Reese
It was just a normal Monday.
I was hopped up after two cups of coffee and a cigarette on my drive into school. It was surprisingly warm for late February, so much so that I was able to walk across campus to the main hall with my coat hanging over my arm. It wouldn’t last long, they were already calling for more snow in the coming week, but I’d take what I could get.
A few students were playing card games by the flag pole out front, Sierra and Sheldon were whispering to each other as I passed them in the hall, and Mr. Henderson was biting his tongue as a parent yelled at him outside his office. I gave him a sympathetic smile as I passed, to which he responded with a slight widening of his eyes before he zeroed back in on the parent. I chuckled, stopping by the teachers’ café to refill my Thermos.
Mondays often required three or more cups of coffee.
Instead of heading straight to my classroom, I veered right, making my way down to Charlie’s room with one hand in the pocket of my slacks. I whistled the tune of a song I’d been practicing with my Saturday tutoring student, my stomach flipping a bit at the thought of seeing Charlie. I knew I’d have to hear about her anniversary, that she’d probably be glowing and happy. That alone should have made me happy — but it only made me sick with want.
We’d fallen into an easy friendship ever since the fundraiser, but it didn’t change the fact that I wanted her. I thought maybe I’d wake up that next morning after game night with a realization that I was being stupid. I thought maybe I’d realize that the best thing I could do for her would be to leave her alone.
But one night of sleep only solidified how I’d felt that night. It only took that one full night with Cameron for me to determine that he didn’t deserve her, that he didn’t make her happy, and that he hadn’t for a while.
I did also determine that the likelihood of him cheating on Charlie was slim.
I still believed the rumors I’d heard from Sheldon and Sierra had to have come from somewhere, that they must have held some amount of truth, but Cameron was smart. He was quiet and calculated, and very aware of Charlie when he was with her. It was like he was fine-tuned to be in sync with her, but somewhere along the line, a screw had come loose. Now, he watched her in a way that made me think she drove him mad just as much as she made him love her.
It just didn’t make sense that he would cheat on her, that he would do something so brash — not when he reacted the way he did to me just being in the same proximity of her.
Then again — was that his guilty conscience? Was that him seeing the signs of infidelity, or what he thought were the signs?
Regardless of if he cheated on her or not, I knew Cameron didn’t make Charlie happy. Not anymore. She could deny it all she wanted to me, and she could get as giddy as she wanted on the anniversary of their wedding — but the truth was in every touch they shared in front of me, in every look she gave him that went completely unnoticed. Charlie was desperate for Cameron to love her the way he used to, and he was oblivious.
Just a man.
A stupid, unassuming man.
But he wasn’t the only one. I was just the same, a stupid, unassuming man — especially on that particular Monday morning. I was so convinced that all I wanted was to see Charlie happy. I thought I could sit back and be patient, let it all play out, and maybe even be okay with the fact that she’d never be mine, if that’s what it came down to.
Maybe, in a sick way, it was a game to me. I knew I was under her skin, that I had her attention, but she was fighting it. Cameron knew it, too. Maybe that’s all I thought it ever would be. A game.
Until I rounded the corner into her classroom that morning and saw her sobbing.
Not crying, not sniffling, but completely broken down to her very core.
Her tiny face was crumpled in devastation, tissues balled up in each of her fists, back rounded and hair hanging all around her red, blotchy face as she stared at a photo on her desk.
Suddenly, it wasn’t about me or Cameron. It wasn’t about who would win. It wasn’t about marriage or infidelity or sex or love or betrayal or anything I thought before.
It was about her.
It had always been about her.
My chest split in two at the sight of her like that, and I made my way carefully to her desk, bending on one knee next to her. I didn’t ask her what was wrong. Instead, I placed one hand on her lower back and smoothed my thumb over the thick fabric of her dress. She closed her eyes at my touch, face twisting as if my tenderness had caused her even more pain.
“The kids are going to be here in less than twenty minutes,” she said in a weak, broken voice. “And I can’t… I can’t pull it together.”
“Robin can handle the kids for a while if you need time. Do you want to go to the library? Your car?”
She shook her head, using the tissue in one hand to wipe at her raw nose. “No, no I want to be here with them. I just… I need a minute to calm down.”
“Okay,” I said, still smoothing her back with my hand. “Wanna talk about it?”
