I took my breakfast out onto the back deck the next morning, curling up in my wicker chair and turning my face to the sun. It felt heavenly. There was only silence coming from over the fence. I hadn’t expected anything different, but maybe a part of me had been hoping he’d be there. It was a little naive to think that one stupid, impulsive act would change anything.

I wasn’t even sure what it was I was hoping it would change.

I ate my toast and held my hot tea between my hands, thinking about the work I had to do that day and the order in which I wanted to do it. I was expecting a delivery that morning, too, a tablet I could use to watch YouTube videos on. I wanted to learn how to cook chicken alfredo and frittatas, things that weren’t included in the meal delivery service I used. And I learned best by watching someone do it.

“You can’t subsist on toast alone.”

I jumped a little, not having heard him come around the side of the house. He was standing at the far end of the deck, a plate in each hand. I sat up a little straighter, suddenly wishing I bought two wicker chairs instead of just one.

“This is biscuits and sausage gravy,” he said, approaching me cautiously. “Not the healthiest thing in the world, but Remy makes incredible biscuits.”

“I’m sure she does.”

He came up the steps and did a little bow as he presented me with one of the plates. When I took it, there was something like relief in his eyes. Then he retreated a few steps and sat down, his back to me as he cut into his own plate of food.

I took a bite of one edge of the biscuit, avoiding the cream gravy for a moment. The biscuit tasted of butter and flaky perfection, making me hum slightly as I chewed it. He glanced back at me and grinned, his own mouth full.

“Good, isn’t it?”

“Lovely. But why the gravy? Why not a little butter and honey?”

He looked at me as though I’d gone insane. “You’re not from the south, are you?”

“What do you mean?”

“Biscuits and gravy is a southern thing. A staple of the south. How could you live in Memphis, Tennessee, and not know that?”

“I have no idea.”

I cut into the biscuit and tried it with the gravy. I never would have imagined putting the two things together, but it was the best thing I think I’d ever tasted. The gravy was just creamy enough, the sausage just salty enough, and the biscuit…it was incredible. I had it eaten in just a few bites, wishing there was more before I was completely done.

“Your sister is a hell of a cook.”

“She is.”

“How are you not fat?”

He laughed. “I think that is her intention. And I have gained like ten pounds in the last few weeks.”

I shook my head, setting the plate down almost reluctantly. “If I had someone like that to cook for me, I’d never let her go.”

“I have no intention. Besides, I’m kind of stuck with her. Family and all that.”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“You don’t have family?”

I shook my head. “Only child.”

“No cousins?”

I lifted a shoulder, offering something like a shrug. “I don’t know. My dad died before I was born and my mom was estranged from her family. She never talked about family.”

“That sucks.”

“It was alright. We had each other.”

“You’re close, you and your mom?”

“Were. She died five years ago.”

Sadness washed over his face. “I know how that is. My mom had breast cancer. She fought hard for more than a year, even though she beat it there for a while, but then it came back.”

“That happens.”

It sounded less sympathetic than I’d intended and I could see he took it that way. I cleared my throat, trying to find something more to say. All I could think of was the truth.

“My mom…she had lung cancer. She went into remission twice. The second time she was good for almost five years—five years is when they declare you cured, you know? But then it came back and she was gone not even a month after they found it that last time.”

“I’m sorry.”

I lifted my hair off my neck, looking away while I fanned my neck, trying to hide the tears that the memory of that month brought back. I wanted to be by her side while she fought it, but she wouldn’t let me. Go have a life, she kept telling me. No reason both of us should miss out.

I should have been there. You can’t get time like that back.

“It’s never easy when someone you love is sick.”

“No, it’s not.” He leaned back against the rail that embraced the edge of the steps. “I wanted to be here with my mom, but I’d already been scheduled for deployment when I finally got word that she was sick. My sister-in-law kept me updated. She was the only one my dad would really allow close to mom, the only one who was there through everything. And when it came back, she let me know so that I could get leave. I arrived home just a week before she passed.”

“At least you had that time.”

“Yeah, well, Dad didn’t want anyone around. He didn’t want us to say goodbye because he was in denial. He couldn’t allow himself to believe she might actually die. They were intensely close.”

“Sounds like it.”

He nodded, his eyes on his hands as he picked at his cuticles. “It was always difficult trying to get a moment alone with one of them. They were always together. They worked together, played together. On weekends, they would disappear for hours at a time. During the week, sometimes, we’d find them parked out in the garage, making out like teenagers. They couldn’t get enough of each other.”

