I was sitting on the floor just inside the open front door, sketching in my notebook when Graham came up behind me.
“Why are you on the floor? And why is the door open?”
I scowled at him over my shoulder. “I’m drawing, but it’s too cold to go outside.” I groaned. “I thought the weather was supposed to be getting warmer now that spring is almost here.”
Graham pursed his lips, biting back a smile. “Yeah, makes total sense,” he said, nodding. “Although, you could’ve just sat at the table. You can see outside from there.”
I rolled my eyes at him. “It’s not the same. The perspective would be way off.”
He chuckled. “If you say so.”
“You going somewhere?” I asked, just now noticing he’d traded in his usual sweatpants and T-shirt for jeans and a long-sleeved tee.
“Yeah, actually. The apartment needs to be cleared out before we can sell it. Was going to head over there today. You want to join me?”
I closed my notebook quickly and scrambled to my feet. “Yes!”
Graham’s brows rose.
“Sorry,” I said, brushing my hands down my leggings. “I just really need to get out of the house for a little bit.”
Winter seemed reluctant to release its grip, and for the last three days, Graham and I had been holed up in the cottage with nowhere to go. Not that being trapped inside with Graham was exactly a hardship. We’d found plenty of ways to occupy ourselves, but my sore muscles were loudly protesting against any more of our… indoor recreational activities.
“All good.” He chuckled. “Do you need a minute to change or—”
“Nope,” I said. “I’m ready to go.”
Graham smiled and shook his head. “Alright then, let’s get outta here.”
“Thank God,” I muttered under my breath.
We were about halfway to the apartment when Graham turned the music down and glanced over at me. “You okay to be doing this?”
“Yeah,” I said. “It’ll be good for me, I think.”
“If it’s too much, tell me and we’re outta there.”
“I will. Thanks.”
I hadn’t given much thought to what it might feel like to be back. I hadn’t seen the place since Graham had come for me, but as we pulled into the apartment complex, my stomach twisted itself into a knot.
Graham pulled into a spot and put the truck in park. He reached across the armrest and gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”
“No. No, I’m good. I want to.”
He nodded once before stepping out of the truck and coming around to open my door. He helped me down, then went to get his toolbox from the truck bed.
Graham came back to me and threaded his fingers through mine. Together, we crossed the parking lot to my building.
Something prickled at the back of my neck. I slowed my steps.
“Bambi?” Graham asked.
I glanced around the parking lot.
“Yeah? Sorry. I just got a weird feeling. It’s probably just from being back.”
“Remember what I said. We can leave anytime.”
“I know. I’m good.” I gave him a small smile, hoping it looked more convincing than it felt.
“Are you sure? You’ve said you’re good like three times now and I’m starting to think you aren’t actually good.”
“I promise.”
“Okay,” he said. He didn’t sound like he fully believed me, but he didn’t ask again as we continued into the building.
“Damn elevator.” Graham grumbled. “Can’t believe they still haven’t fixed this piece of crap.”
I scoffed. “I can. It took them like two months just to fix the broken pipe in the bathroom last year. And it still didn’t work right after.”
Graham held the door to the stairwell open for me.
“No way would I trust that giant death trap even if they did fix it,” I said as I stepped past him.
By the time we reached the third-floor landing, I was nearly wheezing. Sweat beaded along my hairline, and my calves were screaming. Graham, however, looked as if we’d just gone for a leisurely fucking stroll down the street.
“Come on. It wasn’t that bad,” he teased, opening the door into the hall.
I glared at him as I moved past him. “Easy for you to say. Your workout routine probably consists of bench-pressing entire pine trees and curling boulders.”
“Nah,” he said as the stairwell door closed behind him. “I’ve moved on to whole oaks now.”
“You’re still not funny.”
I started down the hall, but Graham’s arms slipped around my waist from behind, pulling me back against him. He lowered his head, his breath tickling my ear. “I like our little workouts a hell of a lot more.”
