24. Travis

travis

. . .

D riving up the highway to Linton, my hand never leaves Cassidy’s. She’s singing along to song after song on the radio—not belting out the lyrics, more of an intermittent bar or two for each one. I’ll never forgive myself for not being man enough to date her in my twenties. If I had, we would be married with kids by now. I lost years of weekends like this.

Neither of us could take a few days off, but the day and a half we’re able to manage will still be a great time. I’m not a huge fan of antiquing—it’s more for Cass than it is for me. Still, I might find a few things for the new house while we’re out and keep an open mind. I want her to design the space so she’ll see herself in it once the renovations are complete. Since I signed the paperwork, I’ve thought of the house as ours, not only mine.

We stop at a small café that serves buttery, flakey as fuck croissants—Cass and I will need a delicious snack tomorrow’s antiquing adventure. I’ll bring back a dozen to the station tomorrow afternoon and drop off another dozen for the nurses station at the hospital, even if Cassidy fights me on it .

With croissants in tow, we arrive at the bed and breakfast. Fall is the perfect time to visit, not a tourist in sight. We may be the only two people staying the night and the thought makes me smile. Not because no one will hear her scream as she comes, but because selfishly I’ll have her all to myself. Cass could make friends with a pet rock. Give her an elderly inn keeper? I’ll have maybe ten minutes with my girl all night.

Once we’re settled in our room, she throws back the floral comforter, and slides into bed. Patting the mattress, she insists, “Nap time.”

While I would prefer naked nap time with her, fully clothed will suffice for now. I climb into bed, spooning behind her. I kiss her neck, breathing her in; she smells like the flowers of our shop. Every time I’m with her, I experience the most bizarre combination of swirled feelings. On one hand, she calms me. On the other, my whole body aches, needing to be closer. She’s a ball of chaos, but I’ll never get enough of her.

At the end of the day, she works too damn much and needs to slow down. She doesn’t need the money, and her physical health—and mental health—will begin to suffer. It isn’t as if she’d let anyone take care of her. Except, I want to be the one to do it. Not because she needs me to, but because I want to be her person, the one she leans on when things are too much to handle, the one she shares everything with. Her burdens should also be mine, and I accept them without judgment.

After a quick hour nap, Cass wakes first, turning in my arms to face me. My eyes flutter open, and I can’t help closing the distance to kiss her. I spent so many years wishing she was mine, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to make up for lost time. She shifts until she’s straddling me, and I would happily spend eternity kissing this woman.

My hands slide up her thighs until I reach her hips, guiding her to grind onto my cock. The friction is incredible, though it could never compare to her warm, wet pussy riding me. She sits up and begins taking off her shirt when there’s a knock at the door.

A sweet woman’s voice calls from the other side. “Hi there. Just checking that everything is satisfactory. Dinner will be served in twenty minutes.”

I shout back, “We’re doing great, Wendy.”

“Wanda,” Cass whisper-shouts.

“Wanda,” I correct, and Cassidy’s new best friend retreats. Sliding my hands under Cass’ shirt, I groan. “I only have twenty minutes to make you come. Mouth, cock, or hand?”

She pulls her shirt over her head, tosses it to the ground, and leans in to whisper, “All three, baby.”

A fter a sleepless night fucking like rabbits, Cass and I are both sore and snooze the seven o’clock alarm. Waking up with her in my arms feels too fucking right, and it has nothing to do with my dick pressed against her ass. We need to take things slow, but I can’t help imagining our lives years from now. When we have kids— does she want kids? —it’ll be harder to escape for a weekend like this.

A few hours of restless sleep later, I kiss her shoulder, murmuring against her skin, “Come on, beautiful. We need to look at old as fuck furniture and lamps.” She chuckles, and I savor the vibration against my chest.

Turning in my arms, Cass nuzzles her face in my neck. “But you’re so warm, and damn you smell good.”

“I’m pretty sure I smell like you,” I tease, keeping her close.

“No, you smell like Christmas—freshly baked cookies, cinnamon, a little citrus, and pine. ”

I don’t remember the last time she was this relaxed. Most days she’s pounding coffee in between shifts, borderline spastic. Her energy is electric, and I love how full of life she is, but this Cass? This calm, sweet, affectionate Cass? Fuck, I adore her.

“Fine,” she groans. “But can I have five more minutes?” I give her ten, then we finally slink out of bed.

After having breakfast downstairs, we leave the bed and breakfast. Cass found a map online that includes every antique and thrift store in Linton, and we make our way to our first stop.

As we walk inside, I’m instantly hit with a distinct musk of old wood and something powdery. There are several rows of furniture, none of which have an order—armoires next to dining tables, midcentury modern beside Victorian. Cass glides her fingertips across each piece we pass, humming to herself as we walk down the aisles.

