slow-burn

G+B Chapter 16: Blank Pages

/ feralbookster / 1 Comment

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

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

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

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

“Graham?” I mumbled.

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

“Are you leaving?” 

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

“Mmkay,” I said.

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

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

My brows furrowed and my eyes drifted open. 

Oh yeah. He’d already left. 

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

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

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

God, this man might actually be pure perfection.

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

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

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

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

I pulled it from my notebook.

“Another card?”

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

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

Where the hell did he go? 

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

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

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

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

It was a small key. 

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

I turned my attention back to the notecard. 

You dropped the key, didn’t you?

“No,” I said, scowling at the card. 

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

I continued reading Graham’s note.

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

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

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

Where the hell could he be talking about? 

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

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

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

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

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

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

I unlocked the drawer and pulled it open. 

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

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

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

I love you, Bambi.

Graham.

Tears filled my eyes. He really was perfection.

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

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

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

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

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

His face came into view.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are you?” I asked. 

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

“Home,” he said, looking at me. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Graham started setting things out on the counter. 

“What are you doing?” I asked. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Was your job site today safe?”

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

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

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

“Can’t wait.” I smirked.

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

“That would be great,” I said.

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

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

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

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

“What is it?”

“The cottage.”

“The cottage? Why?”

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

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

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

“Yeah. Me too.”

Chapter Seventeen →

G+B Chapter 15: Out With the Old

/ feralbookster / 1 Comment

I was sitting on the floor just inside the open front door, sketching in my notebook when Graham came up behind me. 

“Why are you on the floor? And why is the door open?”

I scowled at him over my shoulder. “I’m drawing, but it’s too cold to go outside.” I groaned. “I thought the weather was supposed to be getting warmer now that spring is almost here.”

Graham pursed his lips, biting back a smile. “Yeah, makes total sense,” he said, nodding. “Although, you could’ve just sat at the table. You can see outside from there.”

I rolled my eyes at him. “It’s not the same. The perspective would be way off.”

He chuckled. “If you say so.”

“You going somewhere?” I asked, just now noticing he’d traded in his usual sweatpants and T-shirt for jeans and a long-sleeved tee.

“Yeah, actually. The apartment needs to be cleared out before we can sell it. Was going to head over there today. You want to join me?”

I closed my notebook quickly and scrambled to my feet. “Yes!”

Graham’s brows rose. 

“Sorry,” I said, brushing my hands down my leggings. “I just really need to get out of the house for a little bit.”

Winter seemed reluctant to release its grip, and for the last three days, Graham and I had been holed up in the cottage with nowhere to go. Not that being trapped inside with Graham was exactly a hardship. We’d found plenty of ways to occupy ourselves, but my sore muscles were loudly protesting against any more of our… indoor recreational activities.

“All good.” He chuckled. “Do you need a minute to change or—” 

“Nope,” I said. “I’m ready to go.”

Graham smiled and shook his head. “Alright then, let’s get outta here.”

“Thank God,” I muttered under my breath. 

We were about halfway to the apartment when Graham turned the music down and glanced over at me. “You okay to be doing this?” 

“Yeah,” I said. “It’ll be good for me, I think.”

“If it’s too much, tell me and we’re outta there.”

“I will. Thanks.”

I hadn’t given much thought to what it might feel like to be back. I hadn’t seen the place since Graham had come for me, but as we pulled into the apartment complex, my stomach twisted itself into a knot. 

Graham pulled into a spot and put the truck in park. He reached across the armrest and gave my hand a gentle squeeze. “We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

“No. No, I’m good. I want to.” 

He nodded once before stepping out of the truck and coming around to open my door. He helped me down, then went to get his toolbox from the truck bed.

Graham came back to me and threaded his fingers through mine. Together, we crossed the parking lot to my building. 

Something prickled at the back of my neck. I slowed my steps. 

“Bambi?” Graham asked.

I glanced around the parking lot. 

“Yeah? Sorry. I just got a weird feeling. It’s probably just from being back.”

“Remember what I said. We can leave anytime.”

“I know. I’m good.” I gave him a small smile, hoping it looked more convincing than it felt.

“Are you sure? You’ve said you’re good like three times now and I’m starting to think you aren’t actually good.”

“I promise.”

“Okay,” he said. He didn’t sound like he fully believed me, but he didn’t ask again as we continued into the building.

“Damn elevator.” Graham grumbled. “Can’t believe they still haven’t fixed this piece of crap.”

I scoffed. “I can. It took them like two months just to fix the broken pipe in the bathroom last year. And it still didn’t work right after.”

Graham held the door to the stairwell open for me. 

“No way would I trust that giant death trap even if they did fix it,” I said as I stepped past him.

By the time we reached the third-floor landing, I was nearly wheezing. Sweat beaded along my hairline, and my calves were screaming. Graham, however, looked as if we’d just gone for a leisurely fucking stroll down the street. 

“Come on. It wasn’t that bad,” he teased, opening the door into the hall. 

I glared at him as I moved past him. “Easy for you to say. Your workout routine probably consists of bench-pressing entire pine trees and curling boulders.”

“Nah,” he said as the stairwell door closed behind him. “I’ve moved on to whole oaks now.”

“You’re still not funny.”