Charlie sucked her lips between her teeth, fighting against another wave of tears. “Edward died last night.”
“Edward?”
“One of my birds.”
Her Budgies. She’d told me all about them, and I realized that was the photo on her desk she had been staring at when I walked in — one of the two birds in their cage with a beautiful sepia tone light coming in through the window behind them.
“Shit, Charlie. I’m so sorry. Last night?”
She nodded.
I chewed the inside of my cheek, searching my brain for the right words to make her feel better. Words never made me feel anything but more pain. Music had always been my healer.
I swallowed.
“Hey, why don’t you come by my place after school? I’ve got a dozen bottles of wine collecting dust — housewarming presents from neighbors and such. And I’ve been working on this new piece, an ode to my family. I was thinking it could maybe be the first original piece I played at my new gig. I’d love you to take a listen and tell me what you think.”
Charlie was already shaking her head before I’d even gotten the first sentence out. “I just want to go home.”
“To be alone?” I asked. “I know there’s a home game for the Penguins tonight. Sitting at the house by yourself is just going to make you feel worse.”
“But I need to be there for Jane.”
The other bird, I thought. “Bring her, too. Maybe she can give me some pointers.”
Charlie almost smiled, but then her face broke again, and she buried her eyes in her hands.
Shit. I was just making it worse.
“Look,” I said, brushing her hair out of her face so I could meet her eyes with mine. “The offer stands if you want to take it. Otherwise, lay in bed all night and eat ice cream or whatever else it is that might make you feel a little better. It’s okay to be sad, I was just offering a little bit of distraction and company. Okay?”
She sniffed. “Okay.”
“Okay. I’m going to get out of here so I stop making you cry more,” I said with a smile. “And I’m going to ask Robin to play a game with the kids in the hallway before class. Just to buy you a few more minutes. Alright?”
Charlie nodded, and I had to fight against every nerve in my body not to lean in and kiss her forehead in that moment. I stood instead, rubbing my hand over her back once more before I made my way toward the door.
“He forgot.”
She said the words when my hand was on the door frame, ready to swing me around and into the hallway, but I stopped cold in my tracks.
“Cameron…” she clarified. “He forgot yesterday was our anniversary.”
Son of a bitch.
I turned slowly, taking in the look on her face as I debated what to say. Sorry felt cheap and insufficient, and everything I really wanted to say would only upset her more.
“He’s been so busy with work, I guess the days must have gotten away from him,” I said after a moment. I held her gaze, pinning her with my eyes, hoping she heard what I really meant.
He’s an asshole. He doesn’t deserve you. You could be happier.
I could make you happier.
“I’m sure he feels terrible,” I added, just for good measure.
Charlie forced a small smile. “Yeah. He said he’ll make it up to me.”
And maybe I was just making it up in my head, but I thought her eyes said more than her words in that moment, too.
I’m so hurt. He doesn’t appreciate me. I feel stupid.
I want you.
“I’m sure he will.”
I watched her for a moment longer, wishing I could just take her out of school and hold her in my arms for the rest of the afternoon. I’d never longed so much for time — time to be with her, time to hear the dark thoughts that kept her up at night, time to tell her my own.
Time to love her.
I didn’t see Charlie at lunch, nor did she stick around long enough after school for me to make sure she’d made it through the day okay. Robin said she’d left as soon as the kids had, and I wondered if she was already curled up in her bed for the evening.
I smoked three cigarettes on the way home, all the while considering turning my car around and driving into Pittsburgh. I wondered what Cameron’s face would look like if I just showed up, bought a ticket to get into his section, and laid him the fuck out in front of the entire complex.
Part of Charlie’s sorrow that morning had been from her bird, but part of it had also been from his blatant disregard for her.
He didn’t deserve her, and it killed me that he still got to have her, anyway.
I took a steaming hot shower once I was home, settling in on the couch afterward with a beer and mindless television. I thought numbing my brain would help to ease the anger stewing underneath my concern for Charlie, but it only made it worse. So, I abandoned the TV and made my way to my piano, flipping the black wood up to reveal the keys underneath.
My hands moved over the keys automatically, finding their home in the notes that echoed through the room. I closed my eyes and found a sigh of relief as I began to play an old favorite song, one from my youth. Sometimes it made me think of my mom, of her sneaking in when I wasn’t paying attention and listening to me practice in our old house. She’d bring me food occasionally, but mostly she just sat there and listened. Sometimes I’d move her to tears, other times she’d get up and dance.
