short-story

G+B Chapter 21: The Witch — Graham

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The drive back was the longest fucking twenty minutes of my life.

I wanted to call the police, but that meant ending the facetime with Bambi. It was my only lifeline to her, the only way I could know if she were okay. But the only thing I’d seen in the last five minutes was the ceiling.

“Just hold on, Bambi.” I gritted my teeth, ended the FaceTime call, and dialed the police.

When I pulled up to the cottage, Caroline’s shitbox was parked askew in the driveway.

God. How fucked up was she to park like that?

The dispatcher had told me to wait for police to arrive, to not intervene, but waiting felt like going against my every instinct.

I yanked my phone from the dash mount, threw the door open, and jumped out of the truck, not even bothering to kill the engine or shut the door.

Fuck that. My girl was inside.

I was halfway to the front door when I forced myself to stop and head to the window instead. I didn’t know what I’d be walking into, and I couldn’t risk Bambi getting hurt by barging inside.

The blinds were half-open, and I peered inside.

Bambi stood in front of the couch, Caroline just inches from her face. Caroline’s expression twisted as she spoke, a vein bulging in her neck.

Bambi held up her hands like she was trying to calm Caroline and put distance between them, but Caroline shoved her back onto the couch.

Fuck. No. I’m done fucking waiting.

I raced toward the front door, grabbed the knob, and twisted. By the grace of fucking God, it was unlocked.

The door slammed against the wall behind it.

“Get the hell away from her, Caroline!”

Bambi’s head snapped in my direction.

“Graham!” Her voice cracked, but the relief in it was unmistakable.

Caroline’s eyes widened, her hands curling into fists at her sides.

“You,” she sneered. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“You’re the one who shouldn’t be here, Caroline. You’re trespassing.”

I stepped farther into the living room, taking my eyes off Caroline just long enough to look Bambi over.

She didn’t look hurt. Thank fuck.

Caroline grabbed Bambi by the upper arm and yanked her off the couch. She stumbled into Caroline’s side.

“Fine. We were just leaving anyway.” She looked down at Bambi. “Weren’t we, Hazel?”

Bambi grimaced as Caroline’s fingers tightened around her arm.

“No,” Bambi said, trying to pull her arm free. “I’m not going anywhere with you.”

A muscle ticked in Caroline’s jaw. “Yes, you are.”

“Let her go, Caroline.”

Caroline ignored me and instead, lowered her voice as she spoke to Bambi. Her tone turned from cold to coaxing.

“He’s not good for you, Hazel. He’s trying to take advantage of you.”

“That’s funny, coming from you,” I said, taking a single step forward.

Caroline’s expression turned cold again as she looked at me. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Cut the shit, Caroline. You know exactly what I mean. Did you think we wouldn’t find out about Bambi’s trust?”

Caroline didn’t even bother trying to school her expression. Now that she’d been called out, there was no point in pretending.

“That money should’ve been mine,” she spat.

“Yours?” Bambi scoffed, trying again to pull her arm free from Caroline’s grip. “What? The life insurance you collected after my father died wasn’t enough for you?”

That caught Caroline off guard. Apparently, she hadn’t expected us to know about the policy either. But her momentary distraction gave me the opening I needed. I rushed forward and pulled Bambi free of her grip.

Caroline had the audacity to look fucking offended, and I nearly laughed. “It’s over, Caroline. The police are on their way. You’re not touching Bambi again or getting your hands on her money.”

I pulled Bambi into my side, and held her tight.

“You ungrateful, disrespectful, little—after everything I’ve done for you!” Caroline sneered.

“Enough!” I shouted. “You haven’t done shit except lie to and manipulate the both of us!”

Bambi’s fingers pressed into my side, her touch steadying, like she wasn’t asking me to back down, but letting me know she stood beside me.

“You weaponized my shame—my love for Bambi—and used it against me. You used Bambi for your own selfish fucking gain. It. Is. Over!”

Through the front window, I saw two police cars park in the drive, and three officers stepped out.

“This ends here. Today,” Bambi said.

Caroline lunged toward us with a snarl.

I turned, sheltering Bambi’s body with mine as I drew her out of the way. Caroline’s fingers just barely grazed my back before an officer grabbed her and pulled her away, securing her in handcuffs.

“Officer, please!” she said, struggling against the restraints. “This was just a misunderstanding! Tell them, Graham.”

The second officer stepped forward. “Graham Woods? You the one who made the call?”

“I am,” I said, still keeping Bambi close.

“Graham!” Caroline shouted. “Tell them!”

The officer gestured toward the kitchen. “Let’s step over there. I’ll need statements from both of you.”

“I am your mother! You can’t let them—”

“You brought this on yourself, Caroline.” I turned away from her, and together, Bambi and I followed after the officer.

After we gave our statements, the officer’s brought Caroline to their cruiser. She was still making a scene as they got her in the backseat. The door shut, cutting off her desperate pleas.

Bambi and I headed back inside the cottage without waiting for the officers to drive away.

Once the front door closed behind us, I pulled Bambi into my arms and hugged her tightly. My hands trembled against her back.

“I’m so sorry, Bambi. It’s my job to protect you, and I left you alone.”

“It’s not your fault. It’s not like either of us could’ve predicted she’d show up like that.”

I was so fucking pissed at Caroline, but I was just as pissed at myself. Was there something I’d missed? Some sign that Caroline might try some shit like this? Could I have prevented this?

Bambi pulled back and took my face in her hands. She rose onto her toes and pressed a light kiss to my lips.

“You did protect me, Graham. You got here as quickly as you could. It’s over now, okay? You’re here. I’m safe.”

“I should be the one comforting you, not the other way around,” I told her. “She pushed you. Hurt you.”

“I’m okay,” she said, rubbing the spot Caroline where had grabbed her. “Let me take care of you for once, Graham.”

I dropped my forehead to hers. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Bambi,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

She wrapped her arms around me, and I relaxed in her hold.

“Don’t let go.”

“Never,” she said.

Chapter Twenty Two

G+B Chapter 18: MIA — Graham

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This guy fucking sucks.

He really fucking sucks.

Bambi and I spent the last week trying to get in contact with the lawyer who handled her father’s estate, some dickwad named Joseph Randall, but he’s been giving us the fucking runaround. 

He’s either “busy with other cases,” “away from his office,” or just flat-out refuses to take our calls. 

Bambi is much more understanding than I am. I think the guy is shady as fuck.

“Would you stop pacing, Graham?” Bambi said. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Who the hell takes a two-hour lunch break at ten in the morning?”

“This guy, apparently. Now would you just chill out, please?”

I leaned against the brass plaque with Randall’s name etched into it, and crossed my arms.

“Thank you,” Bambi said. 

“Mmhmm.”

“Seriously, Graham. What is your deal?”

“You don’t find this the least bit weird? This guy’s been dodging us for a week. I told you we shouldn’t have called ahead. His secretary probably warned him we were coming. He’s probably not coming back here for the rest of the day.”

“You don’t know that,” she said. “He’s probably just—”

“Really busy?” I scoffed. “Right.”

Bambi walked over to me and stood in front of me. “Why are you so angry? I’ve never seen you this pissed off before.”

“Because we deserve answers. You deserve answers. And this fucking dipshit is the one who has them but won’t give them to us. I don’t get how you’re not angry.”

Bambi shrugged. “I’m plenty angry, trust me. But we’ve gone seven years without knowing about any of this. What’s another few hours?”

“I get that. I do. It’s not the waiting that I have a problem with. It’s the way this guy has been jerking us around. His business card should say certified dick for brains instead of lawyer.”

After finding his contact information on the trust document, Bambi and I thought we’d gotten incredibly lucky. Joke’s on us. The guy had done everything in his power to avoid talking to us since, and I was starting to wonder if it was on purpose.

Bambi pursed her lips, trying to hold back a laugh.

She ran her hands up and down my arms. “Let’s just give it a little longer. If he’s not here by one o’clock, we’ll leave.”

My phone started ringing. I pulled it out, allowing myself to hope it was Randall. Except it fucking wasn’t.

“God,” I groaned, silencing the call and shoving my phone back in my pocket. “Give it a rest already.”

“The clinic again?”

“Yeah. Third time this week. You’d think they’d get the hint by now.”

“Why don’t you just answer and tell them you’re not interested in what they have to say? Maybe then they’d stop calling.”

I sighed. “I just want to be done with her, you know? I’m not interested in anything she has to say. Besides, if it were that important, they’d leave a message.”

“Have they?”

“Nah. Not anymore, anyway. The last time they did, they didn’t give any specifics. Just that they needed to speak with me regarding Caroline.”

Bambi’s nose scrunched like it always did when she was concentrating, and she bit the inside of her cheek.

“What is it?” I asked.

She shifted on her feet. “It’s nothing.”

“Bambi?” I arched a brow, dipping my head to catch her gaze.

She drew in a deep breath. “Hear me out before you jump down my throat, okay?”

