Page 81 of Reclaim Me

“Remember, Sunshine, you wanted this.”

Rae beats my ass in the pancake war.

I maintain that I let her win while she and Riley insist that her victory means I have to call her Queen Pancake for the rest of the day.

I oblige because there’s really not much I won’t do for the two of them.

We spend the afternoon and early evening in the pool because that’s what Riley wants to do, and she wears me out with round after round of Marco Polo while Rae alternates between playing with us and reading a book she said she’s been trying to finish since the beginning of the year.

It’s a good day. The best day, and I’m sad when the sun goes down and we have to come inside because I know that it puts me one step closer to saying goodbye to them. After showers and post-pool snacks, Riley and I stretch out on the couch in the living room, watching a movie while Rae cooks dinner and sings along to the music playing on her phone.

“Does she take the bus all the way back to Minnesota?” I ask Riley, needing to know how things turn out for the little girl with my daughter’s name that’s currently on my TV screen. When my inquiry is met with silence, I glance down at my real-life Riley and smile when I see that she’s fallen asleep curled up in a ball next to me with her feet in my lap.

Pulling out my phone, I snap a picture of her, wanting to preserve the moment forever. Then I slip out from underneath her and head into the kitchen to show Rae. She’s slicing up chicken for the burrito bowls she insisted on making for us, but she pauses when she hears me approaching.

“Let me guess, she’s asleep?”

I nod. “Passed out. She didn’t even make it through the movie.”

“She’s seen it a million times,” Rae says, beginning to run the blade through the meat again. “It’s one of her favorites.”

“Figures. She knew every line.” I inch closer to the counter where she’s standing, every cell in my body begging to be closer to her. “It smells good in here, Queen Pancake.”

Her lips curve into that smile she always gives me when she’s not trying to pretend like I don’t make her happy. I’m glad to see it. I want to see it every day, to make her give it to me so often it becomes instinct when I’m around.

“Thank you. I was going to make a cheese quesadilla for Ri, but I guess that’s not necessary now.”

“Will she sleep for the rest of the night?”

I don’t mean for it to sound the way it does, like I’m angling for one-on-one time with her, but I can’t take it back, so it just sits in between us. Rae glances at me, her eyes filled with the memories of last night when my fingers were inching up her thighs, and licks her lips.

“Probably.”

The silence that follows is pregnant with all the things that could mean for us, with all the things we could do to each other, with all the things we could share. Rae’s eyes don’t stray from my face, but I can’t seem to keep my eyes on hers. I’m too busy devouring her body language, reading every relaxed muscle and strained breath while the beginning notes of a love song I once said reminded me of her echo in the room around us. The sound suddenly loud and jarring. Rae lifts her hand, her intention to stop the music and interrupt this moment clear.

“Don’t,” I murmur, stepping forward and holding out my hand to her. “Dance with me.”

Rae knows what this moment is. She knows exactly where it’s going to lead, and while I’m thinking about how fitting it is that we’ll find our beginning in this same room for the second time, she’s trying to talk herself out of wanting it. I watch her bite her lip, shuffling her weight between her feet while the wheels in her mind turn and turn and turn, trying to come up with a way to get out of this.

But there is no way out.

That’s the beauty and the curse of us.

She sighs and sets the knife down, stepping out from around the counter and placing her hand in mine. Sparks that feel like finally fly out from the small point of connection, and I pull her into me, moving slowly, so she has time to retreat if she wants.

She doesn’t. She wants this. She wants me. That much is clear by the contented sigh that passes through her lips when her body is pressed to mine, my hands on her hips, and my mouth at her ear, murmuring the lyrics of a song I haven’t played since she left me.

Rae’s hands are up around my back, her fingers clutching me like a lifeline as we sway back and forth. Desire is a slow, hot brew that burns our veins and soaks the room with the scent of possibility.

“We can’t,” she whispers, asking me to stop her as she lifts up on her tiptoes and lays her lips on my neck. “Hunter. We can’t.”

My hands slip down her body further, gripping her ass in my palms and lifting her up off of the ground because if she’s going to kiss me, she doesn’t need to struggle for it. Despite her verbal expression of wanting to stop, Rae keeps going, wrapping her legs around my waist and trailing kisses up my neck and over my jaw until her mouth is hovering over mine. She’s got her eyes squeezed shut, blocking out everything that’s not this, that’s not me, but I’ve been dreaming of this moment for months now, and I want those eyes on me.

“Look at me.” Rae’s always been a good girl. She’s always been responsive and eager to please me, so her eyes pop open when I order them to. “I love you,” I tell her, unable to hold the words back any longer. Her eyes turn into puddles of heat and emotion.

“I love you too,” she whispers the words back, resting her forehead against mine as her body sags with a mixture of defeat and relief that tells me she’s been fighting those words back for as long as I have.

My grip on her tightens, and she gasps her delight as I pull the hem of her dress up to caress her skin. “You’re still the best thing I’ve ever held in my hands, Sunshine. Tell me I can hold you tonight. Tell me I can have you tonight.”

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