G+B Chapter 20: Calm Before the Storm — Graham

I leaned against the wall at the end of the hall, my arms crossed over my chest, watching Bambi in the kitchen. She was bumbling her way around like it was her first time ever inside a kitchen. I’d never seen someone look both scared and determined while making muffins. But she sure as shit looked good doing it.

She was in one of my t-shirts, the hem barely covering the pink lace panties beneath. Her hair was thrown up in a messy bun, flour dusting the loose strands around her face.

Bambi turned to grab something from the fridge, and I had to squeeze my eyes shut and press my lips together to keep from laughing. Her brows were scrunched, and she had batter smeared across her cheek. She looked like she’d gone to battle against muffins and was losing spectacularly.

When she turned back toward the counter, I moved into the kitchen and stepped up behind her. She was so absorbed in reading the recipe on her phone that she didn’t notice me.

I leaned down and whispered into her ear. “Morning.”

Bambi shrieked and whirled around, holding her spatula up in defense.

“Shit, Graham!”

I couldn’t help but laugh this time.

“That’s not funny,” she said nudging my chest.

“It kind of is.” I wiped the batter from her cheek and licked it off my thumb.

“It is not. I’m struggling here, Graham.”

“So, I noticed.” I glanced at the mess she’d made. “You really are helpless around a kitchen, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” Bambi half laughed. “I am stressed, Graham.”

“They’re just muffins, Bambi.”

I took the spatula from her hands and dropped it into the batter bowl. I slid my arms around her waist and pulled her against my chest. “What if I told you that you looked damn good right now?”

She huffed a laugh and rolled her eyes.

“I mean it.” I lifted her onto the counter and a cloud of flour puffed from beneath her.

“Don’t tease,” she said, wrinkling her nose at me.

“I would never.”

She dipped her finger in the batter and wiped it on the tip of my nose. “Liar.”

I held her gaze as I slid my hands from her waist down her thighs. I stepped between her legs, dropped my head, and nipped at her bottom lip.

 “Never,” I said, my voice low.

Bambi’s breath faltered, her gaze going dark.

I gripped the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, her dusty pink nipples hardening like they were begging for my attention.

I reached behind her and pulled the tie from her bun. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders, the dark waves framing her full breasts.

I cupped her breast, gently rubbing her nipple between my fingers as I captured the other between my lips. I flicked my tongue over the hard bud and she let out a breathy moan.

The batter on my nose smeared across her chest as I alternated between her breasts, the sweetness blooming across my tongue.

I dropped to my knees, dragged her panties down, and spread her legs wider.

“Fuck, Bambi.”

Her pussy was glistening with her arousal, and my mouth watered at the sight. It took every bit of restraint I had not to devour her right fucking there.

I kept my eyes on her as I slowly kissed up her inner thigh. With each kiss, Bambi’s breath became more ragged. I dragged my tongue through her wetness and she shuddered, sucking in a sharp breath.

“So fucking sweet, baby,” I said, my lips barely leaving her.

“Graham,” she moaned.

“Hmm?” 

“Don’t you… have… to leave?”

“I do.” I kissed the crease of her thigh. “But work can wait.” I kissed the other side.

“But Dane…”

I gave Bambi a serious look. “It’s not polite to say another man’s name while I’m kneeling between your legs, Bambi.”

She whimpered, and the sound shot straight to my cock.

“You’re going… to be late.”

I held her gaze. “You’re worth it.”

I ran my tongue through her folds again, and her head fell back against the cupboard.

With each pass of my tongue over her clit, her fingers curled tighter in my hair and her heels dug deeper into my back. She shifted her hips in time with my strokes, ensuring I hit just the right spot.

“Don’t—Don’t stop. Right there.”

Her breath caught and her thighs clamped tight around my head as she came.

When Bambi’s body went slack and her legs fell from my shoulders, I got to my feet.

Her eyes were glassy, her chest and neck flushed.

I leaned in and kissed her, and she moaned against my mouth. When I pulled back, her lips were wet, coated in her own arousal. She swiped her tongue across her them, tasting herself, and my cock twitched in my jeans.

Fuck.

I braced my palms on the counter, caging her in, and kissed her again. Rougher. Harder.

Her hands slid up my chest, and she wound her arms around my neck.

“Fuck it,” I said between kisses. “I’m canceling.”

I felt Bambi’s smile against my lips.

“As much as I would love that, you know you can’t do that.”

I grumbled. “There you go, being responsible again.”

“Someone clearly has to.”

 I glanced down at the hard bulge in my jeans. “I’m gonna need a minute.”

“I can help with that,” she said, palming my dick.

Bambi slid off the counter and knelt in front of me. She undid the button on my jeans and slid them and my boxers midway down my thighs. My cock sprang free and she dragged her tongue along the length of my shaft.

“God. Fuck.”

She swirled her tongue around my head, licking the pre-cum leaking from the tip.

“Shit, Bambi. You can’t tell me I can’t stay and then do that.”

She took all of me in her mouth until my head hit the back of her throat, making my knees fucking buckle as a jolt of pleasure racked through me. I braced my hands on her shoulder to keep myself steady.

Bambi looked up at me, smiling around my cock before taking all of me in again.

Her fingers dug into the backs of my thighs as she increased her pace, and lewd, wet sounds filled the kitchen.

A low, strangled groan rumbled in my chest. I wasn’t going to last much longer.

My toes curled in my boots and my balls drew up tight.

“I’m close, baby.”

Bambi wrapped her hand around the base of my shaft, stroking me in rhythm with her mouth.

My cock jerked, and with a grunt, I spilled myself inside of her mouth.

She swallowed every drop before releasing me with a wet pop.

“That was…” I shook my head, words lost to me, and Bambi laughed.

I helped her to her feet, then tucked myself back into my boxers and jeans.

She readjusted my shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles, and combed her fingers through my hair. “There,” she said. “Dane will never know a thing. Now, get outta here so I can continue my war with these freaking muffins.”

“Kicking me out after having your way with me? You’re a cruel woman, Bambi.”

“Hey, you started it.”

I took her by the waist and pulled her against me. “Yeah, and I’d do it again.”

“Graham,” she giggled.

“Alright, alright.” I pressed a firm kiss to her lips. “I’m going.”

I moved toward the door and grabbed my keys off the hook. Before stepping outside, I glanced back at Bambi.

I’d barely been gone twenty minutes, and I was already missing Bambi.

Fuck it.

I reached for my phone in the dash mount, pulled up FaceTime, and dialed Bambi.

She answered on the third ring, her flour and batter-streaked face filling my screen.

“It’s been twenty minutes, Graham,” she said.

“So? You can’t blame me for missing my girl. Twenty whole minutes without you, Bambi, is too many.”

“You are incorrigible, Graham Woods.”

“Maybe,” I said, shooting a quick smile at my phone. “I spent four years without you before, Bambi. I’m not going to apologize for wanting to make the most of every moment I have with you now.”

“Is that what this morning was? Making up for lost time or something?”

I grinned. “That was just because you looked hot.”

Bambi rolled her eyes, but I caught the faint smile on her lips before she angled her phone away.

“So how are the muffins coming along?” I asked.

“I really should just stick with painting. Baking is not for the weak.”

I chuckled. Bambi’s skills in the kitchen only went as far as making PB&J’s. No wonder she thought baking was so damn difficult.

Just as I went to speak, I heard the doorbell ring in the background.

I arched a brow. “Expecting someone?”

“My new canvases!” she squealed. “I told you yesterday, remember?”

The phone shook, her face blurring as she hurried to the door.

I smiled to myself. It was so fucking cute how excited she got over her art supplies.

“I cannot freaking wait to use them. You have no—Caroline?”

Caroline? My fucking mother?

My eyes snapped to my phone, but all I could see were Bambi’s bare feet.

My fingers tightened around the steering wheel. Shes been missing for two fucking weeks and she shows up now? How the fuck did she even find the cottage?

“Bambi? Bambi, what’s going on?”

Bambi didn’t answer, but I could hear their muffled voices through the truck speakers.

I cranked up the volume as high as it would go but I still couldn’t make out a damn word.

I slammed my palm against steering wheel. “Shit!”

After a quick check of the oncoming lane, I hit the brakes and whipped a U-turn, the truck swinging onto the shoulder. Gravel kicked up from my tires as I pulled back onto the road.

My eyes kept flicking to the phone whenever I caught moment, but all I could see were glimpses of the cottage floor and the edges of furniture.

Then, clear as fuck, a short, clipped yelp.

