Page 37 of A Brilliant Spring

“I will not be moving back home,” Riley sputters. “I can’t believe you’d possibly think that’s even an option at this point. I have a life in Toronto; I have a job, friends…a baby daddy. I can’t just leave everything behind because you don’t approve of how my life is shaking up right now.” Her mom’s face softens, and a small, apologetic smile stretches across her face.

“Oh, honey,” she whispers. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. I just want the best for you and the baby, and moving home might be the simplest thing to do. Staying with Elissa, which is an incredible offer by her, is fine, but it’ll get cramped. Especially once the baby starts moving around.”

“Then we’ll find something bigger. I can afford it,” I break into the conversation. “Or Riley can have my apartment, and I’ll find another place to live. Either way, I’m not letting Riley suffer alone.” Brianne’s amber eyes fix on mine and they glimmer with gratitude and love.

“Thank you for looking out for my babies,” she says warmly. We all continue into the house, unloading bags upon bags of stuff. As if we didn’t already have enough stuff at our apartment from our last shopping trip, we now have piles more to add to the mess at home. I hope Riley kicks into the nesting phase soon, because we’re going to need the organizing skills.

As we’re in the living room, gathered around the couch, Brianne is showing Connor all the stuff “they” bought for Riley and the baby. Maternity clothing, baby clothes, toys, and other minor items. Connor seems detached, but he maintains an interested expression. I catch his eyes slide over Brianne’s shoulder to the muted TV behind her, and he nods along with what she’s saying. Her hands are waving frantically in the air, pulling stuff out of bags and holding it up for Connor, happiness shining in her eyes. I chuckle to myself at the dynamics between her and Connor’s enthusiasm levels in this current situation when my phone bleeps in my purse.

I rummage through my purse and find my iPhone and check the notification. My heart sinks. Another board meeting on Monday, and I wonder if Brandt is going to send his assistant in his stead again. A wistfulness aches in my chest knowing that Brandt is actively avoiding me for some reason. I thought we could have been mature about everything, but I suppose we can’t. After the whole falling-out, I thought we could work together amicably — we were for a while there. Then, suddenly, he started sending someone else to take notes on his behalf. Part of me wonders if he’s moved on and couldn’t care less about this part of the company now that he’s no longer entangled with me and my father. Maybe he’s transitioning to being more of a silent partner.

My heart aches for him and my body craves his touch. It’s only been a handful of weeks since we’ve been together, but it feels like years. What has this man done to me? I’ve never been one to pine over a man, to care enough to have him be part of my world, or want him to be part of my world. But every fibre in my body calls out to him like a siren in the night, begging for him to come to me. Can he hear the song? Will his boat crash into me?

“Elissa?” Riley whispers, nudging me. I shake the thoughts from my head and turn to face Riley. Her eyes are worried, and I see my reflection in her eyes. There’s a distant look in my eyes and a soft, sad smile touching my lips. I’m not sitting as tall as I usually do. I’m slumped, and I feel closed off. I feel…broken. Her hand laces through mine and she squeezes, as if she can read my mind and knows I’m thinking about Brandt again. “It’ll work out,” she whispers again. I send a thank-you with my eyes, gently squeezing her warm hand back before pushing myself off the couch.

“Well, I’m going to go get ready for a run,” I say, picking my purse up off the ground and tossing my cell back into it, trying to ignore reality for a little longer. I still have tomorrow before I have to worry about whether I’ll be seeing Brandt at the office. I vault up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and dump my purse on the bed when I get to my room.

The room is decorated in calming seafoam greens and corals. There are little gold accents placed around the room, giving the atmosphere a relaxing, beachy vibe. I walk over to the corner of the room by the closet where I’ve set my suitcase and haul it over to the bed. I grab some running clothes and a puffer vest because it’s still chilly outside. After I’m changed, I lace on my runners and twist my earbuds in.

When my feet strike the pavement of the subdivision, the tension of the last few weeks drains from me, emptying me enough to hold in all my emotions again. A light drizzle pings off the waterproof material of my puffer vest, and my nose fills with that fresh rain scent, mixed with wet asphalt. It invigorates me, propelling my legs a little faster, while Body Bag by Machine Gun Kelly, YUNGBLUD, and Bert McCracken pounds in my ears, making my blood pump. The air rushes out of my mouth in clouds as I huff, pushing my body further, and pushing the thoughts of a golden-brown-haired god of a man who makes my body feel electric out of my mind.

•••

Two hours later, I’m sopping wet with sweat, heaving heaps of air into my lungs as I walk the rest of the last few kilometres back to the Jaimesons’ place, my hands planted on my hips, cooling down to Headlock by Imogen Heap. I walk the last bit of trail around the creek and down Tweedsmuir Avenue West. I pull the headphone case out of the pocket of my jogging tights and pop the earbuds in, allowing myself to enjoy the sounds of the late afternoon outdoors. It’s been a while since I’ve jogged around Chatham. Across the road there’s a small park with two baseball diamonds, and bundled-up kids are playing on the equipment. Their laughter and screams ring through the air, and the early spring birds chirp, making their presence known.

