Page 85 of Silver Brewer

“Want me to talk you through it?”

“Yes, please. Guide me.” This has become our code for leading her to touch herself like I did the first night we were together in the tent.

“Take off your shirt.” I hear the phone shift and know she does as I command. “And stroke over your nipples.” I slip my hand back into my pants, tugging at myself. “Show me.”

I hear her gasp through the phone. “Giant?”

“Let’s get on FaceTime. Lower the phone.” We’ve been playing with the visual more and more. She shows me Finn and his progression, and it’s amazing when Finn recognizes me and my voice through the video. She hangs up, and I send the FaceTime connection. When the visual pops up, it’s her finger swirling around her breast.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” I groan, squeezing myself.

“Show me how hot,” she hums, and I lower the phone, giving her a view as well. It’s naughty and dirty, and I can’t help myself. I’d never dream of doing something like this, showing off my dick while I get off, but I hear her purring through the line, and I want to give her anything she wants. “Watching you touch yourself makes me so wet.”

She holds nothing back, angling her phone to show me her fingers dipping lower, and it’s better than porn. This is live action, and while I want to be with her, this is the next best thing. Her sounds. The sight of her fingers disappearing into her pants.

“Take them off,” I choke, stroking over myself as the tightness grows. She shimmies her yoga pants to her hips and then her fingers disappear between her thighs. She hums, and my eyes close a beat, imagining my fingers entering her. Imagining her sitting on my dick. Imagining her mouth on me.

“Cricket,” I groan. So close. Her breath hitches.

“I’m close,” she whimpers, her fingers moving as the phone jiggles.

“Fuck,” I hiss as hot streams pour out of me, coating my hand. She’s watching me from her vantage point, and she swears as well as her fingers still, and she rocks her hips. Damn, she’s hot. “I miss you so much,” I cry out, wanting to touch her, feel her, surround her.

“Me too,” she whispers, coming down from the high. “It’s never enough.”

Never enough. I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want her to be alone.

“Soon, right?” It’s the first hint I give. We only have a few more months, and then we’ll talk. Then we’ll figure it out. We just need to wait a little longer.

+ + +

Letty applied for Family Medical Leave Absence, asking for the full three months despite the fact she didn’t give birth to her son. Her uncle was an ass about it, but human resources warned him he had to honor her rights. HR happens to be her mother. Score one point—finally—in the mom category.

Due to a snowstorm in Chicago, I miss a weekend at the end of January and can’t reschedule until the middle of February. Around Valentine’s Day, she’s sick with a cold, and Finn seems to be teething. She’s miserable when I’m there, and I feel helpless. We don’t make love, and while it’s not the be all and end all, I miss our physical connection.

As we near the end of February, her three-month mark quickly approaches.

I’m just not ready to leave him. That’s silly, right? Women go back to work all the time after having babies, and I didn’t even have him, technically. I just…I don’t want to leave him with someone other than me, she tells me one night.I don’t have any answers for her.

Come to Georgia. Marry me. Stay home to raise him. These are my thoughts.

“You look miserable,” my father says to me as he walks into my office. I sigh and scrub a hand down my face. I’ve just gotten off the phone with Letty. “What’s going on?”

My parents know that Letty and I have a long-distance relationship. I’ve let them believe it’s because of work issues, which is partly true.

“Dad, I have something to tell you.” Like a child of thirteen when I broke his fishing pole, the one Pap gave him as a kid, I feel sick. Thankfully, my father’s calm reserve back then dismissed the situation as an accident. I might have left out how James and I were playing lightsabers with it, but still. This is so much bigger than a fishing pole accident.

“Letty has a baby.”

“Is it yours?” I can’t tell if my father is hopeful or concerned, but I quickly explain how Letty was in the adoption process before I met her. I also explain how I’m struggling to find my place in her life with the distance and the new little man.

We’re dating, but are we more? I want us to be more, but I don’t want to pressure her. She’s under so much stress already, and after her reaction to my suggestion she move to Georgia, I don’t have the heart or stomach to bring it up again. I don’t mention this part to my father.

“When your mother had each of you, I struggled as well. She was so busy caring for each of you, it’s a wonder there was another one.” He chuckles, and I don’t want to consider my parents having sex, but within seven years, they had five children. “Motherhood was her dream, and her pride is wrapped up in each of you kids. Where did I fit in then?”

I hold my breath, afraid for some reason.

“I was her rock. She’s a strong woman, but even a mountain risks erosion, and when your mother felt herself crumple, she relied on me. I provided for you financially, but I like to think I had my own place in developing who you are. A boy needs a father to show him how to be a man.” He takes a breath and smiles to himself, and I grin as I had the same thought regarding Finn. “And a man needs to lead by example, by loving and cherishing his wife.” He narrows his eyes at me. There’s no doubt my parents have loved each other well over the years. They never spend a night apart despite him taking late nights at BRMP or working long hours at the brewery. “Your place is in her heart. In her bed. Are you the rock? The soft landing? The comforting shoulder? Wherever or whatever she needs from you, that’s where you fit in.”