Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

GABBY

“Are you sure you can do this?” Bower says as we walk—very slowly—down the street toward town.

“Yes, I need to get used to this, or else I’m going to look like a fool teaching tomorrow.”

“You do seem to be walking a little better than yesterday. Watching you hobble over to the tree swing with that little girl was painful.”

“That little girl’s name is MacKenzie, or Mac for short.”

“Whatever,” Bower says. “It was awkward to witness.”

“Glad I could make you uncomfortable.”

We turn the corner right onto Almond Avenue, the main strip of Almond Bay, where all the cute shops and delicious restaurants are located. Almond Avenue was one of the main reasons I fell in love with Almond Bay and wished to live here when Bennett attended school. Because Almond Bay is so close to the ocean, it’s expensive. We lived outside of town in a more affordable place, so being able to say I live in town now feels like a big accomplishment.

“Do you know who else looked uncomfortable?” Bower asks.

“Can we not? I know what you’re going to say, but I’d rather not talk about Ryland right now. That’s all this weekend has been, and I’m over it.”

“Okay . . .” She pauses for a moment and then continues. “But seriously, you should have seen Ryland watch you and Mac together. He looked enchanted and freaked out at the same time.”

“Like I said, we’re not talking about it. Okay? We have to have other things we can discuss.”

“You’re right.” She sighs. “How’s Bennett?”

“Good,” I say, excited for the change in subject. I can easily talk about Bennett. “The forty-man roster expansion is coming up for the majors, and he’s hoping he gets called up for playoff season.”

“Are the Bombers going to be in the playoffs?”

“They’re in the lead for the wild card, so a good chance.”

“Surprising, given the cheating scandal they’ve been going through.”

“I’m surprised you even know about that,” I say.

“It came across my Instagram. Oh my God, is that a bookstore?” Bower points at Pieces and Pages.

“Yes, want to go in?”

“Uh, yeah, I can get you a romance novel. Maybe it will help you change your stance on this whole friends-without-benefits thing.” She takes my arm, and we head into the store.

Keeping my voice low, since the shop is on the narrow side—long but narrow—I say, “The cheating isn’t a proven thing. They’re just going through allegations now.”

“And what if the cheating turns out to be real?”

“Then there will be some big team revamping.”

“How does that affect Bennett?” Bower asks as she spots the romance section and makes a beeline for it.

“Honestly, I don’t know. I can’t think about it because he’s worked so hard to get to where he is now that it would be really upsetting if something were to taint that.”

“I can understand that,” Bower says as she scans the books, quietly saying read it, read it, read it under her breath as her finger scans across the spines.

“Wow, you’ve really been reading.”

“Had to make friends with fictional characters since my best friend left me.” She turns to me with a smile. “And up until this weekend, my fictional friends were far more interesting than you, but with this new Ryland?—”

“Shhhhh.” I look around. Whispering, I say, “You can’t say anything too loud around here when it involves other people from the town.”

“Why?” she asks.

“They talk, Bower. They talk a lot. Think of the game telephone but on a much larger scale. Please, just stop mentioning him.”

“Mentioning who?” I hear a voice pop up, startling both of us.

We turn to find Hattie with a puzzle in hand, looking all adorable in a matching bike short and top set.

“Jesus,” I say, bringing my hand to my chest. “You startled me.”

“You can’t be startled around here, Gabby. You always have to be on your toes. And you’re right, you can’t talk about anyone in this town in public unless you want someone listening in.”

I wince. “Did you hear us?”

“A little.” She smirks. “But it’s not anything I don’t already know.” She glances down at my legs, then up at me. “How are you getting around?”

“Better,” I say. “Taking it slow.”

“Probably smart. You don’t want Ryland carrying you around school tomorrow.” She winks. “Or maybe you do.”

“I think she does,” Bower whispers, leaning in.

“Oh my God, both of you,” I say, making them laugh. “Change of subject.” I glance at Hattie’s puzzle. “Is that a pickle puzzle?”

“Yes.” Hattie beams. “Word around the street was some new puzzles came in, and one of them was a pickle puzzle. Those are two of my favorite things combined into one. So I had to come down before it was taken.”

“I’m glad you secured it,” I say just as Hayes walks up to us.

I remember when Hayes Farrow’s Black album came out, and I was enamored with his voice. Seeing him in person and trying to act all normal, as if I haven’t cried to his lyrics, is pretty hard. I had to warn Bower to be as normal as possible. Thankfully, she listened. But still, he’s a god.