I laughed. “Okay, down boy.”
Graham laughed and released me, falling into step beside me as we continued down the hall.
We stopped outside the apartment and Graham fished through his pocket for the key.
He slid it into the lock and turned it. His hand closed over the knob, but he didn’t open the door just yet. He looked over at me first. “Ready?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
The hinges creaked loudly as Graham pushed the door open, the sound echoing through the hall.
We stepped inside, and I was immediately met with the stale smell of mildew. It crept into my nostrils and lodged in my throat. I resisted the urge to gag. I looked up at Graham, but he didn’t seem to notice the smell. Or maybe he was pretending for my sake.
He flicked on the switch by the door, and the apartment lit up.
“You paid the electric?”
“Didn’t want to be working in the dark,” he said. “Besides, the place is… kind of mine now, so, yeah.”
“Yours? Why would you even want this dump? And what about Caroline? There’s no way she would’ve handed this place over.”
He shrugged. “I don’t. And she didn’t have a choice. The place was well into foreclosure by the time I got her into rehab. I worked something out with the lender and bought the thing myself.”
“I can’t imagine she was too thrilled about that.”
“Not in the least. But it’s her own damn fault, and I don’t give a shit how she feels about it.”
“Can’t argue that.” I paused for a second, his words finally registering. “Hold on. How could you afford to buy this place? What exactly do you do for a living?”
I realized I’d never once asked him what he did.
“I do CAD design.”
“Cat design? What the hell is cat design?”
Graham laughed. “CAD, Bambi. With a D. Not cat.”
I just stared up at him.
“I create digital blueprints.”
“Oh. Cool. I think.”
“It’s really not, but I like it well enough.”
“Pays well, too,” I added under my breath.
“So, where should we start?” Graham asked, walking farther into the apartment.
I followed him into the living room, stopped in the middle of it, and turned in a circle. “I have no idea.”
“Why don’t we go room by room, then?”
“Yeah. Works for me.”
“Living room first?”
“Sure.”
Graham set his toolbox on the coffee table in the center of the room, then went to the windows and began pulling down the cardboard covering them.
Sunlight flooded the space, and I grimaced.
How did I live like this for so long?
The peeling paint and patches of cracked drywall. Dust on every surface. The threadbare couch with its mismatched, tattered pillows. The coffee table with discolored rings from cups and mugs and deep nicks in the wood. It was all so… pathetic.
Graham pulled away the last piece of cardboard and turned to me. “If there’s anything you want to keep, we’ll set it on the counter. Everything else can get chucked. I’ll call someone tomorrow to haul away the big stuff.”
“Sounds good.”
I took another look around the living room. There were no family photos or childhood artwork hanging on the walls. The small bookshelf tucked in the corner held only a handful of books, none of them worth keeping.
“Toss it all,” I said.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure.”
Graham dragged the bookshelf toward the center of the room and left it beside the couch.
“Books could probably be donated,” he suggested, pulling the books off the shelf and stacking them on the coffee table.
“Sure. There’s a public library not far from here,” I said, moving into the kitchen. “Maybe they’ll take them.”
I opened one of the cabinets above the stove and began removing the dishes and stacking them on the island.
Graham joined me a moment later, his eyes scanning the stack. A deep furrow formed between his brows. He crouched and opened the cabinets beneath the counter.
“There’s less stuff here than I remember,” he said. “What happened to the china?”
“If it could be pawned, it was.”
“They were gifts for their wedding, for Christ’s sake.”
Anything that had monetary value didn’t last long here. No matter how big or small or sentimental. To Caroline, it was all just dollar signs. Nothing more.
Graham removed the few pots and pans and a dented slow cooker and set them on the island beside the sad stack of dishes. He put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Unbelievable,” he muttered.
“Welcome home,” I said dryly.