I missed her.
Each song took me further from my aggression, my hands bringing music to life in a slow, adagio tempo. I started with playing songs I knew, and eventually drifted into playing music I’d only heard in my mind before that evening. Sometimes I would stop to write it all down, to capture it and create — but other times, like tonight, I just played. I just existed within the keys, within the notes, within the music.
It was almost eight when I took my first break from playing, stopping only to throw a frozen dinner in the microwave. But before I could open the packaging, there was a knock at my door.
Through the window at the top, I saw Charlie bundled in a coat with a snow cap pulled over her ears.
My heart picked up speed as I crossed my living room, staring at the little ball of yarn on top of her hat. I opened the door slowly, watching her through the screen door still between us.
She held a takeout bag from the taco place down the street in one hand, and a small bird cage with a yellow Budgie inside it in the other. It sat perched on the little swing inside, chirping softly, and I could hear the heartbreak in its song.
Jane.
My eyes swept over Charlie, taking in her messy hair, her tired, puffy eyes, her chapped lips. I almost forgot I’d invited her, almost asked her what she was doing here. My stomach flipped at the realization that she was on my front porch, that she had come to me to make her feel better. And in that soft light from my front porch, she looked just like the sixteen-year-old girl I’d left behind on a cold night just like this one fourteen years ago.
She looked like my Charlie.
“I brought Jane.” She shrugged, her shoulders falling heavily back into place in the saddest sign of defeat.
I wanted to kiss her so bad it hurt.
But I just laughed instead, pushing the screen door open to take the cage from her hand.
“A tadpole and a bird, just what I ordered. Come on, let’s get you both warm.”
It was just a normal Monday. Until it wasn’t.
Charlie
I knew the entire drive over to Reese’s house that it was a bad idea to go.
Part of me knew it before I’d even started getting dressed, before I’d moved Jane to her travel cage, before I put the car in drive. When he’d asked me to come over earlier that morning, it was the absolute last thing I wanted. But then I got home, and just like Reese had said, Cameron wasn’t there. He worked all day and went immediately to the Penguins game after.
I thought maybe he would come home. Maybe just this once, for one night, he’d sell his tickets and come home. He’d been the one to find Edward that morning, after all. I knew they weren’t his birds, but was he not hurting?
If anything, did he not realize how much I was?
Between him forgetting our anniversary and Edward passing away, I was a complete mess. I hadn’t been able to keep myself under control all day at school, which affected my kids’ moods, too. My eyes were puffy and red from the constant crying, and all I wanted was a little relief from the pain.
So, even though I knew it was a bad idea, I’d gotten in the car and driven to Reese’s house, anyway. And now I was here, and Reese was placing Jane’s cage on top of his coffee table while I peeled off my coat, hat, and scarf.
“I’m sorry I just showed up,” I said, looking around for somewhere to put my coat. Reese crossed the room to take it from me, hanging it over the back of his sofa. “I should have called.”
“You didn’t need to call. I invited you, remember?”
“Yes, but I never said I was coming.” I eyed his pajama pants, simple navy sweats that hung low on his hips.
He wasn’t wearing a shirt.
That had been the first thing I’d noticed when he opened the door.
His chest and stomach were so familiar to me, even now with the new patches of hair below his belly button and in the center of his pecs. I’d seen Reese shirtless so many times growing up, back when it was just normal for a teenage boy to be without a shirt in the summer or in the comfort of his own home where my best friend lived.
He had a moon-shaped scar underneath the right side of his ribcage from a bottle rocket fight he and my brother got into when they were sixteen.
I’d always loved that scar.
“You didn’t have to,” Reese said, running a hand through his long, disheveled hair. He watched me for a moment like he couldn’t believe I was in his house, like he had no idea what to do next. “I was drinking beer earlier, but I can open up one of those bottles of wine I told you about? If you want.”
“Wine would be nice.”
I followed Reese into his kitchen, taking in his home as we walked through it. It was a modest bachelor pad, a few unpacked boxes still lining the back wall of his living room and absolutely nothing hanging on the walls. His furniture was neutral, simple and cohesive, and his kitchen housed only the necessities from what I could see. He had a coffee pot that I assumed was the most-used appliance he owned, and there was a chair and an empty box flipped upside down near his sliding glass door.
