Page 32 of When I Come Back
“Oh, be serious for a minute. This is all just going to be a waste of money. That girl is going nowhere, just like hermother. Don’t think we haven’t seen her sneaking out of your room at all hours of the night. We’re lucky she hasn’t gotten knocked up y—”
“What the fuck?” says Brooks. He and I may not see eye to eye on many things, but he’s always been there for Thea. This isn’t the first time he’s stood up to Dad for the things he says about Thea and her mom.
Dad’s looked down on Lydia Ashford my entire life for choosing to be an unmarried single mother at such a young age, for not finishing high school, for taking whatever jobs pay the bills at the seasonal resorts in the area. He’s even bought into the baseless rumors around town that she got pregnant on purpose to lock down some older rich tourist.
My father’s words make my blood boil. How dare he talk about Thea or her mom that way?
“Are you kidding me?” My voice is rising with each word. “That’s your big hang up? Not that I’m leaving and moving to the other side of the country, but that I’m doing it with Thea?”
“You wouldn’t be leaving if it weren’t for that girl. If she had gotten into school anywhere else, you wouldn’t be set on Washington. You could stay in Indigo Hill, be a chef here. We won’t be working at the diner forever. You should be making plans to take over.”
“I don’t want your fucking diner!” I’m screaming at him now. “I’ve tried—I’ve tried so fucking hard to get you to make changes to that shithole, but you don’t want to hear it. You’re running it into the ground, and you want me to take over? Fuck that.”
My words reverberate around the tiny kitchen, sucking all the air out of the room. Mom—the dishes abandoned—stands with her back to the sink, arms wrapped around her middle, tears trailing down her cheeks. My dad’s face is bright red withanger as he stews, still seated. Brooks is leaning against the fridge, shoulders tense.
“She’s going to ruin your life. She’s trash, just like her mom. At least her dad had the sense to get away from that slut when he had a chance.” Before I know what I’m doing, I lunge across the kitchen. Brooks grabs me just before my hands reach my dad. He shoots up from his seat, fists balled. The chair tips back and clamors on the floor behind him.
“Owen! Cary! Please!” my mom screams.
With Brooks’ arms locked around me and holding me back, I spit out, “Fuck you! I’m done with this shit. Done with you.” Throwing my hands up to signal I’m no longer a threat, I say, “Let go of me.”
As soon as Brooks relaxes his hold, I storm out, slamming the door behind me.
I end up staying at Thea’s every night after that, only coming back when I know my parents are at the diner to pack up my room. A few days later, Thea and I take off with no intention of coming back.
Present
I shake off the memory of the fight—the details of which I never told Thea about. She thinks we had a falling out because I wanted to move so far away. It would break her heart to know the things my dad said about her, especially now knowing what their relationship grew into.
“Do you remember the last time we were here?” Thea asks, almost as if she’s talking to herself. “It was right after graduation. We were so fucking excited. We had all of our big plans of driving cross-country. We were talking about all the places we wanted to stop—do you remember Carhenge?”
The look on her face is wistful as she reminisces on our cross-country trip, and she looks so pretty with her golden hair up in a ponytail, cheeks still slightly flushed from our short run.
I can’t keep my hands off her anymore.
I step closer to her, crowding her against a nearby tree, making her angle her face up toward me. “Can’t say I remember much about what we talked about that night, no. I do, however…” I push a wayward strand of hair behind her ear, letting my hand trail down and then gently close my fingers around the front of her neck. My eyes track the movement before shifting back to hers, “Remember what we did.” The flutter of her pulse picks up under my fingers, and her throat moves as she swallows under my palm.
“Wh–what did we do?” she asks breathily. Her pupils dilate as she takes in my face, the black almost overtaking the warm brown.
“This,” I say a moment before I plaster my whole body to hers and slam my mouth to hers heatedly. She meets me with force, and our tongues clash, battling it out. It’s messy and wild and exactly like that night, the only difference being I’m not shitting my pants about what I’m going to do next.
I crowd her further into the tree, and she moans when my hard length presses against her stomach, our skin separated by only a few thin layers of fabric. She spreads her legs, and I press my thigh into her center. She rewards me with another moan that I greedily swallow down as we continue to kiss. Her hands trail up and down my back as if she’s mapping my body with her fingers.
With my hand still on her neck, I pull my face away and look at her. Her cheeks are rosy, and her lips are swollen and a little raw from my scruff. Her eyes flutter open, and there’s a question in them, like she’s wondering why I stopped. I don’t think she notices she’s still rubbing herself on my thigh.
I gently kiss her lips again then angle her face away with the hand on her neck exposing the full length of it. I kiss, suck, and lick my way to the spot behind her ear, and she whines beautifully, all want and neediness. The satisfaction I feel from still knowing all the spots to touch that make her sound like that is primal.
“I want to taste you again. Can I taste that pretty cunt of yours?” I rasp into her ear.
“Yes. Fuck, yes.” I smirk even though she can’t see it and slowly kiss and suck my way down her body, hand still on her neck. I nuzzle against her breasts, feeling her drawn nipples behind the sports bra and then continue down, dragging my tongue down her belly, lower and lower until my knees hit the soft earth, and I’m kneeling in front of her, her hands on my shoulders. With my free hand I reach to peel her running shorts off her hips and meet her eyes, checking for any reservation. Her eyes are filled with need and desperation as she removes one of her hands from my shoulder and pushes her shorts and underwear down with me, allowing my other hand to stay securely around her throat.
I take a moment to admire her bare pussy. It’s been so long since I’ve seen it, and she’s a fucking work of art. She keeps the hair trimmed, just a small triangle at the top of her pubic bone that serves as an arrow pointing straight to paradise. I rub my face against it, and her scent hits my nose. It’s intoxicating, making my cock impossibly harder. Running on instinct alone, I kiss and suck her milky thigh, leaving a small mark.
I part her legs some more and lick the length of her pussy, from her opening to her clit. She lets out a cry that has my cock weeping in my pants. With my free hand, I throw her left leg over my shoulder, opening her up more and keeping her in place. At the same time, her hands leave my shoulders—one coming up togrip the wrist of the hand at her throat and the other grabbing my hair.
I lick, suck, and circle my tongue around her clit until her thighs tremble and tense. Then I back off and swirl my tongue at her entrance, drinking in her sweet, tart taste. Sweat trickles down my back.
“You want me to make this little pussy come?” I say as I pull back and look at her. She doesn’t say anything, just wrenches my hair to guide my face back to her dripping core. She’s soaking my face, her hips thrusting against me when I return to her clit and flatten my tongue against it with even pressure.