It didn’t take long to go through the rest of the kitchen. Most of the remaining cabinets were either empty or held nothing but a few expired cans of food. The fridge wasn’t much better and had developed a slight funk since I’d last been here.
“I’m assuming there’s nothing here you want to keep,” Graham said.
“Nope. You?”
“Nah. Should we move on then?”
“Bedrooms?”
“Yeah. You go ahead. I’m gonna move this stuff into the living room.”
“Okey dokey,” I said, heading toward the hallway.
I stopped in front of the first door on the right. It was Graham’s old bedroom.
I stared at the door, unable to do anything else.
I’d stood outside his door countless times, tempted to turn the knob and step inside, but part of me had always been too afraid to try. Back then I’d convinced myself that if the door stayed closed, I could pretend he was inside. Doing homework. Drawing. Reading. Opening the door would have shattered the illusion and proved that he was gone for real and wasn’t coming back.
“Go on. You can open it.”
Graham’s voice startled me. I turned to find him standing beside me. I hadn’t even heard him come down the hall.
I wrapped my fingers around the knob, turning it halfway before stopping. I looked up at him again.
“It’s alright, Bambi. Go ahead.”
I turned the knob the rest of the way, pushed the door open, and stepped inside.
It was like a perfectly preserved time capsule.
His bed was unmade, the sheets rumpled and the pillowcase hanging halfway off the pillow. The small desk against the wall was covered in textbooks and papers. A wonky coffee mug that Graham made in pottery class held pens and pencils. Clothes were scattered across the floor and spilling out of dresser drawers. A gray hoodie, the only one I’d ever seen him wear, was draped over the back of his desk chair, its logo faded.
I turned, realizing that Graham was still standing in the doorway, the toes of his boots lined up with the threshold. His hands were tucked into his pockets, his gaze fixed solely on me.
“You’re not coming in?” I asked.
“No.”
“Really?”
“Yep.”
“You aren’t the least bit curious about what you left behind?”
“Bambi, the only thing in that room right now that I care about is you.”
A blush crept into my cheeks. It’s not like he even said anything monumentally profound, and yet, my poor little heart fluttered all the same.
I looked around the room one more time. I supposed I couldn’t blame him for not feeling any attachment to any of it. It was all part of a life he’d moved on from a long time ago.
I started to leave, but something caught the corner of my eye.
A brown furry paw peeked out from under a T-shirt on his dresser. I pulled the shirt off and tossed it aside. It was my old teddy bear.
“Bambi!” Graham hollered down the hall. “Come get your stupid bear out of my room!”
I yanked my bedroom door open and stuck my head out into the hall. “No! I don’t want him anymore!”
“Well, I don’t want him either!”
“I’m too old for stuffed animals, Graham. Just throw him away!”
Graham groaned. “He’s your bear. You throw him away.”
“You do it!” I slammed my door shut and climbed back onto my bed and continued reading.
Graham’s door slammed shut next, the vibration rattling the walls.
“I thought you threw him away,” I said, picking him up off the dresser.
“Couldn’t, I guess.”
Graham reached out and tugged at the bear’s arm. “It’s not too late. I can add him to the pile.”
“Hey!” I swatted his hand away. “God, what are we, fifteen?”
Graham laughed. “Come on. Bear can come live with us. I think he’ll like the cottage.”
He stepped aside to let me pass. I moved past him, clutching Bear tighter in case Graham got any more ideas, and closed the door behind me.
After setting Bear on the kitchen counter—the only thing currently in the “keep” pile—we moved on to my room.
I was more nervous about it than I thought I’d be. It was one thing to see the sorry state of the living room and kitchen, but being in my room somehow felt more embarrassing. And after seeing Graham’s room, mine looked more like an empty shell, with hardly any evidence of a life inside.
Against the far wall was a twin bed I’d long outgrown. Beside it was a nightstand that held nothing inside, with a single broken lamp on top. A second-hand dresser that I could never fill sat against wall to my left. They were just… things. Furniture. And as far as décor went, I had the boards covering the broken windows.
