novella

G+B Chapter 17: Secrets Revealed — Graham

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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 16: Blank Pages

/ feralbookster / 1 Comment

Graham’s arm slid from my waist, and I felt his weight shift behind me. 

His bare feet padded softly across the floor, and I heard the slide of his dresser drawer opening, the rustle of clothing, then the drawer closing. His door cracked open, and a minute later, the shower kicked on. 

I opened my eyes just long enough to register the dim blue sky through the window before drifting back to sleep. 

When I stirred again, Graham was pressing a kiss to my forehead. 

“Graham?” I mumbled.

“Sorry, baby. I didn’t mean to wake you,” he said, lifting the blanket higher over my shoulders.

“Are you leaving?” 

“I’m needed on-site today,” he whispered. “I’ll be back in the afternoon.”

“Mmkay,” I said.

He planted another kiss to my forehead, and I was asleep again before he left the room.

I turned, reaching across the bed for Graham, but my hand found cool sheets instead.

My brows furrowed and my eyes drifted open. 

Oh yeah. He’d already left. 

Sunlight stretched into the room, falling across the empty spot beside me. He must’ve been gone for a few hours already. 

I climbed out of bed and wandered into the kitchen. There was a notecard propped against the coffee machine. 

“Coffee’s prepped and ready to go. Love you. G.” I read aloud.

God, this man might actually be pure perfection.

I hit the start icon on the machine, then moved to the small window above the sink and drew open the curtains.

Some small patches of snow still lingered, but more of the yard was visible now than it had been a few days ago. For the first time in weeks, the heavy gray clouds were gone, replaced by puffy white ones and a clear blue sky. It seemed like spring was finally on its way.

I turned away from the window and sat at the kitchen table while I waited for the coffee to brew. 

My notebook was still on the table where I’d left it yesterday. I slid it in front of me, but something sticking out from between the pages caught my attention.

I pulled it from my notebook.

“Another card?”

I knew this is where you’d end up. Sometimes I think I know you better than you know yourself. Anyway, I have something for you. You’ll have to find Bear first. He holds the key. 

Coffee forgotten, I set the notecard down and went looking for Bear. I checked the living room first, remembering Graham setting him on the couch when we’d gotten back from the apartment. But Bear wasn’t there. I scanned the living room. There were only so many places he could be. He wasn’t on the coffee table or a bookshelf, nor was he sitting by the fireplace.

Where the hell did he go? 

I headed down the hall to check Graham’s room, since that’s where we’d been spending our nights together lately, but quickly discarded the idea. I would have noticed Bear in there when I’d woken up. 

That’s when I noticed my bedroom door was shut. I never shut my door. 

I opened the door, and there he was. Bear was propped up against the pillows on my bed, and tucked in his lap was another notecard. 

I picked up the notecard first, then Bear. Just as I was about to read the notecard, something hit the floor with a clink.

It was a small key. 

I grabbed it from the floor and turned it over in my fingers. I didn’t recognize it. It was too small to be a house key, and it wasn’t like I needed one of those anyway.

I turned my attention back to the notecard. 

You dropped the key, didn’t you?

“No,” I said, scowling at the card. 

I set Bear back on the bed and gave him a serious look. “Do not tell him I just did that. This stays between you and me.”

I continued reading Graham’s note.

Now that you have the key (that you’ll swear you didn’t drop), you’ll find what it belongs to in the place I once found you.

My brows scrunched together. “The place I once found you? What the hell does that mean?” 

The apartment? No, it couldn’t be. I didn’t have a way to get there. The shed in the woods I’d gotten stuck in during the blizzard? I shook my head. Hell no. He wouldn’t risk me going out there. Assuming I could even find it again.

Where the hell could he be talking about? 

I left my room and headed back toward the living room. Then it hit me. His office! The day I’d found my old notebook!

His office door was shut. There was keyhole, but it looked too large for the one in my hand. 

I turned the knob, and it gave way. “So, not the door then.”

I stepped inside his office and looked around but saw nothing that the key might fit into. No box, no chest, nothing. Maybe it was for one of the drawers in his desk? But I’d already looked through them before and didn’t remember seeing any keyholes.

It was worth a shot to check again, though, so I walked around his desk and sat in his chair. In the middle of the desk, right above my knees, there was a long, narrow drawer. And in the center, a keyhole. 

I slid the key inside. It was a perfect fit. 

I unlocked the drawer and pulled it open. 

A bright pink bow sat on top of a piece of white tissue paper. I pulled the bow and tissue paper away, and my breath caught. 

It was a brand-new sketchbook. It had a tan leather cover, engraved with my name—Bambi, this time. Not Hazel, like on the notebook. I undid the tie that held the sketchbook closed and opened to the first page. 