Reese followed my eyes to that spot as he pulled a bottle of red wine from a rack on his counter. I wondered who’d bought that wine rack for him, because I knew he wouldn’t have bought it himself.
“Isn’t my little smoking corner so sophisticated?” he asked, corking the bottle. “Sure as hell beats freezing my balls off on the back porch.”
“You know, the easier solution would be to stop smoking,” I challenged, setting the bag of tacos I’d brought on the kitchen island. He handed me a fresh glass of wine, and I had a feeling none of those tacos were going to be eaten.
It was a liquid dinner kind of night.
“Nah. Sounds healthy and smart. Not my style.” Once he had a glass filled for himself, he lifted it in the air toward me. “Cheers.”
“Cheers.”
We both took a sip, and I looked around his kitchen as he watched me, both of us silent.
I waited for him to ask me about Cameron, but I really hoped he wouldn’t. I’d come to his place to get away from my problems for a while, not to talk about them.
Relief washed over me when he walked back into the living room to Jane’s cage, bending at the waist to get a better look at her.
“Should we pour a glass of wine for her, too?” he teased, and I smiled, sidling up beside him with my wine in hand.
“Honestly, it couldn’t hurt. Poor girl hasn’t been herself all day.”
“Can you blame her?” he asked. “You and I both know what that kind of loss does to you. She probably won’t ever be the same.”
A cold chill swept through me, and I shivered.
He was right.
Jane never would be the same.
Reese eyed me, standing up straight again. “Do you remember that one summer when me, you, Graham, and Mallory made a giant fort in the den with all of your mom’s clean guest sheets?”
I smiled at the memory, a flash of my young best friend helping me hang sheets hitting me so strong it was like she was still there. I hadn’t given myself much time to think about her, not since she’d left all those years ago.
She was just two years older than I was. I’d already lived a longer life than she was allowed to.
“My mom was so mad when she came home to that.”
“Yeah,” Reese agreed. “But then she made us sandwiches and snacks and helped us put together a sign for the front of it. Remember? She bought glitter for you and Mallory to use and everything.”
I chuckled, shaking my head. “We stayed in that thing all weekend.”
“Would have stayed longer if me and Graham wouldn’t have had football camp that Monday.”
“Maybe. But it was starting to smell in there.” I scrunched my nose, and Reese laughed.
Already, my chest felt lighter. The pain that had been vibrating through it all day like a train through a tunnel finally receded, and for the first time that day, I could breathe.
This was what I loved most about Reese being back in town.
I didn’t know how it was possible, that he knew just what to say, just what to do to turn my entire day around. He’d done it that first dinner night at my parents’ house, and again that afternoon he’d given me the Tolstoy book, and yet again the night we went up the Incline. He just knew me, even though we’d been apart for so many years.
I didn’t understand it, but I loved it.
“That was before Graham decided he was too cool to hang out with his little sister anymore. He didn’t come out of that phase until we were both out of college,” I said.
“He loved you. But yeah, I guess it wasn’t really cool for anyone to hang out with their little sister once high school hit.”
I nodded, still smiling, thinking of nights that Reese hung out with me when Graham was off doing his own thing.
Graham had always been more of the party animal, and though Reese was his partner in crime, he would often slip out early on the nights when he didn’t have a potential girl hanging on his arm. I was almost always at Mallory’s on the weekends, and she went to sleep early so she could wake up for gymnastics practice.
I lost count of the nights I’d be sitting in a dimly lit corner of their kitchen with a snack and a book when Reese came home, and then we’d stay up late just talking.
I couldn’t lie — there were many nights when I stayed up past the time I was tired on purpose, just in case I could spend a couple hours with him.
“Do you ever talk to him anymore?” I asked after a moment. “Graham?”
Reese sighed, nodding his head toward his couch for us to both take a seat. He took the far-left side and I took the far-right, sitting with my legs crossed and angling toward him. Once we were settled, he took a long drink of wine before he answered the question.
“We kept in touch for a while when I first left, but just like you and I talked about that night at your parents’ house — life happened, you know? He was in college and so was I, we lived in different cities, and then he met Christina and they moved to Arizona before I moved back here.” He shrugged. “I called him that night after I left dinner with your family and we caught up for a while, but nothing crazy. He said he’ll come see me next time he’s in town.”
