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“Do you need anything?” Mrs. Vaughn asks as she comes inside.
Ember, I want to respond. Ember is the only thing I need, but instead, I tell her we’re okay and thank her for coming. Mrs. Vaughn tilts her head, wisely not believing me, then walks to the kitchen. Having been a good friend of my parents for many years, she knows this house almost as well as her own.
“I’m sorry, son. So damn sorry,” my old boss, Chuck Williams, says when he sees me. I worked for Chuck at his auto repair shop during high school. I enjoyed my time there, but never saw it as a permanent position. My end goal was finance, which was another reason I enjoyed the chats dad and I had about them. For all I know, those were why I chose the field I did. That being said, I’m taking him being here as a sign aside from the fact he’s showing his respect for my parents and wants to offer his condolences.
“Thank you for coming, sir,” I tell him as we shake hands. “Is there a chance we could talk soon?”
“I know this tragedy changes things for you and your siblings. For your future.” I nod, silently letting him know he’s on the right track. “So, if I’m able to put your mind at ease in any way, let me just say this. You need work, you have it. Whenever you’re ready, come see me and we’ll iron out the details.”
Too choked up, too grateful, to respond, I merely hug him. Seeming to understand, he awkwardly pats my back – he’s gruff and fears emotions are contagious – then slides away the second I free him. I can’t help but smirk at his reaction and make a mental note to do it again.
Being able to cross an item off my list makes me feel as if I can actually do this. I still need to call the insurance company, contact the funeral home to begin the arrangements my parents already set up, get in touch with the dean at Bentley to withdraw, refamiliarize myself with the bills, and so on. This is when Dad’s advice kicks in and I remember not to look at numerous tasks as a whole. To do that gets overwhelming and can cause you to question your ability to get it all done. Instead, pick one thing, conquer it, then move on to the next, so it no longer seems insurmountable.
Fuck, I miss him. Them.
Dad.
Mom.
Ember.
“So you do remember my name.” Did I say that out loud? Am I imagining things? No, I can’t be. I can smell her.Feelher.
“You’re here,” I whisper as I yank her into my arms.
“Where else would I be?” She asks. “I’m where I belong.”
Damn straight. Being noble is for those much stronger than me. God forgive me, but I need this woman. I lied. I can’t let her go.
**Ember**
Since I don’t want him to, that works for me, so I say, “Then don’t.”
“I really need to work on not blurting my thoughts,” I hear him mutter.
“I appreciate when you do it,” I admit. He tends to when his emotions run high, which isn’t often as he normally has good control over them, with extenuating circumstances such as this, though… There’s such pain in his voice, in his eyes, and he’s trying like hell to hide from both. I still want to scold him for not calling me, and I might at some point, but now is not the time. What I do, however, is ask, “What can I do?”
“Just let me hold you,” he pleads. I nod, unable to deny him what we each want, and I feel myself being lifted, feet dangling in the air as he walks through the house. We pass numerous people, some I know more than others, but none of them react to seeing Adam carrying me. They know, just as I do, that I’m safe with him. As he takes the stairs, I feel shudders start to wrack his body and I whisper soothing nonsensical words, letting my palm rub the back of his head where it meets his neck. When we reach his room, he finally stops moving and looks at me, our eyes almost level for once. He’s letting me see the tears pooled there and I watch as they begin trailing down his cheeks. Adam merely stares at me, letting me see his grief, and I get the feeling this is the first time he’s let it out. That I’m the only one he’ll do it with. He’ll want to be strong for his siblings, want them to know he’s there for them. But who does he have to turn to?
Me.
I lean forward and kiss each cheek, brushing away the tears in the process. It seems to be calming him some, so I do it again and again. On the fourth pass, Adam turns his side and my lips land on his. He and I both freeze, unsure of our next move, until Adam groans and the tip of his tongue appears, outlining my lips. In response, I open my mouth and accept his intrusion. Welcome it, in fact.
So focused on what we’re doing, I barely register that we’re now completely alone as he shuts the door behind us. He backs me against the wall, his hard chest pressed to my suddenly aching breasts and I moan. We should not be doing this right now, exploring what I believe has always been there. He’s in pain, hurting from a tragic loss, and has a house full of people, but I’m not going to stop it.
Adam is devouring me. It’s as if he’s trying to climb inside my body and seek comfort, something I’m more than willing to give him. And his tongue…holy shit. The way he’s working it, using it to turn me to mush, I’m about to lose my mind at the thought of another part of him doing this in a lower extremity. Breathing eventually becomes a necessity, though he continues stealing quick kisses before skimming his mouth over my cheek and down to my pulse. The nips he’s now giving me – oh lord, I think I could come from those alone, and when he sucks hard and bites the same spot, I do, soaking my panties with my pleasure.
“Adam,” I moan, and suddenly his warmth is gone and there’s a chill in the air. Saying his name seems to have snapped him from whatever haze we’d been under, causing him to place me on my feet and step back.
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he mumbles. “It was a mistake.” When I reach for him and he moves further away, putting more than just physical distance between us, I’m suddenly breathless for an entirely different reason. Pain. It’s an all-consuming thing and I know if I give into it, I may never recover. “I think you should go.”
I took a chance, gambled on the possibility he wanted more than friendship, and I lost.
Walking through the house, trying not to bring unwanted attention to myself, it hurts to realize that I no longer feel at home here. At least not in this moment and honestly, probably not ever again.
Chapter Three
Adam
