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Sounds leave his throat, building and growing deeper and harder, and I move my body, letting him look and touch and have anything he wants.
His breathing stutters, every one of his muscles under my hands tightens, and he jerks again and again.
And again, finally letting out a long, single groan.
I lay my head on his chest, hearing his rapid heartbeat against my ear. “I love watching you come.”
“And I love you,” he says back.
I hold him, it hurting to think about being traded back tomorrow. I don’t know if he’s coming home yet, but it feels like we’ll be a thousand miles away from each other. I’ve loved having him next door with no rules interfering.
And eventually, we’ll be even farther away from each other.
“What?” he asks.
I look at us in the mirror, seeing him staring back at me in the reflection.
“Just already dreading next year,” I tell him. “College.”
“Oh, yeah. That.” He runs his hand through his hair. “Kade made a mess with my University of Chicago application, so Ineed to sort that out.”
I hold him tighter.
“I’m in love with you,” he says, kissing my hair. “And I’m proud of you. You were beautiful on that track. Right where you belong.”
I smile to myself. No matter what happens, it will be hard to be separated by even ten miles, but I’m going places, too, and that’s a perk to be going home, I guess.
In any case, he’s in love with me, and we have winter nights, spring rains, and summer heat to look forward to before next fall.
I try to swallow through the dryness in my mouth as pain hits my stomach. “Oh, God, I’m starving.”
I haven’t eaten anything since the dads’ breakfast this morning.
“Breaker’s?” he suggests.
I nod, and he comes up, wrapping his arms around me as we kiss.
I look over to a shelf, his lips still on mine. “Oh, yay. Towels,” I chirp.
I need to clean up before we eat.
But he glances over to the rack with white gym towels for the football players and falls back against the bench again, laughing. I don’t know why.
I turn around, taking in Winslet’s bedroom one last time. I don’t know if I’ll ever sleep here again, but I know I’ll be close. Hunter will still have his room next door, even though he’s moving home. I’m already daydreaming of Sunday afternoons when it’s raining and we want to disappear for a few hours some place that isn’t a cramped back seat. I’ll miss this house, though.
And I’ll certainly miss that cage. Last night was incredible.
“Dylan, you ready?” Hunter calls downstairs.
Music plays out in the street—someone’s car speakers—and people move in and out of the house, waiting to take me to the bridge and release me back to the Pirates.
“Almost!” I call out.
I swipe the notes off the desk, having saved those for last when I packed up all of my things. It feels wrong to remove them from the house. They’re not mine, but Hawke will want to see them, and someone left them here for me to find anyway. I’ll return them. Someday.
I stuff the notes into my backpack, making sure the window is closed, and scan the room once more as I turn off the light.
I close the door and leave, jogging down the stairs. Hunter catches me in his arms as I swing into the living room.