“You know, I- I don’t think there’s anything I need from here,” I said, backing toward the door.
“Bambi,” he said gently, resting a hand on my shoulder to stop me.
“It’s just, I don’t know. It feels… weird. I feel exposed.” I covered my face with my hands.
“I lived on the street for four months, Bambi. Slept in worse conditions than this.”
He turned me toward him, pulled my hands away, and tilted my chin up. “You don’t have to hide this from me. None of this changes how I see you or how I feel about you, Bambi.”
Graham’s hands slid to my waist. He held my gaze as he took a step forward, moving us further into my room. He leaned in, capturing my lips with his, and took another step forward. Then another. And another.
The backs of my knees hit my bed, and the frame creaked as Graham lowered me to the mattress.
I pulled back, wincing at the sound.
“Stay with me, Bambi,” Graham said, leaning in to kiss me again. His tongue swept inside my mouth as he nudged my knees apart with his and stepped between my legs.
He slipped his fingers beneath the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head. My leggings were gone next, quickly followed by Graham’s shirt and jeans.
He leaned me back onto the mattress, holding himself up on one arm. He lifted my leg, hooked my ankle over his shoulder, and pulled my panties to the side. He drew the tip of his cock through my folds, coating himself in my arousal before slipping inside me.
“Fuck,” Graham groaned. “I’ll never get over how tight you are, Bambi.”
His words sent a spark racing down my spine, straight to my core, and a soft whimper slipped past my lips.
He drew out almost completely before sliding back in deep. He moved at an unhurried pace, taking his time with each stroke.
The frame creaked beneath us in a steady rhythm. I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my jaw, trying to focus on Graham, but the sound was impossibly loud.
“I’m right here, baby,” he said. “Be here with me.”
He eased my leg from his shoulder and lowered himself onto his elbow, the weight of his body settling more fully against me. He pressed kisses to my neck, to the sensitive skin below my ear. His hand skimmed over my thigh, my waist, my nerves sparking beneath his touch.
I blew out a slow breath, relaxing my body and leaning into every blissful sensation. Each slow thrust pulled another moan from me, coaxing me closer to climax. The slick sounds between our bodies and heavy breathing filled the room. Everything else faded into the background as my desire built higher and higher until I shuddered beneath him. My hands fisted the sheets and my legs clamped around his waist as the pleasure devoured me.
Graham stilled, grunting as he spilled himself inside me.
His body collapsed onto mine, his weight heavy against me, but I wrapped my arms around him anyway, holding him there.
I ran my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, and a low, satisfied sound rumbled from his chest.
“You know, I honestly never thought I’d be back here,” I said.
Graham lifted his head. “No? Why not?”
“Well, for starters, the way you basically barged in here all broody and domineering. Pretty much made it seem like I wouldn’t be back. Like ever. Then when you told me you were selling the place, I figured no chance in hell I’d see this place again.”
“I was not domineering. Commanding, maybe.”
“Fine, fine.” I chuckled. “So very commanding.”
Graham shifted his weight off me and lay beside me, propping his head up on his hand and draping his other arm across my waist. “Did it upset you?” he asked. “Thinking you might not come back?”
“Not as much as I thought it would. Not every memory I had here was bad or painful, but there also wasn’t much to miss.”
“And what about this one?”
I turned on my side to face him. “I’d rank it in the top three,” I teased.
“Oof. Only top three? Tough crowd.”
I giggled. “It’s definitely one of the better memories.”
Graham’s gaze wandered around my room, and a slow smile spread across his lips.
“The last time I was in here was the night you kissed me for the first time.”
“Hey, you kissed me.”
He chuckled. “Yeah, maybe.”
“Did you regret it?” I asked.
“Did you?” His eyes slid to mine, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his expression.
“No, never.”
“Did you hate me?”
“For leaving?”