“I don’t know if Randall is being shady like you think he is or if he really is just that busy, but while we’re basically chasing our tails, there’s one person who has the answers we need. And unlike Randall, we know where she is. So why not go to the source? Why not ask her ourselves?”

“No.” I shook my head. “No way.”

“Oh, come on, Graham. At least think about it before you shoot the idea down. She’s our best chance at figuring this out.”

“My answer is no, Bambi.” I pushed off the wall and headed down the sidewalk toward the small lot where we’d parked the truck.

I heard Bambi hurry after me.

“Graham!” she called out. “Graham, stop!”

I halted at the corner of the street and waited for Bambi to catch up. 

“I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have brought it up. We’ll just wait for Randall or find someone else who can help.”

I squeezed my eyes shut and released a slow breath before turning to face her. 

Her eyes were glassy, tears threatening to spill over. 

Fuck me. I’m such a fucking dick.

“No, I’m the one who should be sorry, Bambi. I know you were just trying to help. I shouldn’t have reacted the way I did or walked away from you like that.”

She wrapped her arms around herself and fixed her eyes on the ground. 

“I shouldn’t have suggested it. After everything she’s put you through, I…”

I stepped toward her and took her by the elbows, pulling her closer until the tips of our shoes touched. I slipped my fingers beneath her chin to tilt her head up. She turned her head, pulling away and refusing to meet my eyes. 

“Bambi,” I said softly, reaching out again. This time, she let me guide her face toward mine. Tears slipped from her big brown eyes.

“I’m sorry. I’m an idiot.” I wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

Her bottom lip trembled. “You can’t do that, Graham,” she said, her voice cracking.

“I know.” I kissed her forehead. “Forgive me?”

She unfolded her arms and wrapped them around me.

“Yeah,” she sniffled.

I never told Bambi what had happened when I’d gone to see Caroline at the clinic. A part of me hadn’t wanted to admit that Caroline had gotten under my skin or how much she’d seemed to enjoy it. At the time, Bambi hadn’t fully known how cruel Caroline had been to me. I hadn’t wanted her to. 

But I wasn’t the same man I’d been the last time I visited her. And this time, I’d have Bambi by my side. Things might turn out differently. Maybe not necessarily better, but… yeah. Differently. 

This wasn’t about me anyway. This was about Bambi. This was for Bambi.

I slid my hands to Bambi’s waist and took a step back. “I’ll call the clinic back,” I said. “We’ll go talk to her.”

“It’s okay. We don’t have to.”

“No, you were right, Bambi. We’re clearly not getting anywhere with Randall. Our next best option is to talk to Caroline.”

“Are you sure?”

No. “I’m sure.”

I took Bambi’s hand in mine. “But if she says one wrong thing, if she even fucking looks at you wrong, we’re leaving.”

“Deal,” she said. 

Back at the truck, I opened Bambi’s door and waited for her to climb in and buckle before closing it. 

I got in behind the wheel and pulled my phone from my pocket.

“You don’t want to wait till we get home?” 

“I’d rather just get it over with.”

I pulled up the clinics number and clipped my phone into the dash mount before backing out of the parking spot.

I drew in a sharp breath, steeling myself for the call I was about to make. 

Then I hit the call button.

The line rang twice before someone picked up. “Thanks for calling Second Chances Rehab. Macy speaking. How may I assist you today?”

“This is Graham Woods. My mother, Caroline, is a patient there.”

“Last name is Woods, you said?”

“That’s correct. I got a call from you guys a little while ago.”

“Right. Yes. Um, could you hold, please?”

Bambi looked at me from the passenger seat, her brows pinching together.

“Sure,” I said, shaking my head and shrugging at Bambi.

The line clicked, and soft hold music filtered through the speaker. 

“What’s that about?” Bambi asked, keeping her voice low.

“No idea.”

A minute or so later, the hold music stopped, and Macy’s voice came through.

“Mr. Woods? You still there?”

“Yeah. I was just wondering if it would be possible to arrange a visit with my mother this afternoon. I’m about ten minutes away.”

“Yes. About that, sir. Our records show that your mother is no longer with us.”

“I’m sorry, what? What are you saying?”

Macy sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh goodness me. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it like that, Mr. Woods. What I mean is that your mother is no longer a patient here. She was discharged.”

“What do you mean she was discharged?”

“Um, she was… discharged?”

“Macy, with all due respect, may I speak with a supervisor, please?”

Macy was silent for a moment, then said, “Of course. I’ll connect you right away.”

I pulled onto the shoulder and switched on the hazards.

A moment later, a man picked up. “Good afternoon, Mr. Woods. I’m Dr. Sutton, the facility director. I understand you’re inquiring about your mother.”

“Yeah, and your receptionist told me she was discharged. Why?”

“Your mother checked herself out, Mr. Woods.”

“And you didn’t try to stop her?”

“We’re a rehabilitation clinic, sir, not a prison. Your mother was here voluntarily. We strongly advised her to continue treatment, but we couldn’t force her to stay. She chose to leave against medical advice.”

I rubbed at my temples, an ache beginning to form behind my eyes.

“How long ago was this?”

“About two weeks ago. It looks like multiple attempts were made to contact you about your mother’s departure, but all attempts were unsuccessful.”

“Christ,” I said under my breath. If I’d just answered my goddamn phone.

“Yeah, okay. Thanks.”

“Of course. Anything else I can do for you, Mr. Woods?”

“Did she happen to mention where she might be going?”

“No, sir. She didn’t provide us with that information.”

Fuck. Fuck. Fucking fuck.

“Alright. Thanks.”

I disconnected the call before he could reply. 

“What do we do now?” Bambi asked.

I lowered my head to the steering wheel.

Either we kept pressing Mr. Dipshit Randall or we tried to track down Caroline. Neither one of those options was appealing in the least. 

“I have no fucking idea,” I said, a sinking feeling forming in my stomach. 

Caroline had been MIA for two weeks. Where the fuck could she have gone? She sure as shit couldn’t get into the apartment. Not anymore, at least. I had the locks changed the day after the junk guys had been there.  She didn’t have any family locally to stay with, either, which meant she was probably crashing with one of her dealers.

More importantly, though, why hadn’t she shown her face? 

The feeling in my gut only worsened.

Bambi’s hand smoothed down my back. “Let’s just go home, okay? Fuck Randall. Fuck Caroline. We’ll find another way.”

I turned to look at her. “Yeah.”

I sat up, turned off the hazards, and pulled back onto the road.

Chapter Nineteen →

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

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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 14: Heart to Heart

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I stepped onto the back porch, a coffee mug nestled between my hands, its warmth seeping into my palms. I sat in one of the Adirondack chairs and watched as the sun broke over the horizon, painting the sky in soft cotton candy hues.

I looked out across the property. A thin layer of snow still covered the yard, though patches had begun to melt, revealing the earth beneath. A light dusting clung to tree branches, making them look like they’d been sprinkled with powdered sugar. 

My view used to consist of a cracked parking lot and overflowing dumpsters. It was honestly kind of wild to think that this is where I’d ended up. I never imagined I’d be living in a quaint little cottage… and with Graham of all people. 

What was even fucking wilder was that he was sleeping. In. My. Bed. My bed. Naked.

My cheeks heated at the memory of last night. 

I could still feel the imprint of him—the softness of his mouth, the strength of his hands. Every part of him. My fingers traced the outline of my lips, as if I could hold the memory there a little longer.

Some would say it was morally wrong, what happened between us. Especially Caroline. But I couldn’t find it in me to care. With Graham, I mattered. I belonged. 

I was finally home.

The back door creaked open. 

Graham appeared behind me, planting his hands on the arms of my chair. He leaned down, burying his face in the crook of my neck, and pressed light kiss there.

 “Good morning,” he mumbled against my skin.

He pulled away, and I tilted my head back to look up at him. “Morning,” I said.

 “How are you feeling?” he asked, coming to sit in the chair beside me. 

“I’m good,” I answered. “A little sore, but good.” 

“I’m sorry.” He reached across to take my hand, lacing his fingers between mine. “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” 

“You didn’t. Not at all, Graham.” I squeezed his hand. “It was perfect.”

He gave me a smile, then brought my hand to his lips and kissed my knuckles. “Yeah. It was.” 

I smiled back at him, a warmth spreading through my chest as if sunlight had found its way inside. 

I let my gaze drift over the property again. “Have I ever told you how much I love it here?”

“No,” he said. “But I’m glad you do.” 

He looked thoughtful for a moment, then continued. “My father left it to me in his will. I didn’t even know this place existed until one of his lawyers contacted me. Hell, I hadn’t even known he’d passed.”

“I’m sorry, Graham.”

He shrugged a shoulder, but the way his fingers tightened against mine betrayed how painful it still was for him. 

I’d never known much about his father, only that he’d left shortly after Graham was born. I almost envied him for that. I had a few memories of my mom, but as the years passed, there were times I’d think of her and wonder whether my memories were real or something I’d simply imagined. 

