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I can’t smell his soap and cologne here, which makes me happy. If his bed held his fresh, clean scent boldly, thatwould mean he’s getting into bed wearing cologne. Which means he wouldn’t be alone.
I don’t want him to be lonely, but I’d rather him be alone than with anyone that isn’t me. We’re soulmates. And I’m going to make him see that.
There’s a buzz roaming around my hips, dipping into my pussy, my uterus and ovaries heavy with need. An aching need I’m very, very familiar with.
One I thought I satiated this morning when I saw Hud in his fitted tee.
Knowing that coming to the fantasy of my man can be messy, I refrain, instead running the tips of my fingers along my clit, over my panties. A gentle tease isn’t enough, but with his mouth inside of mine, my toes curling into his sheets, the ceiling he sees when he wakes every morning right above me—it’s enough for now.
After a moment of bliss, I slide out of bed and redress, keeping Hud’s toothbrush in my mouth. I’ll be sucking on it all day, as I always do the first day I have it. It’s still freshwith him.
Moving into his closet, I flick on the light, ignoring the small ring box that has sat on top of his dresser for as long as I can remember. I opened it once, only once. I think everything else in this house I’ve discovered time and time again, but I only needed to open that box once to know it has no place in my story. Our story.
Why he kept it after she left, I don't know. Maybe he’s saving it to give to Bear someday. I don’t know. All I know is, good fucking riddance. Letting my fingers graze the sleeves of his work shirts, I stop on my favorite one. It’s nothing special. Long-sleeved, button-up, blue denim. It may evenbe a chambray. There’s a tiny hole worn into the breast pocket, and the top button is completely gone. The shoulders have been lightened from all the time under the sun, and there’s a small stain on the collar from a shaving knick that bled. When Hudson wears it, he looks so handsome. He was wearing that shirt the first day I met him, and whenever I see him in it, I remember that first time. The sureness I had in my bones, the promises I made to myself—it all comes rushing back, reminding me that he came here for me, whether he knows it or not.
I bet he’ll be wearing that shirt when he discovers I’m right about it all.
I pluck it from the hanger, and slide one arm in at a time, catching the ends of the sleeves in my palms. Bringing my hands beneath my nose, I eat up his scent, my nipples going hard to the note of fabric softener. With my toes, I push the door closed, enjoying the temporary darkness and privacy of his closet.
Looking around, I take in my favorite elements. The way he folds and hangs his jeans, the different bottles of cologne atop the dresser, the way his boots are lined up in a neat and perfect row, how his belts stay rolled tight and organized in a drawer. The space is tidy and masculine, no frills and all function, and it makes me dizzy as I turn circles in the space, basking in this sliver of him.
He’s naked when he comes in here, and that’s the singular thought that always has me opening the door and leaving. If I focus on it for too long, I’ll make a mess.
It happened one other time before and I lost all of my valuableindoortime to cleaning.
With a small spritz of his cologne to my wrist, I shrug offthe shirt and rehang it, stepping out of the closet with my pussy pulsing and my heart racing. With his toothbrush tucked comfortably into my cheek, I move through the house, memorizing the small things that are different this time.
There’s aField & Streammagazine on the counter, and to my knowledge, Hudson’s never been a subscriber. When I pop open the fridge, I notice Bear’s yogurt is cherry this week, when it’s usually strawberry. The hand soap at the sink smells different, too.
One last survey of my favorite place and my future home, and I’m stepping outside quietly, closing the door behind me. Traipsing back to our house, Ivy looks up from her sketch pad.
With the toothbrush still in my mouth, I pull it out and smile at her as I take the porch steps. “Thank you.”
She picks up her mug, tipping it all the way back to finish her coffee. “How wasindoortime today?” she asks, collecting her things as she gets to her feet. I hold the screen door open for her as she filters past me inside, tapping the end of the toothbrush.
“Good,” I reply.
“Cool. I’m going out later if you wanna ride with. I think Juni is coming too. We’re on the hunt for test ink.” Ivy, who is vying for a tattoo apprenticeship at Deuce’s next ink parlor, is finally ready to try out her gun but first has to procure the perfect ink.
Ivy wants to tattoo in mostly white ink, which I think is so cool. So many people base their body art on colors, or having them all be in black and white. But Ivy’s hoping to make her specialty demonic women in white ink.
I love it.
“No thanks,” I reply, heading to the kitchen to grab a bottle of water. “I’m going to be in the barn most of the day.”
Ivy smiles as Juni appears, a towel wrapped around her wet hair on her head, a bathrobe tied at her waist. “Painting today?” she asks, overhearing part of our convo. With the bottle of water under one arm, I move for the back door, which leads to the barn.
“Yeah, I’ll be in there all day.” I wiggle my fingers at my sisters. “Have fun. I’ll be back inside at five.” Read:don’t come in.
I head into the barn, a new canvas waiting for me. I sit down, knowing that before I paint, I have an itch to scratch.
And I use the handle of the toothbrush to scratch that itch, moaning Hudson’s name the entire time.
And then, I paint.
four
I WANT AND NEED SOMEONE.
