As our lips caress each other's, our kiss turns more heated and possessive. I know I need to be careful with her, as she's innocent to being with a guy. But I simply can't. She drives me wild.
"You taste just like honeydew," I groan, panting against her lips. "So sweet and delicious."
Getting lost in the kiss once more, surprise burns me from the inside out when I feel her meeting me thrust for thrust with her tongue. A deep, ravenous groan reverberates inside my chest. Her tongue is soft and warm. She's so sweet, I'd swear I'd get a toothache from too much exposure.
Hands wander down the sides of her neck, ghost along her shoulders and down her biceps until they finally wrap around her hips. I feel light-headed from lack of oxygen, but I'll be damned if I stop now. She's too tempting to pass up. And knowing she's mine, that I've made her happy—goddamn, I'm riding a high like none other.
Her hips jut against my hard cock, making me grunt from pleasure. Her lips pull away from mine, but instead of murmuring any complaints, I nuzzle her neck and start kissing and licking, trailing my tongue from the top of her collarbone to the sensitive spot behind her ear. Harloe's moans get louder, gravellier like she's grating her voice box against a rock. It's sensual, passionate.
Fuck, I want her so much.
Our chests rise and fall more hurriedly than before, growing too excited, much too fast. And just as I'm about to put the brakes on—with the last bit of self-control I have left inside me—her tiny voice breaks through my pleasure-filled haze.
"I'm ready."
I gently pull away, like I’m afraid if I move too fast, it’ll scare her off, and she’ll change her mind. I peer down into emerald eyes filled to the brim with arousal, love, and appreciation for me, giving them a glassy sheen.
Swallowing hard, I rasp, "Are you sure?"
She nods, biting her lips nervously. "I love you. You’re my always and forever."
Caressing her cheek, my heart blooms with warmth. My heart expands until it feels like it can't expand anymore. "And you’re mine. I love you, Lo."
Coming out of the memory is like a jolt of lightning that rocks through me. This girl … she was my sun, moon, and stars. She was my rainbow after the most tumultuous of storms—the answer to my prayers. Even at fifteen, I knew Harloe was supposed to be my forever girl.
The level of feelings we had for each other would have terrified our parents, so we kept it our secret. We were waiting for the right time—to give it a few more years to prove to our parents we were serious—before letting the cat out of the bag about our future plans.
I would have cherished her for the rest of my days. Except, a few words from my brother’s lips tore my entire future away from me. A supposed lie, one I will most definitely get to the bottom of the next time I visit home. Because if I’m to live the rest of my life in the disasters of my life, someone—my older brother, preferably—will be the miserable guest I force to accompany me.
Have you ever thought about the driftwood that goes out to sea?
How—if they did have the ability to feel emotion—it would make them feel unwanted by everyone that allowed their existence to be overlooked so easily. How the tides turn, and the sea is unforgiving and ruthless, yet they are the objects that have to put up with his powerful currents?
In all my life, I have never felt this sort of pain before. I feel just how I'd imagine a piece of driftwood would, useless and unwanted. How betrayal can taste so blissfully sweet, like a ripe peach, yet corrode your insides like battery acid.
Clenching my fists, I pace back and forth in my dad's kitchen. It takes all of my restraint to keep from knocking Duncan across the face. Never, in all my life, have I ever wanted to inflict bodily harm on him as badly as I do right now.
"You lied!" I raise my voice, thankful my dad isn't here, and that Maverick is dead to the world asleep. If not, I wouldn't be carrying on like this. My baby doesn't need to see his mom's bad side. "You lied! No one was hurt!”
He has the audacity to look ashamed, as he sits at Dad's kitchen table nursing a tepid cup of coffee. "Harloe, you have to understand, I said that knowing you'd come here."
"And that makes it worse!" I screech so forcefully, I feel my throat inflame from the grittiness of my anger. "Why not just tell the truth? You know how much I despise lying!"
At that, he gives me a funny look. "The same way you've been lying to Hunter since day one? Have you even told him about Maverick? He's gonna know something is up when there is a mini-him walking around campus cussing people out for stepping on bugs!"
Ugh, I hate that he’s right, but goddammit, this is a new low even for him. He knows how fucked I was after Mom died. He knows it was hard getting through all of that, seemingly alone. And he’s still going to put that on me? That’s a new low even for him.
All the anger seems to depress out of me with his words. I'm still pretty darn pissed at him, but when it comes to what he's insinuating, I can't be mad at that. I'd be a hypocrite.
"Maverick cannot come live with me until January, Duncan. You know this, and I hate that you've put me in this predicament. There will be nowhere for him to stay. I'll have to miss classes, pick up a job to pay for off-campus daycare until my financial aid kicks in for the childcare on campus. When that happens, I'll have flunked out altogether."
I have to break eye contact with him, forcefully trying to keep my emotions in check. Duncan is putting me in a bind, all without telling my dad.
Right now, my dad is working late at the office. Too late if you ask me. He’s doing quarterly numbers, and that means he’s pulling long hours. He doesn’t even know that Duncan called me, frantic, saying that Dad was hurt. He will kill Duncan when he finds out, and that’s not me playing around.
Duncan isn't a bad person, but apparently acting as a half-time babysitter when our dad is at work is becoming too much for him. All he does is run that mechanic shop all day. He’s not even under the cars anymore. He’s in a nice, cushy office. If having Maverick is having this much of an ill-effect on him, he could have taken money out of the savings and offered to pay that lovely lady across the street. Not all the time, because we need that money for campus life, but enough that he could do what he needed to instead of running ragged after a two-year-old.
Maverick's energy and his bout of terrible twos are taking its toll. He screams and cries for me when we're not on the phone or video chatting, which has slimmed down because I’m afraid of Jenna finding out. My brother told me that when I pulled into the driveway like a madwoman, dashed inside, only to find out it was all a ruse to get me here.
I didn't know. I didn’t know about any of it. Maverick has been so good on the phone, laughing and cooing at everything we do. When we video chat, we usually watch his favorite tv show on cable. He tells me a thousand facts about the show, and the train that is so mighty and strong, even though it’s the same thing I’ve heard a thousand times.
How could I not know my son was hurting this much? All for what? Because I’m too fucking terrified to tell his dad that he exists? That I’m relying on financial aid, when I know Hunter would pay for on-campus daycare if he knew, just to have our son close to us.