“After Caroline kicked me out, I pretty much lived on the streets. After a few months, some guy who ran a pizza joint downtown found me and offered me his couch and a job. I worked my ass off there, bussing tables and shit, saving every penny I could until I could to get my own place. Then one day, some hot-shot walked in and asked to speak with me. Turns out, he was the lawyer handling my father’s estate. He sat me down in a corner booth, told me my dad had passed, and then basically handed me the keys to this place.”

“At least one of our parents did something right,” I mumbled.

Graham turned to me, his expression somber. “Come here,” he said.

He released my hand, and I stood, crossing the small distance between our chairs. Graham pulled me into his lap and wrapped his arms around me.

“I’m sorry I didn’t come back sooner.”

“It’s okay. I understand why you couldn’t. And I don’t blame you for it.” I chuckled. “Anymore.”

He leaned his head against mine. “I tried to come back for you once.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. Stood in the parking lot staring up at the apartment for like an hour, trying to convince myself to walk inside. I was afraid of what Caroline might do if I did. I had no idea she was out. She came back and found me just standing there, looking up at the place.” 

“I didn’t know. She never said anything.”

“Nah,” he said. “She wouldn’t have. She basically tore me a new one in the parking lot. I’m surprised no one heard her screaming at me and called the police.”

I stiffened in Graham’s hold. How was it possible that Caroline could be two completely different people? She’d never really treated me like her own daughter, but she’d never been cruel to me either. I’d never imagined she was capable of that kind of cruelty. And to her own son, no less. It made me so fucking angry for him.

“I don’t—I don’t understand why. How could she…”

“I don’t know. I’m not sure we ever will, Bambi.” 

Graham’s phone buzzed beneath me. He pulled it from his pocket, silenced it, and set it aside. 

He drew in a deep breath and held me tighter. “Caroline hasn’t been… right… for a long time. Her drug dependency and losing your dad only made things worse. I tried to protect you from it when we were younger. Never wanted you to have to see that side of her. I wanted you to have the childhood you were supposed to.”

“You shouldn’t have had to do that. You were just a kid too, Graham. What about your childhood?” 

“My childhood didn’t matter. Yours did.”

“Don’t say that.” I turned in his arms so I could face him. “You deserved to that too.”

“Maybe,” he said. “But I gave up on that long before our parents married.”

“Graham—” I started.

“It’s okay, Bambi. I’ve made peace with it, really. I worried about you then, you know? You were, what? Five or six when they married? Here you were, this innocent doe-eyed kid who had no idea anything bad in the world existed. You were dropped into my fucked-up family and I couldn’t stand the thought that you might have to go through what I did.”

He chuckled dryly. “I couldn’t protect you in the end, though. You ended up having to deal with her on your own after I left anyway.”

“That’s not your fault, though, Graham. I didn’t care that I had to deal with Caroline on my own. It wasn’t all bad, either. I only cared that you left at all.”

I took his face between my hands. “Look at me, Graham, and hear me. Really, really hear me, okay? None of what happened was your fault. Caroline was the parent. She should have been the parent. She was the one responsible here. Not you.” 

I held his gaze. “I love you and I forgive you. Now you just need to forgive yourself.”

For several heartbeats, Graham just stared at me.

His mouth crashed into mine. 

His hand slid to the nape of my neck, and he held me there, pressing his lips harder to mine.

“Fuck, Bambi,” he said when we pulled apart. “I love you, too.”

I circled my arms around his neck and held him close, resting my head against his. He closed his eyes, nuzzling his face into my neck, and breathed me in. 

“I should have told you that sooner,” he said. 

“You told me now. That’s good enough.”

“I love you, Bambi. So fucking much it makes my chest fucking ache.”

My heart felt like it was beating a million times a minute, something warm and impossibly full settling beneath my ribs.

I guess neither of us knew just how badly we needed to hear those words. 

I wasn’t sure if Graham would forgive himself for leaving, or if he’d finally stop blaming himself for the things Caroline had done. But I did know one thing with undeniable certainty.

I would love him through it all.

Chapter Fifteen

G+B Chapter 13: Belonging

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I woke sometime in the middle of the night with the nagging feeling that something was off.

I shifted beneath the blanket and felt a slight dip in the mattress beside me. 

I slowly opened my eyes and blinked into the darkness. A dark shape sat at the edge of my bed. 

At first, I couldn’t understand what I was looking at, but as my eyes adjusted and the haze of sleep dissipated, I realized it was Graham. 

He was sitting in one of the kitchen chairs, leaning over the edge of my mattress, his head resting on his folded arms.

A shaft of moonlight spilled through the window, falling over him. It caught in his blonde hair, turning the strands silver and softening the harder edges of his features. For a moment, he looked almost ethereal.

His eyes were closed, his breathing deep and even.

Just how long had he been here?

I propped myself up on my elbow and reached out, running my fingers through his hair.

He stirred beneath my touch, his eyes slowly opening. He lifted his head from his arms and looked at me. There was a raw vulnerability in his expression I wasn’t used to seeing. 

I lifted the edge of my blanket and scooted to the side, making room for him. 

Graham slipped beneath the covers, wrapped an arm around me, and pulled me into him. I rested my head on his chest, listening to the steady thrum of his heart. 

“Graham,” I said softly. 

“Yeah?”

“Are you okay?”

Graham stayed silent, but his fingers tensed around my arm. For a moment, I wasn’t sure he’d answer.

He shifted onto his side, turning me with him so we were facing each other. He brushed his fingers over my cheek. 

“I needed to make sure you were really here. That you were safe.”

“I’m here,” I said, covering his hand with mine. “I’m safe.”

His breath stuttered, and he pulled me against him again, holding me tightly as if he were anchoring himself to me.

 “I thought—” His voice cracked, his arm trembling around me. “I dreamed I was too late. You were gone. I couldn’t—I couldn’t save you.”

“It was just a dream, Graham.”

“No, Bambi. It… it wasn’t. Not really.” 

“What do you—”

“I never should have left you there. I should’ve tried harder. I should’ve fought harder for you, but Caroline, she… she saw us that night. The night we kissed. Confronted me about it. She said she’d been watching us for years. That she’d seen the way I was with you and that she knew what I was doing. She told me that I was sick. That I…”

Graham’s expression twisted, his eyes growing distant as if he were back there in the apartment that night. 

I opened my mouth to respond, but Graham continued, the words spilling from him as if, now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop.

“She threatened me. Shamed me. Kicked me out that same night. And I didn’t fight it. I was afraid that she was right. I thought if I stayed, I’d ruin you like she said I would. I thought I was doing what was best for you. I thought I was protecting you.” He swallowed thickly. “From me.”

Someone else decided for me.

The meaning behind Graham’s words from weeks ago finally clicked.

That someone… had been Caroline.

Graham’s sudden disappearance. The way Caroline refused to talk about him, shutting down every question I’d had. The way she’d closed his bedroom door and never opened it again. 

And Graham. The distance he’d kept between us when I’d first arrived at the cottage. The way he’d held himself back, even when I could tell he didn’t want to.

It all started to make sense.

“All this time,” I said, my voice cracking. “I never understood… I thought maybe I’d done something wrong.”

Graham cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing softly over my skin. “Never, Bambi. Never.”

Tears blurred my vision, my heart cracking open for him, for me. For us. 

Caroline had taken something innocent and twisted it into something wrong. She’d looked back at years when Graham and I had been nothing more than kids who cared about each other and made it into something it had never been.

The feelings that had started creeping in when I was seventeen had stayed exactly that—feelings. By the time either of us acted on them, I was twenty and Graham was twenty-three. 

The worst fucking part was that Caroline had made Graham believe her distorted interpretation of everything that had come before, and he’d been living with the shame of it ever since. 

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I am so sorry she ever made you feel like there was something ugly or shameful about us.”

“I’m not ashamed, Graham. I never have been.” I held his gaze, letting him see that I meant every word.

“Bambi,” he said hoarsely. 

I leaned forward and kissed him. He stilled for a split second before kissing me back. It was slow, tentative.

“Im not still dreaming, am I?” he whispered against my lips. 

“No, you’re not. I’m here,”

I curled my hand around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, and deepens the kiss. Our lips and tongues slid languidly over one another. 

His hand ran down my side, settling at my waist. His fingertips pressed deeper into my skin as he pulled me closer until our bodies were flush. His tongue swept deeper into my mouth, his kisses more urgent now, yet somehow just as soft and gentle. Each sensuous slide of his tongue against mine fed the fire burning low in my belly.

Graham’s hand skimmed over the curve of my ass and down my thigh. He hooked his hand beneath my knee and lifted my leg over his. He shifted forward and the hard ridge beneath his pajama pants pressed against me. 

A soft gasp escaped my lips. 

He broke our kiss, but his face still hovered so close to mine that the tips of our noses touched.

“Tell me to stop and I will.”

“No,” I said. “I want to.” 

A low sound tore from him, and his mouth claimed mine again. Each kiss that followed was deeper, hungrier, leaving me breathless and dizzy. 