And the way he’s so protective over Hattie? It lowers the wall I have up around the need for a relationship. Just look at him, at the way he always has to touch Hattie, be near her, and see the sparkle in his eyes when he looks down at her. It’s hard not to be jealous. He used to be such a playboy and never into relationships at all. But he’s so protective of Hattie, which makes me think I’m right. Sometimes it only takes the right person to come along to be your person. It makes the idea of a relationship less objectionable.

And he has written songs about her too . . . he has a new album releasing later this year, from what I’ve been told. He’s a swoon-worthy man.

“You found it,” he says, staring at the puzzle.

“I did. And look.” She shows him the box and points. “It has my favorite pickles on it.”

He smiles down at her as if she’s the world. “Meant to be.”

She lifts and presses a quick kiss to his lips before turning back to us. “Well, we’re going to head out. We have a day of puzzling and watching movies. Did you pick out your puzzle?”

He shakes his head. “Stuck between two choices.”

“Well, let me decide,” Hattie says. “Catch you guys later.”

“Bye,” we both say, watching them walk away. Hayes has his arm draped over Hattie’s shoulders.

“Who would have freaking guessed that the man whose music can make you come with one single strum of the guitar enjoys puzzling on the weekends with his girlfriend?”

“I would have told you, you were crazy,” I say.

Bower shakes her head and goes back to the romance books. “Now I’m going to be searching for a rock star romance. Seeing them together has me all hot and bothered.”

I stare at my friend. “You really have grown hornier.”

“Not even ashamed. Remind me to share with you my list of vibrators that are absolute must-haves.”

“This freaking burger,” Bower says, mouth full of meat as she stares at the cheeseburger in her hand. “The best thing I’ve ever had in my mouth, and that includes Danny Frankton’s dick.”

“Jesus, Bower,” I say. “Danny Frankton?”

She swallows. “Gabby, I’ve never seen a more dignified rod in my life. A perfectly proportioned head, girth, and length all in one, bulging veins, taut skin that made you truly believe you were the one stretching that cock to the limits. Just magnificent.”

“You have serious issues.”

“Please, do you not sit back and look through your rolodex of cocks and think, wow, that one was just a sight to behold?”

“I haven’t known the men long enough to remember.”

She eyes me. “That is somewhat true. Nathan had a horrible dick, though, probably to go along with his horrible personality.” She grows quiet for a second. “Has he contacted you since that night?”

I shake my head. “Nope.” It’s a lie because I don’t want to worry her. Yes, he’s texted me. No, I have not responded. Simple as that. No need to discuss.

“Good,” she says. “I saw him a few weeks ago in the grocery store. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t want to freak you out, but now that you’re in a better place, I feel like I can tell you.”

I swallow and nod, knowing I could probably handle her information. I’ve grown. I’m stronger, hence being able to ignore his text messages.

Nathan was my boyfriend of many years. When we first met, something about him was mysterious—fun in a way, a touch on the crazed side but nothing harmful. He was adventurous, and well, being someone who took on the responsibility of raising their brother, I liked the idea of having some adventure in my life.

I grew close with his mom, and I really liked her, almost felt like she could be a wonderful mother figure until . . . she wasn’t.

“How did he look?” I ask.

“Terrible,” Bower says. “And I’m not just saying that to say it. I mean it. I took a picture because I thought you might want to see it. Get some closure and show you that you made the right decision. Do you want to see?”

I take a sip of my water, thinking it over. After a few seconds, I nod. “Yeah, I want to see.”

She sets her burger down, wipes her hands, and picks up her phone. “Last I heard, he lost his job, and well, as you will see in the picture, he’s lost pretty much every sparkle and attribute about him that you fell for in the first place.”

She turns the screen of her phone toward me. My stomach twitches as a picture of Nathan with greasy, unkempt hair comes into view. His beard is splotchy, his cheeks are discolored, and he looks like he’s gained about twenty pounds. He’s a very different man to the man I once knew. That I once thought I loved.

In his right hand is a cigarette, and his gaze is fixed on something in the grocery store’s parking lot. Gone is the luster I fell for, and a sad, unhappy man is in its place. It almost feels like looking at this picture is like taking off the rose-colored glasses I wore for so long.

“Wow,” I say.

“Yeah, he looked terrible.”

“You look like shit. What have you been eating today?” Nathan says, a heavy scowl on his face.

“Wh-what?” His eyes sharpen on my face, and I hate the look he’s giving me.

“I said, what have you been eating today? You look terrible.”

“Nothing abnormal, Nathan,” I whisper.

And I hate that I feel the need to whisper around my boyfriend.

