A soft gasp escapes her throat, and my hands are sliding downward until I’ve reached her knees, then back up again—this time below the material of her dress as the smell of her presses in on me. I’m lost in her.
My worries disappear, and there’s nothing left to concern myself with but how she feels in my arms. The warmth of her skin, the quickening of her breath, the soft curves of her hips as my hands glide across them.
“Tell me you hate me, and I need to stop because you aren’t mine anymore. Tell me these things.”
I inhale a deep breath, then open my mouth and slide down her neck further, nibbling on her skin as I go.
“I can’t.” Her hips shift, and my hands land on her ass to pull her forward. “I can’t hate you,” she moans into my ear.
“I’ve fucked up so much. I don’t deserve you.”
“We both made mistakes. I want to forget about all of those tonight.” Eloise makes me tilt my head back so she can look at me. Her delicate fingers tangling in my hair as she tugs.
Instead of talking, she lowers her lips to mine and kisses me. It’s slow, somewhat shy, and hesitant. I let her lead us, and when she slides forward and moans, I open my mouth with a groan. Her tongue teases my bottom lip. I squeeze her curves and take the other hand to her face so I can deepen the kiss.
The worries disappear like smoke on a lake the morning after a storm. This woman has always made my world become nothing but her. That’s the mistake I made back then, thinking that everything goes away when she’s in my arms, but she’s only here, for now, I remind myself.
“I want you,” Eloise says, her thumb brushing along my face. “I’ve missed you. I didn’t want to miss you, but I did.”
“Are you sure?” I’ve told the woman no once in my life, I don’t want to say no to her ever again.
Her response is to lift her dress over her head and to kiss me again, deeper and needier than before. My hand glides across her back, then to her shoulders so I can slide the pink strap of her bra down.
I break my mouth away from hers so I can taste the new skin I exposed. My hand comes up to cup her over the bra, the lace soft, pressing into the rough palm of my hand.
The loud buzz of my phone stops my hand, my mouth pausing. Shit. My forehead drops when Eloise’s hands move from my hair. She leans to the side to grab my phone from the coffee table for me.
“It’s Betsy,” she says.
I clear my throat and unlock the phone. “What is it?” I keep my arm around Eloise. Despite my kneeling position and her weight on me, I’m not uncomfortable. The only reason I would want to move is to take her to my bed.
“Can you come and get me?” There’s a sniffle, and my blood goes cold. It douses the fire Eloise had lit in my body. Betsy doesn’t cry.
“I’m on my way. Are you okay?” I glance at my watch. She left twenty minutes ago, that’s it.
“I’m not at Sarah’s. I’ll text you the address.”
Eloise has risen from my lap, and I stand before I even hang up the phone. I’m rushing around the living room to find my boots and a shirt while Eloise gets dressed. My phone buzzes, and I know it’s Betsy sending me the address.
“Shit, I’m sorry about this. Betsy sounds upset. I don’t know what’s going on, but I have to go get her.”
“Of course you do,” Eloise says, as she slides her jacket on. “I want to come with you.”
With no time to argue, I nod. I want her beside me. The sound of Betsy’s voice has me on edge. We get in the truck, and I pull my phone out, but it tumbles to the floor by Eloise’s feet. “Shit.” I have to get my shit together so I can make sure my sister’s okay.
“I’ve got it. You drive.” She picks up the phone as I back out of my driveway. “What’s your password? Wait, I’m sorry that’s not my business.”
“It’s 0721.” The embarrassment about the password will come later. Those four numbers reveal to her how much I still think about her.
“Betsy’s text says she’s over off Bluestone.” Eloise’s voice is a soft whisper over the rumble of my old truck.
My hand squeezes the steering wheel. Night has fallen, and the moon is high. Kalispell isn’t a large town. Betsy could walk the block to Sarah’s, and is now miles on the other side of town.
“Just keep me calm until I get to her.” She’s supposed to be at Sarah’s. I trusted that she was staying with her friend. What is going on? Why is she upset and calling me?
Eloise’s hand settles on my thigh. “She’ll be okay, Maverick. It’ll be okay.”
I tangle my fingers with hers and allow her voice to comfort my rampant thoughts. I take the highway toward the southern part of town. It’s only five minutes, but it’s the longest drive of my life. I’m the only person Betsy has to rely on, and I’ll never let her down. It’s not even an option.
With one more left turn, I pull the truck over on Bluestone and jump out. Betsy’s sitting on the curb, her head lowered. Her brown hair falling loosely around her face.
She looks up. “Maverick, I’m sorry, I didn’t know.” Betsy stands from the curb and rushes toward me.
I look my sister over from head to toe. It’s too dark to see much in the moonlight, and I have little time until she’s buried in my arms crying again.
I cling to her. “Let’s get you home, okay?” Sobs shake her body but it’s a silent cry. I’ve never seen a tear from her, not when Dad left, or when Mom abandoned us. Not when she fell, or even that time she went to our grandpa’s funeral.
I walk her to the truck, my arm across her shoulder as I open the door. “I’m sorry I ruined your night,” she adds when she climbs up.
“You didn’t. It’s okay, just get in so I can get us home.” I climb in and tighten my hold on the steering wheel. “I need to know what happened.” I choke when the next words come out. “Did someone hurt you?”
Eloise’s hand continues to rest on my thigh. A steady and knowing pressure against the denim of my jeans. I glance back when Betsy still hasn’t responded. She meets my eye, but it’s hard to see much of her in the darkened cab of the truck.
“Just get me home, please.” Her voice is soft, and she’s bundled up in her hoodie. Meekness isn’t a familiar trait of hers.
Eloise squeezes my leg, and it’s enough to get me to start the truck. My hand tightens on the gearshift as I put it in drive.
The only sound is the rumble of the truck. Eloise turns over her shoulder, her hand never leaving the place we connect. I need it. Her presence is the only thing keeping me from yelling at my sister to tell me what the fuck is going on.
“Are you still working on your sculptures?” Eloise successfully shifts the conversation, and my sister seems to push some of the pain away.
“I am. It’s been awhile. You aren’t a photographer anymore?”
“Ah, not anymore. I’m a celebrity publicist.”
“I know.” Without taking my eyes off the road, I’m certain my sister gave a little smile because her voice is softer. “We saw that on your feed. How is it?”
“It’s work. They keep me busy.” My eyes are still wide as I glance at my sister in the rearview mirror. Did she just admit to my ex-girlfriend we’ve been stalking her on social media?