I started down the hall, but Graham’s arms slipped around my waist from behind, pulling me back against him. He lowered his head, his breath tickling my ear. “I like our little workouts a hell of a lot more.”

I laughed. “Okay, down boy.”

Graham laughed and released me, falling into step beside me as we continued down the hall.

We stopped outside the apartment and Graham fished through his pocket for the key.

He slid it into the lock and turned it. His hand closed over the knob, but he didn’t open the door just yet. He looked over at me first. “Ready?”

I nodded. “Yes.”

The hinges creaked loudly as Graham pushed the door open, the sound echoing through the hall.

We stepped inside, and I was immediately met with the stale smell of mildew. It crept into my nostrils and lodged in my throat. I resisted the urge to gag. I looked up at Graham, but he didn’t seem to notice the smell. Or maybe he was pretending for my sake.

He flicked on the switch by the door, and the apartment lit up. 

“You paid the electric?”

“Didn’t want to be working in the dark,” he said. “Besides, the place is… kind of mine now, so, yeah.” 

“Yours? Why would you even want this dump? And what about Caroline? There’s no way she would’ve handed this place over.”

He shrugged. “I don’t. And she didn’t have a choice. The place was well into foreclosure by the time I got her into rehab. I worked something out with the lender and bought the thing myself.”

“I can’t imagine she was too thrilled about that.”

“Not in the least. But it’s her own damn fault, and I don’t give a shit how she feels about it.”

“Can’t argue that.” I paused for a second, his words finally registering. “Hold on. How could you afford to buy this place? What exactly do you do for a living?” 

I realized I’d never once asked him what he did.

“I do CAD design.”

“Cat design? What the hell is cat design?” 

Graham laughed. “CAD, Bambi. With a D. Not cat.”

I just stared up at him.

“I create digital blueprints.”

“Oh. Cool. I think.”

“It’s really not, but I like it well enough.”

“Pays well, too,” I added under my breath.

“So, where should we start?” Graham asked, walking farther into the apartment.

I followed him into the living room, stopped in the middle of it, and turned in a circle. “I have no idea.”

“Why don’t we go room by room, then?”

“Yeah. Works for me.”

“Living room first?”

“Sure.”

Graham set his toolbox on the coffee table in the center of the room, then went to the windows and began pulling down the cardboard covering them.

Sunlight flooded the space, and I grimaced. 

How did I live like this for so long?

The peeling paint and patches of cracked drywall. Dust on every surface. The threadbare couch with its mismatched, tattered pillows. The coffee table with discolored rings from cups and mugs and deep nicks in the wood. It was all so… pathetic.

Graham pulled away the last piece of cardboard and turned to me. “If there’s anything you want to keep, we’ll set it on the counter. Everything else can get chucked. I’ll call someone tomorrow to haul away the big stuff.”

“Sounds good.”

I took another look around the living room. There were no family photos or childhood artwork hanging on the walls. The small bookshelf tucked in the corner held only a handful of books, none of them worth keeping. 

“Toss it all,” I said.

“You sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Graham dragged the bookshelf toward the center of the room and left it beside the couch. 

“Books could probably be donated,” he suggested, pulling the books off the shelf and stacking them on the coffee table. 

“Sure. There’s a public library not far from here,” I said, moving into the kitchen. “Maybe they’ll take them.”

I opened one of the cabinets above the stove and began removing the dishes and stacking them on the island.

Graham joined me a moment later, his eyes scanning the stack. A deep furrow formed between his brows. He crouched and opened the cabinets beneath the counter.

“There’s less stuff here than I remember,” he said. “What happened to the china?”

“If it could be pawned, it was.”

“They were gifts for their wedding, for Christ’s sake.”

Anything that had monetary value didn’t last long here. No matter how big or small or sentimental. To Caroline, it was all just dollar signs. Nothing more. 

Graham removed the few pots and pans and a dented slow cooker and set them on the island beside the sad stack of dishes. He put his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Unbelievable,” he muttered.

“Welcome home,” I said dryly.

It didn’t take long to go through the rest of the kitchen. Most of the remaining cabinets were either empty or held nothing but a few expired cans of food. The fridge wasn’t much better and had developed a slight funk since I’d last been here. 

 “I’m assuming there’s nothing here you want to keep,” Graham said. 

“Nope. You?”

“Nah. Should we move on then?”

“Bedrooms?”

“Yeah. You go ahead. I’m gonna move this stuff into the living room.”

“Okey dokey,” I said, heading toward the hallway.

I stopped in front of the first door on the right. It was Graham’s old bedroom. 

I stared at the door, unable to do anything else.

I’d stood outside his door countless times, tempted to turn the knob and step inside, but part of me had always been too afraid to try. Back then I’d convinced myself that if the door stayed closed, I could pretend he was inside. Doing homework. Drawing. Reading. Opening the door would have shattered the illusion and proved that he was gone for real and wasn’t coming back. 

“Go on. You can open it.”

Graham’s voice startled me. I turned to find him standing beside me. I hadn’t even heard him come down the hall.

I wrapped my fingers around the knob, turning it halfway before stopping. I looked up at him again. 

“It’s alright, Bambi. Go ahead.”

I turned the knob the rest of the way, pushed the door open, and stepped inside. 