When did that change? When did I fear him? Fear his reactions? His anger...

“Are you okay?” Bower asks.

“I am, actually.” I shake out of my reverie. “Thank you for sharing this. I think it helps remind me that I made the right decision.”

“It is a great reminder, and I’m proud of you for making that decision,” Bower says. “It was tough, but it was right. And I know Bennett feels the same way.”

“How do you know that?”

“We talk.” Bower shrugs.

“Uh . . . what? You talk to my brother? Like on the phone?”

“God no, who has time for phone calls? We text.”

“We talk on the phone,” I say.

She tips up my chin. “Because you’re more needy.” She then goes back to her burger as I try to wade through this revelation.

“How much do you guys text, and what do you text about?”

“Not that much, maybe once a week,” she says. “And we talk about you and some random things.”

“Random things?”

She shrugs. “Yeah, random things. It’s not a big deal.”

“You acted like you didn’t know what was going on with him,” I say.

“Well, we don’t talk about baseball or anything like that. It’s not a big deal.”

“Have you texted him recently?” I ask, feeling really weird about all of this.

“Yeah, I told him that I was visiting you. He asked me to take pictures and send them over, so I did.”

“What?” I nearly shout, and when I see that I’m being loud, I lean in and ask, “What kind of pictures did you take?”

“Well, not of the gross bruises, because yikes.” She wipes her mouth. “Of the apartment, of the inside of your fridge to prove that you have food. I took one of your broken shower, but then told him that you’re showering at the hunky neighbor’s house, so I took a picture of the house as well.”

“Oh my God, Bower.” I hold out my hand. “Let me see your phone.”

“Ooof, can’t do that, sorry. There’s personal stuff in there.”

“What do you mean, personal stuff?” I ask, my eyebrows raised. “Are you . . . are you sending dirty texts to my brother?”

“Wow. That’s where your mind goes? I mean personal stuff from him about you that I’m supposed to keep confidential, you know, just that he worries and all that crap. I don’t want to break that confidence. Therefore, you’re not allowed to see my phone. Sorry.”

I lean back in my chair. “I can’t believe you talk to Bennett.”

“Oh yeah, we’ve been talking for a long time. I’ll have to mention that I’m wishing him luck on the expansion thing. He’ll probably think I lost my mind since we never chat about baseball, but it might be nice to throw in some encouragement. Oh, I also sent him Nathan’s picture. He was very pleased to see he wasn’t doing well. I think his exact words were ‘I hope Nathan finds hell soon.’ I chuckled because I’ve never seen that side of Bennett before.”

She takes another bite of her burger as I try to filter through this information. “Does he tell you things he doesn’t tell me? Like is he dating anyone? Does he need more money? Is he hungry?”

“Nothing like that.” Bower shakes her head. “I asked him recently about his love life because, you know, the romance novels have me invested in everyone’s love life now, and he told me that he’s not interested in anyone. I then probed and asked if he was, would he make a move. He said he would.”

“He doesn’t talk to me about that.”

“Do you ask him?” Bower picks up her iced tea. “Or do you just talk to him about baseball?”

“I talk about his life.”

“Well, maybe you don’t ask about his love life because you don’t want him asking about yours.”

“Maybe,” I say, looking out toward the busy restaurant. “So he’s not interested in anyone?”

“Nope, he did say he had a crush, but he wasn’t sure it would ever be anything, so he wasn’t going to invest time in it.”

“A crush?” I ask, my heart pumping faster. “Why doesn’t he think it would be anything?”

Bower shrugs. “He didn’t get into it. But I told him if he set his mind to it, he could make it happen. Gave him the old Gabby advice, pulled it straight from the book.”

“Yeah, that is advice I’d give him.” I gingerly cross one leg over the other as I pop a fry into my mouth. “Maybe I should talk to him more about his personal life.”

“No, he’d know I talked to you about it, and I don’t want him to lose trust in me. Remain cool.”

“You realize he’s my brother, right? I can talk to him about anything that I want.”

“Yup,” Bower says with a smile. “But we’re friends, and I refuse to break that confidence.”

“Drive safe and let me know when you get back home,” I say to Bower as she pulls out of the driveway with her head hanging out the window.

“I will. Love you!”

“Love you,” I call out and watch her pull away, her taillights lighting up the barely lit street.

I’m going to miss her.

It was so much fun having her here. I really hope that I was able to convince her to move. If not, maybe I can wear her down over time. After she went on a shopping spree in Pieces and Pages, I feel like I have a pretty good chance because she would not stop talking about how amazing their romance section was.