His lips and hands never stopped moving. His mouth found my jaw, then my throat, his kisses hot and relentless against my feverish skin. His hand trailed up my side. Over my shoulder and down my arm. Like he was mapping territory he’d denied himself for years. Every inch of my skin felt hypersensitive beneath his touch.

“You don’t know what you do to me, Bambi.” 

“Show me,” I said, nipping at his lower lip when he came in for another kiss.

He lifted me and pulled me into his lap. His hands clamped around my hips, firm and unyielding, holding me in place, his arousal solid and burning between my thighs. The contact stole the breath from my lungs.

His gaze stayed fixed on me as he shifted his hips, just the barest bit, increasing the pressure between us. Making me aware. Making me understand. 

My face heated, a blush spreading across my cheeks and down my chest.

His thumbs dug into my hips like he was fighting himself. Like this level of control was costing him. Still, he didn’t move. Didn’t thrust, didn’t chase. He just held me there, stretching the moment between us.

The stillness was unbearable. I rocked against him, and the pressure swelled, sending a sharp pulse between my legs. My thighs clenched instinctively around his waist.

His jaw tightened, and his grip on my hips turned rough.

I shifted my hips, and a curse tumbled from his lips. I moved again, seeking relief from the tension building inside me.

“Fuck. Bambi.” 

Graham gripped the backs of my thighs, lifting me with ease. I clung to his shoulders as he turned us and lowered me to the mattress. He settled between my thighs, his broad frame hovering over me.

“Have you ever… with anyone else?” I asked. 

“Never. You’re my first, baby.”

“Me too.”

His lips found mine again, his kiss hungry and unrestrained. 

“Tell me you’re mine, Bambi,” he said between kisses. “Say it. I need to hear it.”

He pressed his hardness against me, and my answer came out on a half-moan. “I’m yours, Graham.”

He pulled back—not far—just enough that he could see my face. 

“Again,” he said.

“I’m yours.”

He kissed me again, this time slowly, as if he were savoring the words on my lips. He trailed kisses down my neck, across my collarbone and shoulder. One of his hands traveled down my side, over my waist and hip, then slipped beneath my panties.

He hissed as his fingers slid through my wetness.

My back arched off the bed at his touch, heat flooding my core. 

Graham slid a single finger inside me, the sensation foreign yet not entirely uncomfortable. He slowly drew his finger back before pushing in again. I felt myself clench around him as the pressure built inside me. He settled into a rhythm that made my toes curl and my breath leave me in short, choppy bursts.

He withdrew his finger and sat back on his heels, his gaze dark with lust as took me in.

He reached for the hem of my tank top and pulled it over my head, tossing it to the floor. My nipples hardened in the cool air. Then, ever so slowly, he slid my panties down my hips. They joined my top on the floor.

Part of me felt self-conscious being completely bare in front of Graham, but there was something about the sight of him kneeling between my thighs, looking at me with such adoration, that quieted my insecurity. 

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he said.

I sat up, holding his gaze as I slid my fingertips into the waistband of his pajama pants and dragged them down his thighs. He helped me the rest of the way before tossing them aside.

I already knew Graham was a work of art, but seeing him now, every hard line of his body washed in the silvery glow of moonlight, I was even more certain that he had been carved by the hands of some masterful fucking stonemason.

“So are you.”

I placed my palms on his chest and slowly ran them down the front of his body. He drew in a sharp breath, his muscles going taut beneath my hands. I moved lower and wrapped my fingers around his cock. His skin was soft, almost silken. His head fell back on a moan, the muscles in his stomach tightening as I gently stroked him.

His hand closed around my wrist, stilling my movements. “If you keep that up, I’m not going to last.”

“Sorry,” I said.

“Don’t be,” he said, lowering himself over me again, bracing himself on one elbow. “It just felt too fucking good.”

He lined himself up with my entrance and eased into me. 

My eyes fell closed, my body shuddering with the new sensation of fullness. 

Graham dropped his forehead to mine, his arm trembling beside my head. “I’ll go easy, Bambi, but tell me if it hurts.”

I wrapped my arms around his shoulders. “Mmhmm.”

He eased in deeper, and my mouth opened on a soundless moan.

I had expected some pain, or at least a little discomfort, but all I felt was him. The inescapable heat of his body. The utter fullness of him inside me.

He withdrew slightly before sinking into me again, somehow reaching deeper than before. He fell into a steady rhythm, each thrust pulling a moan from me. I dug my nails into his back as intense pleasure surged through my core.

“Fuck,” Graham groaned. “You feel so fucking good, Bambi.”

His breath was hot against my skin, goosebumps rising along my arms. 

He picked up his pace, pulling back and plunging into me again with an intensity that made my thighs clench around his waist. Breathy moans and curses spilled from me with every thrust. His mouth covered mine, swallowing every sound that stumbled over my lips.

My mind and body were completely consumed by Graham. All I could do was cling tighter to his shoulders as the pleasure continued to build, until I could barely think around it.

“Graham, I—oh, God.”

My stomach tightened, my inner walls squeezing his cock.

“That’s it, baby. Come for me.”

My nails dug deeper into his skin as the tension inside me shattered in a burst of pure ecstasy.

“Graham,” I cried out, my pussy spasming around him.

“Oh, fuck. Bambi.” Graham’s breath caught, and with a low, guttural groan, he followed me over the edge, his body trembling with his release.

Slowly, he slid out of me, then collapsed beside me. He wound his arm around my waist and pulled me close, tucking me in against him. 

We lay like that for a while. When our breathing finally steadied, he tilted my chin up to meet his gaze.

“I’m yours, Bambi,” he said softly, stroking his thumb over my bottom lip. “As much as you are mine.” 

He kissed me deeply, like he was imprinting the words on my lips.

I melted into his kiss, my full weight sinking into him. My body hummed with a deep, bone-settling warmth. Something that felt stronger, steadier than pleasure. Belonging. 

I rested my cheek against his heart, listening as it slowed beneath my ear. 

His hands moved slowly, almost absentmindedly, the soft strokes eventually soothing me into sleep. 

Chapter Fourteen →

G+B Chapter 12: A Piece of the Past — Graham

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I hissed as I stepped under the cold spray of the shower, my overheated skin sensitive to the sudden temperature change. I hadn’t intended to tease Bambi like I had, but after I’d gotten that first reaction out of her while she was inside trying to draw… I couldn’t help myself. I wanted more of them. 

And I had to admit that it felt good being able to get a rise out of her. Not because I wanted to torture her, but because, for the first time since she’d arrived, I didn’t feel like I had to hold myself back. 

I’d done enough of that already thanks to Caroline. 

I tilted my head back under the water and exhaled a long, slow breath, the tail end of it tapering off into a chuckle.

As much as I’d enjoyed watching Bambi squirm from across the kitchen table, I’d loved those little micro-expressions and subtle cues she couldn’t hide even more. That tiny hitch in her breathing? I felt it down to my bones. The way her cheeks flushed, turning my favorite shade of pink. Hell, even the way she glared daggers at me. She thought she was being tough when really it just made her look cute as all hell. 

Ah, shit. I was so fucking done for, wasn’t I?

I squeezed shampoo into my palm and rubbed my hands together. The scent drifted around me, but something about it was off. 

My brows pulled together as I picked up the bottle again, squinting at the label. 

It was the same shampoo I’d been using for the last four years. Why did it all of a sudden—

Bambi. 

I’d gotten so used to my scent clinging to her that now my own shampoo smelled wrong. 

I shook my head and chuckled again.

Yeah, pal. So fucking done.

Once I’d dried off and changed, I found Bambi in her usual spot in the living room. Her chin rested in her hand, her gaze fixed beyond the window. The notebook sat open on the table in front of her, the page blank. 

As I moved closer, she turned her head, her thoughtful expression softening into a smile when she saw me. 

I had only taken a few steps when my phone rang. I pulled it from my pocket, grimacing at the screen before answering. It was the rehab center where Caroline was staying.

“Graham speaking. Wait, what?”

Bambi’s brows furrowed when I glanced over at her.

“Sorry,” I mouthed to her and headed into my office, leaving the door ajar behind me.

“What do you mean she’s refusing treatment?” I asked.

“Exactly that, sir. I’m afraid I can’t say more over the phone. It’s best that you come down immediately.”

My fingers tightened around my phone. “I’m not sure that my presence will have the effect that you’re hoping for. I’m sure it’ll only serve to make matters worse.”

“I’m sorry, sir, but your mother is insisting she see you.”

“She can insist all she likes, but I’m sorry, I’m going to have to decline.”

“But sir!”

“You should go.” Bambi’s soft voice drifted into the office. She lingered in the narrow opening between the door and the frame, concern written across her features.

The advisor continued speaking, but I barely registered a word he was saying. Bambi’s voice was already looping through my head.

She had no idea what she was asking. 

