My chest aches for the woman standing before me. Giving me a piece of herself that feels sacred and private. Letting me into her world, being brave enough to show me things that have scarred her. I want to make it right. To be the difference for her. To convince her that she’s anything but hopeless or anything else someone persuaded her to believe.
Taking her hand, I place it over my heart, wondering if she can feel the quickened thud of it. “You are anything but hopeless. I hope one day I can crush that voice enough that you never hear it again.”
Hope fills her eyes as she stares up at me. “Me too.”
Long after we gorge ourselves on a charcuterie platter I put together, we sit on the blanket in the sand, Bryn wrapped in my arms after watching the sunset. She sits with her back against my chest, my chin resting on her shoulder, our legs resting against each other’s.
The beach has gotten busier since we first got here, with thefireworks drawing closer, but it’s still quiet enough that we’ve gotten up to dance several times when a good song has come on. Slow, fast, it hasn’t mattered, we’ve done it all.
It’s been the perfect evening, and it’s about to be capped off by the best fireworks of the year.
Bryn’s confession seemed to ease something inside her. Like a weight she was struggling to lift became manageable. It’s nothing I’ve been able to pinpoint in her expressions, but rather the air around her.
My brothers would laugh at me if I said something like that to them. Both the ones back in Montana and the ones at the fire station.
“I don’t talk much to my parents either,” I murmur into her hair as her fingers run up and down the length of my forearm.
The thought of telling her has been on my mind since earlier, and the longer I’ve had to digest her confession, the more I’ve wanted to share a piece of myself. Her head half turns, but with my face right beside hers, she can’t fully look at me.
“Mostly my dad, but because of that, I don’t talk to my mom much,” I explain. “If he’s around when I call her, he ends up yelling through her. And if he’s not, she just begs me to come home.”
Her hands squeeze mine in solidarity. “Have you been home since you came here?”
“Hell no.” I shake my head, then release a heavy sigh, staring out at where the waves crash into the shore, lit up by the half-moon in the sky. “I don’t think I ever want to go back.”
“What about your brothers?” she asks, and I angle to the side so she can crane her neck to look at me.
“I miss them more than I care to admit,” I chuckle softly, thinking of the group chats. “We talk a lot still. Mostly texts. Boone and I talk almost daily. The others a few times a week.”
Pressing a kiss to my jaw, she settles in again, looking out over the water. “I think I like Boone.”
“Well, he definitely feels the same.”
Her body shakes with a laugh. “Talking about me?”
“All the time,” I tell her, planting a soft kiss just under her ear against her neck.
She shifts slightly in my arms, tilting her head back further as she brings her knees up to her chest. It’s when I feel her whole body shiver against mine that I realize she might be chilled, even though I’m warm.
“Cold?” I wonder out loud, but rather than wait for an answer, I reach for the second blanket I brought, flipping it outwards to get it unfolded.
“A little, but I’m okay. The fireworks will start soon and then I’m guessing we’re going?”
“Unless you want to sleep out here.”
I bring the blanket over our legs, making sure she’s covered as much as possible. Bringing my knees closer to us, my legs make a circle around her. Encompassing her with as much of my body as I can, I run my hands up and down the outside of her legs, trying to create warmth through friction.
It seems to work when she melts into me, her head turning to nuzzle her face against my neck. “Thank you.”
“Better?” I murmur, goosebumps racing down my arms at her warm breath against my skin.
“Mmhm,” she hums in a sultry tone that has my cock taking notice.
My hands slow along the outside of her legs, moving to the front of them. As I make the switch, her breath hitches, and fuck if it doesn’t have my heart beating a little faster. Her smooth skin feels like silk beneath my calloused fingers, and I slow my touch further,the pads of my fingers running featherlike along her thighs. It’s no longer about making her warm. Not when the soft whimper breaks free from her lips, and her legs drop an inch outward, creating space between them.
Her dress is pooled around her hips and midsection, and as I sweep my fingers downwards, I pull it up a little further, the blanket sheltering any prying eyes. A quick look around tells me no one on the beach is paying any attention to us anyway.
There’s an element of risk that has my heart hammering, the thought of getting caught or seen by any of these people driving me wild in some kind of primitive way. If I caught anyone watching, I know I’d want to gouge their eyes out, and yet, I don’t want to stop.