“Yeah.”
I drew in a deep breath. “Kind of? At least, I tried to hate you. For a long time, I think I convinced myself I did, but really, I was more pissed than anything.”
“That’s fair. I was pissed at myself too. And I didn’t think I’d ever be back here either.”
“Well, it’s all in the past now, right? I mean, despite everything, we’ve found our way back to each other—even if you did kind of kidnap me—and we’re here together in a place that neither of us thought we’d see again.”
“A full circle moment, huh? Wait. I did not kidnap you, Bambi.”
“You kind of did.” I laughed.
“It’s not kidnapping if you came willingly.”
“Hmm. But did I, though?”
“You definitely did. I was there.”
“I cannot be held accountable for my actions at that time, Graham. I was under duress.”
“Under duress, huh?” A mischievous gleam lit his eyes.
Uh-oh.
I sat up and scrambled off the bed.
“Oh no you don’t.”
I’d barely made it two steps away from the bed when he was on his feet and standing between me and the door.
I stepped to the left and Graham followed, a cocky grin pulling at the edge of his mouth. I took a half-step to the right, and he followed again, but I darted left and bolted for the door. His fingertips grazed me as I made it into the hall.
“Help me, Bear!” I shouted, grabbing him from the counter and chucking him behind me at Graham.
He caught Bear midair, tossed him aside, and prowled closer.
I walked backward farther into the living room, keeping the trash pile strategically between us.
“You have nowhere to go, Bambi,” Graham drawled as he circled around the trash pile. “Unless you’re about to run out into the hall in your underwear.”
I mirrored his movement. “I could say the same to you, Mr. Plaid Boxers.”
I glanced behind him. If I could get him just a little farther from the hallway, I could make a break back to my room.
But Graham knew what I was planning and lunged toward me before I could draw him any farther away.
I squealed and tried to run, but he caught my wrist and pulled me back toward him
“I don’t think so,” he growled.
He grabbed my other wrist and secured my hands behind my back before bending me over the back of the couch. He kicked my feet apart and stepped up behind me, pressing his hardness against my ass.
With one hand holding my wrists secure, he yanked my panties down my thighs with the other. He freed his cock from his boxers and thrust into me in one hard push, my moan rebounding off the empty walls.
He leaned over me, his breath hot against my ear. “I think you like being ‘under duress.’ You’re soaked right now, Bambi.”
“I plead the fifth.” I half-laughed, half-moaned as he pushed inside me again.
By the time we collapsed on the living room floor, I was completely spent. I stared up at the ceiling, trying to catch my breath. “So much for clearing out the apartment.”
Graham chuckled. “Eh. There’s no rush. We still have plenty of time today.”
I propped myself up on my forearms. “Oh no. Uh-uh. I’m done. I’m tired and starving.”
As if on cue, my stomach rumbled.
Graham turned his head toward me. “Pizza?”
“From Dougie’s!” we said at the same time.
“I’ll make the call,” Graham said.
Twenty minutes later, as advertised by Dougie himself, our pizza was delivered.
We sat on the living room floor, the box between us, salivating over our triple cheese pizza.
My eyes nearly rolled back as I took my first bite. “God,” I groaned. “I forgot how freakin’ good their pizza was.”
Graham took a huge bite of his, the cheese stretching ridiculously far, before sliding off the slice and into the box.
Graham looked down at the glob of cheese like it had just personally offended him. “Now that’s just rude.”
I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.
Three slices each later, the box was empty and my belly was at max capacity. I fell back onto the floor and closed my eyes, too full to even breathe.
Graham nudged me. “Hey, sleepyhead. We’ve still got one room left.”
I popped one eye open and turned my head to scowl at him. “Yeah, I was hoping to put that off for the foreseeable future.”
“We can’t put it off forever.”
“Sure, we could. At least… give me five more minutes to digest that ungodly amount of cheese.”