“Probably won’t be until the holidays. That’s the only time we ever count on seeing him.”
“Do you talk to him much?”
It was my turn to shrug. “Every other week or so, but sometimes we go longer. I did talk to him recently though…” My eyes found Jane, and I watched her sitting almost completely still in her cage, no song to sing that night. “Christina is pregnant.”
I couldn’t look at Reese then, but I knew his eyes were wide, his mind racing for what to say.
“How do you feel about that?”
My heart squeezed, and I lifted my glass to my lips, taking a small sip of wine as I thought on it.
It was the first time anyone had asked me.
Cameron had suggested we buy them a gift, and that’s just what he’d done. He even got the card. All I had to do was sign my name on it before he mailed it out. And Mom and Dad, they were too excited to ask how I felt — as they should be. They were finally going to be grandparents.
They should have already been.
“I don’t know,” I answered honestly. “I mean, obviously, I’m ecstatic. I’m so happy for Graham, and Christina, too. They’ll be amazing parents. And of course, I know Mom and Dad are thrilled. I can’t wait to be an aunt.” I paused. “And Cameron, he’ll be the best uncle.”
He would have been the best dad.
Reese eyed me for a moment, propping one arm over the back of the couch. “Okay. But how do you feel.”
“I told you, happy,” I said again, but when my eyes met his, I knew it wasn’t the truth.
He knew it, too.
I sighed. “And… heartbroken. It was supposed to be me, you know? I had been pregnant first. I should have five-year-old twin boys right now. Graham’s child should have older cousins.” I skated the rim of my wine glass with my index finger. “I should be a mom first, and an aunt second. But I’ll just be an aunt. Period.”
“You’re still a mom,” Reese said tenderly. “You always will be. And it’s okay to not only feel happy. It’s okay that you have real, tangible, painful feelings toward this. It doesn’t make you a bad person.”
“I feel like it does.”
“It doesn’t,” he said quickly. “Can I ask you something?”
I just looked at him in answer, waiting.
“Did you and Cameron ever… are you guys trying again?”
My throat tightened at the mention of him, and I shook my head, taking another, larger drink of wine. “New topic.”
He nodded, taking a sip of wine as I watched Jane swing sadly inside her cage. “Okay. I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. I just don’t want to talk about that.”
The truth was that we hadn’t tried again, Cameron and I. We hadn’t even talked about the possibility. It wasn’t that we weren’t trying, either, but it had never been a conversation between us — not even when we’d become pregnant with the twins. It just happened.
Cameron didn’t like to talk about anything. He never did. Why would losing our sons change that?
Reese must have sensed my heartache, the cloud hanging over me, because he immediately launched into some stupid drama Sheldon and Sierra had gotten themselves into earlier that day.
I never kept up with any of the school gossip, but it was a distraction, and Reese kept the conversation moving easily from topic to topic as we refilled our glasses throughout the evening. We reminisced on old times, caught up on stories from college and the years since, made plans for the spring concert — we talked about any and everything other than what, or rather who, had made me cry all day.
I was thankful to Reese for that.
Somewhere around ten, we ended up at his piano.
He played the piece he’d been working on, a slow and heartbreaking melody in honor of his family. Watching as he settled in behind the piano brought back a flood of memories.
So many mornings I’d woken up at his house to the sound of him playing, tiptoeing my way into their dining room to spy on him. He always knew I was there, though — and he’d stop after a song or two and put the lid down on the piano, tapping it with his hand so I’d hop on top to listen.
Reese always put so much emotion into his music, so much heart — it was absolutely captivating to watch.
That hadn’t changed, I realized, as he began the first few notes of the new song. His eyes were closed for most of the song, his fingers feeling along the keys, brows furrowed in a mixture of concentration and what felt like an insurmountable amount of pain. It was as if he’d taken on the task of writing the theme song for loss. It was so beautiful, so touching, and so real that I started crying again.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered when he finished, his eyes finding mine from where I sat on top of his piano. I knew having the lid down would warp the sound a little, but I wanted to watch his face as he played — just like I used to.
“Don’t be.” I swiped the tears from my cheeks, laughing at my ridiculousness. “It’s just beautiful, that’s all. You’ve always had such a gift.”
