drained my glass and held it out for a refill. “The universe opened a door, and I walked through it.”
Will finished his burger and the remains of mine, and gestured for me to continue. “That’s a little vague, peanut.”
“Yeah, well…”
That wasn’t a time I liked revisiting. Angus kicked me out not long after Patrick left for college, and it forced me to bounce between friends’ homes unless I wanted to sleep in the girls’ locker room at school. The friend angle was tricky, considering I didn’t devote much time to friendships in high school, and convincing them to let me stay for days or weeks often required many layers of lies.
Will stroked my neck, his fingers unwinding the knots.
“I always knew my brothers were going to take over the family business. There was no question about it for Patrick and Matt, and Sam got there, too. Riley’s always been special so I didn’t know what to expect from him, but he’s secretly great when it comes to design. Less great with structures and math and physics, but that’s why we keep Matt around.”
He made another growly sigh, and tugged me closer.
“Like I said, they were always going to take over the business,” I continued. “I had a friend in high school, and her father was in real estate development. He specialized in converting old mills into luxury condos and lofts. Things with Angus were…difficult, and I spent a lot of time away from the house. This girl, Rosalie Goff, let me stay at her house. Her dad was making a killing on condos, and he let me pick his brain about the business. He gave me some advice, and helped me get my license.”
Fred also let me live in his home long after Rosalie left for Vanderbilt, and offered me a loan to cover my licensing coursework. He was kind and generous when the world kept closing doors in my face, and I’d never found the words to summarize how much that mattered to me. How he saved me.
“He knew everyone, and pointed me in the right direction to get started.”
I turned my attention to the television, watching the last half of the episode without saying anything else. I was comfortable sharing many things with Will that I usually kept locked away. But this…I didn’t want all of these details spilling out and taking over this night.
“I discovered that I had good instincts when it came to buying and selling, and the market was cranking at that time,” I said when a commercial started. “Everyone was making a killing on everything, and that meant we didn’t have to rely on Angus anymore.”
“Just tell me one thing.” Will slipped his hand under the robe and over my belly. “Do your siblings appreciate everything you’ve done for them?”
“Usually,” I said. “I do sign their paychecks.”
He murmured in approval and dipped his head to my neck. His lips moved down my skin, kissing and licking, while he rubbed my abdomen.
“I should check my phone,” I said, groggy.
“You should not,” Will yawned.
“Sam’s going through something, and I want to make sure he doesn’t need me.”
“You know what the guys in my unit do when they’re going through something?” He continued before I could respond. “They remember they’re grown men and deal with their shit. They don’t go crying to their sisters.”
I traced the anchor on Will’s chest, and the trident woven through it. He was probably right. This thing with Sam and his girlfriend was going to be fine. He wouldn’t have let a situation get that far out of control without telling me. And Riley was with him, which counted for something.
“What’s really going on with him?” Will asked. “Sam. All I know is that he’s been a pain in the ass who refuses to see a therapist. If I had any sense, I’d let that dog sleep but I keep chasing you so sense isn’t part of my skill set.”
“Sam and I are really close. Or…we were. He’s in his own world right now. Obviously, he’s noticed that I’ve been spending time away from the city,” I gestured to Will, “and he’s not pleased about me keeping the details to myself.”
“Why do you?” he asked. “If that’s part of the issue, why not tell him?”
“I have my reasons,” I said. “It’s none of his damn business to start. I’ve given him the space he needs to deal with his problems and date a woman who seems like she’s making his life more hectic, even though I probably shouldn’t have. There was a time when we shared everything with each other, but he hasn’t wanted that from me for more than a year. And…fuck, Will, all I really want is one thing I don’t have to share with everyone. Something I can keep all to myself without anyone touching or judging or interfering. I don’t…I don’t want to share you.”
“That’s my girl,” he said.
“When will I see you next?” I asked.
Will was quiet for a moment, and I leaned up on an elbow to look at him. “I’m not sure,” he said. “The next six months are up in the air right now. I’ll know soon.”
“Six months?”
“I’m up for another tour,” he said. “But I don’t want you worrying about that now.”
Will’s lips met mine, firm and deliberate, and his hands brushed down my body, over my thighs and between my legs. Though our time together was rapidly vanishing, his touch was careful and unhurried, almost reverent. He settled over me, and my heart was again overflowing when he paused to ask whether I was feeling well enough for more.
“Yes,” I said, reaching up to wrap my arms around his neck. “Yes.”
He kissed between my breasts and up my neck, and said, “You’ll tell me if it’s too much. If anything hurts.”
I nodded, canting my hips toward him when he reached between us and pushed into me. “I will.”
Will twined his arms around my torso, holding me tight as he moved inside me, and I anchored my legs on his waist because even this close wasn’t close enough right now. We rocked together as if we had all the time in the world, and perhaps knowing that we didn’t made those sweet, drowsy moments that much more perfect.
He stilled, lifting his head from the crook of my shoulder that he’d claimed as his own private destination, and smiled down at me.
“What?” I asked.
His hips rolled gently while he continued gazing at me. “You’re beautiful,” he said. “I don’t say that enough.”
Will took my hand from where it rested on his bicep, and pressed a kiss to my palm. With his eyes locked on mine, he placed my hand over his heart. He leaned down, kissing my cheeks, my jaw, and finally my lips, and the orgasm that arrived was a pleasant bonus to the wordless everything that was passing between us now.