My stomach fucking dropped.

I pushed the gas pedal damn near to the floorboard, and the engine roared.

The camera shifted, and Caroline’s blurred face came into view.

It was only a glimpse but I could tell she was fucked up.

My jaw clenched so tight it fucking hurt.

God dammit. I almost fucking stayed. I should have fucking stayed.

Chapter Twenty-One

G+B Chapter 19: The Painting

I nibbled on the end of my paintbrush and tilted my head to the side, concentrating on the canvas in front of me. The painting of the cottage was starting to come together, but there was still something missing. I tilted my head to the other side, my brows scrunching together. 

Was the perspective I’d sketched wrong? Was it the color that was off? I bit down harder on the end of my paintbrush. Should I scrap the canvas and start over? 

No, I’d gone through two canvases already trying to make it perfect, and this was my last one. I could make it work. I would make it work.

I swirled my brush through the brown paint on my plate, then dabbed it in the white and mixed the two colors together to create a lighter shade. I brushed the color onto the canvas, filling in the outline of the cottage.

I took a step back. “Ugh. Fuck,” I groaned.

I grabbed my phone from beside me and pulled up Amazon to order another set of canvases.

“Why are you looking at your phone like it’s offended you?” Graham said from behind me.

“It’s not the phone.” I hit submit on the order. “It’s the damn canvas.” 

“Why? What did it do this time?” Graham stepped up behind me, snaking his arms around my waist and pulling me flush against him.

I dropped my head back on his chest.

“I don’t know.” I blew out a frustrated breath. “It might just be me. I suck.”

Graham rested his chin on the top of my head and tightened his arms around me. “You do not suck, Bambi.” 

“Tell that to the last two canvases I threw away,” I mumbled.

“This is your first time using a canvas and paints like these. No one expects you to be perfect at it on the first try.”

“It’s just… I can see exactly how I want the painting to look in my head, but when I try to put it on the canvas it doesn’t look anything like I imagined.” I grimaced. “I hate it.”

“Well, we can get you some new canvases. Or you could try using a new… whatever they’re called.” 

“I think you mean medium.”

“Yes. That.”

I turned in his arms to face him and bit my lower lip.

“You already ordered new canvases, didn’t you?”

“They arrive tomorrow.”

Graham chuckled. “I should have known.”

“Sorry. I know you said you didn’t mind me using your card for whatever I needed, but I doubt an endless shipment of art supplies was what you meant.” 

“Don’t be sorry, Bambi. I’d fund an entire art studio if it’s what would make you happy.”

“Oh. Well, in that case… if you insist.” 

“Okay, smart-ass.” Graham smiled and shook his head.

“Alright, enough about my failed attempt at becoming an artist,” I said, winding my arms around his neck. “How are your blueprints for Green Cay coming along? You’re heading up there again tomorrow, right?”

“Yeah, they’re good. Almost finished. I think they’ll be really happy with the mock-ups I drafted.” He glanced toward the house. “You sure you’ll be okay here on your own? Dane and Kylee wouldn’t mind if you wanted to tag along. Dane, especially.”

“I bet.” I laughed. “And I’m sure. I’ll be plenty occupied here, trust me.” 

I leaned in and kissed him. “Thank you for thinking of me, though.” 

“Anytime.”

I slid my arms from his neck and turned toward the canvas, Graham’s hands never leaving my waist. 

“Don’t throw this one away. The canvas. Keep working on it. Don’t try to make it perfect… just see where it takes you.”

I chewed on the inside of my cheek. 

“What about the painting is bothering you?” Graham asked.

I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

“You’ve been working on it out here for the last few days. Why don’t you take a step away from it for a bit?”

“Yeah, maybe. I just feel like… this was supposed to be the one thing I could control, you know. I love art. I’m good at art. When everything else goes to shit, this is supposed to be something I can rely on. I just—I just don’t understand why I can’t make it fucking work.”

“Bambi…” Graham turned me back to him. “What’s really going on? Talk to me.” 

“Everything. The whole trust situation and the bullshit with Randall. And now Caroline is fucking missing. It’s just a lot, okay. It’s a lot and I don’t know how to process it all. And now this stupid fucking painting doesn’t want to work either.” 

“Hey. Hey, it’s okay, Bambi.” 

“Is it? Because it doesn’t feel okay. I don’t feel okay. I thought that I was fine, you know? That we’d figure out what’s going on with the trust. But then Randall, and now Caroline’s gone. I just feel…”

“Not fine?” Graham finished. 

My shoulders sagged and I dropped my forehead to his chest. 

“Yeah.”

He breathed out a soft laugh. “And here I was thinking you were the more composed of the two of us this whole time.”

“I tried to be.”

“You didn’t have to. You know that, right? Do you remember what I told you your first night here?”

I shook my head.

“I told you that you were safe here, and I meant it. Bambi, you’re safe to be yourself, in whatever way that means. Happy, sad, angry. Or if what you’re feeling is fucking messy and complicated, you can be that too.”

He lifted my chin and held my gaze. “You don’t have to pretend. Not for me.”

“Thanks,” I said, “for reminding me.” 

His hand dropped from my chin and settled back on my waist. I wound my arms around him and hugged him tightly.

“Ugh. How did we get here?”

“Kidnapping, if I remember your accusation correctly.”

I chuckled against his chest. “Now who’s the smartass?”

His arms tightened around me. I relaxed against him and closed my eyes, listening to the steady beat of his heart.

“I know how badly you want to figure this shit out, and I promise you we will. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“And next time, don’t feel like you have to keep all this shit to yourself. You can come to me with anything, Bambi.”

“I won’t. And I will. Promise.” I rose onto my toes and softly pressed my lips to his. “I love you. Thank you. I needed this.”

“I love you, too.” Graham gave my butt a light smack. “Now, paint that fucking cottage like I know you can.” 

“Sir, yes, sir.” 

Graham arched a brow. “Oh, I think I like hearing you call me sir.”

He dipped his head, burying his face against my neck as he peppered it with kisses.

“Okay, okay.” I giggled, bracing my palms on his chest. “Don’t you have work to finish?”

Graham sighed. “Unfortunately.”

He dropped a quick kiss to my lips, then backed toward the door. “Damn you for being so responsible.”

“Just doing my duty,” I said, picking up my paintbrush again. 

Graham stopped just inside the door and looked back at me. 

“Go on. Shoo shoo.” I waved my hand at him. “Sir.”

One corner of his mouth quirked up and he shook his head.

“Rude,” he said as he closed the door behind him.

I turned back to my painting and chuckled to myself. 

Sometime later, the back door creaked, and a cup of coffee appeared on the table beside me. By the time I looked up again, my empty cup had been replaced with a snack plate of grapes, cheese cubes, and dried salami. He returned sometime after that, pressed a kiss to my temple, and took the empty plate inside. 

The next time the back door creaked open, I was taking a step back from the finished canvas. 

Graham came to stand beside me and slipped an arm around my waist. “You did good, Bambi.”

I rested my head against his shoulder and smiled. “Yeah, I did, didn’t I?”

Chapter Twenty →

G+B Chapter 17: Secrets Revealed — Graham

I wiped away the sweat trickling down my temple with the back of my hand and squinted up at the apartment building.

Bambi had said she’d rather never set foot in the building’s elevator, deeming it a giant death trap, but after my third run down to the dumpster this morning, I’d kill to have that giant death trap working.

Reaching into my back pocket, I pulled out my phone and glanced at the time. The junk removal company should be here soon to take care of the rest of the shit I couldn’t haul down three flights of stairs myself.

I drew in a deep breath, preparing myself for the trip back upstairs.

“I sure hope you’re enjoying yourself this morning, Bambi,” I muttered to myself as I climbed the last few steps.

Bambi had chosen to stay at the cottage today to play with her new art supplies, and I couldn’t say I blamed her. I’d much rather be literally anywhere else than here. But the apartment wasn’t gonna clean itself.

I pushed open the apartment door and looked at the pile in the living room, bigger now that most of the crap from my room had been cleared out. A few trash bags stuffed with my old clothes sat beside it, along with more useless shit that needed to go down to the dumpster.

I grabbed another trash bag from the kitchen counter and headed back to my room. All that was left to clean out was my desk and nightstand.

My desk was cluttered with engineering and industrial design textbooks and loose sheets of graph paper with half-finished designs. Old action figures sat toppled over on the top shelf, dust collecting in every crevice.

