Page 178 of Before You Fell

“I am stronger now,” I whisper. “I know the difference between who I was then and who I am now. Rehab gave me that much.”

She reaches up and touches my cheek. “I believe you, dear.”

We stand here for a moment, just the two of us, and then Phoenix’s voice drifts through the kitchen, talking to Dad about something. Mom’s mouth curves just slightly at the corners before she drops her hand and moves toward the door.

Phoenix orders takeout around seven.

We eat at the table, all four of us, with containers spread between plates, and the conversation flows more easily as the night settles in. Mom talks about her garden. Dad asks Phoenix about the UK tour.

After dinner, Phoenix finds the game on the TV and drops onto the couch. After a moment, without fanfare and without being asked, Dad settles into the chair beside him. They don’t talk much. They are just two men watching the same screen with beers in hand.

But it’s something that might, given enough time, become what it once was, when Phoenix was always at my childhood home, sprawled on our couch with his shoes off and a controller in his hand while Dad pretended not to enjoy having him there.

The night winds down slowly, the way good evenings do, with no one rushing toward the door.

Mom hugs me on the couch before she even reaches for her bag and Dad finishes the last of his drink.

At the door, Dad hugs me and says he will call tomorrow before he turns to Phoenix.

“Look after her,” Dad says.

“I am.”

Dad holds his stare for a second longer. “Make sure you keep doing it.”

“I will,” Phoenix says quietly.

Dad looks at him for a long moment, then nods once and follows Mom out.

The door closes.

I turn to face him. “That went well.”

“Your dad tolerated me.” His mouth curves. “I’ll take it.”

His eyes move over me and the easy humor in them gives way to something that has been waiting behind it all evening—dark, patient, and done waiting.

“They have been gone for thirty seconds,” I say.

“Twenty-eight.” He moves forward toward me. “And you have been walking around this apartment all night, knowing full well exactly what you said to me before you opened that fucking door.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” I tease.

“No underwear, Wills.” His voice drops low, eyes trailing down my body. “You told me no underwear, then made me sit across from your father at a table for four fucking hours with my cock aching. That was a very stupid thing to do to a man with a very good memory.”

“Maybe I forgot I said that.”

“Did you really forget, Wills?” His eyes drag down my body. “Because I didn’t forget a single fucking word. I’ve been thinking about it all night.”

He reaches out, pressing his hand to the front of my throat. My body responds before I can stop it.

I love it when his hand is there and he takes control. When he wraps his hand around my throat and fucks me like that, with his cock buried deep, and his eyes on mine making sure I feel every single second of it.

He feels my pulse jump beneath his palm and his smile turns filthy.

“Take your clothes off,” he says. “I have been patient all fucking night and now I want to make us both come.”

Chapter Thirty-One