Reese smiled, but shrugged modestly. “I’m nothing special, just another guy pouring his heart into music. More wine?”
“Please.”
I should have said no, seeing as how we’d already gone through one bottle and opened a second. But the wine was helping the ache in my chest, and Reese was making me smile.
I didn’t want either to stop.
I followed Reese into the kitchen this time, raiding his cabinets until I found a bag of pretzels. I popped one in my mouth as he poured another glass of wine for each of us.
“Want me to heat up those tacos? Are you hungry?”
I shook my head, tossing another pretzel in my mouth. “No, just wanted a little snack.”
“Are you tired?”
“Not even close. You?”
“No.” He took a sip of his wine, sliding my glass toward me. “Let’s make a fort.”
“What?”
“A fort. Like the one we made when we were kids. I’ve got a shit ton of sheets my old roommate sent with me.”
I laughed, shaking my head and opening my mouth to list off reasons why building a fort was an absolutely ludicrous idea. But then I realized I didn’t have one. Reese watched my wheels turn, a lazy grin on his face.
It reminded me of the last night we’d spent together at his old house, of the way he’d looked at me in those final hours of the going away party.
There was something behind his eyes, something unspoken that called to me in a way I couldn’t explain. We were like two magnets in a constant pull, fighting the urge to connect.
“We’re in our thirties,” I tried, but it only made Reese laugh at the sad attempt.
“Who cares? That only means we can fasten the sheets to higher places. Come on.”
Reese grabbed my hand not wrapped around my wine glass and pulled me back to the living room. I couldn’t protest, couldn’t do anything other than laugh and try to ignore the warmth that spread through me at the feel of his hand in mine.
He left me standing in the middle of his living room as he disappeared down the hall, and seconds later, he emerged with an arm full of mismatched sheets. He threw them at me, knocking a bit of my wine out of the glass as they fluttered open, and then he was gone again. This time, he returned with pillows from his bed and an old sleeping bag. He tossed those to my feet next.
“You made me spill my wine.”
“It’ll wash. Come on, grab a sheet. This fort won’t build itself.”
We laid down the sleeping bag and pillows in the middle of the floor first, building the fort up and around them. We spread the sheets from the top of the couch to the top of the TV, from the corner of his coffee table to one of the kitchen bar stools we’d pulled in, and from the top of his recliner chair to the mantle of the electric fireplace. Reese grabbed two standing lamps from his bedroom to hold up the middle section of sheets, creating a circus-type ceiling over the sleeping bag. Once it was complete, we grabbed our wine and crawled inside, both lying back with our sock-covered feet close to the fireplace, heads on the pillows, eyes on the sheets above.
I leaned up long enough to take a big gulp of wine before I sat it carefully to the side, lying down next to Reese again. I didn’t realize how tipsy I was until we’d leaned back the first time. The wine was buzzing low and warm in my stomach, mixing with the heat from the fireplace and lulling me into a comfortable stupor.
Reese’s home turned out to be the perfect escape.
“I love this,” I said, smiling and pressing a cold hand to my warm cheeks. I was flushed, but I didn’t mind.
“Makes you think of easier times, huh? Simpler days.”
“When the only thing that mattered was whether my Barbie dolls had enough shoes.”
“And what shirt to wear to Drew Castelberry’s party.”
I snorted. “You and Graham both always took forever to get dressed for parties. I remember Mallory and I making fun of you.”
“You were, like, eleven when I started going to parties,” Reese argued. “You didn’t understand the importance of spin the bottle yet.”
“In my defense, I still didn’t at sixteen.”
At that, Reese leaned up to take a drink of his wine, all the while shaking his head. “That literally makes no sense to me. I thought Graham would be kicking every guy’s ass in that high school trying to keep them off you.”
“You’re joking, right?” I rolled over to face him as he laid back down. “Do you not remember? Pig tails, glasses, fresh out of braces, nose always stuck in a book. Not exactly girlfriend material.”
Reese leaned up on one elbow to mirror me, his eyes low and glossy as they found mine. “Trust me, I remember.”
He said the words slowly and purposefully, like there was a hidden message underneath them meant for me to decipher. And suddenly, the energy in the fort changed. It was too warm. He was too close.
He was too familiar.