I gathered up the graph paper, old notebooks, and action figures and chucked them in the trash bag. Then I stacked the textbooks on the desk. They’d be taken to the library with the other books we’d set aside.

I opened the desk drawer and spotted a pack of sketching pencils. I pulled them out to give to Bambi before dumping the rest of the contents into the trash bag.

I moved to the nightstand next. The drawer was filled with classic car magazines and empty snack wrappers. All of it went into the trash.

Looking around the mostly bare room, I half-expected I’d feel some sort of sadness or grief, but all I felt… was nothing.

I turned and walked out, shutting off the light behind me.

My phone buzzed in my back pocket. I pulled it out and glanced at the unknown number flashing across the screen.

Figuring it might be the junk removal company, I answered.

“Hello?”

There was no response.

“Hello, Graham speaking,” I said after a few seconds.

The call dropped.

I slid my phone back into my pocket and set the garbage bag from my room down with the others in the living room.

There was a knock at the door.

“Clean Slate junk removal!”

Oh. Must’ve been them.

I answered the door and let the three men inside.

After giving them a quick tour of the apartment, pointing out which items needed to go, I left them to it and headed into Caroline’s room.

I shook out a new garbage bag, wishing I’d brought gloves so I didn’t have to touch her shit with my bare hands.

I grabbed the shoebox first, setting it on the dresser to get it out of the way. I tossed the dirty spoons next, not wanting the junk guys to have to see that shit. Her clothes and shoes went after that. I tied up the bag and set it by her bedroom door, then grabbed a new bag for everything left in her dresser and closet.

As I worked in Caroline’s room, I heard the front door opening and closing as the guys hauled out the furniture.

At least Caroline’s room would be easy. The only piece of furniture she had was the dresser.

Two and a half trash bags later, Caroline’s room was cleaned out.

I grabbed the shoebox and carried it into the living room, setting it on the kitchen island. Then I went back for the trash bags.

One of the men was coming back inside as I hauled the bags to the door.

“The last room’s good to go,” I told him as I passed him.

“Sounds good, man,” he said.

I tossed the bags from Caroline’s room into the dumpster, then came back up to grab the rest of the bags that had come from my room.

Once I’d finished, I returned to the apartment to go through the shoebox. If Caroline had put divorce papers inside, who knew what else might be in there.

I stood at the island, emptied its contents onto the counter and shuffled through the papers. A lot of it was old mail, most of which was inconsequential. There were bank statements, parking tickets, and collection notices. There were also several bills from two other rehab facilities. I remembered Bambi saying she’d tried to get Caroline into rehab before, but none of them stuck. These must’ve been the places she tried. I set the papers aside for the trash and sorted through the rest, finding nothing but more of the same. I was about to chuck the entire box into the garbage when something caught my eye.

Bambi’s name.

My pulse quickened, though I wasn’t sure why. Seeing her name on some old mail wasn’t out of the ordinary. She lived here too. But as I scanned the paper, I realized it wasn’t just an old piece of mail.

I didn’t understand most of the document, but a few words stuck out. Trust. Beneficiary. Age twenty-five.

What the fuck was I looking at?

I held the paper closer, as if that would suddenly turn all the legal jargon into average fucking people wording. Sur-fucking-prise. It didn’t. But after a second read-through, I understood what it was saying well enough.

When Bambi turned twenty-five, she would gain access to whatever her father had left for her in the trust.

Her twenty-fifth birthday was three months away.

Did Bambi know?

I took my phone from my pocket, pulled up Bambi’s contact, and called her.

I carried the document down to my truck and waited for Bambi to answer.

“Hey,” she said, her voice sweet and bright. “You miss me?”

“’Course I did, but that’s not actually why I’m calling.”

“Oh? Everything going okay with the junk removal?”

“Yeah, that’s all going fine. They should be finished soon.”

“That’s great. So, what’s up?”

“Did your dad ever talk to you about what would happen after he passed?”

Bambi went quiet. “No, why?”

“You remember the box we found with the divorce papers?”

“Yeah…”

“I found something else inside. Some sort of paperwork naming you as the beneficiary of a trust he’d set up.”

“What? What trust?”

“I don’t know. But I have a paper in my hands right now that says you get access to it when you turn twenty-five.”

The line went silent. I pulled my phone away from my ear, thinking our call had cut out, but her name was still on my screen.

“Bambi?”

“I’m here. Sorry. I just wasn’t expecting this.”

“So, your dad didn’t say anything to you at all?”

“No. Nothing. Was there anything else in the box?”

“I’m not sure,” I said, laying the paper in my passenger seat. “Most of the crap was just crap. I’ll bring everything back home with me and we can look through the rest together.”

“Yeah, alright.”

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah. No, I’m good. I’ll see you when you get home.”

“Okay. Hey?”

“Yeah?”

“I love you. We’ll figure this out.”

“I know. And I love you, too.”

The call disconnected.

I dropped my head back against the headrest.

I wasn’t certain what this all meant, but my gut was telling me that something about it was off. It wasn’t as if Bambi’s dad had died suddenly or unexpectedly. He’d been sick for months. More than enough time for him to make sure his daughter was taken care of. So why hadn’t he told her about it? And why the fuck hadn’t Caroline?

The junk truck’s rear door slammed shut behind me. I glanced in the rearview mirror and saw one of the men waving me down.

I hopped out of my truck and headed over to him.

“We’re all finished here,” he said.

“Great.” I extended my hand toward him. “Thanks for your help, man.”

“Of course,” he said, shaking my hand.

He whistled to one of his guys standing by the truck, who came jogging over with a clipboard.

“Just sign and date here for me,” he said, handing the clipboard to me.

I signed where he pointed and gave the clipboard back. He tore off the pink copy and handed it to me.

“That’s your copy there. You have a great rest of your day.”

“Thanks, you too.”

The man nodded and he and his partner headed to their truck.

I returned to the apartment and did a final sweep of the place to make sure that everything that needed to go was gone.

I stood in the middle of the living room and looked around one last time. Again, I expected to feel sadness or grief, but all there was was relief. That neither Bambi nor I would have to endure this place ever again.

I collected all the papers and mail I’d emptied from the shoebox and stuffed them back inside.

I sent Bambi a quick text to let her know I was about to head home. Then I left the apartment and locked the door behind me.

Later that night, Bambi and I sat in front of the fire in the living room, the shoebox between us.

“Are you sure you want to go through this right now?” I asked her.

“I’m sure,” she said, dumping the papers onto the floor. “I want to know what else Caroline is hiding from me.”

Some of the old mail went into the fire. Everything worth keeping, including the divorce papers and the trust document, went into a pile beside us.

There were only two other legal documents. One was her father’s death certificate, and the other was a life insurance policy naming Caroline as the beneficiary.

“Whoa,” Bambi said, her eyes going wide when she saw the amount of money on the policy. “Do you ever remember Caroline having this kind of money?”

“No,” I told her. “At least I don’t think so. I don’t remember anything changing that significantly after your dad died.”

“Do you think she collected it?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “It’s possible.”

“And what about the trust?” She set the paper down and picked up the trust document. “Why wouldn’t she say anything about this?”

“I don’t know, Bambi. Caroline was hardly ever sober. Maybe she just forgot about it.”

“You really believe that?”

I thought about it for a second. “No. Not really.”

“It just doesn’t make any sense. None of this does.” She put the paper down with the others. “Why haven’t I been contacted about the trust? My father died seven years ago, Graham.”

“Well, you’re not twenty-five yet. Someone might reach out to you then, like what happened with me after my dad died.”

“Or Caroline intervened somehow,” Bambi said.

“Maybe. I wouldn’t put it past her, honestly.”

“Ugh,” she groaned. “I don’t know.”

Bambi flopped onto her back on the floor.

“Look,” I said, crawling over to her and angling myself over her. “We don’t have to figure it all out tonight, Bambi. Let’s call it for now, yeah?”

“I guess.”

“Good.” I leaned down and kissed the tip of her nose. Her cheek. Then the other side. I pressed my lips to hers.

“Are you trying to distract me?” She asked when I pulled back.

“Maybe. Is it working?”

“Maybe,” she shot back, a smile pulling at her lips. “I think you need to do it again. Just to be sure.”

I slipped one arm beneath her knees and the other behind her back and lifted her from the floor.

“What are you doing?” she asked, giggling as she wrapped her arms around my neck.

“Taking you to bed.”

Bambi’s brow lifted, her smile turning suggestive.

“Not like that, you horn-dog,” I said, shaking my head.

“Aw,” she whined. “No fun.”