And how could she? Caroline was the one topic I avoided speaking with her about. How was I supposed to tell her that the one person in her life who hadn’t abandoned her was the reason I’d walked away from Bambi in the first place?Caroline may have been a shit parent to Bambi, but she never treated her the way she treated me. Despite everything she had gone through because of Caroline, there was no denying that Bambi still cared for her. I couldn’t bring myself to ruin that.

“Sir?” The advisor’s voice cut through the phone. 

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I told the advisor. I hung up the phone before he could respond and tossed my phone onto my desk.

Bambi entered the office and stopped in front of me. “I can go with you if you’d like.”

“No,” I said too curtly, making Bambi flinch. 

“I’m sorry,” I said, softening my voice. “I didn’t mean it like that. What I meant to say is that this isn’t something you should have to deal with.” 

“Alright.” She reached out and took my hand. “I’m here if you need me.”

Bambi gave my hand a squeeze, then left the office.

Fuck. Was I really about to do this? I hadn’t seen Caroline since that night in the alley. I’d gotten her admitted, gone down to the clinic to finish the paperwork, but not once had I seen her. 

I gave myself another minute to collect myself before heading out for the thirty-minute drive to the clinic.

Tim, the advisor I’d spoken with on the phone, met me at the front desk. “Glad you could make it, sir.” He gestured toward a long white hallway. “Follow me, please.”

I followed him down the hall, the echo of our footsteps bouncing off the walls. There were no windows, no photos, no corny inspirational posters. Just stark white walls and a hallway that seemed endless. 

Tim stopped in front of a large metal door with a single narrow window and punched in a keycode. The lock released with a mechanical whirr. 

“Here you are,” he said, opening the door for me. 

“Thanks,” I said, stepping past him. 

My eyes immediately landed on Caroline. She sat at a table in the center of the room, her hands folded together on the tabletop.

She smiled the moment she saw me. I couldn’t help but notice that it lacked any sort of maternal warmth one would expect from a mother who hadn’t seen her son in over four years. 

To anyone else, it would have seemed perfectly normal. I recognized it for what it was. A mask. 

I didn’t return it as I crossed the room. I took the chair opposite her and folded my hands in front of me, mirroring her posture.

“Caroline.”

Her smile vanished. “Nice of you to finally show up,” she said. “You dump me in this godforsaken facility and couldn’t be bothered to visit once?”

“I see we’re done with the false pretenses, then,” I replied. Figures she couldn’t keep up the act for more than a minute.

“Why am I here, Caroline?”

“Is that really any way to speak to your mother?”

“You’re not my mother. Haven’t been for years. Now I’ll ask you again, why am I here?”

Caroline sat a little straighter, one corner of her thin lips twitching upward.

“Where is she, Graham? You have her, don’t you?”

She. Her.

She spoke of Bambi as if she were nothing more than a possession. Like she had no value beyond being a pawn she could use against me. 

“Is this why you’ve asked me here? Why you’ve been causing problems for the staff? Why you’ve refused treatment? To talk about Bambi?”

“I knew you wouldn’t have shown up otherwise.”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t have. We have nothing to say to each other. We both know that.”

“Does she know where you’ve stuck me, hmm? Does she know that you’ve had your own mother committed?”

“Bambi’s safe. And yes, she knows.” 

“Safe?” Caroline scoffed. “She was safe with me.” She leaned across the table, her tone sharpening as she continued. “You did this on purpose, didn’t you? You put me in here just so you could have her all to yourself.”

I dropped my hands to my lap, clenching them into fists below the table. 

“Don’t think I don’t know what you’ve done, Graham. I know you took possession of the apartment. I know that you’ve got Hazel.”

“Bambi,” I corrected. 

“You’ll ruin her,” she said, her nose wrinkling. “I saw how you looked at her when you two were kids, how she followed you around like a little puppy dog, hung on your every word. You never discouraged it. You liked it, didn’t you?”

“Enough, Caroline.”

The corner of her mouth twitched again, satisfaction flickering in her eyes.

“I know you did,” she sneered. “She was an innocent little girl and you took advantage—”

“Enough!” I slammed my hands down on the table and stood, the chair toppling to the floor. 

I leaned across the table, both hands planted firmly on the tabletop. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. If you only brought me here so you could spew your bullshit, then I’m leaving.”

Caroline’s laughter echoed behind me as I left the visitation room. It stayed with me all the way back to my truck.

I slammed the door shut and dropped my head to the steering wheel.

Coming to see her was a mistake. I should have known better than to expect she’d do anything but attack me. 

That vicious fucking bitch.

I started the truck and pulled away from the clinic. As I headed down the main road, my mind drifted to the past.

Bambi standing in my doorway, a stuffed animal clutched in her arms, unable to sleep because our parents were fighting. Bambi hiding behind me, her hands clenched in my shirt as Caroline screamed at us for breaking something. Sitting with Bambi’s all night after her dad had passed and holding her until she’d cried herself to sleep. 

My hands trembled with anger as I pulled into the driveway and killed the engine.

This was what she wanted. To get under my skin. To corrupt the innocent moments of our childhood. 

I caught movement at the edge of my vision, and when I looked up, I saw Bambi standing on the front porch. She was leaning against the railing, smiling at me. 

The moment our eyes met, the anger that had followed me home loosened its grip. 

I got out of the truck and headed toward her. 

“How’d it go?” she asked.

I walked up the porch steps, pulled her against my chest, and locked my arms around her. 

“I don’t wanna talk about it,” I said, resting my cheek on top of her head. “Not yet.”

Bambi’s arms closed around me, holding me tightly. “Whenever you’re ready.”

The clinic, the conversation with Caroline—if you could call it that—all faded into the background. In Bambi’s arms, all I felt was peace.

Bambi’s arms loosened and she looked up at me. “What do you need? How can I help?”

“Nothing,” I said, reaching up to brush a few loose strands of hair back from her face. “You’ve already done enough just by being here, Bambi.” 

I kissed her forehead lightly, breathing in her familiar scent.

“Let’s go in,” she said. She slipped her hand into mine and led me inside. 

As the door closed behind us, I realized that all this time, I’d thought I was saving Bambi. Turns out, she’d been saving me right back.

I stopped short. I pulled Bambi back toward me, cupped her face in my hands, and kissed her. 

“Thank you,” I said after breaking the kiss.

Bambi smiled up at me, her thumb tracing the curve of my bottom lip. “I’m beginning to like the way you thank me.”

She rose onto her toes and pressed her lips to mine again. 

And just like that, everything that had happened earlier vanished from my mind. 

All that existed was us.

Chapter Thirteen →

G+B Chapter 11: Undeniable

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The crack of the axe split through the quiet morning. 

Again. And again. And again. 

My fingers tightened around my colored pencil, the tip ripping through the paper. I tore the page out, balled it up, and tossed it aside. It rolled across the kitchen table, joining the rest of the crumpled pages I’d already ripped from my notebook. There had to be at least ten pages now.

I groaned and dropped my head to the kitchen table. 

Graham had been in the front yard since I’d woken, hacking away at log after log, each strike of the axe further chipping away at my resolve. 

Don’t look, Bambi. Do. Not. Look!

I lifted my head from the table anyway and immediately regretted my decision.

Graham stood in the yard, his shirt clinging to sweat-soaked skin as he raised the axe overhead. His forearms flexed as he brought the axe down, splitting the log into two perfect halves.

He propped the axe against the stump, then dragged the hem of his shirt up to wipe the sweat from his face. The movement bared a stomach that was all hard angles and fluid strength, each block of muscle gleaming with a thin sheen of sweat that caught the light. My traitorous eyes snagged on the deep V disappearing beneath the low waistband of his jeans.

My thighs clenched.

In one smooth motion, he hooked the shirt over his head and tossed it to the ground. He swung the axe again with effortless precision, buried it deep into the splitting block, and exhaled a heavy breath. 

I bit my bottom lip, just barely holding back a whimper.

God, he should not be allowed to be this attractive at nine o’clock in the morning. It’s entirely unfair.

Graham turned, his eyes meeting mine through the window. His chin lifted, one corner of his mouth tugging upward like he knew exactly what he was doing.

He tipped his head toward the front door, silently telling me to come outside.

Shit. Well, now you’ve gone and done it, Bambi.

I slid my chair back from the table, my nerves tying themselves into knots as I walked out the front door. I stopped at the edge of the porch, suddenly too nervous to take the final steps down to the yard.

Graham leaned against the axe, resting an arm across the top of the handle. “You just going to stare all day, Bambi?”

There was a retort ready at the tip of my tongue. I swear there was. But my eyes caught on a bead of sweat trailing from behind his ear and down his neck. I tracked it lower. And lower. Until it settled in the hollow of his throat. 

“Well?” 

My eyes snapped back to his. 

“You wanna give it a go?” 

My eyes flicked to the axe still buried in the stump, then back to him. “You know you can just buy the wood at the store, right?”

“And why would I do that?” he asked, pushing off the axe.

He stepped closer again. Close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from his skin. “When I’ve got everything I need right here.”