It was like a perfectly preserved time capsule.

His bed was unmade, the sheets rumpled and the pillowcase hanging halfway off the pillow. The small desk against the wall was covered in textbooks and papers. A wonky coffee mug that Graham made in pottery class held pens and pencils. Clothes were scattered across the floor and spilling out of dresser drawers. A gray hoodie, the only one I’d ever seen him wear, was draped over the back of his desk chair, its logo faded.

I turned, realizing that Graham was still standing in the doorway, the toes of his boots lined up with the threshold. His hands were tucked into his pockets, his gaze fixed solely on me. 

“You’re not coming in?” I asked.

“No.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“You aren’t the least bit curious about what you left behind?”

“Bambi, the only thing in that room right now that I care about is you.”

A blush crept into my cheeks. It’s not like he even said anything monumentally profound, and yet, my poor little heart fluttered all the same.

I looked around the room one more time. I supposed I couldn’t blame him for not feeling any attachment to any of it. It was all part of a life he’d moved on from a long time ago. 

I started to leave, but something caught the corner of my eye.

A brown furry paw peeked out from under a T-shirt on his dresser. I pulled the shirt off and tossed it aside. It was my old teddy bear. 

“Bambi!” Graham hollered down the hall. “Come get your stupid bear out of my room!” 

I yanked my bedroom door open and stuck my head out into the hall. “No! I don’t want him anymore!”

“Well, I don’t want him either!”

“I’m too old for stuffed animals, Graham. Just throw him away!”

Graham groaned. “He’s your bear. You throw him away.”

“You do it!” I slammed my door shut and climbed back onto my bed and continued reading. 

Graham’s door slammed shut next, the vibration rattling the walls. 

“I thought you threw him away,” I said, picking him up off the dresser. 

“Couldn’t, I guess.”

Graham reached out and tugged at the bear’s arm. “It’s not too late. I can add him to the pile.”

“Hey!” I swatted his hand away. “God, what are we, fifteen?” 

Graham laughed. “Come on. Bear can come live with us. I think he’ll like the cottage.”

He stepped aside to let me pass. I moved past him, clutching Bear tighter in case Graham got any more ideas, and closed the door behind me.

After setting Bear on the kitchen counter—the only thing currently in the “keep” pile—we moved on to my room.

I was more nervous about it than I thought I’d be. It was one thing to see the sorry state of the living room and kitchen, but being in my room somehow felt more embarrassing. And after seeing Graham’s room, mine looked more like an empty shell, with hardly any evidence of a life inside.

Against the far wall was a twin bed I’d long outgrown. Beside it was a nightstand that held nothing inside, with a single broken lamp on top. A second-hand dresser that I could never fill sat against wall to my left. They were just… things. Furniture. And as far as décor went, I had the boards covering the broken windows. 

“You know, I- I don’t think there’s anything I need from here,” I said, backing toward the door.

“Bambi,” he said gently, resting a hand on my shoulder to stop me.

“It’s just, I don’t know. It feels… weird. I feel exposed.” I covered my face with my hands. 

“I lived on the street for four months, Bambi. Slept in worse conditions than this.”

He turned me toward him, pulled my hands away, and tilted my chin up. “You don’t have to hide this from me. None of this changes how I see you or how I feel about you, Bambi.” 

Graham’s hands slid to my waist. He held my gaze as he took a step forward, moving us further into my room. He leaned in, capturing my lips with his, and took another step forward. Then another. And another.

The backs of my knees hit my bed, and the frame creaked as Graham lowered me to the mattress. 

I pulled back, wincing at the sound. 

“Stay with me, Bambi,” Graham said, leaning in to kiss me again. His tongue swept inside my mouth as he nudged my knees apart with his and stepped between my legs. 

He slipped his fingers beneath the hem of my shirt and pulled it over my head. My leggings were gone next, quickly followed by Graham’s shirt and jeans.

He leaned me back onto the mattress, holding himself up on one arm. He lifted my leg, hooked my ankle over his shoulder, and pulled my panties to the side. He drew the tip of his cock through my folds, coating himself in my arousal before slipping inside me.

 “Fuck,” Graham groaned. “I’ll never get over how tight you are, Bambi.” 

His words sent a spark racing down my spine, straight to my core, and a soft whimper slipped past my lips. 

He drew out almost completely before sliding back in deep. He moved at an unhurried pace, taking his time with each stroke.

The frame creaked beneath us in a steady rhythm. I squeezed my eyes shut and clenched my jaw, trying to focus on Graham, but the sound was impossibly loud. 

“I’m right here, baby,” he said. “Be here with me.”

He eased my leg from his shoulder and lowered himself onto his elbow, the weight of his body settling more fully against me. He pressed kisses to my neck, to the sensitive skin below my ear. His hand skimmed over my thigh, my waist, my nerves sparking beneath his touch.  

I blew out a slow breath, relaxing my body and leaning into every blissful sensation. Each slow thrust pulled another moan from me, coaxing me closer to climax. The slick sounds between our bodies and heavy breathing filled the room. Everything else faded into the background as my desire built higher and higher until I shuddered beneath him. My hands fisted the sheets and my legs clamped around his waist as the pleasure devoured me.