I laughed and carried her to the bedroom.

Chapter Eighteen →

G+B Chapter 7: Warmth

I sat shivering on the bathroom counter, a thick flannel blanket wrapped around me, my teeth clacking together as I waited for the shower to warm and for Graham to return. 

“I’m here, I’m here,” he said, rushing back into the bathroom with an armful of clothes. “You okay?”

“Free-zing.”

Graham tossed the clothes onto the counter beside me and reached into the shower to test the water. “Almost there.” 

He came back over to me and rubbed his hands up and down my arms, trying to warm me up. 

“What about y-you?” 

“I’m alright,” he said with a small shake of his head.

“Graham,” I said, brushing my fingers against his lips. “They’re b-blue.”

He gently closed his fingers around my wrist. He didn’t immediately move my hand. He just held it there for a moment, his eyes fixed on mine. 

“Water should be warm enough now,” he said, lowering my hand. 

Graham lifted the edges of the blanket, his fingertips grazing my shoulders as he eased it away. It slipped from my shoulders and pooled around my hips on the counter. 

A shiver worked its way down my spine, even though the room was warm with steam. 

His hands settled at my waist before lifting me from the counter and setting me down. 

I went to take a step back, but my knees buckled. His arm immediately wound around me, catching me before I could fall. 

“I’m s-sorry,” I rushed out. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Bambi.”

He glanced toward the shower, then back at me, a crease forming between his brows. “Do you think you can manage?”

Could I? I felt like a human ice cube. My legs were still numb, my body trembling from the cold, and my blood felt like slush in my veins.  

I was moving before I had a second to process what was happening. Graham stepped into the shower, boots and all, with me still in his arms. 

“Graham!”

I drew in a sharp breath as warm water cascaded over me. 

“I couldn’t stand there any longer watching you freeze and unable to move.”

“Still the one making the decisions,” I said.

He turned us around and walked backward into the stream of water, tilting his head back under the spray. When he looked at me again, there was a seriousness to his expression.

His hold on my waist tightened. “I won’t apologize for doing what I thought was right. Especially when it came to you.”

He turned us again, stepping forward now, until I was fully submerged beneath the water. Goosebumps prickled across my skin as the heat chased the chill from my bones. 

“I admit,” he continued, “I may not have gone about it the right way, but I will always do whatever I have to to make sure you’re safe.”

My breath caught, and I couldn’t tell if it was my own heartbeat pounding or the sound of the water striking the shower walls. His words sounded more like a promise than a statement of fact. They settled deeper than any cold ever could. 

“Don’t joke.” He dropped his forehead to mine and blew out a slow breath. “I’ve never been more scared in my life than I was today, Bambi.”

 “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run off like that.”

“No. But I don’t blame you for running, either. I’ve been—” 

“An ass?”

Graham lifted his head and met my eyes. “‘Difficult’ was the word I was going for. But yeah.”

“Any time. Let’s just not make a habit of it.”

“Oh, trust me. Me and the snow are officially done.”

“Good.” After a short pause, he asked, “How’re you feeling? Is the shower helping?”

“Yeah,” I held up my hands, wriggling my fingers in front of him. “I can finally feel my fingers and toes again.”

“That’s good,” he chuckled softly. “Let’s get you into some dry clothes, then.” 

Graham drew me closer, my shirt squelching against his chest as he reached behind me to shut the water off. He lifted me over the lip of the shower and set me down on the floor, a puddle forming around my feet as water seeped from my clothes.

“Can you stand?” he asked.

“Mhmm, I think so.”

“Okay. Don’t move. I forgot towels.”

“Bambi?” 

“Huh?” I looked up at him. I hadn’t realized he was holding out a towel for me.

“Sorry,” I said, taking the towel and looking down. “Thanks.”

“Yep.”

“I’m going to get the fire going,” he said, grabbing the flannel blanket from the floor. “There are clothes on the counter for you. Let me know if you need help.” 

“Mhmm.”

Once Graham had left the bathroom, I closed my eyes and blew out a breath. “Get a grip, Bambi,” I whispered to myself. I’d just nearly frozen to death. The last thing I should be thinking about was Graham’s body.

Graham was already waiting there. He was sitting on the floor in front of the fireplace, the flannel blanket wrapped around him, two cups of coffee beside him.

All I could do was stand there and look at him. Three days ago, I couldn’t have imagined seeing him like this. Cozy. I almost giggled at the sight. 

Graham turned toward me, giving me a small smile as I walked into the living room. He held open the left side of the blanket for me, and I lowered myself down beside him and tucked myself into his side, pulling the blanket tight around me. 

The fire crackled steadily in the hearth, the heat wrapping around us like a second blanket. 

Graham was quiet beside me, his eyes fixed on the flames, the firelight catching in the green of his eyes. 

“What are you thinking about over there?” I asked softly, nudging him with my shoulder.

He looked down at me, the corner of his mouth curving upward. “You.”

“Me?”

His eyes held mine and warmth spread through my face and neck. 

“You,” he said again. “I’m just… glad you’re safe.”

There was a part of me that knew there was more to it than what he was saying. Like he was choosing his words carefully because there was still something he was holding back. Another part of me recognized that today had also brought down some of the barriers he’d been holding up.

And I could live with that. 

“Me too,” I said. 

I rested my head on Graham’s shoulder and gazed at the fire. Exhaustion was finally catching up with me, each blink coming slower than the last until my eyes fell shut completely.

Chapter Eight →

G+B Chapter 6: The Storm – Graham

I should have stayed away. I never should have gone back. 

I leaned against the railing and hung my head.

God damn it. Caroline ruins everything. 

And just like I had four years ago, I fucking let her. I walked away because at twenty-three, I didn’t think I had a choice. 

Now Bambi is off wandering through the woods alone because of another choice I’ve made. The choices I keep making. 

Except… no one forced my hand this time. No, this was all my doing. 

My fingers tightened around the railing, the wood groaning beneath my palms. 

I pulled in a deep breath, the cold air burning my lungs. 

You can’t just keep me in dark. 

Her voice cut through my mind, sharp as glass. 

Maybe she was right. 

But admitting the truth meant confronting a part of me, a part of my past, I wasn’t sure I was ready to face. 

I lifted my head and stared at the pines stretching out across the property.

Regardless of how I felt or whatever the hell was going on in my head, I couldn’t let her keep wandering out there. 

My phone buzzed in my pocket. 

I pulled it out and my breath seized. An emergency weather warning flashed across the screen.

“Shit.”

I whirled around, throwing the back door open and rushed inside. I yanked mine and Bambi’s coats off the rack by the door, knocking the stand to the ground.

I tore back through the house and outside. I launched myself off the porch and into the yard, following the footprints she’d left behind.

If anything fucking happened—

No. I couldn’t let myself go down that road. Nothing was going to happen. I wouldn’t let it.

“Bambi!”

I had just crossed into the treeline when thick, heavy snow began to fall.

Damn it. The storm was rolling in faster than expected. It should have been another hour at least before it hit us here. The shit service around the cottage must’ve caused the weather warning to come in late. 

I glanced up at the gray clouds blanketing the sky. With how quickly the snow was already falling, it wouldn’t be long before the conditions worsened. 

Fuck! Her footprints! 

I quickened my pace, keeping my gaze on her tracks as they led deeper into the pines. There was no time to waste. If the snow covered up her tracks, it could take hours to find her.

I didn’t have hours. 

I needed to find her. Now.

A gust of wind swept through the pines, the cold biting at my skin. I slung my jacket around me and pulled up the collar. 

I clutched Bambi’s coat tighter. “Hold on, Bambi. I’m coming.”

The further into the woods I got, the worse the weather was becoming. The wind picked up, blowing snow all around me until I could barely distinguish the ground from the sky.

 My thighs strained with each step, but I gritted my teeth against the burn and kept pushing forward.

I only made it a few more feet before Bambi’s trail vanished from sight. The tracks were damn near impossible to make out through the heavy snowfall. 

My chest tightened as visions of Bambi, freezing and frostbitten, flashed through my mind.

“Bambi!” I shouted against the wind. 

Where the fuck are you?

I turned in a circle, my gaze sweeping across the ground for her footprints.

My eyes caught on a deep impression in the snow. I didn’t stop to consider whether it was made by her or something else. My body just moved toward it. 

A fallen log lay partially buried in the snow, obscured from sight. She must’ve tripped over it and gone down. 

She was here. The impression had to have been hers.