While she’s looking at a chest of drawers, I continue to a glass case nestled between two large displays filled with nicknacks. There are ornate broaches, several rings, and necklaces, but my eyes zero in on a pair of diamond stud earrings—they remind me of my grandmother’s. While some people are gifted family wedding rings to give to their bride-to-be, my grandmother left me her Tiffany earrings. Cass never wears earrings, but an idea strikes me for a Christmas gift… or perhaps something a little more meaningful.

I make my way back to her, and she’s moved on to admire a set of bedside tables. They are simple, sturdy, and would look great in my new bedroom. After pulling out the drawers to ensure nothing is broken, I call over a sales associate to inquire about cost—not a single piece here has a price tag .

“These are three-hundred as a set.” The woman pauses expectantly. Does she want me to haggle?

“We’ll take them,” Cass insists.

I counter, “Two-fifty and we have a deal.”

The woman eyes me suspiciously. “Two-eighty.”

“Two-sixty.” My lip tilts up while Cass’s gaze darts between me and the woman.

After a moment of standoff, she concedes. “Cash only.”

Cassidy reaches into her bag, but there’s no way in hell I’ll let her buy my furniture. I’m faster retrieving my wallet and pull out exact cash, but the woman gestures for us to follow her to the register. I figured this would be more of a swap meet situation, but after the additional eight or so percent tax, I take out an additional twenty bucks and tell her to keep the change.

I load the tables into the truck bed, strapping them down, while Cass gets in the cab. We visit four more shops and my stomach is grumbling, even after a croissant snack. “What sounds good for lunch?”

“Surprise me.” She offers me a sweet smile, but it isn’t one that meets her eyes.

“What’s wrong?”

Cass chews on her lip. “I… I don’t want to talk about it. I’m fine.”

I huff a humorless laugh. “You sound anything but fine. Talk to me, what’s going on?”

“I’m just in a funk.” She then rushes out, “It’s not you! I forgot to pack my medication. ”

“Which one?” I cock an eyebrow and tease, “Are we going to have a repeat of Ingrid and Cay?”

Reaching into her purse, she pulls out her birth control. “Not a chance. I keep these in my purse since my schedule is always different. When I packed my makeup, I forgot my antidepressants.”

I take her hand in mine, bringing her knuckles to my lips. “Want to go back home to get them?”

“You’re not weirded out that I’m on medication for…”

“Depression?” Shaking my head, I frown. “Why would I?”

“I don’t know. Zack used to?—”

“I’m not Zack,” I growl, taking my hand back for a moment to turn my key in the ignition. I slide it back into hers and squeeze. “I know we haven’t talked about this, but your mental health is just as important as your physical health. There is no shame in taking medication or going to therapy. I worry about you, Cass. You spread yourself so thin, it’s only a matter of time before you burn out.”

“I’m not quitting my jobs,” she huffs, trying to take her hand back, but I keep it firmly in mine.

“I would never ask you to. But I’m still allowed to worry. Let’s pick up lunch to go, and head back to your place.”

“No! I don’t want to ruin this weekend.”

“You’re not ruining anything.” I take her face in my hands and kiss her. “You’re perfect, and the weekend isn’t over when we are back home. What do you say we pick up Inferno and your medication, then have a quiet afternoon at my place? I have a tri tip in the fridge I was going to grill tonight. ”

“Why are you so okay with this? I’m not sunshine and rainbows all the time; I’m a fucking mess.”

“You’re right. You’re not sunshine after it rains. You’re the fucking storm, Cass. But you’re my storm.”

She stops and starts a rebuttal that never comes. I pull out of the parking spot and drive to a taqueria down the street in silence. I don’t want her to change; I don’t want her to be anything less than her amazing self. What I do want is for her to be open and honest with me. It’s the only way our relationship will work.

After picking up burritos, we drive back to Sapphire Lake to pick up my pup and her meds; I’ll drop off the tables at the lake house in the morning. Once we’re at my place, I take the stairs two at a time to retrieve sweatpants and tees for us. Cass is always more comfortable in my clothes. Hell, I’m more comfortable when she’s in my clothes; she feels more mine. As much as I’d love to have her naked body pressed against mine, I need her to feel how much I love her—not just her perfect pussy. A nap date is a must, but my bed will lead to sex, not sleep.

I lay on the couch and Cass climbs on top of me. I love the feel of her this close, like a human weighted blanket. The downside of some SSRIs is they take a while to kick in, but if you miss a dose, you can notice very quickly. She won’t be her happy self today, but I don’t expect her to.

“I love you, Travis,” she whispers sleepily.

“I know. I love you too.”