Graham stilled, grunting as he spilled himself inside me.

His body collapsed onto mine, his weight heavy against me, but I wrapped my arms around him anyway, holding him there. 

I ran my fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, and a low, satisfied sound rumbled from his chest.

“You know, I honestly never thought I’d be back here,” I said.

Graham lifted his head. “No? Why not?”

“Well, for starters, the way you basically barged in here all broody and domineering. Pretty much made it seem like I wouldn’t be back. Like ever. Then when you told me you were selling the place, I figured no chance in hell I’d see this place again.”

 “I was not domineering. Commanding, maybe.”

“Fine, fine.” I chuckled. “So very commanding.” 

Graham shifted his weight off me and lay beside me, propping his head up on his hand and draping his other arm across my waist. “Did it upset you?” he asked. “Thinking you might not come back?”

“Not as much as I thought it would. Not every memory I had here was bad or painful, but there also wasn’t much to miss.”

“And what about this one?” 

I turned on my side to face him. “I’d rank it in the top three,” I teased. 

“Oof. Only top three? Tough crowd.”

I giggled. “It’s definitely one of the better memories.”

Graham’s gaze wandered around my room, and a slow smile spread across his lips. 

“The last time I was in here was the night you kissed me for the first time.”

“Hey, you kissed me.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Did you regret it?” I asked. 

“Did you?” His eyes slid to mine, a hint of uncertainty creeping into his expression.

“No, never.”

“Did you hate me?” 

“For leaving?”

“Yeah.”

I drew in a deep breath. “Kind of? At least, I tried to hate you. For a long time, I think I convinced myself I did, but really, I was more pissed than anything.”

“That’s fair. I was pissed at myself too. And I didn’t think I’d ever be back here either.”

“Well, it’s all in the past now, right? I mean, despite everything, we’ve found our way back to each other—even if you did kind of kidnap me—and we’re here together in a place that neither of us thought we’d see again.”

“A full circle moment, huh? Wait. I did not kidnap you, Bambi.”

“You kind of did.” I laughed. 

“It’s not kidnapping if you came willingly.”

“Hmm. But did I, though?”

“You definitely did. I was there.”

“I cannot be held accountable for my actions at that time, Graham. I was under duress.”

“Under duress, huh?” A mischievous gleam lit his eyes. 

Uh-oh.

I sat up and scrambled off the bed.

“Oh no you don’t.”

I’d barely made it two steps away from the bed when he was on his feet and standing between me and the door.

I stepped to the left and Graham followed, a cocky grin pulling at the edge of his mouth. I took a half-step to the right, and he followed again, but I darted left and bolted for the door. His fingertips grazed me as I made it into the hall.

“Help me, Bear!” I shouted, grabbing him from the counter and chucking him behind me at Graham.

He caught Bear midair, tossed him aside, and prowled closer. 

I walked backward farther into the living room, keeping the trash pile strategically between us.

“You have nowhere to go, Bambi,” Graham drawled as he circled around the trash pile. “Unless you’re about to run out into the hall in your underwear.”

I mirrored his movement. “I could say the same to you, Mr. Plaid Boxers.”

I glanced behind him. If I could get him just a little farther from the hallway, I could make a break back to my room. 

But Graham knew what I was planning and lunged toward me before I could draw him any farther away.

I squealed and tried to run, but he caught my wrist and pulled me back toward him

“I don’t think so,” he growled. 

He grabbed my other wrist and secured my hands behind my back before bending me over the back of the couch. He kicked my feet apart and stepped up behind me, pressing his hardness against my ass. 

With one hand holding my wrists secure, he yanked my panties down my thighs with the other. He freed his cock from his boxers and thrust into me in one hard push, my moan rebounding off the empty walls.

He leaned over me, his breath hot against my ear. “I think you like being ‘under duress.’ You’re soaked right now, Bambi.”

“I plead the fifth.” I half-laughed, half-moaned as he pushed inside me again.

By the time we collapsed on the living room floor, I was completely spent. I stared up at the ceiling, trying to catch my breath. “So much for clearing out the apartment.”

Graham chuckled. “Eh. There’s no rush. We still have plenty of time today.”

I propped myself up on my forearms. “Oh no. Uh-uh. I’m done. I’m tired and starving.”

As if on cue, my stomach rumbled. 

Graham turned his head toward me. “Pizza?”

“From Dougie’s!” we said at the same time. 

“I’ll make the call,” Graham said. 

Twenty minutes later, as advertised by Dougie himself, our pizza was delivered. 

We sat on the living room floor, the box between us, salivating over our triple cheese pizza. 

My eyes nearly rolled back as I took my first bite. “God,” I groaned. “I forgot how freakin’ good their pizza was.”

Graham took a huge bite of his, the cheese stretching ridiculously far, before sliding off the slice and into the box.

Graham looked down at the glob of cheese like it had just personally offended him. “Now that’s just rude.”

I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing.

Three slices each later, the box was empty and my belly was at max capacity. I fell back onto the floor and closed my eyes, too full to even breathe.

Graham nudged me. “Hey, sleepyhead. We’ve still got one room left.”

I popped one eye open and turned my head to scowl at him. “Yeah, I was hoping to put that off for the foreseeable future.”