Just as I went to step over the log, something on the bark caught my eye. I bent down to get a closer look. It was a torn piece of black fabric snagged on a splinter jutting from the wood.

Her sweatpants. The ones I’d given her. I pulled the fabric free and my fingers came away slick with blood. 

She was hurt. 

I didn’t waste another second. I charged into the trees. 

“Bambi!” I shouted, praying like hell that she was close enough to hear me. 

My only answer was the sound of branches snapping as gusts of wind ripped through the trees. 

My pulse hammered just as violently. 

Each second that passed put her in more danger. She was hurt. Bleeding. The temperature was dropping fast, and visibility was close to shit. 

Why did she leave? 

Why did you fucking let her?

“Come on, Bambi,” I muttered through clenched teeth. “Where are you?”

I pushed deeper into the woods and still I hadn’t found any sign of her. 

It’s all your fault. 

“Shut up,” I growled.

You’ll never see her again.

“Shut. Up!”

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to drown out the voice in my head. 

When I opened them again, a flicker of orange flashed through the trees.

I blinked once, thinking I had imagined it, but the glow was steady. Faint, but it was there. 

I exhaled hard. 

I plowed my way toward it, refusing to lose sight of it.

A dark shape emerged through the pines. It morphed. Grew. Then I was standing outside of rickety, dilapidated shed.

A warm orange glow flickered through the lone window above the door. 

I damn near ripped the door from its rusted hinges and threw myself inside.

Curled into a ball in the far corner was Bambi. 

I was beside her in an instant. I wrapped her coat around her, then pulled her against my chest, holding her as close as I could. 

A small whimper escaped her blue lips, and the sound nearly fucking broke me.

I held her tighter. “I’ve got you, Bambi. I’ve got you.”

She nuzzled her head into my chest and wrapped a frigid arm around my waist. “I-I knew you-you’d find me,” she whispered.

“Of course I would,” I said, resting my cheek on the top of her head. 

I’d have hunted the entire universe to find you, Bambi.

“Admit i-it,” she half-laughed through chattering teeth. “Y-you care.”

I don’t know if it was the exhaustion, the loss of adrenaline… or just her, but there wasn’t an ounce of fight or denial left in me. 

“I never stopped.”

She didn’t say anything after that. Her fingers just curled into my side. And I guess she didn’t need to say anything. Maybe just hearing the words out loud was enough. For both of us. 

The shed creaked and groaned against the wind, small gusts slipping through the cracks. The small fire Bambi had managed to build crackled softly. The heat wasn’t much, but it took the edge off the chill.

We stayed like this, huddled in the corner, holding onto each other as the storm raged around us.

When Bambi’s shivers had eased enough and the color had returned to her lips, I pulled away. “I need to look at your leg, Bambi.”

She groaned in protest, her fingertips digging into my skin to keep me close. 

I brushed back damp strands of hair from her face. She tilted her head back, her eyes slowly fluttering open. 

“I have to,” I said softly. “I don’t know how much longer the storm’s going to last, Bambi, and if your leg gets infected, I have nothing here to treat it.”

She nodded and slowly unwrapped her arms from around me. She adjusted her position, propped herself up against the wall, and laid her leg across my lap. 

Right below her knee was the tear in the fabric, an angry red gash peeking through. I pushed the sweatpants up her leg to get a better look.

Bambi winced and sucked in a sharp breath. 

“I know. I’m sorry,” I said. 

I carefully pressed along the edges of the gash, checking for any splinters that might have been lodged inside. 

“Hurts,” she croaked.

“I know it does. I know. Just a little more.”

She squeezed her eyes shut, bit down on her lower lip, and nodded.

Thankfully, her wound was clear and wasn’t deep enough that she’d need stitches. I’d still need to cover it, though, to keep it from getting worse.

I glanced around the shed, hoping to find something I could use to wrap her leg, but found nothing besides oil-stained rags and mildewy scraps of canvas.

Fuck. 

I lifted the bottom of my shirt, caught the hem between my teeth, and yanked, tearing the fabric until it came away in a long strip. I slid a hand under her calf and gently lifted her leg, propping her foot up on my thigh. I covered the gash with the flat section of the fabric and crossed the ends behind her calf. 

“Take a deep breath for me, Bambi.”

Her eyes were still shut, but she nodded and did as I asked. 

As she inhaled, I pulled the knot snug. 

“All done,” I said, lowering her leg back into my lap. “You did great, Bambi.” 

Bambi’s eyes opened slowly, her gaze finding mine immediately. Her eyes were red-rimmed and glossy, tears welling at the corners.

“Bambi,” I said, barely able to keep my voice from cracking. “Come here.”

I shifted closer, hooked one arm beneath her knees and one behind her back and lifted her into my lap. 

She rested her head against my chest and clutched the front of my shirt between her fingers. 

I wrapped my arms around her and she melted into me. 

I leaned my head back against the wall and closed my eyes, listening to the steady rhythm of Bambi’s breathing.

Some of the tightness in my chest had eased, but I wouldn’t be able to fully relax until I got her home. 

My attention shifted to the small window above the door. The snowfall had slowed and the shed was no longer being battered by fierce winds. 

If I was going to get her home, it would have be now. Storms around this area had a habit of picking up again, and worse than before, which meant this might be the best chance we had. We risked getting snowed in otherwise, and it could be hours… shit, another day, before we could leave. 

One look at Bambi and the decision was made. 

“Bambi,” I whispered. “It’s time go.”

“Home?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah. Home. We’re going home.”

She lifted her head from my chest and started to pull herself from my lap.

“Woah,” I said, gripping her elbow. “Easy now. Let me help you.”

She planted her feet on the floor, and I placed my hands on her waist to steady her. 

“Hold onto my shoulder, Bambi. Push up. There you go.” 

Her legs were shaky, but she managed to find her balance and stand. 

I pushed to my feet and moved beside Bambi. “You okay? How’s your leg?”

“Fine,” she said. “Sore, but I can stand.”

“Let me see,” I said, dropping to one knee. “I just want to make sure the bandage won’t shift as you walk.” 

I lifted her pant leg, my fingertips brushing the back of her calf. She shivered and wobbled slightly on her feet. 

My hands immediately shot to the backs of her thighs before she could lose her balance. 

She pulled in a sharp breath, and her hands found my shoulders. “Thanks.” 

I nodded before checking the bandage again. It was still wrapped snugly around her calf. “Straighten your leg for me, Bambi. Good. Again.” 

“When did you become a doctor?” she asked. 

“You learn to pick up on a few things when living this far out from the rest of the city,” I said. I rolled her pant leg back down and got to my feet. “Help isn’t always right around the corner. Learned that the hard way.”

She had that look in her eyes, the one that always appeared when she wanted to know more.

“Oh,” was all she said. 

“I’ll tell you about it another time,” I said. “Let’s get you home first.”

“’Kay.”

I slid my arm around her waist and helped her to the door. Then, I shrugged my jacket off, wrapped it around Bambi’s shoulders, and held my hand out to her. “Ready?” 

Bambi slid her hand into mine and held it tight.

I pushed the door open with my other hand, but just as I was about to step outside, she squeezed my hand hard and pulled me back. 

Her brown eyes were wide as she looked up at me. “Don’t let go,” she said, her voice quivering.

I faced her fully, gently squeezing her hand back. 

“Never.”

With a final nod between us, we stepped out of the head and started home. 

Chapter Seven →

G+B Chapter 4: Discovery

I woke to the scent of coffee, bacon, and eggs drifting through the bedroom.

I followed the aroma to the kitchen, where Graham stood over the stove, transferring strips of sizzling bacon from the pan onto two plates.

I stood there for a moment watching him. It felt like stepping into a childhood memory. Twelve-year-old Graham in the apartment kitchen, cooking whatever he could manage to scrounge up. Even then, he was always taking care of me.

I blinked and the memory dissolved.

“Morning,” he said from over his shoulder.

“Morning,” I replied.

I took a seat at the table and rubbed my tired eyes.

When I opened them again, a plate sat in front of me, piled high with eggs, bacon, and buttered toast.

I looked toward Graham who was back in the kitchen, pouring coffee into two mugs. He carried them both to the table, then went back to grab his own plate before sitting across from me.

I wrapped both hands around my mug, letting the heat sink into my palms.

Graham lifted his mug to his lips. “Sleep okay?” he asked before taking a sip.

He looked at me over the rim, the early morning sunlight catching in his eyes and making the green stand out even more. 

There was something about the way he was looking at me…

Oh god.