What I thought was really funny this weekend is that when she found out Wyatt was a bestselling author, she nearly flew out of her shorts to speak to him, but when she found out the genre of books he wrote, she wanted nothing to do with him. I think her exact words were “you can go back to playing horsey with your niece.”

She had a minor change of heart when Wyatt brought over a signed copy of The Virgin Romance Novelist by Rosie Bloom, which he secured at his book signing this summer. Bower took one of his books out of pity after that—that’s what she told me. I think Wyatt could see right through her, but he went with it. My job is to encourage her to read it because if she likes it, then all the more reason for her to move here. There’s me, Hayes Farrow, and a bestselling author, plus the adorable town of Almond Bay. What more could she need?

I head toward Ryland’s house in need of a shower for tomorrow. I take it slow because my legs still hurt, but I have confidence that with the right outfit, I’ll be able to go to school tomorrow and not look like a fool in front of the students.

I check the door first to see if it’s locked, and when it’s not, I help myself inside, only to find Ryland at the kitchen table with a bowl of ice cream in front of him.

When his eyes meet mine, he smiles, and that smile . . . twists my stomach up in knots. He’s so handsome, and now that he’s wearing his hat backward, looking all relaxed in his plain T-shirt and shorts . . . no socks, God, I’m tempted to just go over there and sit on his lap.

“How are the legs?”

“Okay,” I say as I shut the door. “How’s the ice cream?”

He looks down at his bowl, then back up at me. “Cold.”

“Great. Well, I’m going to take a shower.”

“Let me see them.”

“Huh?” I ask.

“Your bruises, let me see them.”

“I’m wearing spandex shorts.”

“I can see that. Take them off.”

“Ryland, I’m not going to just take my shorts off for you, that’s . . . that’s weird.”

“What’s weird is that you think that’s weird. I’ve seen everything. I’ve seen your pussy glisten.”

“Oh my God, Ryland.”

He chuckles. “I just want to know how your bruises are doing.”

“Can’t you take my word for it?”

He shakes his head. “No, I can’t.”

“Ryland—”

“I was thinking about practice and what we’re going to do this week, and I want to see if you can handle it. I’m not going to take your word for it because I know you’d lie, so let me see.”

Irritated, I walk up right in front of him, slip my hands into my shorts, and push them down to the floor. To my surprise, he moves his bowl of ice cream to the side and sets me on the table.

With hands on both knees, he spreads my legs and looks up at me.

“Um . . . sir?”

“Yeah?” he asks.

“Is this really how you’re going to examine me?”

“Are you complaining?”

“I’m wondering what your intention is.”

He smooths his hands up my thighs, causing my nerve endings to jump and knot. “To make sure you’re able to help me this week.” He then takes in the bruises, looking over them carefully. “Have you been applying the gel?”

“I have,” I say. Abel even had a quick look on Saturday and said the arnica was doing exactly what it was meant to do.

He gently passes his hand over one. “Does that hurt?”

“Not really,” I say. “If you pressed down, then I’d say yes.”

“And how was walking today?”

“Better than yesterday . . . Doctor.”

He smirks up at me, then leans back and lifts his hat, only to replace it on his head. “Good.”

I sit there, staring down at him, unsure of what to do. “Are we done here?”

He picks up his ice cream bowl and scoops up some ice cream. “If you want to be.”

“What does that mean?” I ask.

“Anything you want it to.”

I lean back, pressing my hands to the table. “You’re acting weird.”

“How so?”

“I don’t know. You’re being all evasive, and you’re eating that ice cream suggestively?”

“How am I eating suggestively? I’m just putting it in my mouth.” He scoops up some ice cream and then brings the spoon right in front of his mouth. “If I were being suggestive, I’d do this.” He rapidly flicks his tongue over the ice cream, causing my entire body to heat.

He then opens his mouth and chews on the ice cream before swallowing.

“That would be suggestive.”

I wet my lips as I stare down at him, my legs opening some more. He notices, and the grin that spreads across his face is dangerous.

Very dangerous.

“You want my tongue, don’t you?”

I want so much more than your tongue.

I want your mouth, your lips all over my body.

I want you driving your cock in and out of me, making my back arch and my body yearn.

I want his cum all over me, marking me, claiming me.

“I can’t even remember what your tongue feels like in order to want it.”

“Maybe you need a reminder,” he says as he smooths his hand up my thigh, grips my underwear, and tugs on it.

God, I’m so easy.

Because I can’t even stop myself from lifting and letting him take it off. To my surprise, he lifts my shirt as well, dragging it over my head, leaving me in just a bra, spread over his kitchen table.