“We can’t put it off forever.”

“Sure, we could. At least… give me five more minutes to digest that ungodly amount of cheese.”

“Five minutes,” he said, getting to his feet. He grabbed the empty box and walked it over to the counter. “Meet you in there.”

Graham’s footsteps receded down the hall.

I continued to lie there, regretting my decision to consume a pound of cheese.

A minute later, Graham returned, fully dressed and carrying my clothes. He held them out to me. 

“Oh. Thanks,” I said, taking them.

“Welcome. Remember, five minutes.”

“Yeah, yeah,” I muttered.

He turned and headed back down the hall. 

I had just finished getting dressed when Graham called out.

“Uh, Bambi?”

“Yeah!” I called back.

“You should come see this.”

“Coming!”

When I got to Caroline’s room, Graham was standing by the closet, an old shoebox tucked under one arm and a stack of papers in his hand.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Here.” He held the papers out to me.

I scanned the header. Then again. And then one more time because apparently I couldn’t process what was right in front of me.

“Petition for divorce,” I read aloud slowly. 

“Look at the date,” he said. “It’s from before your dad passed.”

I looked up at him. “What? She tried to divorce my dad?”

“Your dad wanted the divorce, Bambi. Not Caroline.” He took the papers from me, flipped to the last page, and handed them back.

There it was, exactly as I remembered it—my dad’s signature—at the bottom of the page.

“Notice anything else?”

“You mean the second line? The one conspicuously missing your mother’s signature? Yeah, I noticed.”

Did she not sign because she just flat out refused? Did they mutually decide not to go through with it after my dad got sick? Did Caroline… wait for him to die instead? 

“Bambi? You okay?”

I looked up. “Yeah. I just wasn’t expecting this. Why do you think she didn’t sign them?”

“I don’t know. I couldn’t even begin to guess what goes on inside that lady’s head,” he said. “The only thing I know that gets Caroline to do anything is money.” 

“Well, it’s not like we had much of that,” I said. “Especially after my dad got sick and stopped working.”

“Maybe she thought there would be some sort of life insurance payout?”

I shrugged. “Maybe.”

“I think the better question, though, is why your dad wanted to file in the first place.”

“I mean, look at where we are, Graham. I don’t think it’s that hard to hazard a guess. I could throw a rock and hit a dozen reasons why. And honestly, at this point, does it even matter why he filed or why she didn’t sign? They’re not here anymore.” I folded up the papers and handed them back to Graham.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” he said. “So, what do you want to do with these?”

“Throw them away.” I glanced around Caroline’s room again. It was by far the filthiest room in the apartment. Clothes everywhere. Dirty spoons scattered across the floor. Grime coating every surface. 

“As with everything else in here,” I added.

Graham returned the papers to the shoebox and closed the lid. He tossed it onto the mattress on the floor, then slung his arm around my shoulders. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”

We left Caroline’s room and headed back toward the living room. I scooped Bear off the hallway floor as we passed and hugged him against my chest.

“Ready?” Graham asked when we reached the front door.

“More than ready,” I said.

“Got everything?”

I looked down at Bear and smiled. “Yep.”

This time, when Graham closed the door behind us, I didn’t look back. 

As we drove back to the cottage, I watched the houses and apartment buildings pass by outside my window. They looked nice enough. Normal. Unassuming. But who knew what really went on behind all those closed doors? My own apartment building looked just as ordinary from the outside. No one would have known about the cardboard covering the windows. The empty cabinets. The expired food. No one would have known that the mother who lived there—if you could call it living—spent more time with her drugs than her own children. That the young girl spent more time in the dark and cold than she ever should have. Or that the young boy had spent years trying to contain his own mother’s emotional fallout when he was only a kid himself. 

How many other people were living like we had been?

When we got back to the cottage, I stepped out of the truck and paused.

The first time I’d arrived here, I’d been so hesitant to get out of the truck, certain that once I did, there would be no going back. Now, as I looked up at the cottage, at the man waiting for me on the porch with my teddy in his arms, I was certain I never wanted to. 

Chapter Sixteen →

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 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

/ feralbookster / 1 Comment

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 →

G+B Chapter 8: Aftermath – Graham

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My back was stiff. My neck and shoulders were sore. My thighs and calves still burned. But I’d do it all again. Charge head-on into the storm without an ounce of hesitation if that meant Bambi was here. Safe. With me. 

I looked down at her as she slept, her head in my lap and her hands tucked beneath her chin. Her lips were slightly parted and every so often a soft snore left her, making the corners of my mouth quirk upward.

It reminded me of when we were younger. Her dad and Caroline used to fight. Loudly and often. Bambi would slip into my room and hide under the covers, hands over her ears, until either the fighting stopped or she fell asleep. It was usually the latter. I could always tell when she’d fallen asleep because she would let out the same little snores. 

At first it used to annoy me. But it was what she had told me during one of our parents’ particularly bad fights that changed everything. She had said, “You make all the bad feelings go away. You’re the only place that’s safe.”

That was the moment I became protective of Bambi. I’d left my bedroom door cracked open for her ever since. I never wanted her to feel like she couldn’t come to me, couldn’t feel safe in her own home. 

My chest tightened at the memory. I hadn’t thought about that in years.