My breathing has finally regulated and I’m almost back at the Jaimesons’ house when I pass by a house that has a black Dodge truck with the words “Collins Construction” in orange, and a little house logo. My heart rate spikes again as I think about Brandt, and I tell myself that it’s just a coincidence that there’s a construction company with his last name. But there’s a nagging voice at the back of my head that’s telling me his parents did something with construction, and it’s not a coincidence. No, that can’t be it. There’s no way. I’ve got to be mistaken. I resolve not to look up the information when I get back because I don’t want this revelation to eat me alive, but also I don’t want to find out I’m wrong.

It’s still bugging me as I continue down the street and finally make it back to the Jaimesons’ front porch. I peer over my shoulder and the house is still in view. I pray it is just a coincidence. Pushing open the door to the foyer, I toe off my running shoes, shout a greeting into the house, and jog upstairs to my room. A wave of heat crests over my body at the lingering thoughts of Brandt. I strip off my wet clothes and throw them in the laundry basket in the corner, then strut to the en suite washroom, butt naked. My skin is flushed and warm, and I can’t tell if it’s the effects of the run or my thoughts.

I step under the steaming hot water, allowing it to wash over me. My hope is that it will cleanse me of these thoughts, but I only get revved up more. My hands travel across my body, tickling, dancing, and caressing my curves. I cup my breasts and close my eyes, pretending it’s Brandt’s big, muscular hands touching me, him taking my pebbled nipple between his thick fingers, rolling and pinching it. My mouth falls open and a soft groan rings through the washroom. I clamp my lips shut and bite down on them to stop more sounds from escaping.

Daring further, my hands slide down my stomach, and a middle finger slips between my lips and strokes softly. The water cascading down my body makes the swipe smooth and pleasurable. Using two fingers, I stroke my clit again and again, building faster and faster. I hitch my leg on the piece of stone that juts out from the wall as a shaving platform, and turn to face the water, allowing the pulse from the shower head to massage my clit while I rub. I imagine that Brandt is tongue-deep inside me; his scratchy stubble brushing against my thighs as his tongue slips in and out of me.

I press two fingers in deep, bending and angling them so I reach the spot where my toes start to curl. I groan in frustration because it’s not as good as having him do it to me. My body craves his touch, his tongue, his pleasure. I’m slowly building to the crescendo, to the point where I shatter. But I’m growing impatient. With him, it’s so easy. With him, it takes no time at all. I squeeze my eyes closed tighter and brace myself against the wall with my free hand as I inch closer to the finish. Keeping Brandt at the forefront of my mind, I picture the last time we were together. I think about how good it felt having him slide in and out of me, filling me to the brim. How it felt when he came inside me, and when my pussy clenched around his thickness. And I’m there. I’m tipping over the edge, and it’s a pleasant little release, but leaves me more frustrated than satisfied.

Chapter

Thirty-Four

Elissa

Sunday rolls around and I’m utterly exhausted. I had a fitful sleep last night, wondering about Brandt and if he misses me; if he still craves me the way I crave him. Seriously though, what has happened to me? My mind hasn’t stopped racing since I saw that damn truck down the road, making me think about Brandt and how badly I miss him. And now my heart feels ripped open all over again, wondering how he could just finish things like that. Wondering how he could turn his back so easily after fighting for us so hard. After convincing me to give us a chance, even after he broke my trust by making a deal with my father.

The room is dim, and I feel as dreary and gloomy as it is outside. I roll over in bed, wishing I could go back to sleep, but a soft knock on the door lets me know it’s time to get up.

“Good morning, dear.” Brianne’s chipper words are muffled through the door. I groan, roll over, and stuff my pillow over my head, then hear a chuckle from the other side of the door and the sound of footsteps fading away. After a few moments, I toss the pillow off my face and across the room and rip the coral and green duvet off me. I quickly get ready, swiping on a quick pass of mascara and brushing my teeth before pulling on some cozy travelling clothes.

My hand palms the top of the banister as I take the stairs down, and I round the corner toward the kitchen.

“Morning,” I mumble, and Riley snickers. I shoot her my middle finger and it earns me a disappointed “Elissa,” and a tongue click. Riley snickers more and I glare at her, silently cursing her.

“Come sit and have some coffee and something to eat,” Connor offers. When I approach the island, his arm snakes around my shoulder and tugs me into a side hug for a minute. I rest my head on his shoulder, reciprocating the gesture. He squeezes my shoulder before letting go and passing me a plate. “What time are you ladies leaving?” he asks.

“Not sure,” I say, though it sounds a lot more like “Nut shurr,” because I’m stuffing my mouth full of Brianne’s delicious, freshly baked croissants. “Most likely soon,” I continue when my mouth is empty. “I want to try and get back before it gets dark, especially since this rain likely isn’t letting up anytime soon.” Brianne’s eyes are sad, but she nods approvingly. After breakfast, we stuff the trunk of my car as full as we can get it with all the shopping we did and our suitcases. We pile back into the house, chatting and making and eating lunch before we leave.

When Riley and I are getting ready to head out, Mrs. Jaimeson’s eyes are misty as she says her goodbyes, clearly not wanting Riley to be so far away while she’s pregnant.

“Oh, Mom…stop!” Riley complains, but her eyes are tearful as well. “You’re going to make me cry, and that’s not fair because my hormones are all over the place.” They giggle through the tears, and I hear Riley mumble, “Thanks for being so understanding” into her mother’s neck. Mr. Jaimeson and I stand there chuckling, and he gives me a quick hug.

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