Page 82 of What It Means To Be Found

Her whole body locked, her fingernails digging into my forearms as her head fell back against my shoulder and she clenched her teeth again. Her eyes were squeezed closed as she groaned and came undone in my arms. I lifted my gaze to watch us in the mirror, loving how good we looked together like this. How well we fit together, how soft, and warm she felt as she let me take what I could from her.

Only when Eloise’s muscles loosened and she fell almost limp in my arms, did I let my own thrusts become erratic as I finally buried my head in her shoulder and let go. White hot pleasure raced down the base of my spine as my vision almost blacked out completely, and I had to remember to breathe when I finally spent the last of myself inside of her.

Eloise’s heavy breathing, and the way she leaned most of her body weight against my chest, left me with no other choice. I used my hold around her body to simply tip us over onto the bed, loving the surprise oof Eloise made at the contact against the mattress.

After a few long moments embracing each other, we finally pulled apart just enough to clean each other up. Eloise had already gotten wipes so that we wouldn’t have to leave the room and potentially face her roommates. Now that we were officially together, there was no need to sneak around, but that didn’t mean either of us wanted to run into Courtney minutes after mind-numbing sex, either.

The best part of the night, after we had covered ourselves under her blankets and casually chatted about the day, after I watched her slowly close her eyes for the last time that night, was knowing that I didn’t have to wake up early to sneak away.

No. This time, as I fell asleep with Eloise Bane wrapped around my body, I relaxed into the fact that we would also wake up just as we dozed off.

Together.

23

ELOISE

“I should just be grateful you’re here at all.” My mother sniffed, once again reorganizing the flowers scattered all around her backyard dining area. This house that I had lived in with my parents for years felt alien to me. It was gaudy and flashy and reeked of the one percent lifestyle, but it also just felt…empty.

Perhaps that was why my mother was big on formal brunches and tea parties with her friends. Perhaps my mother needed to fill in the emptiness of the space, too.

“What does that mean?” I asked, taking a deep breath through my nose.

It had been about three weeks since Logan and I became official. Since he stayed the night at the townhouse, we both woke up to Courtney and Josh flipping pancakes in the kitchen. It felt a little weird to have them making breakfast for us, in a clear congratulations-to-finally-becoming-official kind of way, but not weird enough that Logan and I didn’t eat every single bite of the blueberry pancakes Courtney had mastered over the years.

But then Susan asked if Logan and I were being safe, and I wanted to melt into the floor. Logan narrowed his eyes at the old woman and nodded his confirmation, and then Susan dropped it. Almost like she felt the need to check that box before continuing on with her line of questioning. She was suspicious that Logan and I had been sneaking around ever since Logan ditched the bar to cuddle with me on the couch during my period. She had even heard someone leaving my bedroom in the early hours of the morning multiple times, but didn’t ask if it was Logan out of respect for my privacy.

I stared at the charcuterie board I was finishing putting together, and I realized that there was no chance in hell that my own mother would respect my privacy in such a way.

I could see her stiffen in my peripheral vision, because talking back to her or challenging her in any way was still something she was getting used to.

“It just seems like you have been too busy for me lately,” she said, feigning innocence as she plucked the wilted petals off of the flower bouquet.

“That’s because I have been,” I replied casually. That made her straighten and stare at me, so I straightened and stared back at her. I could see the blue in her eyes, identical to mine, studying me. Trying to figure me out. I noticed when they landed on my arm tattoos, and the short cut of my hair. Two big “fuck you’s” for how she had styled me growing up.

A flicker of sadness crossed her expression before her cool mask of indifference fell into place again.

“I just miss you, Eloise.” My mother’s voice was small, lower, giving away the melancholy that her indifferent expression tried to hide.

I felt my heart squeeze at that.

“I miss you too, mom,” I admitted, “But, that doesn’t mean that I don’t need to be on my own. Be my own person.”

She narrowed her pale eyebrows at me, “What does that mean?”

I sighed, feeling my shoulders slump as I readied myself for the conversation my mother and I needed to have, something that Logan had been hyping me up for via text while he was out of town yet again for an away game. “I don’t feel joy from this.” I vaguely let my hand gesture to the classic and elegant random ass brunch my mother was setting up for her girlfriends, who were due to arrive within an hour. “I don’t like pretending that I get along with your friends. I don’t like pretending that I agree with everything you think I should be doing. And I don’t like pretending that it doesn’t suck that I need to tiptoe around my mom’s feelings instead of prioritizing my own.”

My mother stared at me; her mouth slightly parted in surprise from my words. I didn’t back down, though. I fought against the urge to immediately apologize, to tell her that I was feeling tired or silly or whatever excuse I used in the past to put a band-aid on the whole situation.

“I didn’t realize that I was causing you so much distress.” She frowned, but I could see her pinched brow and redness starting to line her eyes as she fidgeted with the bouquet on the table she was decorating.

I wanted to roll my eyes at the manipulative language she chose to use, but that wasn’t how progress was made. “I’m glad you know now.”

Boom.

She physically winced at my confirmation, clearly surprised that I didn’t immediately try to coddle her or explain that she wasn’t causing me distress. She was, and it was okay for her to know that. That didn’t mean that I hated her. It just meant that we had some things to work on.

“Look,” I sighed, walking over to her so that I could rest my hand on top of hers, “I am not angry or upset with you, though it feels like you’re irritated with me.” My mother opened her mouth to say something, but I ignored her and kept going, “But it’s okay for me to be on my own. It’s okay for me to have friends and a job and a life outside of you, to not have you be my best friend. I’m a grown woman, and I am just starting to figure out what I truly want for my life. Before, I just kept turning to you. I was more worried about doing whatever would make you and everyone in your circle happy, instead of what would truly make me happy. Isn’t that what you’re supposed to want as my parent? For your daughter to be truly happy with herself?” I blinked away the stinging in my eyes, a reaction that must be from finally, finally getting all of this off of my chest in front of my mother. “I would love to keep coming over to help you with your parties, occasionally. But that’s not the focus of my life anymore. Since I moved out this last time, I learned what I need to prioritize, what I need to do to keep my peace. And sometimes that will include putting a little bit of distance between you and me, between me and the world I was brought up in.”

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