“That’s nice.”

“To other people. To us it was always a competition, a fight to get them to look away from each other long enough to see us. I could have robbed a store and they probably wouldn’t have come for air long enough to yell at me.”

“I’m sorry.”

“People like that should never have children.”

“But then there wouldn’t be you and you wouldn’t have the relationship you have with your siblings.”

It was his turn to shrug. “Maybe.”

“Definitely. Do you think your sister would care so much whether or not you starved to death if the two of you hadn’t had to rely on each other as children? Or that your brothers would have taken the money your father left you and put it into a business you could all run together if they hadn’t been taught a unique sense of family because of your parents’ relationship?”

“I’ve never thought about it that way.”

“You’re lucky, Aiden. You have a family, people who care about you. Not everyone has that.”

He tilted his head slightly as he regarded me. “You are an enigma, Carson. You have all this beautiful insight, but you don’t seem to apply any of it to yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

He was quiet for a moment, as though he were trying to gather his thoughts. Then he just sighed, his eyes moving up to the balcony that jutted out just above where we were sitting.

“We as a species were not designed to be alone. We were meant to seek out others of our kind and share our lives. But you push people away like it’s a game.”

“What about you avoiding your brothers’ offer to work with them?”

“That’s been resolved. I start work on Monday.”

“Yeah? Good for you.”

“What about you, Carson? When are you going to stop hiding?”

I unfolded my legs from under my bottom, planting my feet on the heated planks of the deck floor and resting my elbows on my knees. “My life is complicated.”

“Everyone’s life is complicated.”

I shook my head, wishing I could tell him more. But the more he knew, the more dangerous it would be for him.

“I just…I can’t plan a future. I don’t know what might happen from day to day.”

“Are you sick?”

“No.”

“Then what is it? Are you running from something?”

Tears filled my eyes. I blinked as I stood, this conversation getting too dangerous now. I was nearly to the sliding glass door, nearly safe inside, but he was there and he was turning me around, pressing me back against the cool glass. He kissed me, his mouth demanding as it covered mine, his insistence on invading me impossible to ignore. I slipped my arms around his neck, not even bothering to pretend that I didn’t want this, that I hadn’t been dreaming about it from the moment I first set eyes on him. He tasted of gravy and biscuits, of sausage and coffee and everything that was good about warm summer mornings.

There was urgency in his kiss, a need that was palpable between us. I was right there with him, my body screaming for his touch. My lower belly ached, my muscles tense. I could feel things inside of me coming to life, things I’d been convinced would never wake. Logically, I knew what this moment should feel like, but I’d never been quite so inspired. I’d assumed there was something wrong with me, something broken that wouldn’t allow me to experience such heights of pleasure. But my entire being was alive now, those places deep inside whispering for him, asking him to do things I’d never even considered. And the whispers were growing louder, catching even me by surprise as their voices rose.

I’d never begged for anything before. It was not in my nature to beg. I always took what I wanted. But I was begging now.

“Please, Aiden,” I whispered as he slowly dragged his lips over my throat, along the deep V of my t-shirt. “Please!”

I wanted things I couldn’t even express.

He lifted me up there against the glass, his hands sliding over my ass, the thin material of my shorts shifting almost as if it knew what was happening and was moving out of the way. I could feel his fingers slip deep against me, only igniting more need, drawing sounds from my throat I’d never uttered before. I was going to go insane if he didn’t touch me.

I tore at his shirt, pulled it over his head as my greedy mouth sought out his throat, his chest, those teeny nipples that were so hard even in the heat of the summer morning sunlight. I raked my nails over his back, tracing the ropy muscles that flexed with his every movement. One of his hands slipped under my tee, reminding me that I was still so incredibly overdressed. I helped him out, snatching up the material and tearing it over my head. He watched, the hooded desire in his eyes as intoxicating as an entire bottle of tequila. I touched his face, drew him to me, loving the way he nibbled at my bottom lip like it was the best tasting thing he’d had in all his life.

He pulled me up on his hips a little so that I could lean forward, his hand tugging at the clasp on the back of my bra. It seemed to confuse him a little, or maybe it was just the urgency that flubbed him up. I laughed when he gave up, one hand sliding into the cup of the bra to scoop out my breast, his teeth immediately taking my hard nipple and nibbling with enough pressure to send both pain and pleasure rushing through me. I hissed softly, watching him with a need to record every second of this encounter, to be able to recall it later and play over and over again, a need to hold onto it for use in the cold nights that were sure to come.