Graham didn’t look at the trees. Not once. Instead, he held my gaze, and my throat went impossibly dry. 

“Come on,” he laughed. “Give it a try.”

He took my hand and led me down the three steps into the yard. 

He placed a new log on the stump, then moved behind me. His hands settled firm and steady on my shoulders, and he turned me toward the stump. His chest hovered at my back, the heat of him seeping through the fabric of my shirt as if there were nothing separating us at all. 

His hands slid from my shoulders and down my arms until he reached my hands. He covered my hands with his, then guided them to the end of the handle, adjusting my grip. 

“Good,” he said. “Just like that. Now, don’t let go.”

He released my hands and took hold of my waist. 

“Move back just a little.” He eased me backward until my back was pressed firmly against his chest. He leaned in, his voice low but steady. “Feet shoulder-width apart.”

I adjusted my stance, sucking in a sharp breath as my bottom brushed against the front of his jeans and the noticeable ridge beneath. 

His fingers tightened around my waist.

Oh fuck.                                

I slowly turned my head toward him. His eyes were fixed on mine, his gaze darkened and his jaw clenched.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. Then he said, “Raise the axe above your head. Follow the line down.”

I faced forward and tried to focus on the instructions he gave, but I was too aware of him to move. His breath at the back of my neck. The solidness of his chest. His hold on my waist. 

“Bambi.” 

I almost jumped at the sound of his voice. 

“Right. Sorry,” I rushed out. 

Graham let go of my waist and stepped to the side.

I lifted the axe above my head and swung. It was heavier than I expected, and my foot slipped, throwing me off balance. 

Graham reacted instantly. His arms locked around my waist, pulling me into his chest.

I braced my hands against him, steadying myself. His heartbeat hammered beneath my palms, his breath coming in short, choppy bursts. 

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine, thanks.”

I glanced back at the stump. The axe had missed the log completely and was lodged in the ground.

“I think I’ll leave the wood chopping to you, though.”

“Yeah. Good idea.”

When our eyes met, his gaze dipped to my lips, lingering there before sliding back to my eyes. 

My mind immediately wandered to last night’s kiss, reigniting the desire I’d been trying so hard to ignore.

I looked away, hoping he couldn’t see the effect he had on me.

“So, lunch?” I asked.

“Yeah. I’m starved.”

I swallowed hard. Somehow, I had a feeling he meant for more than food. 

“Great,” I said, my voice coming out more high-pitched than intended.

His hands eased from my waist as though he didn’t want to let me go. When he stepped back, cool air rushed into the space between us, leaving goosebumps in its wake. 

I felt his eyes on me as I headed toward the cottage, the weight of his gaze following me across the yard. I told myself not to turn around, but halfway up the porch steps, I paused and glanced behind me. Graham was still standing where I had left him, watching.

I don’t remember him ever openly watching me like this before. A glance here and there, maybe, but never like this—with the sort of heat in his gaze that made me feel like I could melt on the spot. Had our kiss really changed things between us so much, or was I only now noticing what had always been there?

“Let’s go, you big lumberjack.” I turned away and continued inside. 

While I washed my hands at the sink, I heard the front door open and shut. His boots thudded across the floor as he made his way through the living room to stack the chopped wood in the rack by the fireplace. 

I walked to the fridge and peered inside. “How do sandwiches sound?” I called out, grabbing the deli meats and condiments.

When I turned from the fridge, Graham was already standing in front of me. 

“Geez, man, I thought you were still in the living room.”

“Sorry,” he said, his lips quirking upward. He moved past me to pull two plates down from the cabinet. “Sandwiches sound good.” 

We stood side by side at the counter, each layering meat and cheese onto our bread. His elbow brushed my arm as he reached for the mayo. My hip brushed his as I reached for the lettuce. Every point of contact between us sent a spark skittering through my nerves.

“You almost had it, you know,” he said.

“Had what?” I asked, bringing my plate to the table. 

“The log.” He brought his own plate to the table and sat in the chair across from me. “You were pretty damn close.”

“Pfft. Hardly. Did you forget that I buried the axe in the ground instead of the stump or the log?”

“We’ll make a lumberjack out of you yet.”

I arched a brow at him. “Please don’t. The lumberjacking is all you.”

“We’ll see,” he said. “Pass me a napkin?”

“Sure.” I plucked a napkin from the holder and held it out to him. 

His fingers grazed mine.

God, was he doing that on purpose?

“Thanks,” he replied, the corner of his mouth lifting slightly.

Yeah, he definitely was. 

“Yep.” I brought my sandwich to my mouth and took a bite.

I focused on chewing. On the table, as if the grain of the wood were suddenly fascinating. Anything to keep myself from looking at Graham across from me. 

Leave it to him to make something as ordinary as lunch feel charged with a few small touches.

He shifted in his seat, his boot bumping mine beneath the table.

My hand stilled, my sandwich halfway to my mouth.

I waited for him to move his foot, but instead, it settled more fully against mine. 

This motherfu–

His foot slid against mine again. 

I bit into my sandwich. More focused on chewing, swallowing, breathing than ever before.

I finally looked up. “Graham.”

“Bambi,” he said coolly, sliding his foot lazily over mine once more. “Problem?”

I held his gaze as I set the rest of my sandwich on my plate. I did not move my foot.

His foot glided over my boot until it reached the back of my calf, then drifted down in an unhurried stroke before doing it again. 

I bit the inside of my cheek, shifting slightly in my seat to alleviate the pressure building between my thighs.

His gaze dipped below the edge of the table for half a second. When he met my eyes again, he wore a barely-there, corner-of-his-mouth, I-know-what-you’re-doing smirk.

Then Graham abruptly pushed his chair back from the table and stood. 

“I’m gonna shower,” he said, stepping away from the table like nothing had happened at all. 

I glared at his back as he disappeared down the hall. 

Fucking. Bastard. 

I exhaled a slow, shaky breath and slumped back in my chair, staring at the empty seat across from me. 

The pipes groaned as the shower turned on down the hall, and my mind, traitorous as ever, supplied me with images I should not have been thinking about. 

I slumped deeper in my chair, pressing my thighs together harder. “This is ridiculous,” I muttered, dragging my hand down my face. 

I slid my chair back from the table and escaped to the living room. I flopped onto the couch and stared at the ceiling. 

Do. Not. Think. About. It. 

In the end, though, my efforts were futile. 

I covered my face with a throw pillow and groaned into it. “Damn it.”

Chapter Twelve →

G+B Chapter 10: PB&J’s and Bonfires

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I stood in the center of my bedroom, running my fingers over the pink sweater Graham had bought me. My sweater. Not a raggedy old, hand-me-down one full of holes and two sizes too big. 

My very own, very pink, sweater. 

It was the last item from today’s shopping trip that needed to be put away. I held onto it a little longer, wishing I could preserve the feeling it gave me, before setting it inside the drawer. 

I threw on a different sweater, a loose tan one with a wide collar that hung off my shoulder, pulled on some new leggings, and left the bedroom. When I wandered into the living room, Graham was just finishing up his work and was gathering his papers and files together. 

“Hungry?” he asked.

“Starving.”

“Give me five, and I’ll get something going.”

“I can do it,” I said. 

He arched a brow at me and cast a worried glanced behind me at the kitchen. 

“I won’t burn it down. I promise.”

A smile pulled at the edges of his lips. “I’m not sure I believe you, but I’m too curious to say no,” he said. 

He started making his way toward the kitchen, but I threw my hands out and pressed them against his chest to stop him. He was solid beneath my palms. It felt like I was trying to push back a brick wall. 

“No, no, no. I got it. Just go and do… whatever it is that you do. I’ll call you when it’s ready.”

He wrapped his hands around my wrists, and leaned toward me. For a split second, I thought he might kiss me, and my pulse skipped beneath his fingers. “Fire extinguisher is under the sink,” he said just above a whisper. 

He chuckled, then turned and left me to my own devices. 

“Jerk,” I mumbled under my breath. 

When I was sure he was gone, I got to work. Five minutes later, dinner was on the table. I stood there, hands on my hips, satisfied with my handiwork.

“Graham!” I called out. “Dinner’s ready.”

The door to his office opened a second later.

He made it halfway to the table before abruptly stopping. He looked from the table to me, then back to the table again.

“Peanut butter and jelly sandwiches?”

“The best peanut butter and jelly sandwiches you’ll ever have,” I said.

Graham was silent for all of five seconds before laughter erupted from him.

I might have been offended if I hadn’t been so caught off guard. 

He was laughing. Genuinely laughing.

I don’t think I’ve seen him laugh like that… well, in forever.

His laugh was rich and deep, the sound of it seeming to vibrate through my whole body. 

I decided then that this… this was something I wanted to hold onto instead. There were a million sweaters in the world, but Graham laughing? That beat sweaters any day. 

Graham’s laughter faded, and when he looked up at me, I noticed something I hadn’t before. I had gotten brief glimpses of it when we were out shopping, but now it was all so clear. 