“I thought we weren’t doing this anymore.”

“I already fucked you this weekend,” he says. “Might as well round it out.” He presses my knees farther apart and brings ice cream between my legs. “I’ve been craving this cunt ever since it was offered up for dessert.”

He drips some of the melted ice cream across my slit, then sets the bowl down. The cold liquid shocks me, only for his warm tongue to lap it up and create such a different sensation that I groan in pleasure.

He pauses and looks up at me from between my legs. “Fucking quiet, Gabby. Mac is sleeping upstairs.”

“S-sorry,” I say.

He scoops up some more ice cream, holds it on his tongue, swallows, and then goes back to flicking his tongue across my clit. The coldness of his tongue lights me up and causes the burning need I have for him to grow even stronger.

My head falls back as I allow this man to pleasure me. I commit this feeling to memory, the way he so easily possesses me because I know there will never be anyone else like him. No one will be able to make my stomach coil like him. No one will ever be able to make my heart stutter and pound the way he does. And no one will ever be able to give me the kind of pleasure that one single flick of his tongue gives me.

“You taste fucking phenomenal,” he says as he brings two fingers to my entrance and slowly pushes them in. “This pussy is so greedy, I can feel you sucking me in. You wanted this.”

“All weekend,” I say, desperation in my voice.

“Should have asked for it.”

“Rules, Ryland.”

He pauses for a moment and looks up at me from between my legs. “Well, fuck rules right now.” And then he lowers his mouth back down, and with his lips, he sucks on my clit, causing my hips to buck.

“Fuck,” I whisper. “Yes, Ryland, right there. Oh my God, yes.”

He curls his fingers up inside me, pumping in and out of me so hard that I start to build faster and stronger than ever.

“Christ,” I say, my head falling back again. “I’m going to come hard.”

“Good,” he says as he goes back to flicking his tongue in fast, rapid strokes, working harder than any vibrator I could ever use.

He builds me up, driving so much heat into the pool of my stomach that my legs start to tremble.

Everything around us fades away, and the pleasure gathers at the base of my spine, ready to tip, ready to burst.

“Fuck, oh God, Ryland . . . fuck, right . . . there,” I whisper just as his fingers curve up and hit me in the right spot, tipping me over the edge.

A flood of warmth spreads through me as warm liquid drips down my center.

“God,” I say as I open my eyes, slowly floating down from the high he just sent me on. That’s when I feel him lapping at my legs. When he’s done and he looks me in the eyes, he looks positively feral. “What?”

“You fucking squirted, and it was the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen,” he says as he stands and pulls his dick out of his shorts. With his hand covered in my arousal, he uses it as lube as he tugs on his incredibly hard cock. “Play with your tits.”

Still trying to comprehend what he said, I sit up and undo my bra, letting it fall down my stomach before tossing it to the side.

“Best fucking dessert,” he says right before licking his lips and pressing one hand to my knee as he leans forward. “Play with your tits, Gabby. Don’t make me ask again.”

My hands smooth over my hard nipples, and I palm my breasts, pressing them together. Watching Ryland the entire time, I love how the veins in his neck tighten, how his eyes stay fixated on me, and how even though his shirt is still on, I can see his chest muscles flex as he squeezes his length.

“Pinch your nipples, Gabby.” I do as I’m told and roll my nipples between my fingers, pinching them and tugging on them just enough to make him go crazy.

“Want inside me?” I ask, spreading my legs for him.

He shakes his head. “I’ll hurt your legs. But I’m coming on that cunt.” He brings two fingers between my legs, swipes at my arousal, and sucks them into his mouth. His eyes roll in the back of his head as he pumps his length even harder. “Lean back.”

I lean my hands behind me, tilt my chest up for him, and then observe.

I watch as his body stiffens.

As his balls grow tight beneath his frantic hand.

The ripples of sinew firing off in his forearm.

And then the drop of his jaw as he stills and then comes all over me with a low moan falling past his lips.

He decorates me, one pearl-sized drop at a time, until he’s completely done. He leans both hands on the table, catching his breath.

After a few seconds, he looks up at me with a satisfied smile. “Okay, that was the last time.”

I chuckle and shake my head. “So you say.”

“Has to be.” He straightens up and tucks his penis back into his shorts. He lends me a hand and helps me to my feet, only to pick me up in his arms.

“Shame you didn’t fuck me. That would have been a great way to end it.”

He walks me to the bathroom and says, “Need help in the shower?”

“Only if you plan on bending me over.”

“Is there any other way to take a shower?”