I brushed away some of the hair that had fallen into her face and tucked it behind her ear. The last of the afternoon light faded from her face, soft shadows taking its place. 

My phone buzzed on the rug beside me, another severe weather notification flashing on the screen. I didn’t need to open it to know that the storm was worsening. I could see it. 

Through the living room window, snow swirled so heavily I could barely make out the line of pines at the back of the property. Snow blanketed the entire porch and piled against the window sills. The wind whipped against the cottage, occasionally rattling the French doors. In the distance, above even the howl of the winds, I could hear the distinct crack of branches breaking beneath the weight of the snow.

The lights in the cottage flickered before cutting off completely. I waited for the familiar hum of the generator to kick on but was met only by dead silence.

“Damn it.” 

I glanced down at Bambi sleeping peacefully in my lap. I didn’t want to leave her, but without the generator our only heat source would be the fireplace. The food in the fridge wouldn’t last long either. 

The old apartment flashed in my mind. That night I’d come for Bambi, it had been freezing and without power. One look at her had been enough to know she hadn’t eaten in days. 

I gritted my teeth, a surge of anger rushing through me. There was no way in hell I was going to let Bambi live through that again.

Careful not to wake her, I slipped my hand beneath her head and lifted it from my lap. I slid myself out from under her and eased a pillow beneath her head. I pulled the blanket higher over her shoulders and tucked it in around her. 

After pulling on a dry coat and boots, I headed to the kitchen for the flashlight I kept in one of the cabinets. I clicked it on to make sure it still worked, then switched it off again.

I stepped outside and headed for the small shed attached to the side of the cottage where I stored the generator. 

I shone the light on the generator, and immediately grimaced. The red paint was chipped and peeling in places, and the frame it sat in was rusted.

I had been meaning to replace it, but when it was only me living here, it never seemed urgent. Now I had Bambi to think about. 

I made a mental note to replace it as soon as the storm passed, then pushed the thought aside and focused on the generator. 

I was relieved to find it was only low on fuel and hadn’t suffered any major damage. 

I pulled the gas can from the shelf on the back wall of the shed, silently thanking myself for my utter stupidity at storing gasoline inside the same building as a potential fucking ignition source. 

I topped off the generator and turned it on, the steady rumble filling the silence. 

After a final check of the generator to make sure everything was running smoothly, I closed and latched the shed and returned to the cottage. 

When I entered through the French doors, Bambi was sitting up in front of the fireplace, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

“Graham?” she asked, looking up at me. “Where did you go?”

“The power went out. I had to check the generator.”

“Oh.” She looked around the cottage, only then noticing that just half of it was lit.

I crouched beside her and readjusted her hoodie that had bunched around her while she slept. “Why don’t you go back to sleep, Bambi,” I said. “Everything is fine.”

“Uh-uh,” she muttered drowsily. “Don’t want to.”

“Bambi,” I pressed. “You…” 

You could have died. 

It felt like my heart was lodged in my throat. I swallowed hard and said, “You just went through a lot, and your body needs rest.”

Her lips turned downward, then just as she went to speak, her stomach rumbled loudly and her mouth clamped shut. 

In the dim glow of the firelight, I could see the faint pink of a blush spreading across her cheeks. 

“Food first. Then sleep. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.” She nodded. 

I raised a single brow at her.

“Sorry,” she said quickly. “That sounds good.”

“Alright,” I said, standing and holding out my hands to her. “But you’re helping.”

Bambi tossed the blanket aside and took my hands, pulling herself to her feet.  She stumbled just a little, bumping into my chest.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Yeah.” She cleared her throat. “I’m good.”

“Okay,” I said, nodding toward the kitchen. “Come on.”

Bambi leaned against the counter as I pulled two pots from the cupboard. “What are we making?”

“Spaghetti.”

I set the pots on the stove, then grabbed a cutting board and knife and laid them in front of Bambi. “You’re chopping,” I told her. “Tomatoes are in the fridge and the garlic is in the cabinet to your left.”

Bambi nodded and headed for the fridge. While she got to work chopping, I filled the first pot with water for the pasta and set it on the stove, then started working on the sauce.

I glanced over at her, a smile pulling at the edges of my lips. Two little creases had formed between her brows, and her nose was scrunched. She’d always done that whenever she was concentrating. 

When she was finished with the tomatoes and garlic, I tossed them into the pot and stirred the sauce. 

“Would you hand me the salt and pepper?” I asked.

Bambi rose onto her toes, reaching for the grinders on the top shelf. 

The grinders were just out of her reach, so I stepped up behind her to help. “I got it.” 

Bambi’s soft, sudden inhale made me pause. I looked down. My left hand rested against her waist and my chest was pressed lightly to her back. 

Her eyes met mine and her lips were parted.

The aroma of simmering tomatoes and garlic faded beneath the scent of her. It was my soap. My shampoo. Yet somehow, in only the way Bambi could, she made them uniquely her own. 

I cleared my throat and stepped away. From the corner of my eye, I thought I saw her shiver. 

I added the salt and pepper to the sauce, stirred it, then lifted the spoon to my mouth for a taste. It was almost perfect. 

“Try this,” I said. “Tell me what you think.”