*
I woke up alone on Sunday morning.
I knew Will was gone before my hand swept over the mattress, but there was something about confirming his absence that made it sting even more.
It shouldn’t have. None of this should have been a surprise to me. I walked in with my eyes wide open, and I knew this weekend was going to be over almost as quickly as it started.
Going home was always the worst. It was a lot like cleaning up after a big party: the house was a mess, everyone was gone, and all the anticipation was replaced with emptiness.
And my ladybits were usually sore.
My flight wasn’t until later in the day, but I went to the airport and waited until a standby seat came available. My phone wouldn’t turn on and nothing happened when I plugged it in, so I spent my afternoon paging through magazines and devouring some juicy romance novels with bare-chested men on the covers.
If the commando business didn’t work out for Will, he could always fall back on cover modeling.
Eventually, I got a flight to Boston. It was quick and uneventful, and as the cab barreled through the streets of Beacon Hill toward my apartment, I couldn’t help thinking something was wrong. I couldn’t put my hands on the source of that sense, but I couldn’t get rid of it either.
My apartment was cold and lonely, and I stopped only long enough to change out of the slim, sexy jeans and lacy lingerie I brought on this trip for Will’s benefit. Cotton bra and panties, old bootcuts, and a fuzzy turtleneck sweater felt instantly better, and I headed out to replace my phone.
I wandered around the store while the salesman configured my new device. “You have a lot of messages coming in,” he called.
For a second, I hoped they were from Will. Maybe he was thinking about me while he drove to Virginia, or found out it wouldn’t be six months until he could see me again, or maybe he just wanted to tell me he missed me.
But Will was the last person on my mind when I saw scores of frantic texts from Riley, all insisting that I call him immediately.
I skipped the call in favor of a quick text telling him I was on my way, and drove straight to the restored firehouse he and Sam shared in the Fort Point neighborhood. Riley was pacing in the kitchen when I arrived, his hands braced on his head. His eyes were bloodshot and his body radiated anxiety, and I realized something awful had happened this weekend.
He pressed his finger to his lips for silence and motioned for me to follow him down the hall, away from Sam’s room. At the far end, he leaned against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest. “You were with Captain America again.”
I stared at the stained concrete floors.
“It’s your business. I don’t care what you do,” he said, and the accusation on his face was the opposite of not caring. “But I don’t think it’s too much to ask for you to answer your phone when I call you eighty-nine times in an hour. I needed some fucking help and this was the weekend you picked to start ignoring me, too.”
“My phone broke,” I said. “I wasn’t ignoring you.”
But even if my phone was safe and sound, I wouldn’t have known. Will made a point of turning it off, and I chose to interpret that gesture as one of concern rather than control. He wanted me to relax; he wasn’t putting a wall between my family and me.
It was hard to convince myself it was all about relaxation right now.
“Yeah, well, that’s great,” Riley said. He ran his hand through his hair and stared at the ceiling for a moment. “Sam’s not okay, Shannon. I realize that you’ve been too busy with that dude to notice, but Sam’s whole fucking world imploded last week. He didn’t know it and he’ll deny it until he’s blue in the face, but he was trying to kill himself. He made me sit there and watch a fucking suicide attempt.”
A million should-haves hit me at once. Should have listened to Tom when he said something was up. Should have fought Sam harder on seeing the psychiatrist. Shouldn’t have brought up the psychiatrist at all. Should have worked at brokering the peace. Should have forced Patrick off the sidelines and into Sam’s well-being. Should have stayed home this weekend. Should have stayed home every weekend.
“Tell me what happened,” I said. “Start from the beginning.”
“The beginning? The beginning was months ago. You’ve known just as well as I have that he’s been hanging on by threads, and yeah, things were better when he was with Tiel. But now Tiel’s gone.”
Riley shook his head and looked away.
I should have been here, and I should have stopped this.
I’d talked myself out of worrying about Sam, and let myself believe that he was better off without my interference. That he needed to struggle through it on his own. But it was entirely preventable, and Will was wrong about Sam not needing me hovering over him. These boys were my people, the only ones I had in this world.
“He crossed the line into alcohol poisoning, went into hypoglycemic shock, and seized six times. That was all before they pumped his stomach. I got a front row seat to that show.” He rubbed his eyes and let his head fall against the wall. “Oh, and when he woke up from all that? He insisted you not know anything about it. Now I don’t know what shit went down between you two—”
“Nothing happened,” I shouted and Riley pinned me with an angry glare before I got the words out. “Nothing happened. I thought he needed some space to work through things after Angus died. I didn’t notice anything—”
“Is it possible you’ve been a little busy with your new pal? A little preoccupied?”
That was exactly it, and I hated myself for putting my libido above my family.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you and Sam,” I said. “We’ll figure this out. I’m not going anywhere, not anymore.”
Riley nodded and wrapped his arms around me. When he released me, he returned to Sam’s room and sat by the bed. He was the most unabashedly affectionate of my four brothers, and his actions always spoke louder than his words. But his words were important, too. He didn’t offer many of them, and when he did, they were either ridiculous or spot-on accurate.
It wasn’t my turn. And after this weekend, I wasn’t even convinced I deserved a turn.