Had he heard me standing outside his bedroom door last night or was it my own guilty conscience reading more into his expression than was actually there?

I lifted my own mug and took a sip, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way heat crept into my cheeks. 

“Mmhmm,” I said. “You?”

“Fine,” he replied.

Before I could decipher the look in his eyes, a sharp buzz sounded from his back pocket.

He drew out his phone, his jaw tightening as he glanced down at the screen.

“Excuse me,” he said. He stood from the table and walked toward a room I hadn’t noticed before. The door swung closed behind him but didn’t shut completely.

Graham’s voice was low, but I caught a few clipped words.

“Yes. Transfer. I’ll be there.”

When he came back, there was an edge to his features that hadn’t been there before.

“Everything okay?” I asked.

“I have something I need to take care of,” he said, heading for the door. He shrugged on his coat and reached for the doorknob. “I won’t be long.”

The door clicked shut behind him.

I stared at the closed door for far too long, a familiar knot forming in my stomach.

My breakfast sat untouched in front of me, my appetite gone. I tossed the food into the trash and carried our plates to the sink. As I washed the dishes, the knot in my stomach grew tighter, old feelings clawing their way inside.

He said he would be back, I told myself. This wasn’t the same as before. He wasn’t leaving.

I told myself this over and over, but still the tightness persisted. Maybe if I had something else to do, something to distract myself, I might feel better.

I wandered into the living room and carefully added a new log to the low fire the way I had seen Graham do it. Once the log caught, heat spread throughout the room.

I stepped away from the fireplace, and stood in the center of the living room, taking my first real look at it. The furniture was sleek, modern, all in warm brown tones and soft leather. I moved to the shelves on either side of the fireplace, scanning the books and movies that lined them. A thin layer of dust coated the tops as if they were merely there for the look of them.

The cottage should have felt lived in, yet it didn’t. There were no photographs. No personal clutter. Just furniture and books arranged like it was a showroom.

A strange heaviness settled in my chest.

The cottage reminded me of the apartment in a way—lifeless.

Graham had left on his own. Built a life for himself. Yet standing there, surrounded by untouched books and spotless furniture, I couldn’t help but wonder what kind of life he was really living.

I turned to leave but my gaze caught on a partially open door to the right of the living room. I slowly pushed the door open and stepped inside.

It was his office. His scent was stronger here, as if he spent more time here than anywhere else.

The space was small, with minimal furniture, but cozy. A dark wood L-shaped desk sat in the center of the room with a high-back leather chair tucked in behind it.

I walked around the desk and huffed a quiet laugh at the sight.

“Organized chaos,” Graham would call it.

Stacks of folders sat in uneven heaps, their contents spilling from the sides. Loose papers and legal pads were scattered across the desk, and several books had been left open.

I sat down in the high back chair behind his desk and looked it over. My gaze dropped to the drawer, and before I could talk myself out of it, I opened it.

It was filled with dozens of manila folders. Company names were written in the upper right-hand corner of each one, all organized alphabetically.

I shut it and opened the one below. It was filled with more files from companies I didn’t recognize.

I closed it and moved to the other side, opening the first drawer. Unlike the others, this one wasn’t organized at all. There were various pads of yellow sticky notes with rough writing scribbled across them, and a handful of stray paperclips and thumbtacks scattered about.

Just as I went to shut it, I noticed the frayed edge of a faded blue notebook. I carefully pushed the papers and thumbtacks aside and froze.

A familiar tattered notebook stared back at me. My fingers trembled as I pulled it free.

Graham’s name was written across the center in careful block letters. Beneath it, in my own crooked eight-year-old handwriting, were the words: and Hazel.

A small smile tugged at my lips. I hadn’t gone by Hazel in years. Somewhere along the way, Graham had started calling me Bambi, and I’d been Bambi ever since.

I opened to the first page. Math problems lined the page, written in Graham’s handwriting. Taking up nearly all the space in the margins were a chaotic arrangement of tiny flowers, suns, and hearts. I flipped to the next page where Graham’s notes stopped abruptly halfway down. The rest was overtaken by a wild and uneven rainbow. The next few pages were the same. More math problems and notes interrupted by explosions of colorful doodles and drawings.

 On the next page, a crude drawing of a family sat askew in the center. The color had dulled and some of the lines were slightly faded, but I recognized the drawing instantly. It was my dad, Caroline, Graham, and me.

I flipped to the next page. Then the next. With each turn of the page, with each new drawing, both Graham’s and my own, my vision blurred more and more.

I pressed my thumbs harder into the paper as if that might steady me.

The floorboards creaked loudly from the kitchen.

“Bambi?” Graham’s voice echoed down the hall, and a second later, he appeared in the doorway.

His eyes flicked to the notebook, then back to me.

I closed the notebook and moved slowly around the desk. I held his gaze and walked towards him, clutching the notebook in my hands.

“You kept it,” I said, my voice shaking.

“Yeah.” His voice came out rougher than before.

I stepped closer until our chests were nearly touching. I tilted my head back, refusing to look away. “Why?”

His jaw worked for moment, before his lips parted slightly.

My heart beat hard, daring to hope that he might finally answer me, but I could see the hesitation in his eyes. It had never been this difficult to get him to talk to me.

I wasn’t sure what to say now and truthfully, I wasn’t sure my words would be enough, so I did the only other thing I could think of.

I lifted my hand slowly and pressed my palm against his chest. His breath caught, and I felt his heart stumble beneath my fingers.

Graham’s hand rose even slower. He brushed a strand of hair behind my ear, his fingers barely grazing my skin. It was as if he was choosing the only place he could touch me without losing himself.

His gaze dipped low, then back to my face, so quickly I almost missed it. Then, just as quickly, his hand dropped away and the wall he’d been so close to letting fall, snapped firmly back in place.

I lowered my hand and took a step back. I knew I wasn’t going to get the answer I was hoping for.

“Everything go okay?” I asked softly.

“I met with a rehab coordinator,” he answered. “Caroline won’t be coming back anytime soon.”

“It won’t last,” I told him, recalling the last two times I’d tried to get her into a program. “It never does.” 

“She doesn’t have a choice this time.”

“And what about me?”

“I already told you, Bambi. You’re not going back there.”

He was quiet for a moment, then added. “I’m selling the apartment. There won’t be anything for you to go back to.”

My stomach dropped.

“Why do you get to be the one that decides that? That was my home too, Graham.”

“I’m deciding what I won’t let happen.”

“You didn’t decide that before.”

Graham’s jaw tightened. “No. Someone else decided for me.”

He shoved his hands in his pants pockets and started toward his room. After a few steps, he glanced back at me and nodded at the notebook.

“Keep it. It was always yours anyway.”

Then he disappeared down the hall.

I stood there a moment longer before finally shutting the office door and heading back to my room.

I climbed onto my bed and set the notebook down in my lap.

It should’ve been comforting to know that he’d kept it, but somehow, it only confused me more. I sighed and fell back against the pillows. 

He was the one who left. Without warning and without explanation. Yet for four years he’d held onto this notebook.

If he hadn’t cared… why keep it? If he had… why’d he leave?

My gaze drifted back to the notebook in my lap. I ran my fingers over the worn cover before opening it again.

I flipped through the rest of the pages, most of them blank, until dark scribbles made me pause. It was the last drawing in the notebook.

Drawn in dark, rough, almost angry strokes was the figure of a witch. It wasn’t like the witches from a fairytale or cartoon dressed in black with pointy hats. It was darker than that. There was something sinister in her eyes, and her smile, too wide, looked cruel. The witch looked almost happy in her cruelty.

My eyes stayed fixed on the page. The shape of her face, her eyes, the way the edges of her mouth twisted as she smiled, all disturbingly resembled Caroline.

I couldn’t unsee it, now. The similarities between the two.

Was this how Graham had seen her? And if so, maybe there was more to what happened than I realized.

For so long I had told myself that Graham had left without a single care. I’d believed it for years. But what if that wasn’t the truth?

What if I hadn’t been the only one hurting? What if I wasn’t the only one still hurting?

Chapter Five

G+B Chapter 1: Cold and Dark

I imagined myself back in our old house, when my dad was still alive and Caroline wasn’t struggling with addiction, where a warm fire was always burning in the fireplace. Where a hot, home-cooked meal was always waiting. Where there was always laughter and love.

My stomach tightened, then twisted, and the illusion shattered. 

Back then, the constant cold and hunger hadn’t existed. Now, that was all that existed. 