I hope you love it and get great use out of it. Thought you deserved something better than a beat-up old notebook.

I love you, Bambi.

Graham.

Tears filled my eyes. He really was perfection.

I lifted the sketchbook from the drawer and noticed something else underneath it.

There were four smaller packages wrapped in white tissue paper. I pulled the first one out and tore the paper away. It was a pack of sketching pencils. The second one was pens. As I started to unwrap the third, a loud ringing interrupted me.

I looked around, confused as to where the ringing was coming from. For a split second, I thought it might be Graham’s phone, that he’d come home without me realizing because I’d been so absorbed in unwrapping my gifts. But then I noticed that the ringing was coming from the drawer.

I quickly tore off the paper from the fourth package. Tucked inside the box was an iPhone, its screen flashing with Graham’s name and a photo of him.

I pulled the phone from the box and swiped across the screen, answering the FaceTime call.

His face came into view.

“Hey, beautiful,” he said, grinning like a fucking madman. “I see you found my gifts.”

I wiped the tears from my cheeks. “I can’t believe you sent me on a scavenger hunt before I’ve even had my coffee. You’re diabolical, Graham.”

“The first notecard was literally set against the coffee machine, Bambi.” 

“Yeah, I know. But I found the second one while I was waiting for the coffee. I couldn’t not go looking for Bear.”

“Of course not.” Graham chuckled and shook his head. “Well? Do you like your gifts?”

“I love them,” I told him, tears welling in my eyes all over again. “Thank you, Graham.”

“You’re welcome, baby,” he said, a strange echo following his words.

I squinted at my phone, trying to get a look at the background. Something about it seemed familiar. 

“Where are you?” I asked. 

I heard the front door shut, and a moment later, Graham appeared in the doorway. 

“Home,” he said, looking at me. 

I set my phone on the desk and ran into his arms. He hugged me tightly, lifting me from the ground and spinning us in a circle. 

“I love you so much. Thank you for everything, Graham. Thank you!” 

I pressed kiss after kiss to his cheek until he was laughing so hard that I was shaking against him.

“Anytime,” he said, setting me back down. “Anything to see that smile of yours.”

“God,” I said, sucking in a sharp breath. “Stop being so cute. You’re going to—” I hiccupped. “Make me cry—” Another hiccup. “Again.”

“Sorry, sorry.” He wrapped me in his arms and kissed the top of my head. 

“I thought you were at work,” I said, looking up at him. “How did you even pull this off?”

“I was. I’d been putting it all together for a while, but I set it all up before I left this morning.”

He released me and headed for the kitchen. “You’re a damn heavy sleeper, you know that.”

Huh. I didn’t use to be. But now that I thought about it, ever since I’d started sleeping in Graham’s room, I’d been sleeping better than ever. 

“Oh. That reminds me,” I said, following after him. “I thought you worked from home?”

“I usually do. I’m occasionally needed on site, but it doesn’t happen that often.”

Graham started setting things out on the counter. 

“What are you doing?” I asked. 

“Celebratory PB&J’s.” He held up the jar of peanut butter in one hand and the jelly in the other. “Duh.”

There was something so endearing about him standing there with a goofy grin on his face, peanut butter and jelly in his hands, that all I wanted was to freeze this moment in time. 

“Don’t move!” I shouted at him, before hurrying back to his office to grab my phone. “I mean it! Not a muscle!” 

I snatched it up from the desk, opened the camera, and ran back to the kitchen to snap a photo. 

“Perfect,” I said, grinning at the picture. “I love it.”

“I’m glad,” he said, turning back to make our sandwiches.

“Can I just ask? Why the phone? The art supplies I get, but I’ve gotten so used to being without a phone that it almost feels weird having one again.”

Graham set our PB&J’s on the kitchen table, then pulled out a chair for me.

“You needed one,” he said, taking his seat. “If something happens while I’m out, I want you to be able to reach me. And vice versa.”

“Oh. Yeah, that makes sense. I guess I never really thought about it that way.”

“Exactly. I’m not required to be on site very often, but there are times, like today, where I am. Most job sites are pretty safe, but accidents can happen.”

“Was your job site today safe?”

“Definitely. Probably the safest one I’ve been to yet. It’s a summer camp about an hour from here. Camp Green Cay. The owner, Dane, and his girlfriend Kylee are renovating the main lodge. If anything, Kylee is the only dangerous thing on the site. She’s a spitfire, that one. Not hard to tell that she’s the one who actually runs the show.”

I took a bite of my sandwich. “I like her already.”

“I’m sure you do.” He laughed. “Lord help us the day you two meet.”

“Can’t wait.” I smirked.

“I’ve actually gotta head back in a few days. I can give her your number.”

