Page 13
Story: Always (Follow Me #6)
“He works for you,” she says. “I just assumed—”
“He got sober. He’s smart. He works hard. He’s my father. I wouldn’t exist if not for him. So I let him ride on my coattails, and he’s good at his job. Doesn’t mean I’ve forgiven him.”
“And Ben?”
I chuckle. “Your turn.”
“Braden…”
“Nope. Your turn.” I won’t let her get away with not following the rules. She opens up, and then I open up. Quid pro quo.
She turns onto the main road, and the small town comes into view. “Welcome to Liberty. Don’t blink or you’ll miss it.”
Nice pivot, but I keep that to myself.
“It’s charming,” I say.
“It has a bit of charm,” she agrees, “but the charm goes to shit when you’re looking for a good cup of coffee and all that’s available is Mrs. Temper’s black water at the Sunrise Café.”
I chuckle.
And it occurs to me how much I’ve laughed since I got to this bumfuck town and met her parents. Part of me likes it here. Feels something here.
She drives to the tiny hotel. “Only four rooms. You were lucky to get one.”
“Are they usually booked?”
“I was being sarcastic, Braden. No one comes here.” She pulls into an open spot on the street. “Here you go.”
“Want to come up?”
“Don’t you think my father will notice if I don’t come straight home?”
“I’m not asking you to have sex, Skye. I’m just asking…” I sigh. “Hell, I don’t have a fucking clue what I’m asking.”
“Aren’t they expecting you in New York?” she asks.
“They are. But they’ll wait. Not like they have a choice.”
“I suppose not.”
I grab the car door handle but hold onto it, not opening the passenger door. “Skye…”
“Yes?”
“I can’t stop thinking about you.”
“I can’t stop thinking about you, either.”
“At the dinner table, watching you… God, I want you so much.”
I’m anguished. Not unnerved—or perplexed—but truly anguished. It’s unlike me. I turned off those emotions long ago for my own sanity.
“Braden, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”
That’s a lie, and we both know it.
“Thank you,” she says.
“For what?”
“For telling me about your mother. It means a lot to me.”
“Oh, Skye… In the grand scheme of things, I’ve told you nothing.”
I don’t grab her or try to kiss her.
I’m in a weird headspace. I told her things I don’t let myself think about often. Hell, hardly ever. In the short time I’ve known Skye, I’ve had to face things that I’ve let lie dormant a long time.
“When are you flying to New York?” she asks.
“Sometime tomorrow.”
She clears her throat. “Would you like to—”
I hold up a hand to stop her. I know exactly where this is going, and it’s not happening. No way are we going to Black Rose Underground. Not until she figures out why she wants me to choke the air out of her.
God, the thought of it…
“Take you with me?” I finish for her.
She gasps. “No! Where did that come from?”
“You begged me to take you to New York last week.”
“Yeah, and we all know how that turned out.”
“Yes, we do.” It’s always on my mind. All of it. The distraught look on her beautiful face, the pleading in her eyes, in her voice.
“Why is everything black-and-white with you, Braden?”
“What makes you say that?”
“I asked you for something you didn’t want to give me. Instead of working it out, finding a compromise, you ended our relationship.”
“I wouldn’t have ended it if you could have answered my question.”
She pauses a moment. “Maybe I need your help to find the answer.”
“Do you?” I ask.
“I…don’t know. Maybe.”
I shake my head. “You don’t. If you needed me, you wouldn’t have come here. To your hometown. You would have come to me.”
She doesn’t need me to find her answers. She needs to look inside herself.
But the irony is that for my answers, I do need her.
And I hate that I need her. It disturbs me. It perplexes me.
“Stop fighting yourself, Braden,” she says.
She reads me so well. It’s unnerving, but also warming, in a way. “I don’t know how to.”
She lifts her brow. Clearly my response surprises her.
It surprises me as well.
All my life I’ve been fighting against my past. Leaving it in a small part of my brain, safely hidden so I can do what needs to be done. I’ve built a fortune by anyone’s standards, but I still haven’t dealt fully with my past.
“Will you come up with me?” I ask once again.
“My father—”
“Your father knows you’re an adult.”
“True, but—”
“Please, Skye. Come up with me. Make love with me.”
“You just said you weren’t asking me to have sex.”
“I’m not. I’m asking you to make love.”
“Meaning…?”
I draw in a breath.
I need her. I need her so badly. And I want to be with her. Just the two of us. I want to experience something with her that I’ve never felt the need to experience with anyone. Ever.
“Meaning just you and me. No toys. No games. No bindings and no commands. Just the act itself. I want to experience something special with you.”
“What’s so special about vanilla sex?”
I pause a moment, staring out the windshield at the street. The town of Liberty is almost awkward in its simplicity, but beneath the surface, there’s a deeper rhythm, a connection that roots itself into every whispered story of its inhabitants. I can feel it unveiling, a soft awakening to something both familiar and entirely new. It’s not perfect, but it’s unforgettable in its honesty, and I know this town will leave an imprint on me that will linger long after I’ve moved beyond its borders.
Much like Skye herself.
And much like making love—simply making love—must be.
What’s so special about vanilla sex? she asked me.
I turn then, and I answer her.
“I’ve never done it before.”
Table of Contents
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- Page 13 (Reading here)
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