Page 11 of Losing the Forbidden
“Fuck, I’ve missed you,” I admit, staring deep into her light-blue eyes.
They visibly darken the second the words are out of my mouth.
“Fuck you, Ben. Fuck you!” she hisses, backing away and putting her arms up to keep me from coming after her. She bumps back against the wall at the same time as sobs rack her body. “Y-you d-don’t get to d-do this,” she stutters out through her tears. “You don’t get to just turn back up and act like nothing happened. Like you didn’t abandon us. Abandonme.”
She looks at me, her lids lowered and her eyes full of water. There might only be a few feet between us, but it still feels like miles.
My fingers twitch to reach for her and pull her to me. My muscles ache with the need to comfort her.
As I take a step forward, her eyes flash with concern, but I push past it. The moment her warmth presses against my chest, I feel like I can breathe for the first time in years. My arms wrap tightly around her and I hold her as she cries and trembles against me.
I don’t think she’s aware as I move us from the hallway and into the privacy of my bedroom.
“I’m sorry,” she says after many long, incredible minutes in my arms.
I know she doesn’t need me to say anything. I bite down on my tongue to stop myself. I lower my eyes—it’s the first time I take in what she’s wearing.
“Is that your boyfriend’s?”
“What?”
“Your hoodie. Is it your boyfriend’s?” I know the moment she remembers because her eyes crinkle at the sides. I’m almost convinced I’ve got to her, but in a split second, they harden, and she jumps from my lap.
“No, Ben. You have no right to ask me those kinds of questions.” She goes to leave. I should allow her, but I’m a selfish bastard who’s missed her more than I’m willing to admit right now.
“Wait. I’ve ordered dinner. Is Thai still your favourite?”
Stopping in the doorway, she looks over her shoulder. “Is it from Thai Emerald?”
“Of course. I wouldn’t get it from anywhere else.”
She narrows her eyes at me, she’s trying to look angry, but she knows as well as I do that she’ll do anything for their Phat Thai.
“This doesn’t mean anything.”
Following her down towards the kitchen, I stop briefly to tell Mum I’ve sorted dinner, but she doesn’t respond. I’m desperate to do something to help, but aside from being here, I’m not really sure what else to do for her. I can still vividly remember the depression she fell into after Dad died; I can only hope it’s not as bad this time.
The second my foot hits the bottom step, the doorbell rings. I answer it and thank the guy while Lauren crashes around in the kitchen. When I get there, the table is laid with plates and glasses.
“What would you like to drink?” she asks politely, but it’s far from her usual kind tone.
“Water would be great, thanks.”
“We have beer if you’d like one.”
I’ve used alcohol more times than I can count to help me drown out the reality of my life for the past few years. Now I’m back, with the potential to finally make everything right, it’s time I stopped using it as a crutch.
“No, thank you. Water’s perfect.”
She nods, but she still looks at me curiously. “Well, if you don’t mind, my life’s shit right now,” she says, placing my drink down and filling herself a very large glass of wine and taking a sip.
She sighs as she savours the taste and my eyes drop to the smooth lines of her neck as she swallows. My insides clench and my cock twitches as I imagine dropping my lips to that soft skin.
Her glass slams down on the table and drags me from my fantasies. I watch as she huffs out a frustrated breath before she digs inside the takeout bag for her beloved Phat Thai.
“I’m sorry about your dad, Lauren.”
“Are you?” she snaps, her eyes finding mine.