I pulled my hair from my neck, letting it fall behind my shoulders. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I’m just looking at you.”
“No one else looks at me that way.”
He swallowed, but his gaze didn’t waver. His eyes flashed between mine, and when they fell to my lips, he ripped them away so fast I thought I imagined it.
“I’m sorry about your anniversary.”
A sickening wave rolled through me, and I shook my head. “It’s fine. It’s my fault, you know… I’m the reason he’s like this now.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, forgetful. Apathetic. He didn’t used to be like this.” I leaned up to finish off my wine, settling back down with my eyes on the sheets above us. I don’t think I realized I felt that way about Cameron until the second the words left my mouth. “He used to be romantic, and caring. He loved me so much, more than I loved him, I think. He was perfect.”
“No one is perfect.”
“He was.”
“And now it’s your fault he’s not anymore?” Reese asked.
I shrugged. “I failed him. I couldn’t carry our babies into a healthy birth, couldn’t give our children the strength to make it to life. Something changed after we lost them.” My chin quivered, but I blew out a breath to stop more tears from coming. “Something changed in both of us.”
“Charlie…” Reese breathed my name like the truth I’d given him in my words was poison to his system. “You can’t really believe that. It’s not your fault, what happened.”
“Ugh,” I groaned, blinking my eyes several times to clear the blur. “New topic. I don’t want to talk about this.”
He watched me for a long moment, and I glanced at him briefly before reiterating.
“Please. New topic.”
“New topic?”
“Yes.”
“Fine. Do you ever think about me?”
My heart stopped, kicking back to life with enough force to hitch my breath. “What?”
“Do you ever think about me when we’re not together?”
I blinked, trying to think straight through the buzz of the wine. I wanted to lie. I wanted to laugh. But I couldn’t do anything but tell the truth with his eyes on me like that.
“Sometimes.”
Reese’s fingers walked their way over to me slowly, his eyes still locked on mine as they traveled up and over my knee, my thigh, hooking into the belt loop of my jeans. A chill broke through my body from the point of contact.
“Do you ever think about me?” I asked, voice barely a breath.
“Only every minute I’m not with you.”
“Reese…”
“That night before I left for New York,” he said, cutting me off. “I wanted to kiss you, Charlie. But I couldn’t.”
“Because I was too young?”
“Because I loved you.”
He said the words so effortlessly, like they wouldn’t knock the breath from my chest once they were said, like they wouldn’t change everything I thought I knew about my life — about us.
“Sometimes,” he continued, fingers pulling at where they were still hooked on my jeans. My body leaned into him automatically, my eyes searching his before they fell to the hollow point of his throat as he swallowed. “I don’t think I ever stopped.”
Time warped then, fourteen years surrounding us like a living, breathing energy in that fort. It sparked to life with his words, and when he tugged hard on my jeans, I traveled through that energy like a ship on the blackest of nights being guided only by instinct.
My eyes closed, my lips parted, and in the next instant, time stopped altogether with one simple, passionate, all-consuming kiss.
I felt his hand in my hair, the other still on my hip as he pressed me down into the sleeping bag with a roll of his body against mine. I gasped for air, capturing only one breath before Reese’s mouth was on mine again. His warm, wet lips savored mine, years and years of want pouring through every cell of his body straight into mine.
I whimpered at the feel of him, at the overwhelming need to be closer, to have more. I couldn’t breathe as he settled between my legs, his lips traveling down over my jaw, my neck, sucking the skin there before they made their way back up again.
When I finally opened my eyes, I only saw his emerald ones in return, glowing almost golden in hue by the light of the fireplace. He brushed my hair away from my face, fingers curling in the strands and tugging until my neck was exposed for him. He bit the tender flesh softly, sucking it sweetly in the next instant, and we both moaned when his hips rolled into mine.
Reese was so hard already, every single inch of him — his arms that encompassed me, his bare shoulders and back that I raked my nails down, his cock beneath the thin fabric of his sweat pants as he caught friction between us again. Every roll of his hips sent a jolt from where my jeans brushed my clit, and my breaths grew more erratic, my heart racing right out of my chest.
So long I’d waited for that kiss.
So many years, I’d wondered what it would be like to have his lips, to taste his tongue, to feel his hands on the most sensitive parts of me. And it wasn’t anything like I expected. It was more. It was everything I never knew existed. I couldn’t have imagined what it would feel like because I didn’t know feelings like that could even be.