“That would be great,” I said.

After we finished eating, we headed back into Graham’s office to collect my new things and bring them into the living room.

We spent the rest of the afternoon on the couch, talking about what I might draw first in my sketchbook. Graham listened to me gush over my new pens and pencils. He let me take way too many photos of him and an embarrassing number of selfies of us without a single complaint. I, of course, set the goofiest photo of him as his new caller ID. 

By the time we settled into bed that night, I realized what I wanted to put on the first page of my sketchbook.

“I know what I’m going to draw,” I told Graham.

“What is it?”

“The cottage.”

“The cottage? Why?”

“I don’t know how to explain it,” I said. “It’s just… this feeling I have. I want the cottage to be the first thing I draw.”

There were a million different feelings wrapped up in that little cottage, most of which I didn’t have names for. It just felt… right.

Graham pulled me against him, and I rested my head on his chest. “I think that’s a great idea,” he said.

“Yeah. Me too.”

Chapter Seventeen →

G+B Chapter 15: Out With the Old

/ feralbookster / 1 Comment

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 →

M+A Chapter 3

/ feralbookster / Leave a comment

For a single, immutable instant, time stilled around us.

Aiden’s green eyes met mine, something unreadable flickering there before his expression smoothed back into discipline.

“Let me introduce you,” Alexander said, his voice pulling me back to the present. 

I couldn’t argue, so I let him guide me towards Aiden.

He looked even more striking than before. His chestnut-colored hair fell just above his shoulders, half of it tied back, the rest loose and unruly. His green eyes seemed brighter now, reminding me of the rain-soaked hills in spring. He no longer wore his travel-worn armor but a formal uniform, the polished silver breastplate bearing Bedfords insignia, edged in gold. 

The sight of him stirred something inside me too dangerous to name. 

As we approached, he bowed, the warm candlelight glinting off his breastplate. “Your Majesty,” he addressed Alexander.

“I’d like you to meet Your Highness Princess Monroe,” Alexander said.

It was a miracle I remembered my manners, let alone how to speak. I smiled politely and curtsied. “Pleased to make your acquaintance, Sir Aiden.”

He bowed again. “Your Highness.”

Alexander turned and smiled. “Sir Aiden has served the crown with distinction. You are in capable hands, Princess.”

His hand fell to the small of my back as he said to Aiden, “I’m placing something of great value in your hands.”

“I understand, Your Majesty,” Aiden replied with a curt nod.

Alexander’s attention shifted toward oncoming courtiers, “It seems we’re being summoned.” Then quietly to Aiden, “Stay close,” and Aiden fell into silent step behind us. 

Conversation continued around us, but I found it hard to focus, too aware of the knight at my back. He said nothing, did nothing to draw attention, yet the space around me felt altered as if the air had shifted.

Without meaning to, I glanced over my shoulder. Aiden’s gaze was already on me. Not openly, not boldly, but it was there all the same. 

Heat rushed to my face, and I turned forward at once, my pulse stuttering. 

Foolish, Monroe.

As the event drew to a close, I was out of pleasantries, compliments, and small talk. My cheeks hurt from forced smiles, my feet throbbed, and my mind could no longer distinguish one noble from the next. Blessedly, our farewells were swift. 

“It has been an utmost honor, Princess Monroe,” Alexander said. “I have matters to attend to this evening, so I must turn you over to Sir Aiden’s care. I do look forward to our next meeting.”

With that, he brought our joined hands to his lips and pressed a polite, modest kiss to my knuckles. 

“The honor was mine, Your Majesty,” I replied.

Alexander smiled brightly, his blue eyes shining. “Sir Aiden will show you to your chamber. Good evening, Princess.”

I curtsied for a final time, and when I straightened, Aiden stood before me. 

His features remained impassive, neutral, betraying nothing more beyond strict discipline and obedience to his duty. “This way, Your Highness,” he said, his tone measured and reserved.

All the way through the great hall, through the castle, and into the winding corridors beyond, Aiden maintained a respectful distance—never more than two feet away. Yet I could feel his presence as something separate from him entirely. 

The walk to my chambers felt both too long and entirely too short. When Aiden came to a stop in front of the ornately carved door relief washed over me, followed by something I had no right to feel. Disappointment.

“Thank you, Sir Aiden,” I said.

“Rest well, Your Highness,” he replied. 

I lingered a moment longer, looking up at the man who had stirred something dangerous to life within me with nothing more than a few restrained words.

My mouth opened, then closed.

 Footsteps echoed down the corridor, drawing closer. 

Aiden’s jaw clenched. Then, without a word, he bowed and turned away.

I slipped into my chambers, closed the door, and pressed my forehead to the cool wood. 

Foolish, Monroe.

Chapter Four