Chapter Fourteen

Cali

"What?" he asked, brows pinched.

"Promise not to laugh at me," I demanded.

"I'm not going to laugh at you," he assured me, turning more to give me his full attention.

"It's probably going to sound stupid," I prefaced.

I mean, how could you explain this kind of thing accurately without sounding like a nut job?

"I'm sure it won't," he said, giving my knee a reassuring squeeze.

"Every single member of my family is dead, Brooks," I said, the words aching in my chest.

"What? No."

"Every single person. Like, I'm sure you have cousins or something somewhere, right?" I asked, knowing that his immediate family was gone, and that they'd never been close with anyone else, but that there were others of him out there.

"Yeah. Cousins and second cousins at this point. An aunt too."

"I have no one. Literally every single person carrying around my family's DNA is gone. It started somewhat naturally enough, y'know? Grandparents get older and pass."

"Yours weren't that old, right? They passed when I was still young."

"Yeah. And it just kept happening after that. Great aunt, aunts, uncles, my parents, my cousins, and finally… Clay," I told him. "Every single person in my family died. And died young."

"Oh, Cali…" he said, already shaking his head at me, sensing the direction of this conversation.

"One or two, that's excusable, y'know. The world is crazy and unpredictable. And maybe, maybe I could be more rational about it if some rare disease ran in my family. Or if we didn't prioritize our health. Or if there were drugs involved. But that's not the case.

"It's just been one absolute tragedy after another. Every single one of us gone before our time."

"You're not dying, Cali," Brooks assured me.

"Not technically, no," I agreed. "You know, the week after we buried Clay, the first thing I did was go to the doctor, demand he take blood, do scans, assure me that there was no ticking time bomb inside of me. There isn't. I'm ‘completely unremarkable,'" I said, quoting the doctor.

"Personally think that's complete fucking bullshit. You're remarkable, Caliana. Always have been."

"Well, he meant medically," I said, pretending my heart wasn't all gooey in my chest. "But I couldn't shake this feeling that my time is running out, that I am going to be the next, and final, person in my family who dies tragically young."

"You're not going to die young."

"You don't know that. Nobody knows that," I said, voice getting more emphatic, making me take a deep breath to calm myself down. "It could happen tomorrow for any of us. Or a month from now. A year. You never know."

"Well, yeah, that's true," he agreed.

"And I spent most of my adult life… doing nothing. I was taking my life for granted. And once Clay was gone, I just… I swore I wasn't going to do that anymore. I wasn't going to waste whatever time I had left. I wasn't going to go to my grave thinking of all the things I wish I'd done."

"Like going to a rave," he guessed.

"Yes. And try to conquer my fear of heights. And go see a Broadway musical. The list is endless. When I actually sat down to write down the things I wanted to do, it was the back and front of several pages. All these things I always said I would do ‘one day,' without realizing that the world is full of tomorrows that aren't promised."

"Fuck," Brooks said, brows raising. "When you put it that way."

"I'm sure Clay thought he had so much time left to do the things he wanted," I said, taking a deep breath to fight back the grief. "I just… I want to honor the time he didn't get by making the most of mine."

"I get that, I do," he agreed.

"But?" I asked.

"But," he agreed, reaching for my foot with both his hands, and starting to press his thumb into the achy sole. "I wonder if the reason it's been so endless is because it's… distracting you from your grief."

"I grieved," I assured him, trying to assure myself that tears weren't the only way to grieve, to miss someone, that it didn't say anything about me that I hadn't cried, that I didn't love Clay any less just because I hadn't broken down in that way. "You weren't here," I reminded him, immediately regretting the words when the pain sliced across his handsome face.

"I wish I could have been," he said, digging his thumb into my arch. "You shouldn't have been alone."

"I… wasn't," I said, but it was only half true. "I had Sage," I added.

"Did she know Clay well?" he asked.

"No. I mean, they knew each other. But… no."

"Then I think you were alone, baby," he said. "But I'm here now," he added, pressing into each of my toes that I didn't realize I'd been holding tension in until he released it.

I sank into the sensations as he finished with one foot and went to the next, leaving me feeling all tingly and sated.

"Keep making noises like that, and I'll forget I'm not doing this for that reason," Brooks said.

"I don't think that's much of a threat," I shot back, but I was really enjoying this just being about touch, about a different kind of intimacy I couldn't have thought to dream up before.

When he was done with my feet, he started rubbing up my calves again before resting on my knees.

"Thanks for dinner, by the way," I said when the silence stretched long enough to feel awkward.

"Think I need dessert before I head out," he said.

