The key card feels like an escape route in my pocket, only it leads to a dead-end, since the elevator doesn’t work. I’m trapped in a room I can’t get away from. The water is still on, but her cries aren’t as loud anymore. They still echo off the acoustics of the bathroom walls, but they have a weeping quality about them. Not so much a deep wail.
It’s my fault she feels like this. And I feel guilty. I don’t want to feel guilty. I think I have no reason to, but there is a part of me somewhere, swimming along the darkened, damaged edges of my soul, telling me I should.
I slide down the wall that separates the bedroom and the bathroom and lean my head back. The only thing in sight right now is the large bed with a solid oak frame. A balcony catches my attention, and the doors are parallel to the bed. All one has to do is roll out of the massive pillowtop and slide the door open to reveal a picture only to be described in books.
But I can’t enjoy that. I’m not allowed to find beauty in this place because somehow, this place has captured my father and Barbara, and that just goes to show how much danger beauty can really hold.
The carpet feels good against my ass, but the tingling in my lower back screams at me to move. Soon, my rear will be numb sitting out here, but I want to wait. I want to see her.
The doorknob jiggles and opens, and billowing clouds of steam escape the entryway from the hot shower Everly must have taken. She walks out. Wrapped in a small towel that falls right below the curves of her ass.
My eyes zero in. I wet my lips. My tongue aches for a taste of her.
“Oh my god!” She jumps when she sees me on the floor. “I thought I heard you leave, sorry. Just let me grab my clothes, and I’ll get out of your way.”
Something on her shoulder catches my eye, and I stand quickly, unbuttoning my sports coat, and I’m in front of her in two seconds, grabbing the strands of her wet hair and throwing it over her other shoulder. My breath catches as my eyes dart from her shoulder, to her face, back to her shoulder.
I run fingertips over the beautiful tattoo, her skin beading from the soft touch. I swallow the lump of emotion in my throat.
“Until the end of time and space,” I whisper, tracing the words softly with my fingertip. The butterfly makes me smile at the memory, and my eyes burn, threatening tears, but it must be allergies.
“You remember,” I choke.
“It’s my favorite memory. I can’t forget it.”
“It’s mine, too,” I say, never looking away. “When did you get this?”
“Four years ago. Right after I left.”
“I don’t understand. You left me, Everly. Why do you care? Why do this?” I ask, with no heat or anger in my tone, just sadness and confusion.
She lets out a heavy breath and turns around to grab her brush. Her towel is safely tucked in around her chest, and Everly starts running the harsh bristles through that thick, heavy hair. “I’ll always care.”
“But why?” I prod. I want to know.
“Because you’re my best friend, and I love you, Rowan.”
“Love doesn’t make you turn your back on the people you love,” I snap, yanking my hand away as if she had the capability to burn me.
“I know,” she answers.
That’s all she says.
My teeth grind together from the frustration. I don’t care about the stairs anymore. I’m just going to take them. I can’t be in here anymore. “I still don’t get an answer? After all this time? Do you even care? It’s been long enough. I think both of us can move on.” I take the key card out of my pocket, hoping she stops me.
“Nothing I say can fix the damage between us. Nothing I say will matter.”
I turn away from her, a million thoughts running through my head. And then I turn back around.
She’s still there, rooted to the spot, staring at me.
I don’t know what to do. I want to run away. I want to throw myself off that balcony. I want to hit a wall.
Instead, I reach my arms forward and clasp her shoulders. Everly looks up at me, her eyes shimmering. Her hands clutch her towel to make sure it doesn’t fall, and I sag my head, inches from her face, ready to spill my guts to her. I inhale her scent. It surrounds me, driving me absolutely wild. With trembling fingers, I take her face in my hands and sigh as the delicate edge of her jaw in my palms caresses my skin.
“You’d be surprised. Just tell me,” I whisper, with all the desperation I can manage.
Her cheeks change to a soft pink color, and her chest rises and falls in a rapid pace. Everly shuts her eyes, sinking into my touch. “I was eighteen and stupid, Rowan. I… I—”
But for some reason, I don’t want to hear anymore.
The distance between us closes, and our mouths crash together, for the first time in six years.
All a sudden, all my thoughts are thrown out the window, and we collapse against the wall in a tangle of elbows. We gasp and moan so loud; the noise travels into the bathroom and echoes. She feels so good. Her lips have gotten softer. Her tongue has gotten bolder.
It makes me wonder about the other men she has been with. It makes me clutch her towel as tight as I can, angry that there have been others