The constant tension I’d gotten so used to seeing wasn’t there anymore. The tight set of his jaw had softened, and his shoulders no longer looked like they were carrying the weight of the world. There was a lightness to him. To every part of him. 

“What?” he asked, his head cocking to the side. 

I blinked. “What?”

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?”

Oh god. I had been staring at him. Heat rushed to my cheeks before I could look away. 

“Never mind,” he said, a smile tugging at one corner of his mouth as he pulled out his chair and sat down. “These look great. PB&J’s were always my favorite.”

“I remember,” I said, taking my seat. “I told you. I remember a lot of things.”

Like how he always wanted a freakish amount of peanut butter on his sandwiches. “The more the better,” he’d always said.

I could see it so clearly. The two of us back then. Sitting at the little kitchen table in the apartment, eating PB&J’s and arguing over whose were better.

It made my heart ache for how things used to be. For what we’d been. 

I looked up from my sandwich, watching as he took a bite of his own, peanut butter smushing out at the sides. 

I smiled. Maybe we weren’t as far from that as I’d thought. Maybe we were already finding our way back. 

After we finished eating, we took our plates to the kitchen. Graham washed them, and I dried them and put them away.

“It’s a nice night,” he said after handing me the last plate. “The sky is clear.”

I glanced out the kitchen window. It was the first time since the blizzard that we had a full view of the night sky. “Yeah.”

“Perfect night for a fire. Join me?”

“Sure,” I said, setting the plate in the cabinet. 

He grabbed the flannel blanket from the back of the couch and headed to the back door. His hand paused on the knob. “Come on.”

The cool night air nipped at my skin as we stepped onto the porch, making goosebumps rise along my arms. Above us, stars glittered against the blue-black sky.

I settled onto the bench in front of the firepit. Graham draped the blanket across my lap before crouching beside the firepit to start the fire. The first flames flickered to life, sparks spiraling upward into the night as the fire crackled and grew.

Once the fire was burning steadily, he lifted the edge of the blanket and slid in beside me.

The bench grew impossibly small beneath his broad frame. His shoulder and thigh pressed against mine, radiating a heat that had nothing to do with fire.

He stretched his arm along the back of the bench, his fingertips grazing the slope of my neck. His arm lowered, his fingers sliding down the curve of my shoulder, his palm settling against my skin. 

I forced myself to stay still, fixing my gaze on the fire, on the way flames curled and twisted into the night. But I couldn’t pretend I didn’t feel the weight of hand or the heat of his body beside me, bleeding through the thin fabric of my sweater and leggings. 

“You okay?” Graham asked, looking down at me.

I tried to tell myself that this was no different than when he held me in the shack, in the shower, or in front of the fireplace. 

But it felt different. 

It was different.

Because he wasn’t looking at me the way he had then. Maybe it was the firelight, the way it carved soft shadows along his jaw and made the flames dance in his eyes. Maybe that was why they looked softer, gentler, like there was something in them that hadn’t been there before.

Something that looked an awful lot like… affection. 

“Yeah,” I said, my voice coming our much more breathless than I’d intended.  

Graham’s head lowered, just a fraction, and I forgot how to breathe. 

His eyes held mine, almost searching, and his fingertips pressed more firmly against my skin.

I relaxed in his hold and leaned in toward him. 

His hand lifted, gently cupping my cheek as he lowered his head another inch. Close enough now that I could feel his breath coasting across my lips.

My head tilted back, my eyes falling closed as the faint touch of his lips whispered against mine.

An indescribable warmth unfurled in my chest and spread through every part of me. 

Graham pulled back a fraction, but his hand still rested on my cheek, his thumb softly stroking my skin. 

The arm around me tensed, his fingers pressing harder into my skin, so at odds with the gentle way he was touching my face. It almost seemed like there were two halves of him pulling in opposite directions.

He rested his forehead against mine, his chest rising and falling more quickly than it had been before. I placed my hand on his chest, his heart drumming quickly beneath my palm.

He let out a quiet breath, almost a laugh, then pulled away just enough that I could see the smallest smile on his face. His other hand came up to cup my cheek, and he pressed his lips to mine again.

This kiss was firmer. More deliberate. It set every nerve in my body on fire.

My fingers tightened in the fabric of his shirt. Whether it was to pull him closer or hold on for dear life, I didn’t know. Maybe it was both. Either way, I didn’t want him to stop.

One of his hands slid from my cheek and came to rest at the back of my neck to angle my head just so. His tongue swept along the seam of lips and my lips parted for him on a soft exhale. His tongue brushed against mine as his mouth moved slowly, luxuriously over mine. Like he had all the time in the world and wanted to savor every second of it. 

When we finally broke apart, our breaths were heavy between us.

“What was that for?” I asked, still a little breathless.

Graham slipped his arms around my waist, his hands settling at the small of my back. He closed his eyes and dropped his head, brushing the tip of my nose with his. 

“Everything.”

Everything?

I wasn’t sure what he meant by that, but I knew deep within me that whatever it was, he meant it. 

I leaned into his side and rested my head against his chest. 

Around us, the fire crackled softly, pine branches swished gently in the breeze, and every so often the distant call of an owl drifted through the night.

The fire burned lower and the chill returned to the air.

I shivered and tucked myself a little closer to him.

“Cold?” Graham asked.

“Just a little chilly.”

“Let’s head in, then,” he said. “It’s getting pretty late, too.”

Graham got up first, then helped me to my feet. He took the blanket and draped it around my shoulders. “Come on, my little icicle. Let’s get you inside.” 

“Okay,” I laughed, following behind him. 

 We made our way down the hall and stopped outside Graham’s bedroom door. 

“I never thanked you for today,” I said. 

“You didn’t have to.”

“Yes. I did. So, thank you. It really meant a lot to me. Anyway… Goodnight, Graham.”

“Night,” he said. 

I turned to head toward my room. 

“Bambi, wait.” His hand shot out, catching my wrist. 

“Yeah?”

He held my gaze and took a single step forward, his fingers still wrapped around my wrist. He gently lifted my chin with his other hand and pressed a featherlight kiss to my lips. 

“That’s better,” he said, his lips hovering so close to mine I could feel his words against them. “Goodnight, Bambi.”

He released my wrist and stepped into his room, closing the door softly behind him. 

I stood frozen in the hallway, my cheeks burning.

When I finally managed to get my feet moving again, it felt like I was floating to my room, suspended somewhere between bliss and disbelief. 

If anyone had asked me how I thought today would end, it wouldn’t have been with Graham kissing me.

For four years, I’d thought he didn’t care about me. He’d left, so… I assumed he didn’t. I never believed that he’d share the same feelings for me that I had for him. 

But now, with the touch of his lips still lingering on mine, I knew he did.

Though I still didn’t know why he’d left, and if I let myself dwell on the thought for too long, it still hurt. I hoped that one day he’d share the truth with me. 

For now, though, in this moment, it didn’t matter why. 

Because Graham was here. And he’d kissed me. 

I threw myself backward onto my bed, and covered my face with my hands, fighting the urge to squeal and kick my feet. I blew out a shaky breath, dropped my arms behind my head, and stared at the ceiling, unable to keep myself from grinning like an absolute lovesick fool.

Chapter Eleven →

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G+B Chapter 9: Cabin Fever – Graham

/ feralbookster / 1 Comment

It’s been two days. Two fucking days.

Two days of the generator deciding when it felt like working. Two days of the heat cutting in and out. Two days of Bambi being simply Bambi.

Two. Fucking. Days.

And I couldn’t fucking think straight.

How had I gotten so far gone that fucking breathing in the same room as Bambi was a problem?

I glanced over at her. She sat beside me on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her, her notebook open in her lap. Her attention was fixed on the page, the little scrunch of her nose forming as her hand moved fluidly across it. She paused, brought the end of her pen to her lips, and nibbled absently on the cap.

Fuck.

I looked back at my laptop. I opened my inbox, forcing myself to concentrate on reading the email in front of me, but it was like trying to decipher hieroglyphics.

Bambi shifted beside me, her knee grazing my thigh, and the touch sent electricity racing through me.

Was the couch always this fucking small?

I shifted to the side just a hair. Just enough to give me some breathing room.

Except.

Bambi moved with me.

She stretched her arms above her head, her back arching slightly. Her shirt rode up just enough to reveal the soft curve of her waist. When she lowered her arms, the collar of her shirt slipped down, baring one shoulder and the faint swell of her breast beneath it.

My pulse knocked hard beneath my skin. God, this woman was going to be the end of me… and she wasn’t even doing anything.

I dragged my eyes away and shifted another inch to the right. I bit the inside of my cheek, trying like hell to regain even an ounce of fucking composure.

I closed my email and pulled up a spreadsheet but ultimately deemed getting any work done hopeless. Every scratch, every stroke of her pen, was a reminder that she was beside me.

It was unbearable.

I shifted for the third fucking time.

Bambi looked over at me, that damn pen in her mouth again, her brows creased together. “Are you okay?”