Bambi dipped her finger into the sauce and tasted it. “More salt,” she muttered. She licked away the sauce that had trailed down her finger. 

 Every muscle in my body drew taut. My eyes followed the slow sweep of her tongue over her finger. Her lips closed around it, and the soft pop as she drew it free sent a jolt of heat through me.

Fuck. I was in trouble. 

“Are you going to add the…” Bambi glanced up at me, nothing but pure innocence in her eyes. “…salt?”

“The salt. Yeah. Yes.” 

I tore my eyes away from her and turned the salt grinder twice over the sauce. I stirred it again, focusing on the slow, steady swirl of the spoon, the scrape of wood against the pot. The safe, ordinary rhythm of it. 

I had never had to focus this hard on stirring in my life. 

When the pasta was finally ready, Bambi pulled two bowls from the cabinet and set them on the counter. I divided the pasta into two bowls, poured the sauce over top, and we carried them back to the living room. 

We ate beside each other on the floor, the fire light casting a warm glow around us. 

“You didn’t burn the sauce,” she said after her second bite. “I’m impressed.”

“That was one time. And I was thirteen! I’m surprised you even remember that.” Under my breath, I added, “Almost as surprised that you didn’t burn the water.”

Bambi gasped and swatted me on the arm. “I heard that, jerk,” she said between a laugh. Then, softly, she said, “I remember a lot of things.” 

She looked down at her bowl, twirling her spaghetti around her fork almost absentmindedly, like she had found herself in the middle of one of those memories.

When she looked up at me again, there was a wistfulness in her eyes. 

“You did always make the best spaghetti… like my mom.” She blew out a breath. “And I’ll have you know, burning water takes special talent.”

“I’m sure,” I chuckled. “You were the only one who could manage such a thing.”

Bambi laughed, some of the lightness returning to her voice. 

Soon, the teasing faded, and we settled into a sort of familiarity that felt older than the cottage around us. 

It felt like we were kids again.

And fuck, I missed that. 

Chapter Nine →

G+B Chapter 7: Warmth

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

Honestly, I had expected him to be pissed. Expected a lecture at the very least. Yet there was nothing but concern in his eyes and gentleness in the way he handled me. 

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

“Free-zing.”

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

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

“What about y-you?” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m s-sorry,” I rushed out. 

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

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

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

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

“Graham!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“All I’ve wanted is for you to talk to me. I didn’t realize all it’d take was hypothermia and risking frostbite to make that happen.” I laughed. “I would have thrown myself into the snow a lot sooner if I’d known that.”

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

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

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

“An ass?”

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

“Yeah,” I chuckled before adding softly, “thanks for coming after me. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you stand?” he asked.

“Mhmm, I think so.”

“Okay. Don’t move. I forgot towels.”

Graham moved to the linen closet, his boots squeaking with every step. As he reached inside, my eyes were drawn to the way his shirt clung to him, emphasizing the deep valley running down the center of his back and the broad span of his shoulders. He turned back to me and my eyes drifted across the hard ridges of his abs. 

I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, warmth curling low in my stomach.

“Bambi?” 

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

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

“You think you can manage from here?” he asked, seemingly oblivious to where my mind had gone. 

“Yep.”

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

“Mhmm.”

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

I shook my head at myself, and undressed, tossing my soaked clothes aside. I tugged on his black hoodie, the hem reaching mid-thigh, then pulled on another pair of his sweatpants.

I left the bathroom and stopped just short of the living room. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Me?”

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

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

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

And I could live with that. 

“Me too,” I said. 

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

Chapter Eight →

G+B Chapter 5: Unanswered Questions

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Morning light spilled through the window, its golden shafts falling across my face. I stretched my arms above me, then lay there, staring at the ceiling, listening. 

The house was quiet. It was a different kind of quiet than I was used to. It was calm, not tense like the apartment.

I slowly climbed out of bed, grabbed my sweater off the dresser and pulled it on before heading for the kitchen. 

Graham wasn’t hovering over the stove like he had been the last couple of days. Instead, he was on the couch in the living room, hunched over a spread of documents on the coffee table with a laptop open beside them. His sleeves were rolled up, the muscles in his forearms flexing as he scribbled something down on one of the papers. 

“Morning,” he called from the couch. 

“Morning,” I replied, unsure how he’d known I was there without looking away from what he was doing.

“Coffee’s fresh, and there’s muffins and fruit in the fridge for you.” 

“Thanks,” I said, reaching for a coffee mug. “What about you?” 

“I’m fine,” he replied, throwing me a quick glance over his shoulder. “But thank you.”

I gave him a small smile. “Sure.” 

After filling my mug, I lingered in the kitchen a moment longer. I pulled my bottom lip between my teeth, glancing from the table to Graham in the living room. 

Usually, I sat with Graham at the table for breakfast. But now he’s there. On the couch. Working. Do I sit next to him? Do I sit at the table? Is it weird if I sit at the table? Or would it be weirder if I sit next to him? 

Shit. Why am I making seating arrangements so freaking complicated?

I shook my head at myself. I was being ridiculous. 

I took my coffee and joined him in the living room. I sat beside him, tucking my legs beneath me, my knee just barely brushing his thigh.

I eyed the table. “Work?”

