Page 55 of Wrecked for Love
And he sensed it—maybe from my squirming or the tightness in my core. He checked with my eyes as if completion was up to me. With just a quiet “Mm” from me, he sped up, clearly sparing me the agony of waiting.
“I’ll hold, baby, if you want me to,” I murmured, reassuring him that I was still content to follow his lead. With this man, I’d wait, I’d walk his path—I’d do whatever he wished to leave our lovemaking as satisfying for him as it was for me.
“No, Chili, I’m coming with you right now.”
And so, he increased his thrusts, driving us both toward a climax.
I arched my pelvis, pressing firmly against his. He matched my move, amping up the force. Every grind, every push was a delight in this sublime heat. As I surrendered, he delved even deeper, riding the wave with me. A chorus of moans filled the air as he granted me another, his release echoing through the room.
He eased down beside me, keeping to the smooth side of the mattress. Then, with his voice trembling, almost breaking, he whispered in my ear, “Stay, please. Stay.”
20
ELIA
A month had passed, and like a miracle, my Chili Pepper was still here, splitting her time between The Willow and The Lazy Moose. She had kept her promise to stay, and I could only thank the stars or whatever cosmic forces had aligned in my favor.
Naturally, word spread about us. Small towns are worse than a megaphone when it comes to rumors. But Claire and I kept things just mysterious enough to make people wonder. Besides, keeping a secret wasn’t exactly a skill in high demand out here.
Of course, my best man Logan knew. And Hank? Forget about hiding anything from him. I foolishly stuck to the story that Claire and I were still figuring things out, taking our time. But my foreman was practically the land’s oracle. If it happened, Hank knew about it yesterday.
Maybe that was the thing about sharing. It wasn’t just about what you told people but what they already saw in you. Never figured I’d see it that way, but letting people in didn’t just mean talking. It made you feel like you belonged.
And yet, not everyone was here to share it with me. Those I’d lost were beyond my reach, but there was one person who wasn’t lost entirely.
I reached for the old tin box of knickknacks. Claire’s necklace was no longer inside. It was right where it should be instead, resting against her skin, a reminder that she had found her way back to me. But among the forgotten odds and ends, a crumpled piece of paper remained. A phone number I didn’t want to acknowledge yet couldn’t bring myself to throw away.
I’d gotten it from one of Noah’s friends, but I’d never worked up the nerve to call. What would I even say? I hadn’t wanted to intrude. Noah had left for a reason—not because of me, exactly, but because of The Lazy Moose, because of Buffaloberry Hill itself.
But now, with Claire here, something in me ached to reach out. To tell him where life had taken me. To hear his voice and know where life had taken him. Maybe I had never let myself admit just how much I missed him. And maybe I had let him go too easily, without a fight, without asking the questions that might have made him stay.
When things settled, you started to realize the parts of yourself you’d buried were still there, waiting.
Noah had always been the kind of kid who made you want to protect him—too sweet for the world we’d grown up in. Tessa had taken it upon herself to shield him from everything, though he’d always claimed we ganged up on him. But he was never the resentful type. He had this way of grinning through it, rolling his eyes like he was in on some joke the rest of us weren’t.
If I told him about Claire, he would’ve given me the biggest hug—one of those tight, unashamed ones that made you feel like your happiness was real.
If only life had been kinder. Noah hadn’t deserved the weight of the Lucas family tragedy. His heart was too good for it.
Propelled by a need stronger than hesitation, I dialed.
A woman answered, throwing me off. My thoughts kicked into overdrive. His girlfriend? His wife?
“Hi, my name is Elia Lucas. May I speak to Noah, please?”
A pause. Then, “I’m sorry. You’ve got the wrong number.”
“Are you sure? Someone gave me this number and said it belonged to Noah Lucas. He’s my brother.”
“Oh…that might explain it. I just got this phone. They recycle numbers all the time. It’s annoying.”
“I see. Sorry to bother you, but…do you know who had it before you? Was his name Noah?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know anyone by that name.”
I wanted to press—ask which city she was in, get a little more. But she hung up.
Maybe it wasn’t meant to be. And I wasn’t about to play the part of a desperate stalker.