There were no warm fires, no home-cooked meals. The heat in our apartment had been shut off a week ago and the fridge had been empty nearly as long. Laughter hadn’t been heard inside these walls for years. Not since… 

I shook my head. I couldn’t think about that now.

The boards against the window rattled again as another gust of icy wind swept through. My teeth clacked together as a shiver ran through me.

I squeezed my eyes shut tighter, willing sleep to take me, if only to give me a few hours of reprieve from the harsh reality I was living. 

I must have eventually drifted to sleep, because when I opened my eyes, soft morning light filtered through the cracks in the boards. 

I pushed myself up, blinking a few times. As my vision adjusted, I realized the light bleeding through the dark wasn’t sunlight at all, but the glow of the streetlamps from across the road. It was still night.

I wrapped my blanket tighter around me and slipped from the bed. 

 “Caroline?” I called out.

On the nights she went out looking to get high, she rarely made it back to her bedroom, anyway. The couch was closer. 

My fingers found the light switch at the end of the hall and flicked it on before I remembered the power had been cut due to nonpayment.

I peered into the living room, squinting through the darkness. The couch was empty.

She disappeared like this sometimes. It wasn’t unusual for her to be gone for hours at a time, but she should have been back by now. 

A familiar thought pressed in. What if this time… she didn’t come back?

I sank onto the couch and waited for the dread to set in. Except it didn’t. Instead, another thought formed. Would it really be so bad if Caroline didn’t come home? I wouldn’t have to clean up after her anymore or drag her to her bed when she couldn’t stand upright on her own. I wouldn’t have to work double shifts at the diner to pay the mountain of overdue bills or worry that she’d spend what little was left on drugs.

Maybe it would be better if— 

No. How could I even think like that? Despite all her flaws, Caroline was the only one who hadn’t left me.

A thud sounded at the front door. Keys scraped against the lock. The knob turned.

I exhaled. She was back.

I turned as the door opened. The knob struck the dent in the wall, sending drywall dust and flakes of plaster drifting onto the pile already scattered across the floor.

I expected to see Caroline’s thin frame to stumble through the door, but an imposing figure filled the doorway instead. He stood there, unmoving, his broad shoulders backlit by the fluorescent hallway lights. 

My pulse kicked hard and I pushed to my feet, my eyes fixed on the figure in the doorway.

He took a single, unhurried step forward. 

“Bambi,” he said, taking a single unhurried step forward.

My breath caught and a familiar flutter stirred in my chest. There was only one person who had ever called me that. 

But he had left in the middle of the night without a word. Four years ago.

I smothered the feeling before it could take hold. Anger was safer.

“What do you want, Graham?”

Chapter Two →

Thank you…

When I started Monroe + Aiden, I wasn’t sure where it would take me, only that I wanted to tell their story.

Finishing it feels a little surreal.

To those who followed along, read each chapter, or even stopped by for a moment, thank you. Truly.

This story means more to me than I can quite put into words.

And while Monroe + Aiden’s journey has come to an end… this is only the beginning here. 🤎

Love, The Feral Bookster


What’s Coming…

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M+A Chapter 11

I retired to my sitting room for the evening and settled into the chair before the fireplace.

Alice returned a few moments later with a steaming cup of tea, handed it to me, and then tended the fire.

“Did you enjoy yourself today?” she asked. “I have yet to see Bedford Park, but I hear it’s wonderful.”

“Yes,” I said. “It’s lovely. You would like it very much.”

Alice smiled. “Well, I shall leave you to your evening. Good night, Monroe.”

“Goodnight, Alice.”

She gathered the tray and slipped quietly from the room.

The soft crackle of the fire filled the silence, and I was left alone with my thoughts.

I thought of the lawn trimmed to perfection. The gravel walkways raked smooth. Not a bloom out of place.

Alexander suited it. He was immaculate, composed. Every thread in order. He maintained himself as carefully as he maintained the park and his kingdom.

And yet my thoughts drifted. To moss-covered rocks. To wildflowers shifting in the breeze. To a quiet stream cutting through untouched earth. To Aiden standing there, unguarded.

A familiar warmth bloomed behind my ribs.

I caught myself imagining a life beyond duty and structure and composure. A life unmapped by others. And I was struck by how fiercely some hidden part of me wanted it.

I shook my head and set my teacup aside.

I was not meant to want such things. That was not the life I had been shaped for.

Duty first, I reminded myself.

I tried to rebuild the walls of expectation around me, but no matter how hard I tried, they felt too thin.

The room closed in. The air grew heavy in my lungs.

I needed air.

I pulled my robe from the back of the chair and shrugged it on.

I quietly turned the latch and stepped into the darkened hallway, the door whispering shut behind me.

The stone was cool against my bare feet as I moved silently down the corridors. Silver moonlight spilled through the narrow windows, lighting my way.

My footsteps barely echoed as I turned the first corner heading toward the balcony I knew lay ahead.

The double doors appeared just as a sound echoed behind me. My steps quickened instinctively.

I risked a glance behind me, catching the orange flicker of candlelight dancing along the wall just beyond the corner I’d come from.

Just as I turned back around, I collided with a solid wall of muscle.

I gasped and staggered backwards, but two strong hands caught my waist, steadying me.

“Princess?”

My eyes snapped upward, meeting bright green irises.

“Aiden?” I breathed.

Before I could fully register that Aiden’s hands were on my waist—and that my own fingers were clutching the strong lines of his arms—a sharp voice rang through the corridor.

Aiden’s head turned instantly toward the voice, his posture going rigid, his gaze sharpening.

Keeping one hand secured around my waist, he used the other to swing open the balcony door and drew me inside with him.

He quickly shut the door behind us and braced his back against the wall, holding me securely against his chest.

“Aiden…”

“Not yet, Princess,” he whispered. “Wait till they pass.”

I nodded and bit down on my bottom lip. Aiden’s gaze dipped there for just a second before snapping back to the door.

The orange candlelight grew brighter.

The footsteps grew louder.

They halted just outside the door.

Aiden’s grip tightened on my waist, his fingers bunching the fabric of my robe. My fingers dug into his skin in return.

For endless seconds we clung to one another, breaths held, eyes fixed on the door and the shadow behind them.

The latch jiggled the slightest fraction. I squeezed my eyes shut and hid my face in Aiden’s chest.

A muffled voice rose outside the door.

The footsteps retreated.

Aiden’s body relaxed against mine, his breath warm against the side of my cheek as he slowly exhaled.

I lifted my head and found Aiden’s gaze already on me.

My breath caught in my throat. 

Moonlight brushed across his skin, tracing the strong line of his jaw and the curve of his lips.

A cool breeze stirred the night air, but I barely felt it. Our bodies were pressed flush together, the heat of him seeping through the thin barrier of fabric and settling low in my core.

Each nerve in my body felt like a live wire, sparking at each point we touched.

He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. My skin tingled where his palm brushed my cheek.

His hand did not fall away. His palm remained at my cheek, cradling my face as though he could not bear to let me go.

And I did not want him to.

His gaze dipped to my lips once more, lingering there, before slowly returning to my eyes.

Our gazes held. 

His head dropped a fraction lower. His nose brushed mine, his breath ghosting across my mouth.

His mouth hovered above mine, so close I could almost feel the warmth of his lips.

My eyes fluttered shut, fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic.

I rose onto my toes, my chin tipping upward.

Aiden’s fingers pressed deeper into my waist.

Then, his forehead dropped to mine. 

“We can’t.” His voice was rough, as if the words themselves pained him. 

“I know,” I whispered, my own voice cracking.

Aiden’s jaw tightened. His grip loosened—reluctantly, almost painfully so—before his hands slid away from me.

I took a single step back, creating space that felt far too wide, far too cold. The loss of his warmth was jarring.

My arms fell back to my sides, fingers clutching my robe to keep them from trembling.

His gaze lingered on me—conflicted, aching with everything left unsaid—before he finally forced his eyes away.

He pushed off the wall, hands balled into fists, knuckles white.

“I should…” he started, then cut himself off. His voice was more strained than before. He cleared his throat. “We shouldn’t be here.”

I forced myself to nod, even though every part of me wanted to close the distance again. Wanted to pretend the world outside that door didn’t exist.

But it did.

I searched for the familiar steadiness, the polished calm I had been taught to wear like armor, but it was gone. I looked away and started for the door.

My fingers had just grazed the latch when movement flickered at the edges of my vision.

Aiden caught my wrist.

“Monroe…” his voice low and strained caught on my name.