“Yeah.” He reached for his mug, then leaned back. “A tough client.”

“Anything I can do?”

A slight smile curved his lips. “No. Thank you, though.”

Now that I was sitting so close, I noticed the faint shadow of stubble lining his jaw and the way his hair was tousled as if he’d spent the last few hours running his fingers through it. “You’ve been up for a while.” 

He breathed a laugh. “Do I look that bad?” He ran his fingers through his hair, ruffling the strands further. 

“No,” I chuckled lightly. “Just tired.”

Our eyes locked and for a moment I thought I had seen a faint flicker of vulnerability pass across his face. 

Talk to me, I wanted to say. Help me understand. Because I was having a hard time reconciling the boy who had left me with the man who was sitting in front of me now. 

Graham cleared his throat and turned away. He set his coffee mug on the table beside his laptop and said, “I should get back to work.”

I should have known better. Hell, I had known  better, and yet that didn’t stop disappointment from settling heavily in my chest. 

“Yeah, sure,” I said. “Sorry for interrupting.”

I untucked my legs from beneath me and stood from the couch. I dropped my mug off in the kitchen and then headed for the bathroom. 

I cranked the shower handle as far as it could go and waited until the steam had fogged the glass shower doors to step inside. I stood under the hot water, not washing, not scrubbing. I just stood. 

How was it possible for one person to be so… so… so frustrating. It would’ve been so much easier if I could just stay mad at him. But no. No, he had to go and make it all so confusing. Had to make me question everything I thought I knew. 

I dropped my head back and let the water run over my hair, wishing that the water could take my thoughts with it. 

When I finally returned to my room, I stopped dead in the doorway. A neat stack of clothes sat on the edge of my bed.

I closed my bedroom door behind me and took a tentative step forward. 

They were Graham’s clothes—another black shirt, long sleeve this time, a pair of black sweats, and— 

My cheeks heated. 

A pair of plaid boxer shorts.

I stood there for what felt like longer than humanly possible, staring at the stack of clothing with only a single question left on my mind. 

Why? 

But no matter how I tried, I couldn’t come up with a reasonable answer. Or rather, I could. 

He cared. 

And somehow, that only left me more confused. No matter which way I looked at it, I kept arriving at the same conclusion as yesterday.

If he cared, why did he leave?

Somewhere in the house, a door slammed shut, making the window in my room rattle. 

From outside my window, Graham’s voice grew louder.

I clutched my towel tighter and slowly made my way to the window, carefully drawing back the edge of the curtain to peer outside. 

Graham was pacing on the back porch, his phone pressed firmly to his ear. His brows were drawn tight and a deep crease sat between them.

He continued pacing as he spoke, and the deeper his voice grew, the more unsettled he looked.

I’d never seen him like this before.

Was the phone call work related? Or did it have something to do with Caroline?

I dressed quickly and shoved my boots on, then headed toward the porch. The French door hinges creaked as I opened them, and Graham whirled around. 

“I’ve gotta go,” he said, his eyes fixed on mine.

He shoved his phone in his pocket with more force than necessary. “You shouldn’t be out here.”

“I just wanted to check on you. Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine,” he said. “Nothing for you to worry about.”

“Who were you talking to? Was it about Caroline?”

His jaw clenched. “Get back inside, Bambi. It’s too cold for you to be out here.”

“What? No, I’m fine, Graham.”

“You’re shivering,” he pointed out.

“I don’t care. You can’t avoid these conversations forever. What is going on?”

“Dammit, Bambi. Nothing is going on.” He moved toward the door. 

“Why do you keep doing that?” I snapped, turning around to face him. “Every time I try to talk to you, you shut down. Shut me down. At the apartment. Yesterday.” 

“Because there’s nothing to discuss, Bambi—”

“Yes there is! God, Graham, there is!” Frustration flooded my system until I barely noticed the cold anymore. 

“You can’t just keep me here and keep me in the dark. You can’t just… just… make decisions that impact my life and not tell me what the hell is going on!”

“I am trying to protect you, Bambi,” he said, frustration slipping into his tone. 

“Well, I didn’t ask you to!” I shouted. “And what about the last four years, huh? Where were you to protect me then?”

Graham’s expression faltered, his hands clenching at his sides. 

I hoped this was it. That if Graham were going to tell me anything, it would be now, but once more, he remained quiet. 

“Still have nothing to say to me?” I hated how my voice cracked when I spoke. Hated that I was still so affected by everything he did and didn’t do. Everything he said and didn’t say.

The silence stretched between us. 

I sighed heavily. “Fine, then. Fuck you, Graham.” 

I turned and walked down the porch steps and into the yard. 

“Bambi!” he shouted, but I didn’t stop. I couldn’t.

I pushed farther into the woods, blinking furiously at the sting behind my eyes. The farther I walked, the thicker the trees became and the deeper my boots sank into the snow. 

“Idiot,” I muttered, my breath leaving me in white puffs. “So stupid.”

I trudged farther still, walking until the cottage had vanished completely, swallowed by thick pines.

For just a moment I wondered if I’d gone too far and considered turning back. But the thought of facing Graham again made my chest tighten and stomach turn. 

So, I kept walking. 

If only he’d just stayed away.

Chapter Six →

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