Where the Road Takes Me
Page 24

   She shook her head. “The kids have them.”
   “They can’t share?”
   “They can, but they have nightmares sometimes, so Mary likes them to have their own space.”
   I nodded, but I found it hard to imagine what life was like there. I glanced quickly at the tiny window, the only one in the room, the one she had stood behind and watched me leave from the first night we met.
   “You should be careful. You’re gonna hit your head on the ceiling.”
   I looked up at the beam a few inches in front of me. “Shit,” I breathed out. “You’re lucky you’re short.”
   She laughed at that.
   “So, my mom—” I took a step toward her, hitting my head on the beam.
   “Oh my God,” she squealed. “I just warned you.”
   Pressing my hand against my forehead, I tried not to curse. “I know.”
   “What is wrong with you?” She grasped my forearms and pushed me back until I felt her bed behind my legs. “Sit!”
   I sat.
   “Let me see.”
   I let her see.
   “You’re such a baby. There’s barely a lump.”
   “You’re mean.”
   “Cry to your mama.”
   Then her face fell, and she frowned.
   “Speaking of my mom . . .” I raised my eyebrows in question.
   She stayed silent.
   I reached into my pocket and pulled out my keys to show her my new key chain: Mom’s six-month-sobriety chip. “She came and spoke to me when she got home.”
   She looked down at the object in my hand, and her frown turned to a smile. “Really?”
   I nodded, my eyes fixed on her lips. “Yeah. She said that you gave her the courage to talk to me. Apparently, she’d been wanting to for a while, but she was afraid of how I’d react. She thought I hated her.”
   “And you don’t?”
   “No,” I sighed. “I really don’t. I think that I was disappointed in her. And it may have made our relationship worse because I think she should’ve at least seen how I was feeling. That’s what I told her. But no, I don’t hate her. Honestly, I kind of miss her.”
   Her smile widened.
   “She didn’t go into too much detail, though. She said she needed time, but hopefully soon. There’s a family thing at her AA meeting coming up. She asked if I wanted to go. I don’t know if I’m ready for that. It seems like a big step. What do you think?”
   “Me?”
   I laughed. “Yeah you.”
   “I don’t think I know your mom or your relationship well enough—”
   “But you know me,” I interrupted. “And your opinion matters to me.”
   She chewed her lip, her gaze looking past me, into the distance. “I don’t know,” she said so quietly I almost missed it. “It’s your mom, Blake. I know that I wouldn’t walk away from an opportunity to get closer. Maybe this way you can stop missing her?”
   It took a few seconds for me to find the words. “Thank you, Chloe. I don’t think you actually realize how long it’s been since my mom and I have had a decent conversation. One car ride with you and it’s . . .” I shrugged. “It’s just nice.”
   Chloe
   I continued to chew my lip and looked down at him.
   “I’m sorry,” he said softly. “Did I say something to make you uncomfortable?”
   I shook my head.
   He spread his legs and pulled me forward by the fabric of my dress until I was standing between them. “Are you sure?”
   “Yes.” No. He hadn’t said anything. His presence alone was reason enough to make me nervous.
   “What’s going on?” He sounded concerned. Maybe it was because I was no longer able to form complete sentences. I had to do something to take my mind off the fact that we were in my room. Alone. With his hand on my hip, gripping me tighter with each passing second.
   I couldn’t look into his eyes. Or at his lips. Especially not his lips. So I zoned in on where the lump was beginning to form on his head.
   “What are you thinking?” His voice was hoarse.
   Then I made the mistake of looking into his eyes. Fire.
   I cleared my throat. “It’s hot.” I tried to pull away, but his grasp on my hip intensified. His other hand settled, gentle but firm, on my bare thigh. I sucked in a breath and held it, waiting for some sense to be knocked back into me.
   “Chloe,” he said with the same huskiness in his voice. He let his head fall forward onto my breast. The warmth of his exhale spread across my skin. I tried to swallow, but the lump in my throat prevented it. My hands raised of their own accord. I laced my fingers through his hair. He pulled back slightly and looked into my eyes. “Chloe,” he said again. He removed his hand from my thigh and curled it around my neck, pulling me down to his waiting mouth.
   I let out the breath.
   Game. Over.
   But he didn’t kiss me. He just kept pulling me down, farther and farther, until he was lying on the bed, and I was on top of him. He moved the strap of my dress off my shoulder with his teeth. I let my head drop into the crook of his neck. Then his lips were on my shoulder, skimming the skin lightly, moving so slowly, up to my neck. His tongue darted out, leaving a trail of wetness behind. Then his mouth was on my jaw. Soft. Slow. His fingers tangled in my hair, and he pulled slightly until I lifted my head, and we were face-to-face. He rubbed his nose across mine, then pulled my bottom lip between his teeth. I moaned, breaking the silence that filled the room. He didn’t stop with the small, torturous kisses. Not until, finally, his tongue swept between my lips.
   My teeth clamped shut. My breath caught. I was scared. I was so frickin’ scared of what it meant to have him there, doing what we were doing.
   “Please let me kiss you,” he begged.
   And I couldn’t stop myself. The moment my mouth parted for him, he was there. His tongue brushed against mine. But it was different. I’d made out with guys in the past, but never sober. It wasn’t just that, though. He was different. He wasn’t at all what I’d imagined. His kisses were slow and passionate, yet controlling. He demanded so much attention, from his kiss alone, that I forgot who I was. Who he was. And who we were together. I couldn’t bring myself to fight him anymore. I let my body relax into his.
   “Holy shit,” he moaned into my mouth, deepening the kiss. He thrust up. Just once. But enough that I could feel his hardness pressed against my stomach. He pulled back quickly, searching my eyes. Contemplating. Then just as fast, he flipped us over so I was on my back, and he was on top of me. “I’m losing control,” he mumbled.