I turned just enough to see the conflict on his face—the tight line of his jaw and the flare of his nostrils.

He drew in a sharp breath.

His fingers flexed instinctively against my skin, but he did not let go.

My pulse hammered beneath his fingertips.

“Don’t.”

His fingers tightened.

Then I was moving—pulled toward him.

His hands rose and cupped my face.

His mouth claimed mine.

For a single, breathless moment my mind went blank.

My lips softened beneath his. But before my body could fully follow, he broke the kiss.

My body swayed, dizzy.

My eyes fluttered open.

His breath came ragged in the narrow space between us.

“Aiden,” I breathed.

Realization flickered across his face.

His hands pulled away.

By the time the haze lifted, Aiden was at the door.

His hand closed around the latch. He paused and looked back at me.

Then the door opened, and he was gone.

Chapter Twelve

M+A Chapter 10

The curtains in my chambers were drawn back, and morning light flooded the room.

I sat up and stretched my arms over my head. “Morning, Alice,” I said through a yawn.

“Good morning, Monroe,” Alice answered, already sorting through gowns, muttering something about the prince and the picnic planned for the day.

I slipped off the bed and came to stand behind Alice. I rested my hands on her shoulders and gave a light squeeze. “You worry too much, dear Alice.”

“It is my job to worry,” she replied.

 “Well, if one of us must, I am grateful you do it so diligently,” I said, pressing a quick kiss to her cheek before moving toward the bathing chamber.

“You are in quite an agreeable mood, this morning,” she observed. “Excited for the picnic with the prince?”

I lifted a shoulder, but I could not suppress the faint curve of my lips. “Something like that,” I said.

After I bathed and dressed, I settled in the parlor.

Boot steps echoed in the corridor.

My pulse thrummed beneath my skin, my lips faintly curving into a smile.

I turned as the parlor doors opened.

Alexander stepped into view.

Disappointment flickered through my chest. My smile faltered, just barely, before I composed myself. The mask felt suddenly foreign.

 I rose from the settee and smoothed my hand down the front of my bodice.

“Good morning, Prince.”

“Princess Monroe,” Alexander said, “I’m glad you could join me.”

“As am I,” I said, but the words felt flat.

He held out his arm and led us to the waiting carriage.

“I know this outing comes later than intended,” Alexander said. “The past days have demanded more of me than I had anticipated.”

“I understand,” I said. “You have obligations to the crown that must be fulfilled. Duty comes first.”

Alexander smiled at that.

As he spoke of duty and obligations, I was struck with a sobering clarity. I, too, belonged first to duty. In recent weeks, I had allowed myself to forget that, had almost convinced myself otherwise.

The carriage stopped in front of a vast green expanse that stretched as far as I could see. Stone benches nestled under pink and white flowering trees, floral vines climbed up trellises and arbors, and at its center a sprawling hedge maze.

Alexander helped me from the carriage and offered me his arm. He guided us toward a towering magnolia tree. A white wrought iron picnic table and two chairs were tucked beneath its canopy of pale blossoms.

The table had already been set. Crisp linens laid neatly, covered dishes arranged with care, polished silver cutlery glinting in the sunlight—clear evidence of thoughtful preparation. Yet it felt less like a picnic and more like a carefully curated scene.

And I knew, without thinking, exactly how I should behave within it.

Alexander pulled out the chair for me. I smiled and inclined my head before taking my seat. A servant uncovered the dishes, revealing fresh bread and soft cheeses, cold meats, small tarts and pastries. I remarked how lovely everything looked. Another servant filled our glasses with wine. I thanked them.

I wore the mask as if it had never slipped at all.

“I’m glad the weather held for us,” Alexander said, lifting his glass. “The park rarely looks this inviting after the spring rains.”

“Yes, it’s beautiful,” I agreed. “I didn’t realize Bedford had anything like this.”

 “My grandfather created it,” he said. “He loved the outdoors nearly as much as he loved ruling. He believed a kingdom should offer people, and its rulers, space to breathe.”

I smiled faintly. “That sounds like a wise way to live.”

Alexander inclined his head. “Perhaps. I never quite inherited his fondness for lingering in places like this. But I understand the value of maintaining what he built.”

I understood what he meant, even respected it. Though I admired his sense of responsibility, a quiet part of me longed for the kind of life his grandfather had embraced—one that allowed room for stillness and wonder and finding joy alongside responsibility.

It was a quiet distinction, but one that felt larger than it should have.

As Alexander spoke, my eyes strayed beyond the flowering trees, catching a familiar glimpse of silver. Aiden stood watch, still and composed.

His eyes met mine.

My traitorous heart stuttered.

For a fraction, the practiced rhythm of the afternoon wavered.

I tore my gaze away and returned my attention to Alexander, schooling my expression into a relaxed smile.

We spoke easily after that—about the estate, the changing seasons, the pace of court life. The conversation was pleasant, thoughtful, and polite. Exactly what it ought to have been. And yet, beneath the civility, something remained just out of reach. A warmth I could not quite summon, no matter how I tried.

“Allow me to show you the maze,” Alexander said after the servants had cleared the table. “It was another of my grandfather’s creations.”

“Of course,” I said, rising from my seat.

The maze was formed of low, neatly trimmed hedges that curved and looped across the lawn, no higher than my waist, revealing the full shape of the winding paths. Sunlight danced across their glossy leaves and spilled across the open corridors.

We had just maneuvered through the first section when a faint buzzing brushed past my ear.

I halted abruptly on the gravel path. I sucked in a sharp breath, rooting myself to the spot.

My eyes tracked the bee as it cut jagged lines through the air, unable to look away. The bee zipped past my face and I flinched, biting down on my lip to hold back a shaky whimper.

Only then did Alexander turn. “Princess Monroe?”

His voice barely reached me over the blood rushing in my ears and the relentless, panicked beating of my heart.

A chill raced through my body as the bee zig-zagged closer, the buzz of its wings as loud as the chaos inside my head.

A small, breathless plea tumbled from my lips before I could stop it.

Alexander’s brows furrowed in confusion, his mouth parting as if to speak. Aiden stepped in his path before he could.

“Monroe.” His voice was barely a whisper, yet it was impossibly steady. Unshakable. It cut clean through the panic.

“It cannot hurt you,” he said, calm and steady. He stepped closer, gently wrapping both his hands around my forearms. 

“Look at me, Monroe.”  He lowered his face to meet my gaze. 

My eyes locked on to Aiden’s bright green irises. 

The maze dissolved. The noise, the buzzing, the world beyond him—gone.

There was only Aiden.

“Breathe,” he said.

His voice, his grip, were my anchors. I could do nothing but obey. 

I drew in a shaky breath.

“That’s good,” he murmured as I released it. “Again.”

Another breath. The panic loosened its grip.

Aiden nodded. “You’re doing well, Monroe. Take one more big breath for me.”

Aiden’s hands slid to my elbows as he gently guided me a step to the left. Over his shoulder, I caught the bee’s quick movement as it darted away.

A long breath left from me as the world slid back into place.

“Are you alright?” Aiden asked, voice low.

“Yes, I—” I swallowed thickly, acutely aware of how close Aiden still was.

The warmth of his hands seeped through my skin. Pine and leather filled my lungs. I caught the faintest hitch in his breath before he spoke. “Princess?”

Boots crunched over the gravel, the sound dragging me fully back to the present.

“Sir Aiden?” Alexander’s voice came more clearly.

Aiden did not move. His fingers tightened slightly against my arms, his gaze searching mine.

“I’m alright,” I breathed, dipping my head once.

Only then did he release me and step back.

Before Alexander reached me, I caught Aiden’s eyes for a fleeting second. I shaped the words silently. Thank you.

His expression softened before duty reclaimed him.

Alexander glanced between us, his brows drawing together faintly. “Are you quite alright, Princess?”

“I am,” I said. “I’m afraid I have never fared well with bees. I’m allergic.”

“Allergic?” His brows rose. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware.”

Aiden’s reaction was quick, nearly imperceptible, but I caught it all the same. His gaze flicked to Alexander, his jaw tightening.

“No need to apologize, Your Majesty. I don’t often like to make my vulnerabilities known.”

Alexander’s expression shifted, as though filing the information away. He nodded once.

“Well then, I believe we have had sufficient excitement for one afternoon,” Alexander said. “We should return.”

His arm settled lightly at my back as he guided us toward the carriage.

Aiden’s gaze rested between my shoulder blades.

And somehow, it comforted me more than the prince’s hand at my back.

Chapter Eleven


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