Page 93 of Second Story

His shadowed smile when he pulls back lights up the whole room, my entire world. So does his determination. He takes me inch by inch and tells me all about it. “F-fuck.”

“Need to stop?”

His gaze slays me. “Just getting started.” Isaac takes what he needs, the whole time giving back the kind of pleasure that makes it hard to hold back. I’m gonna believe that we’ll get to do this again, no matter which way those wheels of justice turn in the morning.

I still give in to the same urge I once walked away from, needing to fuck him through my mattress, to pin him here and keep him like this could be our last time. Or I would if he didn’t catch hold of my face all over again once I’ve muscled him where I want him.

“Love you.”

He’s flat on his back, and I’m above him, our faces so close he has to see what his promise does for me.

I used to believe da Silvas didn’t do emotion. Were stoic and silent. That I’d never be as strong as either of them. Lately, I’m questioning everything I thought I knew about my family, but right now, with Isaac’s legs around me, he’s my whole world, my only focus, the one and only man I want to be enough for.

I do that for as long as I can, fucking him slow to stave off this from ever ending, grinding into him over and over. Sweat beads and the bedsheets bunch until he has to let them go to get a hand between us. I find my voice then in a hurry.

“Let me.”

I get him off with quick tight strokes and his come spatters, leaving a mess on his belly that I’d add to if I wasn’t buried deep inside him.

I do let go then. Stop holding back and let myself feel this tight clench that squeezes my heart and soul as well as my dick. I couldn’t hold back any longer even if I wanted. Isaac doesn’t want me to—he urges me on until I shoot, and my bodyweight smears that mess on his belly between us.

He does let me take care of that, and him, once I stop seeing stars, and man, I love every second of that fussing.

We finally catch our breath side by side, the dawn still distant, and his hand finds mine in the darkness.

Isaac laces us together for as long as it takes sleep to finally find him. At least, I think he’s asleep when I turn down the brightness on my phone one-handed to search for answers to questions that must also be on his mind.

His eyes open, and fuck me, he’s gorgeous inside and out. He must be to forgive this easily on the behalf of a missing parent. “I had a van. Could get Len away from trouble and to a safe place to hide him. What did your brother have?”

I can’t answer, my throat is too thick.

“He’s like your Dad, yeah?”

I can nod at that. Josh is.

Isaac nods too. “They’re both good at doing. Not so much at speaking about all the stuff that sticks here.” He unlaces our linked hands to touch the patch of hair at the centre of his chest, rubbing the same way Noah does so often. “He must have been gutted at how it played out. He never said a word after you got burned?”

I shake my head, then nod, and I have to dash at my stupid eyes again now that each recent wasp-buzz moment hits so different.

“I think he wanted to, back then. I woke up a few times in the hospital to him saying sorry. Thought I dreamed it. Now I think he always wanted to talk but couldn’t until recently. He was building up to it. Kept looking for reasons for us to be together.”

In hindsight, each of thosewhere are youdemands Josh made have new meaning. A plea instead of a sting. And now that I’ve seen the end result of Noah literally moving heaven and earth to swoop to our rescue, then shut down the minute he admitted to being scared shitless for his brother, I can’t help drawing parallels. He got overwhelmed. It left him isolated.

Isaac putting that into words does something to me. “Josh didn’t ask anyone to throw that acid at you. It burned him every day since regardless. I want to hear his story. Bring him to Cornwall to tell it to me when Mum...”

When she finally gets some justice?

I know Isaac will return to Cornwall in the morning for Lenny. I still don’t like leaving this story unfinished. Too many loose threads still need tying. I try to say so but have to settle for kissing him again.

That’s okay.

Isaac doesn’t need me to keep talking. We’re on the same page about our future.

All we need is for those wheels to turn a little faster.

It takesa week for those stalled wheels to finally grind into motion, slowly at first, then faster as forensic results gather momentum. And like the fast train I catch to carry good news to Isaac, once justice builds up speed, nothing stops it.

Seven days after Noah followed a map designed to find a missing mother, he sits across a train table from both her and me in a quiet carriage. His face is as red as his hair after spilling the same kind of drink that once stained my shirtfront.

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