“But why?”
“I don’t know why. It doesn’t matter why. I just do.” That seemed plausible to me.
“Okay,” I said agreeably, my hands going over his ass and either my word or my hands (or both) made him grin again and he kissed me and started moving faster.
When he stopped kissing me and his mouth went to my ear I said in his, “You have to get a condom.”
“In a minute.”
“Vance.”
“In a minute.”
I rol ed my eyes.
He drove in deep.
When he did it felt so good, I whispered his name low into his ear.
Then I slid my hands in his hair, pul ing it back and I traced the outer edges of his ear with my tongue just like he’d done to me last night and I’d liked that too.
*
After the second time, when it was dark and I was curled into Vance’s side, his fingers drawing on my hip, the moonlight coming in from the two windows on either side of the fireplace and the one at the back of the room, I asked him in a whisper, “Were you mad at me when we got here?” “I wasn’t happy to walk in the down room and see Luke on top of you. I wasn’t happy that you ignored me at the party. And I wasn’t happy you were breakin’ up with me. So yeah, I was mad at you when we got here.”
I went silent because I knew the answer already. I didn’t even know why I asked. I supposed if that was the way he took out his anger it wasn’t al that bad.
The minutes ticked away.
Then I asked, “Why do you have so many books in the living room?”
“I like to read when I’m here,” he answered.
“Why don’t you get a bookshelf?”
“Don’t need one.”
I supposed he didn’t. Stil , he could use one.
For some reason I went on advising him about the décor of his cabin. “You should put new countertops in and refinish the cabinets in the kitchen,” I told him.
“Why?”
“It’l look nicer.”
“It doesn’t have to look nice. It needs to keep me dry and warm.”
“But it’s your home,” I said.
“It’s just a cabin.”
Something about that hit me somewhere deep. If this wasn’t what he considered his home and he had no place in Denver, where was home?
I decided not to ask. He wouldn’t answer anyway and considering we were breaking up, I had no right to know.
Instead, I said, “I like my space to be special.” His hand went stil and he rol ed into me. “Yeah,” he said, “I noticed.”
I stared at his face in the moonlight not sure if what he said was good or bad. Considering the way his space was, I decided it was bad.
“You don’t like it.”
He looked me in my eyes for a moment then he kissed my forehead. “I like it,” he said softly when he was looking at me again.
I stared at him, memorizing his face when it was like it was now, beautiful and gentle.
“The moon seems brighter here,” I whispered.
“It is.” His hand came up and he started to play with my hair and I pressed in closer to his warm body.
“It’s been a weird birthday,” I told him, my voice stil quiet.
He didn’t answer.
I kept silent for a few minutes then, knowing I should tel him, needing to tel him and knowing I’d only have the courage in the dark, I said, “I don’t know if you saw the roses but they were beautiful.”
His arm came tighter around me and fitted me to his body but he didn’t say anything. He just looked at me in the moonlight.
“They were perfect, each one of them. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
He stil didn’t say anything.
“You should know that everyone was there when I saw them; Indy, Al y, Jet, Daisy, Roxie, even Tod and Stevie.” He kept quiet.
“Daisy said you have class.”
He final y spoke. “I’m not certain how to take that, comin’
from Daisy.”
I smiled at him. “Believe me, she meant it as a compliment.”
The smile was stil on my face when his hand came to my jaw and even though I couldn’t see it in the dark I just knew his eyes had changed. I felt them warm on my face.
Then he kissed me, it was long, slow and sweet. He careful y pul ed the covers down our bodies, the air in the cabin was no longer bitter cold but it stil hit me.
“What are you doing?” I asked as he rol ed over me.
“I’m gonna fuck you in the moonlight.”
“It’s cold,” I told him.
“You’l get warm.”
He wasn’t wrong.
Chapter Seventeen
Give It a Week, With Me
Luke and I walked up to my house after a night of patrol.
Patrol, I decided, was boring as hel .
I’d much rather be pouring canola oil on a Mercedes Benz or throwing smoke bombs than driving around town looking for trouble when there was none to be found.
It had been one of the worst days of my life (and I’d had a few) and truly the most boring night.
*