“Five minutes,” he said, getting to his feet. He grabbed the empty box and walked it over to the counter. “Meet you in there.”
Graham’s footsteps receded down the hall.
I continued to lie there, regretting my decision to consume a pound of cheese.
A minute later, Graham returned, fully dressed and carrying my clothes. He held them out to me.
“Oh. Thanks,” I said, taking them.
“Welcome. Remember, five minutes.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered.
He turned and headed back down the hall.
I had just finished getting dressed when Graham called out.
“Uh, Bambi?”
“Yeah!” I called back.
“You should come see this.”
“Coming!”
When I got to Caroline’s room, Graham was standing by the closet, an old shoebox tucked under one arm and a stack of papers in his hand.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Here.” He held the papers out to me.
I scanned the header. Then again. And then one more time because apparently I couldn’t process what was right in front of me.
“Petition for divorce,” I read aloud slowly.
“Look at the date,” he said. “It’s from before your dad passed.”
I looked up at him. “What? She tried to divorce my dad?”
“Your dad wanted the divorce, Bambi. Not Caroline.” He took the papers from me, flipped to the last page, and handed them back.
There it was, exactly as I remembered it—my dad’s signature—at the bottom of the page.
“Notice anything else?”
“You mean the second line? The one conspicuously missing your mother’s signature? Yeah, I noticed.”
Did she not sign because she just flat out refused? Did they mutually decide not to go through with it after my dad got sick? Did Caroline… wait for him to die instead?
“Bambi? You okay?”
I looked up. “Yeah. I just wasn’t expecting this. Why do you think she didn’t sign them?”
“I don’t know. I couldn’t even begin to guess what goes on inside that lady’s head,” he said. “The only thing I know that gets Caroline to do anything is money.”
“Well, it’s not like we had much of that,” I said. “Especially after my dad got sick and stopped working.”
“Maybe she thought there would be some sort of life insurance payout?”
I shrugged. “Maybe.”
“I think the better question, though, is why your dad wanted to file in the first place.”
“I mean, look at where we are, Graham. I don’t think it’s that hard to hazard a guess. I could throw a rock and hit a dozen reasons why. And honestly, at this point, does it even matter why he filed or why she didn’t sign? They’re not here anymore.” I folded up the papers and handed them back to Graham.
“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he said. “So, what do you want to do with these?”
“Throw them away.” I glanced around Caroline’s room again. It was by far the filthiest room in the apartment. Clothes everywhere. Dirty spoons scattered across the floor. Grime coating every surface.
“As with everything else in here,” I added.
Graham returned the papers to the shoebox and closed the lid. He tossed it onto the mattress on the floor, then slung his arm around my shoulders. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
We left Caroline’s room and headed back toward the living room. I scooped Bear off the hallway floor as we passed and hugged him against my chest.
“Ready?” Graham asked when we reached the front door.
“More than ready,” I said.
“Got everything?”
I looked down at Bear and smiled. “Yep.”
This time, when Graham closed the door behind us, I didn’t look back.
As we drove back to the cottage, I watched the houses and apartment buildings pass by outside my window. They looked nice enough. Normal. Unassuming. But who knew what really went on behind all those closed doors? My own apartment building looked just as ordinary from the outside. No one would have known about the cardboard covering the windows. The empty cabinets. The expired food. No one would have known that the mother who lived there—if you could call it living—spent more time with her drugs than her own children. That the young girl spent more time in the dark and cold than she ever should have. Or that the young boy had spent years trying to contain his own mother’s emotional fallout when he was only a kid himself.
How many other people were living like we had been?
When we got back to the cottage, I stepped out of the truck and paused.
The first time I’d arrived here, I’d been so hesitant to get out of the truck, certain that once I did, there would be no going back. Now, as I looked up at the cottage, at the man waiting for me on the porch with my teddy in his arms, I was certain I never wanted to.
Chapter Sixteen →
The Feral Bookster 