“Fine,” I said too quickly.

“You don’t seem fine.”

“Nope. Everything’s perfect.”

Just fucking perfect.

“You know what?” I shut my laptop. “Actually, I think some fresh air might be nice. How about a drive?”

Her notebook snapped shut and she jolted upright so quickly, my very clearly malfunctioning brain thought she was going to launch herself at me. My heart almost stopped.

“Yes! Oh please, can we, Graham?” she pleaded, as she got to her feet. “I am dying to get out of the house.”

You’re dying? I nearly said. How bout me?

I’ve been trying to keep my head screwed on straight for the last forty-eight hours. Every. Little. Thingshe did threatened to unravel me. I was beginning to feel like my brain had been hardwired to Bambi.

“Perfect,” I said. I set my laptop on the coffee table a little harder than I meant to and headed toward my room.

“Get changed. We leave in ten.”

I closed the door behind me and rested my forehead against the wood.

Jesus, Graham. Pull. Yourself. Together.

Ten minutes later, I was standing by the door, waiting for Bambi. 

When she emerged from her bedroom, I nearly choked on my own breath. “What is that?”

“What is what?”

Her shirt—what used to be my shirt—had been cut across the middle, turning it into a crop top that exposed the smooth expanse of her stomach. Her sweatpants hung low on her hips, accentuating her hourglass frame, making the curve of her waist impossible to ignore.

“You are not wearing that,” I said firmly. 

And not just for my own goddamn sanity, either. Every fucking member of the male species wouldn’t be able to keep their eyes off her.

The thought made something ugly claw at my chest.

“Graham,” she groaned, rolling her eyes.

“It’s thirty degrees outside, Bambi. You’re changing. Now.”

“I have nothing else to wear.”

“Like hell you don’t.” 

She crossed her arms and glared at me. “Everything I own is yours, Graham.” 

“So?”

“So! I can’t wear your clothes forever, Graham!” She rubbed her temple and closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath.

“The only things that are truly mine are a single ratty sweater that doesn’t even fit me and an old pair of boots,” she said. “I just wanted something that felt like… mine.”

Her words landed like a punch to the gut. She was right. There wasn’t a single thing here that belonged to her. Her clothes. Her soap. Her shampoo. Everything. They were all mine. 

All because I pulled her from her home without a second thought about what else she might need besides warmth and food.

And I knew by the look on her face that this wasn’t really just about a shirt.

It was about choice. Her choice. Her ability to choose something for herself. 

I’d taken that away from her. 

And the worst fucking part is that I knew exactly what it felt like to have someone make a choice for you while you had no say in it. Caroline had taken my choice away, too, and I resented her for it my entire life. 

I’d done the same to Bambi. 

I’d been no better than Caroline. 

But I would be. 

My trauma didn’t have to be Bambi’s. Fuck no. Bambi deserved better than that. 

“Alright, then,” I said. “Let’s get you some new clothes.”

“You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

Bambi squealed and bounced on the tips of her toes. 

“You’re still not wearing that,” I said. Some decisions were still mine. Whether she liked it or not.

She rolled her eyes, but as she turned toward her room, I caught the faint curve of a smile pulling at her lips. She returned a minute later wearing one of my sweatshirts and her leggings. Not a single trace of skin in sight. 

I’ve gotta remember to throw away all the damn scissors, I thought as we headed outside. 

As we pulled out onto the main road, the aftermath of the blizzard could be seen everywhere. Broken limbs hung haphazardly from trees. Power lines had been torn from their utility poles and tangled around them. Snowbanks towered at the edges of the pavement, left behind by the snowplows that had cleared the roads. A little while later, I pulled into the downtown shopping center.

“Woah,” Bambi said, looking out across the shopping center.

“You’ve never been here?”

“No, never. We didn’t really have the budget to shop at places like this.” She let out a huff. “We could hardly afford the bare essentials as it was. Food and rent. That’s what mattered.”

And drugs.

She didn’t have to say it for me to know that was where her mind had gone.

My grip tightened around the wheel. I’d seen Caroline’s statements after she was admitted. Later, when I’d met with the bank about the apartment, I’d learned just how far behind they really were. They’d been lucky they weren’t evicted.

Bambi had been doing what she could, working shifts at a sketchy diner just to keep them afloat, but Caroline had burned though nearly every dollar on getting high.

Anger flared in my chest at the thought of everything Bambi had been forced to go through because Caroline couldn’t keep her shit together. It was a parent’s job to take care of their children, not the other fucking way around.

I blew out a slow breath, forcing the thought aside. I didn’t need Caroline taking up space in my head right now. This trip was about Bambi.

I pulled the truck into a parking spot and killed the ignition. “Well, come on then.” I smiled. “Let’s get you something that’s not mine.”

Bambi chuckled and climbed from the truck.

“I didn’t not like wearing your clothes, you know,” she said softly.

I almost lost my footing as I rounded the truck. She really shouldn’t be saying things like that. It did something funny to my chest.

“I didn’t not like seeing you in them,” I replied.

Fuck. I shouldn’t be saying things like that.

I glanced away, shoved my hands in my pockets and started heading for the main entrance.

“So, where to first?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t know,” she shrugged.

“Pick any store you want, Bambi. Or all of them. We don’t leave until we find something you like.”

“Okay,” she smiled. Then, of course, she made a beeline for the single brightest store in the entire shopping center. I almost needed to shield my eyes from the obscene number of bright lights and polished chrome. It was enough to give a man a migraine that would last a week.

Turns out Bambi agreed.

“We need to leave,” she said not five minutes later, squinting up at me.

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing as she grabbed my arm and all but dragged me from the store.

“Not into chrome these days?”

She glared up at me. “You’re not funny. That store was awful.”

“Yes, I am,” I countered. “But no, that was pretty bad.”

“You pick the next one,” she said.

“Alright,” I chuckled, and steered us toward a more understated store with an appropriate amount of lighting.

I followed Bambi through the aisles as she browsed, watching her pick up item after item, scrunch her nose at it, and set it back down.

“This store is for old people, Graham.” She held up an atrocious floral blouse and shook it at me. “I’m twenty-four. Not eighty.”

“I don’t know,” I teased. “I think this shade of blue would really—ow!”

“Don’t make me punch you again,” she warned, biting back a smile.

The next few stores were more of the same. In the two stores after that, Bambi spent more time looking at price tags than she did the clothes themselves.

“Bambi.” I said after she’d scoffed for the tenth time.

“Yeah?”

I stepped beside her and took the item from her hand. “Stop worrying about what the price tag says.”

“Graham, I—”

“It’s fine. I promise.”

Bambi pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and looked away.

I wished there was something more I could say, something more I could do, to help her understand that how she’d lived in the past wasn’t how she had to live now. That she was allowed to want things for herself. That she deserved them. No matter the cost.

“I don’t give a shit about the money, Bambi. What I do give a shit about is that you find something you like.”

Slowly, her eyes lifted to meet mine.

“Okay,” she said quietly.

Bambi continued to browse the store, skimming her fingers over cotton shirts, denim shorts, and silky dresses. Every so often, she would reach for a price tag before catching herself.

We had almost made a full circle of the store when she stopped short in front of a mannequin. It was wearing a fuzzy pink sweater with silver buttons running down the center.

She ran her fingers down the sleeves, then over the buttons.

“Can I?” she asked, looking at me over her shoulder.

I smiled. “Go on.”

She carefully pulled the sweater off the mannequin, almost as if she were scared she’d ruin it.

Bambi disappeared into a dressing room, and a moment later, the curtains slid open and she stepped out.

She walked to the three-sided mirror and turned in a slow circle. When she came to a stop, she smoothed her hands over the front, her smile widening.

Her eyes met mine in the mirror. “What do you think?”

The sweater fit snug against her, emphasizing the narrow curve of her waist and the low neckline offered a glimpse of the soft shadow between her breasts.

“It’s perfect,” I said. “It’s yours.”

No questions asked. It would be the easiest one hundred-and-fifty dollars I’d ever spent. I’d buy every pink fucking sweater in the country if it meant I got to see her smile like that again.

Bambi beamed at me, and I swear to God, it was like… I don’t know. Like her whole goddamn aura brightened. Like she was glowing from the inside out.

Seeing her like that… that was addicting. And fuck if I didn’t want more of that.

Bambi was in front of me in three strides, and before I could blink, she was pressed against my chest, her arms wrapped tightly around my neck.

“Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” she squealed in my ear.

I stood there, too stunned to move for a split second, before my arms wound around her.

“You’re welcome.”

Fuck it. I’ll buy her every pink sweatshirt in the goddamn world.

An hour later, Bambi and I returned to the cottage with so many shopping bags I was already considering buying her a bigger dresser.

While she worked on putting away her new things, I finished up some of the work I hadn’t been able to earlier.

A soft giggle drifted down the hall and my hands stilled over my keyboard.

I smiled to myself. Yeah, I liked the sound of that.

Chapter Ten →