"Oh, I might have some ice—" I started. But then his hands pulled at my knees, spreading them wide. "Oh," I breathed out just before he was between my thighs, his tongue on me.

He let out a little chuckle at my reaction before he really started to focus, working me with slow, almost lovingly, touches, driving me up without a hurry, like he was enjoying it as much as I was.

So I sank into it, letting my eyes drift closed, focusing on the sensations, removing the pressure of "getting there," since he didn't seem to care how long it might take.

My hand rested gently on the back of his head as my hips writhed slowly against his tongue and my slow, deep breaths got faster and more unsteady, as the pressure built in my core.

The slow build amplified the intensity so that by the time I was right at that edge, I could feel the sensations throughout my body, the tension in every muscle, just waiting to snap.

Brooks's fingers slipped inside of me, turning, and stroking gently against my top wall as he kept working me with his tongue.

That was all it took.

The tension snapped, and the orgasm swept through me, stealing my breath, making my whole body go rigid, then release, as the pleasure pinged off of every nerve ending.

The sound that finally escaped me was a choking gasp that had Brooks humming against my clit, sending another surge of pleasure through me before I was finally wrung out.

By the time his head shifted to press chaste kisses to the inside of my thighs, little aftershocks had overtaken me, leaving me trembling as his head shifted up to look down at me, his eyes soft.

I'd imagined him looking like that at me a million times.

It was way better actually getting to see it like this.

For real.

My heart, so beaten down and hollow, felt like it was starting to fill back up.

Sure, it was risky. To let myself feel for him, to start to fall for him all over again.

But if there was something that belonged at the very top of my bucket list, experiencing love was it.

I wasn't going to let myself be afraid.

I was just going to… embrace it. Experience it. For however long I got to have it.

"What time do you get up on your days off?" he asked as he kissed up my belly, between my breasts, then pressed into my neck.

"Oh, um… no later than nine."

"So… ten? I'll swing by to grab you?"

"On the bike?" I asked, excitement tingling through me.

"If you want," he said, smiling at my enthusiasm.

"Can I try to drive it?" I asked.

To that, he shook his head. "Maybe," he said.

"I can work with maybe," I decided. "I can be very persuasive," I added, thinking of all the fun, dirty, wicked little ways I could now get him to give me exactly what I wanted.

"Baby, don't think there's much you'd want that I wouldn't give you," he said, pressing his lips into mine. Hard, but quick, before he was moving away from me, getting to his feet, and gathering our plates.

"I can do—" I started, getting silenced by one look from him over his shoulder. "Or I can stay here. All naked and lazy," I added.

"Yeah," he said, gaze moving over me again. "Think I like that better," he said, then disappeared to not only put the plates in the kitchen, but judging by how long the water ran, actually washing them.

When he came back out of the kitchen, he had the trash bag in one hand, and a bottle of water in the other.

"Hydrate," he demanded, placing it down on the coffee table next to me.

"Okay," I agreed, unfolding from the couch, and moving to stand.

"What are you doing?" he asked as I fell into step behind him.

"I have to lock up behind you," I told him as he wrenched open the door, and I stepped into the slides I kept next to it.

"You're going down the stairs like that?" he asked, looking bemused and scandalized in equal turns.

"Yep. Gotta lock that door too," I agreed, giving him a saucy smile.

"Fuck," he said, shaking his head at me, then turning to go down the stairs. "Stand behind the door," he demanded as we got to it.

"Afraid someone is going to see me?" I asked.

"All this," he said, running his fingers over my bare breast, then down my ribs, over my hip, and sinking into my ass, "is just for my eyes."

"And hands," I said as his fingers tightened.

"Mmhmm," he agreed, leaning in to press his lips to mine.

"Lips too," I added. "And…" I started, hand drifting down his stomach. But just as it pressed over his lap, his hand left my ass, grabbed my wrist, and pulled it away.

"I need some energy to drive home with," he told me, eyes bright.

"I have room in my bed," I offered.

There was regret in his eyes then.

"I have to get back to the club," he said. "But I'll be here tomorrow," he assured me, pressing a sweet kiss to my forehead that gave me all the flutters.

"Bring coffee," I demanded.

"I can do that."

"I like—"

"I remember how you take it, Cal," he said, shaking his head at me like it was absurd to assume otherwise.

With that, he unlocked the door, and carefully slipped out so that no one could see me.

When I didn't immediately move to lock the door, he whipped it back open, his gaze moving over me. "Lock that shit up," he said, his gaze doing one more sweep of me before disappearing.

My heart felt light enough to float away as I slid the locks, made my way back upstairs, and locked myself in there as well.

It was the first time in a long time that I fell into bed with that bottomless, gaping hole inside filled all the way back up.