I didn’t know a kiss could wake up every sleeping cell, that a bite could send me into space, that a moan of want from a man could make me see galaxies.
Before I could stop myself, I slid one hand between us, traveling over the ridges and valleys of his abdomen and slipping easily under the band of his sweatpants. He inhaled a stiff breath, cursing out loud when I grabbed him over the fabric of his briefs and squeezed, rolling my hips with the touch.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, pressing his forehead into mine with his eyes closed tight.
I rolled my hand over the tip of him and down to his base, need scorching a hot, blazing fire through every inch of me at the feel of him hardening at my touch.
Reese wanted me so badly it hurt him, and I loved watching him take the pain.
His hand ripped at the button of my jeans, tearing the zipper down in one full thrust, but just as his fingers gently swept over my lace panties, a loud buzzing came from the table outside the fort.
That energy around us popped like a bubble, evaporating all at once, and I opened my eyes to the cold reality of where I was, of what I was doing.
“Fuck.”
I shoved my hands hard into Reese’s chest, crawling quickly out of the fort as he caught his balance behind me. My hands scrambled for my phone on the table next to his couch, and when I found it, I swiped over the screen to answer the call before I’d even seen the name.
I knew who it was without looking, anyway.
“Hello?”
“Hey, babe,” Cameron said tentatively. “Are you okay? I just got home from the game and you aren’t here… and Jane is gone.”
“I’m fine, just went for a drive,” I lied. “I’m about to head back to the house now.”
“Oh, okay.” He paused, and guilt flooded me from the inside out, cooling my hot skin in a crashing wave. “Had to get out to clear your head for a while, huh?”
“Yeah…” I didn’t know what else to say. I wondered if he knew I was lying.
I wondered if he cared.
“I’m sorry. I should have skipped the game tonight. I won’t go to the one tomorrow, okay? We can… I don’t know. I’ll make dinner, and we can watch movies or something.”
“I have to go, don’t want to be on the phone while I’m driving,” I said quickly. “I’ll be home soon.”
I hung up before he could respond, the urge to vomit hitting me so strong I scrambled to my feet and ran to Reese’s bathroom. I slammed the door shut behind me, grappling at the toilet with clammy hands, but I only dry heaved.
Nothing came out, my body’s punishment for what I’d done. I’d have to sit with all of it — the guilt, the betrayal, the utter despair of wanting Reese, even still.
He knocked on the bathroom door and I shook my head violently, flushing the toilet even though nothing was in it before I stood and ripped the door open again.
“I have to go.”
“Charlie.”
Reese followed me through the house as I zipped up my pants and pulled my hair into a low bun at the nape of my neck. I swiped my coat off the back of his couch, releasing one corner of our fort in the process. I pulled my coat on hastily, wrapping my scarf without care around my neck and holding my hat in one hand as I ripped one of the sheets from the fort to find Jane’s cage beneath it.
“Please, just wait a second. Talk to me.”
“I can’t. I have to go.” My hand was already on the door knob when Reese slid between me and the exit, bare chest heaving, eyes wild as he forced me to look at him.
“Damn it, Charlie. Don’t do this. Don’t just walk out of here like you regret everything.”
I needed to throw up. I needed to leave.
“I’m married.”
“I know. I know, and I’m sorry, but —”
“This was a mistake, Reese!” I screamed the words louder than I meant to, and I clapped the hand holding my hat hard over my mouth, shaking my head as tears flooded my eyes.
He just watched me, eyes flicking between mine as the pain from what I’d said marred his face.
“You don’t mean that.”
“Please,” I screamed again, the sound of my voice muffled through the tears. “Let me go. Please. I have to go. Let me go.”
I yanked the door knob and Reese stepped aside, letting me through. I didn’t look back. Not when a sob choked through me in his front yard, or when I placed Jane in the passenger seat, or when I slid behind the wheel, swiping at my face frantically and telling myself on repeat to just breathe.
I threw my car into reverse as soon as it started, peeling out of his driveway with my heart pounding against the confines of my rib cage. I could barely see through the tears. I could barely hear myself think.
What have I done?
What have I done?
What have I done?
When I pulled out of Reese’s development, I yanked the car over to the side of the road, shoved my door open, and puked.