This was dangerous and, by that qualifier, temporary. But in the moment, I didn’t care.

His mouth came back to my throat then, sliding with same greed that had been in my own touch back to my mouth. As he kissed me with an abandon I would likely never know again, he reached between our bodies and tugged at the thick button that held his jeans in place. Aware of what it was he was trying to do, I reached down to help, my fingers a little defter under pressure, even this sort of pressure.

His zipper was the difficult part, but it parted after a moment’s effort. I slid my fingers inside, forcing them under the tight waistband of his briefs, the roughness of his stiff hairs an exciting contrast to his supple skin. His erection lay off to one side, the heat of it, the pulse pounding through the base of it, drawing my fingers like a magnet to metal. He cried out when my fingers simply brushed against him, against that tender flesh that had complete control over his thoughts at the moment. When I tried to wrap my fingers around it, he pulled my hand away only to desperately push his clothing out of the way. I dropped my legs from around his waist, just as desperate to bare myself to him.

He surprised me by dropping to his knees in front of me, forgetting his own needs for a moment as he gripped my shorts and yanked them down away from my hips. I stared at him, realizing this was probably the first time I’d been so exposed to another human being, the most intimate parts of me less than a few inches from his wide, beautiful eyes. And he seemed to be drinking it in, admiring parts of me that even I’d never really taken a good look at. He touched me, his hands resting on my hips, his thumbs brushing at my inner thigh, exposing that much more of what I had to offer. And then he leaned forward, his breath hot as it brushed over me.

I pressed my hands behind me, against the glass door, convinced my knees were about to give out. I was going to drop right there on the deck, fall to my ass in an indelicate heap. It didn’t help when he slid his tongue along my wet slit. Then he was holding me up with the pressure of his mouth, his tongue and his teeth doing the most incredible things. I closed my eyes and floated on the pleasure, letting go and just going with it. I didn’t see the point in fighting it.

He only explored me for a moment. His own need was too great to take the time necessary. But it didn’t matter. One pleasure exchanged for another was good enough for me. He stood again, lifting me in one fluid motion, our bodies pulled together by the perfect way in which we fit against one another. I guided him to me, pulled him as close as our position could allow. He did the rest, moving his hips with a level of control I was no longer convinced I could achieve. I’d always been so calm, so level headed in high pressure situations. But this…I was a different person in his arms than I’d ever been anywhere else.

He came inside of me, so careful of my delicate body that he took his time, moving just a few inches at a time until he was buried as deep inside of me as physics would allow. And then he stood still, sensing my need to hold on for a moment, to adjust to his invasion. When I was ready, I moved my hips just slightly, just enough to pull him back to me. His face had been buried against my shoulder, but he pulled back then, his eyes dark with need as he studied my face. I wondered if I looked as beautiful in that moment as he did, wondered if he could read on my face the same breathless ache I read on his.

He began to move, pressing so hard against me that the glass door creaked in protest. It was rough, hard, but it was a roughness that came with great tenderness, if that was possible. He held me like he was afraid I’d let go, held me impossibly close with fingers that bit into my flesh with a sort of desperation that went beyond physical need. And he watched me, watched the pleasure dance on my face, watched the emotions float through my eyes like clouds on a sunny day. There was something he needed to see, something he needed me to give to him. I didn’t know what it was. All I knew was that I’d never felt an intensity like this and I was desperately afraid I never would again.

I was rushing toward that peak, that thing that everyone aspired to and so few achieved. I knew I never had, not with the few lovers I’d known. But it was flooding me now with its painful potential of pleasure, this tingle in the base of my spine that promised a level of ecstasy that would be unsurpassable. My nails bit into his shoulders as my body tensed, begging him not to stop as the train left the station. I cried out, the sound echoing around my small backyard, carrying God knows how far. But it was soon drowned out by his own bellow, by his own peak.

I clung to him when his movement stopped, cradled his head against my shoulder as his breathing slowly began to settle back down to something like normal. When he moved again, it was to shift his head, to press his lips against the wild pulse in my neck.

“Thank you,” I whispered as I stroked the side of his head.

He chuckled, pulling back just enough so he could look me in the eye. “I think I’m the one who should be saying that.”

I shook my head, embarrassed by the tears that once again flooded my eyes. I didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to tell him how alone I’d been and how good it felt to be in his arms. There were no words to describe the walls he’d shattered with this simple act, the things he’d change irrevocably inside of me. I would never be the same and that would come with its own consequences very soon. But, for now, it was okay. Better than okay. It was hope.

It had been a long time since I’d known hope.