Page 116 of Breakout
He runs his fingers up and down my back as he speaks. “Tell me what you remember about them.”
My breath catches at his question.
“You know what’s weird? Until recently, I didn’t remember anything about them besides the fact they loved each other and me, but lately things have been coming back to me.”
“Like what?”
I haven’t spoken about my parents in a really long time. No one has ever been in my life who have really cared. Not until the friend group I have now. By that point, I didn’t want to talk about them.
This whole court case has those old memories surfacing. All the feelings from their deaths being put at the forefront of my mind.
“My mom smelled of lavender. I was only five when they died, but I remember how she would put the same lavender perfume on every day. It was some knock-off brand, but still to this day when I smell lavender, I can almost feel her arms around me. That’s crazy, right?”
“The human mind is a wonderful yet mysterious thing. I can’t remember most of my childhood, but when I have a snickerdoodle cookie, I still remember the housekeeper making them with me when I was nine after my parents didn’t make ithome for Christmas. She doesn’t even work for us anymore, but I still remember how she took that shitty day and made it great again. It doesn’t have to make sense.”
The feel of his hands caressing my skin has me wanting to tell him more.
“My dad worked all the time, but every night he would come home and have dinner with us. After dinner, he would always let me climb all over him like a jungle gym before he put me to bed himself. He always said it was our time.”
“Sounds like he was a great father.”
“The best. I didn’t realize it then, but when I was old enough, I did some research on him. He worked a factory job. One of his old coworkers told me that he would always take on extra shifts. I think he did that to take care of us. Even working his hands to the bone, he made time for us.”
“You were his priority.”
“I was. Mom was too. Between the two of them, my first five years were filled with love and happiness. I still remember the night they died. Mom was getting ready as I watched her. I begged them to take me with them. She said it was a date night for them, and I had to stay home. For many years, I had wished I could go back and go with them. Not because I thought I could stop anything, but because I would be gone too. It would take this pain away.”
He freezes a moment before squeezing me. “I’m really glad you weren’t with them. I don’t know what I would have done if you had never come into my life.”
I snort. “You would have found someone to occupy your time. You wouldn’t have even known I existed.”
“You’re right. I would have found someone, maybe, but my life would be on a different path. You changed my life, Peyton.”
“I forced you to marry me.”
He pulls back, cupping my face. “No, you didn’t. I forced you to marry me. It was my idea. I wanted it, and I don’t regret it for a second. You don’t understand, Peyton. Even if we divorce and you go on to live your life without me in it, I would always think of you fondly. You would be the one who I would always come back and get, no matter how we end. You made an impact on me. Don’t think you are any less than you are, Pey. You’re fucking amazing.”
I sniffle. “You’re going to make me cry.”
He smiles. “Good. It means it’s sinking in. You aren’t insignificant. If you disappeared, you would be missed by more than just me. You make a difference.”
The tears start to fall as I lean up and kiss him softly. “Thank you.”
“Don’t thank me. It’s my pleasure. Now tell me some of the memories you have.”
So I do. I spend the next several hours telling him all about the memories of my childhood. At some point it changes from my parents to my time in foster care.
I talk until my throat is raw. I keep talking until my eyes fall closed.
As I drift off to sleep, I feel lighter than I have ever felt in my life.
My cock is throbbing as I awake. Blinking, I realize I’m still in Peyton’s room. She pushes her hips back against me, moaning in her sleep.
“Peyton,” I whisper into her ear, my hand sliding across her bare stomach. I’ve never been happier she sleeps in tiny tank tops and shorts.
When she doesn’t answer me, I thrust into her ass as I let my hand dip below the waistband of her shorts. When I touch her pussy, she pushes back into me once more.
She’s hot and wet. Whatever she is dreaming about has her on the edge without having touched her.
