And somehow, I knew Mama had heard me.
36
Decker
Three months. I gave her three months. I willed my phone to ring, forced myself not to ask Lance about her every time we met up for drinks. I tried, I really tried to give her space even though I knew space was the last thing we needed. It took me a while to heal, but I learned that bullet wounds were easier to fix than a broken heart.
But we all needed time. Time to heal. Time to grieve. Time to figure our shit out. Time to cope. But time did nothing to dull the ache I felt for Blakely—and it was an agonizing sort of pain. The kind that tore you up and spit you back out. I knew I’d never be the same.
I moved out of Lance’s loft and found my new normalcy in our distant friendship. The bond was still there, but I gave him the space he craved to navigate this new stage in our relationship. I missed him a lot, and this big house, which once seemed like a good idea, was nothing compared to the comfort I had in our shared loft.
I knew Blakely transferred to a local school, and it killed me to know she gave up so much potential to get away from me. The one time we spoke about her, Lance assured me that she wanted to protect my career. I understood it, but I didn’t like it. I didn’t like much of anything these days.
It took a while to get better, though I was back in the classroom, albeit a bit grumpier than before. I knew Max had seen Blakely. He talked about her loudly to Taylor, giving updates on how she was doing since the death of her father. It killed me to be away from her as she grieved. She’d lost two parents in the span of a year. The only consolation I had was that Lance was guiding her through her mourning.
I was painting the kitchen when I heard a soft knock on my door. Assuming it was a delivery for those light fixtures I ordered, I casually placed the paintbrush in my hand on the paint pan and went to answer it. Everything felt so slow. Everything was muted without Blakely. I caught myself imagining what she would think of the house I’d worked so hard to fix up. I imagined the warmth she’d bring to these walls.
Swinging open the door, my heart fell to my feet when I saw Blakely standing there in a pair of overalls and holding a paintbrush. She looked gorgeous, with her pale, blonde hair pulled back and a shy smile on her face. “Hey,” she said.
“Hey,” I replied, when what I really wanted to say was I love you. Please come home to me. Please love me back.
“Lance mentioned you were painting today and said I should come over to help.” It was a thinly veiled implication saying all the things I was too scared to ask. She held Lance’s approval and acceptance in her words, and I couldn’t fight the grin that kissed my lips.
“I could definitely use the help,” I said in a low voice while stepping aside to let her inside. She walked through the threshold and looked around, smiling at the wood floors as she padded across them. The walls were a shade of green that matched her eyes. The white furniture paid homage to her sun-bleached strands. The light fixtures I picked were delicate, like the curves that graced her body.
“Wow. This is beautiful, Decker,” she whispered in awe while trailing a finger along a side table. It was coated with dust from renovations, and I wished I’d known she was coming over so I could have cleaned up some. It was important to me that she liked the home I built; it was a shrine to my love for her, and I one day hoped I’d be lucky enough to have her living here.
She turned to look at me and swallowed, those entrancing eyes of hers trailing each dip and groove in my abs as she licked her lips. I looked down and realized I was shirtless and dripping with sweat. Patches of white paint coated my abs.
I loved the effect I had on her. “You ready to paint?” I asked, interrupting her welcomed perusal. She coughed then squeezed her eyes shut.
“Yup,” Blakely replied, popping the p with her plush lips. “Lead the way.”
We walked into the kitchen, a thousand burning questions searing my tongue. How was she? How was school? Did she still want me?
Did she still love me?
“This kitchen is amazing,” she cooed while taking in the granite countertops and decorative cabinets. I was painting an accent wall the same color as the dress she wore the night we danced in Lance’s living room. She was everywhere. She set her paintbrush down and turned to look at me, uncertainty in her eyes. I saw the same burning questions staring back at me. “So where should I start?” she asked.
I almost let my cowardice win. I almost told her where the paint was and where I desired her strokes, but I didn’t. “Tell me a truth, Blakely,” I demanded in that old familiar way which bonded us together. She smiled.
“I’m nervous as fuck,” she admitted.
“Me, too,” I answered honestly while taking another step closer. “Tell me another truth.”
She set down the paintbrush and took a step toward me. Just a few more truths, and we’d finally meet in the middle. “I missed you,” she whispered.
“I missed you, too.”
Another step. Another truth. Another pull that yanked us closer. I stared at the straps of her overalls, begging them to snap. I took in her long legs and the tear in the jeans at her knee. “Tell me a truth, Decker,” she whispered.
I cupped her neck and peered into her eyes. Her hands wrapped around my arms, squeezing at my biceps as she waited with bated breath for my admission. “I still love you, Blakely Stewart.”
“I love you, too.”
I kissed her like she was the last drop of water in the world. I savored her. I devoured her. I nipped and caressed and fucked with my tongue, lavishing her mouth with all the words I wanted to say over the last three months. She responded with earnest, tracing circles along my abs as her thankful tears coated my cheeks. Our truths were a tangible connection savored between us. She tasted divine and like my most cherished thoughts.
“I love you so much. You’re my lungs, Decker. You’re my heart.”
I snapped her overalls off and watched with fascination as the heavy denim shimmied to the floor, leaving her in nothing but an old shirt and a pair of pink panties. We collapsed to our knees, and it felt like we couldn’t get enough. My fingers dug into her skin as she tugged at my hair. She removed her shirt as I took off my gym shorts. “You’re my everything,” I said between broken kisses and mended promises.
I unclasped her bra and groaned when I saw her perfect breasts bared to me. Cupping each in my hands, I kneaded and tugged as she writhed beneath me. Her hand dipped below the waistband of my boxers, and I almost came on the spot when her warm fingers circled the shaft of my cock. “I need you, Decker,” she moaned into my mouth.
I needed her, too. I needed her in every sense of the word. With her back on the hard tile, I peppered kisses on every inch of skin I could see. Coating her neck with my brand, I dipped lower as her back arched. I then kissed her stomach. I kissed her hip. I kissed her inner thigh and licked at the supple heat pooling through her panties. “May I?” I asked.
“Please,” she whispered before lifting her hips up. I pulled off the last layer of clothes between me and her perfect pussy, then lunged for a taste. Fuck, she was so sweet. I couldn’t get enough. Her moans echoed off the bare walls of my kitchen as I flicked my tongue over her clit, again and again, coaxing a tantric orgasm from her body. She stared at me, her hooded eyes heavy with intent as I enjoyed her. I wanted to eat her pussy until I died. I wanted to always have the taste of her on my lips.