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It also felt pretty fucking terrible for my dick. My right hand was a poor man’s Reese. And replaying the sounds she made and imagining the way she touched herself wasn’t nearly enough, but it would have to be. For now.
Finally, yesterday, when I’d texted and teased if I should be going to the hospital for my mysterious illness that was keeping me away for so long, I watched those typing bubbles appear and disappear several times before her message came through.
Dinner at the house. 6pm.
After five days away, the dinner conversation and subsequent card games were enough entertainment and distraction, especially when Arlene argued her way into taking this Yellowstone trip today, that there was no time to talk about us and what parts of us were real or fake. I was ready for that conversation, but Reese wasn’t. I was ready to admit that this started out fake, but this thing we had going felt good. Felt real. And I wanted to see where it would go.
But Reese would take some convincing.
So, last night, when she’d walked me to the door, I could practically feel the vibration of her nerves. Wondering what I was going to do. If I was going to kiss her. What I was going to say. When I faced her, she’d had her lip pinned between her teeth with equal parts worry and want. I’d smiled and dipped my head, and at the last second, veered to the side of her face and pressed a kiss on her cheek.
“I don’t want to get you sick,” I murmured.
Her exhale had rushed out.“Good night, Decker.”
“You don’t say good night to me until you’ve come, gorgeous.”And then I left.
Sure enough, fourteen minutes later, as soon as I was back at my house, my phone rang.
“The turn’s right up here,” Reese said, bringing me back to the moment.
I hit my blinker and turned into the parking lot for Old Faithful. Our first stop on the South Loop.
The parking lots were decently filled for it being the middle of the week, and I managed to find a spot close to the start of the small shops that led toward the information center and the geyser.
“Hold on, Mom, let me help,” Reese insisted as soon as the car was in park, rushing around the other side of the truck with the walker.
Within a few minutes, we were meandering down the sidewalk toward the main building and Old Faithful just beyond.
“I can’t remember the last time we were here. It’s been years,” Arlene said, breaking up the silence. “Wait until you see it, Decker. What a wonder.”
“I can’t wait,” I said, catching Reese’s gaze for a second before she looked away.
We made our way to the information center and checked the eruption schedule. Fifteen minutes until Old Faithful was expected to put on a show.
“Old Faithful was named during the Washburn Expedition in the 1870s because of how regularly it erupted,” Reese read from the brochure she’d plucked from the desk.
“There’s something to be said for stability. Consistency.” Arlene nodded.
“For a hundred and fifty years. Probably more. Imagine how many millions of people have counted on it to be on schedule,” I mused quietly, our pace leisurely bringing us closer to the rows of white wooden benches that rimmed the perimeter of the geyser.
“If only people were as predictable,” Reese murmured under her breath.
“The good ones are,” Arlene replied, looking at her daughter with concern.
I folded my arms, keeping my expression straight as we filed along one of the benches in the first row. Reese helped Arlene take a seat, but when she went to sit next to her, Arlene shooed her away.
“Go sit next to Decker.”
Reese hesitated for a beat but then complied, taking a seat next to me.
“Hi.”
Pink dusted her cheeks. “Hi.”
I tipped closer to her. “The Jeep is fixed, by the way,” I said, keeping my voice low.
“Oh, great. Can you take me to pick it up when we get back tonight?”
