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“It’s all right,” he’s whispering, wiping my tears with his fingers, kissing my face. “You’re all right, baby girl. I’m here now. We’re together now.”
I slide onto him, taking more of him, until he’s fully, deeply inside me. Elias takes my breasts in his hands and guides them to his mouth, sucking one flushed, sensitive nipple, then the other. He’s panting lightly, groaning each time I grind my hips against him and squeeze him.
“I won’t be apart from you again. I fucking can’t. We’ll figure it out. I’ll figure it out.”
I’m coming, despite the pain, and because of it. The ache is laced with shards of longing. The clenching spasms of my release are manic and wild, drawing him deeper into my body. Elias’s growl is agonized as his cock pulses inside me, filling me with liquid warmth, setting me off again into long, shimmery waves of pure pleasure.
“Zara, I need you. Fuck, baby, I love you.”
I writhe, clinging to him, kissing him as yet another orgasm floods through me.
We both understand, mindlessly losing ourselves in each other like we’ll never get close enough, that we’ll do anything. That we’re falling in love with more than another person, we’re falling in love with the tears and the laughter and the broken pieces that hold us together.
I’ll do anything, if it only means I can keep him. This kind of perfect desperation isn’t something we can either escape from or take for granted. It’s a wildfire that will burn us to the ground if we don’t let it consume us.
25
We pull up in front of my house. It’s late afternoon and the first leaves are starting to fall. My house is a big old rambling Victorian four-bedroom with a wraparound front porch. The kind with lots of stories and nooks and is always in need of a paint job. It’s white with dark red trim. Wildcats colors, I only realized a few years ago. We moved into this house when I was three years old. It’s where practically every memory I have was made. It’s the home base of my soul. Mostly because my dad is in it.
I can only hope this goes well.
After the the crazy and unforgettable limo ride, we went back to Bo’s to get a few of Elias’s things. I got to meet Bo, who lives up to all the hype. And I got to meet Millie, who’s one of the nicest people I’ve ever met. She’s got an edge of bruised vulnerability to her but is smart and sort of wise beyond her years. If we end up as sisters, I know we’ll become close. And it was entertaining to watch, how besotted Bo is with her. She said the same thing about Elias.
I showed Elias the text from my dad and he didn’t want to wait any longer to meet with him. So we didn’t stay with them long. Elias got the limo driver to take us to the airport.
“You ready?” Elias asks me.
“No.”
His slow smile helps. “Whatever happens in here, Zara, we’re together. I’m all in.”
“I’m all in too, Elias.”
“Good. Come on, then. Let’s get this over with.”
Elias holds my hand as we walk up the front steps. I texted my dad and told him we were coming. By the time we get up to the front door it’s already open my dad is standing there. He watches us, taking it all in. The two of us together. My hand clasped strongly in his best ever football player’s.
He doesn’t look mad. He looks sad. And tired.
I walk up to him and give him a big hug. He hugs me back and we just stand there with my dad holding me in this big, comforting dad-hug, the kind that’s so familiar and restorative it makes you sigh and brings tears to your eyes.
Then he releases me and holds my shoulders, looking at me. Really look at me. He’s looking at me like he can see my mother in me. He’s looking at me like he missed me terribly. “I’m not going to lose you, punkin. You and that crazy Californian sister are all I’ve got.”
“You could never lose me, dad. I’m too hard to get rid of.”
My dad looks at Elias, and I hope he can see him as I see him. Tall. Brave. Glorious. How could he not? “I’m sorry to hear about your father, son.”
“Thank you, Coach. He respected the hell out of your coaching. He was always glad I chose Hawthorne.” It was good he never had to know I got kicked off the team. I don’t even know if Elias is thinking that. But I am. And my guess is my dad might be too.
My dad heads for the door. “Come inside, you two. I have some things I want to say to you both.”
So we take a seat together on the couch in the living room. The place is a little messier than usual, but just in the area around my dad’s chair. His papers, notes and playbooks are stacked in mid-flow piles.
My dad sits in the chair opposite us. There’s a change in him. There’s a defeated edge to him that’s new.
“Can I speak first, Coach?” Elias says.
“Go right ahead.”
