She blushes, but the crackling of oil has her easing out of my grip way too soon.
On the counter sit a box of pancake mix and a bowl of blueberries. I know I must be wearing the biggest shit-eating grin when I see them. She’s busy taking the bacon from the pan when I open the drawer and grab a black rubber spatula. I hide it in my back pocket and once she’s finished, I scoop her up and set her on the table.
“You know what you haven’t had in a while?” I ask her.
“No,” she says, with more giggles.
I pull the spatula from my pocket and move it back and forth under her ass. “The Aunt Jemima Treatment.”
She laughs some more, and her blue eyes match the color of the water in the lake. “No, no, stop it!”
Channeling my best Bill Murray from Stripes, I ask, “Who’s your friend?”
“You.”
“Who do you love?” I question.
She places her hands on my cheeks and in a moment that takes my breath away she says, “You, you, always.”
We eat breakfast on a blanket out on the grass and then take a walk around the lake. The water looks like a mirror—clear and calm—and we decide to take out the small rowboat that’s tied up to the dock. We stop in the middle of the lake and lie back, absorbing the sun and each other. With my arms stretched behind my head, I can hear fish breaking the surface of the water, and it takes me back to when my grandfather and my father would occasionally take River and me fishing. Those days were good ones—dropping a pole in the water, sitting back, waiting for the fish to bite.
“What are you thinking about?” she asks, raising her head off my chest.
I wrap my arms around her and look straight at her. “River. He was so impatient when we would all go fishing. He’d put his pole in the water for about five seconds and then get upset that he hadn’t caught anything.”
“I’ve envied what you have with him and Bell.”
My hand finds hers and I give it a squeeze. “Did you stay close with any of your sisters?”
“No, not really. Not the way you are with your brother and sister.”
I kiss her head. I have no words to respond. I am lucky in that way—in the way that I have a family that will do anything for one another. It’s always been that way. Even when my dad was a drunken mess, even when I caught him in bed with his guitar student and he claimed their relationship had not escalated to sex, we stood together—my brother and I and my sister.
“Ivy, I have some things to explain to you about my family. Things I probably should have told you years ago.”
She sits up and I pull her back to me. I want her close as I tell her about my father’s suicide. I tell her everything, everything except the fact that I’m to blame and what his last words to me were—that he muttered the name of her ex-fiancé before he died. And it’s strange, but in a moment of clarity I suddenly get why River didn’t want to tell Dahlia what he knew about her ex-fiancé—that Ben Covington had cheated on her with our sister, Bell. I get it. Damn it, River. I get it.
She lifts her chin, offering her mouth to take and do with as I want. I kiss her for a long time and then we lie quietly as the boat rocks us back and forth and I’m lulled to sleep.
The next thing I know I can feel her soft touch creeping up my chest. I snatch her hand and roll her over, but the rocking of the boat has me second-guessing my agility. I’m not sure I can actually fuck her in here and not tip it over.
“We should get back and figure out what to eat for dinner,” she says.
I look down at her, now pinned beneath me. She is so incredibly gorgeous, especially right now—her blond hair shines in the sunlight, her eyes reflect the color of the water, and the warmth from her body makes me wish we could stay like this forever.
“I know what I want for dinner,” I growl in her ear.
“Blueberry pancakes?” she asks.
“No,” I say, pushing my hard-on against her *.
“Bacon?”
“No, try again.”
“Me.” She giggles as I dip my tongue in her belly button—having decided I may not be able to fuck her in this boat, but I can certainly put my face between her legs.
When her cries of passion subside, I manage to row us back to shore. We take a shower and she very nicely relieves me of the tent I’ve had in my pants for the past hour. Then we finally get dressed and head to a small local pizzeria for dinner. Being together like this and having fun—it’s the way it used to be, and the way I hope it will stay.
Later, fireworks blaze above the lake as we watch bursts of color paint the sky through the open windows. The air is warm and we lie together in bed, entangled in each other’s arms, discussing our remaining stops and the things we want to explore in each city. When my phone rings, I pick it up and glance at the caller ID. It’s my sister.
“It’s Bell. Let me just see what she wants,” I tell Ivy.
She nods, her fingers skimming the letters down my side.