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I will. Not another second passes before she tells me, I miss you.
It’s hard to read her tone from a text message, but I imagine it’s soft. Open. She’s telling me something in honesty. In more of that trust I’ve come to crave.
I missed her too.
Ella
Emotional days suck the life out of you. I don’t know how or why, but it’s like they eat up all of your energy, leaving you exhausted, yet you’ve done nothing but drown in the thoughts of your own mind. Ever since this morning, since I asked Kamden and Damon for space, I’ve stared at my phone and wished it was my old one.
I want to listen to James’s voice message I listened to on repeat a year and a half ago. I want to tell my friends I miss him and hear them tell me they miss him too. All of my pictures, all of our conversations. It hit me harder than I thought it would bringing up what happened during that meeting. Every day, I know he died. Every day, I know I tried to kill myself because I didn’t want to be alone anymore and I felt so damn alone. It was like the world went dark and the only light I could see was by ending it. It happened quickly, yet slowly just the same. I didn’t realize I’d fallen down that path until it was the only one. Everything else vanished and it was all I had left. It was my only escape from grief.
It’s a ball in a box. Grief really is an unforgiving ball in a stupid little box.
I stare back down at my phone as I sniffle and wish I could take that text and send it to James. I miss you.
Is it wrong that I miss them both? I can tell one and he chooses not to respond. But I can’t even tell the other. My first love. The man I thought I was going to spend my life with.
I’m busy pulling the sheet up to my neck, its pristine white silky fabric not coming anywhere near my eyes in case my mascara is smudged when there’s a knock at the door.
The shock comes with the knowledge that it’s been so long since anyone has asked permission to enter.
“Come in,” I answer calmly, lifting myself to sit up on my bed, glancing in the vanity mirror. I meant to change before Zander came, but time has flown by. The silk cuffs of my pajamas are proof I lost it earlier, and I find myself cupping my hands over the bits tainted with black mascara to cover them as he enters.
The door opens slowly, creaking as it does. Zander’s steps are measured and he takes his time, closing the door. My heart does a pitter-patter as if a prince has come to kiss my sleeping lips and bring me back to life. What a handsome knight in shining armor he is.
He wears a devilish smirk as his gaze roams down my body. Every inch he takes in blazes with a desperate need to be touched by this man.
Zander Thompson is sin in all black. Black jeans that hug his ass and are faded just slightly, and a black Henley is stretched tight across his broad shoulders.
Then his eyes meet mine and he tilts his head ever so slightly. His expression, though … the seriousness can’t hide the desire in his gaze.
“There are things we’re going to discuss before I fuck you,” he says and his deep voice barely comes out above a murmur, yet I hear every word crystal clear.
Suddenly I’m not so tired. Suddenly I’m not so sad.
I’m needy, though. I’ve never felt so needy in my entire life as I do now.
The floorboards groan as he shifts his weight.
I can’t explain why I suddenly feel like I’ve done something wrong. “What do we need to talk about?”
“Your punishment.” He speaks easily, slowly pacing around the bedroom. Zander loosens his collar first, giving me a perfect view of the masculine sweep of his neck.
Inching backward to rest against the headboard, I’m hesitant to ask, “What exactly do I need to be punished for?”
With his lips pulled into an asymmetric smirk, his deep voice rumbles, “If you don’t know, then maybe I should reconsider this arrangement.”
“Extortion … threatening The Firm?” I say and can barely breathe, not knowing how he’ll react now that we’re alone. I’ve wanted to be at his mercy since he whispered the forbidden word, submission … and now we find ourselves here. It’s difficult to maintain eye contact until he says, “That would be it, my little jailbird.”
I can’t help but to simper at the twist to my nickname.
His approval brings warmth and comfort, although I’m still unsure what’s to come. “There’s that smile I’ve been missing.”
