Page 40 of Dare to be Different

Chapter 17

I’m pacing the sitting room of the lodge, waiting for that fucker to come back inside before I break my word and go out there. I can see the borrowed company truck running, and his phone is lit up through the windshield, probably talking to either my mom or Laken. But I want him to talk to me, not anyone else. I’m his person, and no matter what, I always want to be his person.

But going out there and demanding that he talk to me before he’s sorted it all through in his head is not the best move. Remy is the kind of guy who mulls everything over. He’s a thinker, and more importantly, he’s sensitive. It bothers the hell out of me that he’s riddled with guilt about this. I saw it, plain as day, in the blue of his eyes and the anger that overtook him. He lashed out because he felt terrible about something he never meant to tell me. But I wouldn’t shut up about the blowie, and look where that got us.

Right where I want to be.

It makes sense that it was him, and I don’t know why I didn't think of it before. Of fucking course it was Remy! I don’t have that chemical reaction with Cara or Cody, but I sure as shit do with the man who has been a part of my sex life since we were teens. Yeah, a line got crossed, but to be honest, I think it was his line. Not mine. I never considered it could have been him because there wasn’t a chance in hell I thought he’d ever do it.

I keep pacing, wanting him to come inside so I can finally put his mind at ease.

I haven’t thought far enough ahead to figure out where I want this thing to go. I mean, he’s my Remy… but sex with him was supposed to remain a ‘look and don’t touch’ thing, and now that the line has been obliterated… What do I want?

I sure as shit know I don’t want to lose him. He is everything to me. I have my family and I have Remy. That’s life. That’s how life has always been, and that’s how I want life to remain. I love that stupid fuck more than I love pretty much anyone or anything else.

When the truck shuts off and the door slams, my stomach ends up in my throat and my fingers tingle with nerves. I watch through the window as Remy gets his jacket pulled tight and keeps his head down through the blowing snow. He’s coming, and now I’m locking up with anticipation and nerves because I don’t know what’s about to happen.

I’m the type to ‘do’ without thinking. Talking has never been my strong suit. I say shit I shouldn’t say, and I think things I shouldn’t think. Remy knows that, though, so he should be okay with it if I fuck up a little.

When the front door opens and he catches me just standing here like a dipshit, he looks at me quickly before taking his coat and boots off. There are three thousand things I want to say to put his mind at ease, but my tongue gets tied and my words get lost in the vastness of my mind, and the only thing I do is swallow hard and start to sweat.

His mouth opens and then closes. That same mouth that brought me the best pleasure I’d ever experienced. Those lips that have been wrapped around my cock, and that tongue that has tasted my cum. I’m staring, and I don’t jar out of it until he clears his throat awkwardly.

“You sober?” he asks.

That’s random. “Uh, mostly. Why?”

He walks past me to the kitchen pantry, and I follow because he’s got me on an invisible leash I never knew was there. He thrusts a sealed bottle of cheap whiskey against my chest and says, “Get unsober.” Spinning, he grabs two mugs from the cabinet and brings them to the sitting room, me following along on my leash again. When he sits down and I just stand there, he nods at the other end of the couch.

I drop to my ass on the cushion and watch my hand shake as I pour us each a double. Make it a triple. Guess we need to get tipsy for this chat.

Drunk in one night round two, here we come.

We sit and sip in silence, gathering guts and bravado or something equally as tough sounding, trying to work up the courage to say a single word to start this conversation. I can’t just blurt out, “I fucking loved it when you sucked my dick,” and hope that kicks things off in the right direction.

The silence isn’t exactly awkward; it’s never really awkward with him. It’s the nerves and the unknown that make it uneasy, but it’s still us, so that has to count for something.

Remy sucked me off. I liked it. Where do we go from here?

Remy drains his mug and fills it again. “Look, it was just the heat of the moment or whatever. It won’t happen again, so can we move on?”

Uh, no. No, we cannot move on. Because I have a plethora of inappropriate questions and a smaller plethora of appropriate ones. Plethora! What is a plethora? I know I should be gentle, compassionate, and understanding about how I phrase them because Remy’s feelings are important to me. I should ease us into this topic gently. Baby steps to get us where we need to go.

Plans never work for me.

“Did you fucking like it?” Shit. I’m such an asshole.

“Fuck, Zahn.” He leans back, covering his face with one hand. “That’s not important.”

“Yeah, it’s fucking important because…” No. Wait. Don’t blurt that one. “Did they force you to do it?”

He snorts condescendingly. “I have a fucking backbone, Zahn.”

“So, you wanted to do it?”

He shrugs with his arm still covering his face. I pull it away, my fingers wrapping around his wrist.

“Don’t touch me right now,” he barks at me, pushing my hand away and yanking his to his chest. “Just… don’t right now.” He takes a long gulp and a longer breath, followed by the longest sigh ever. “I wanted to, alright? It was the whole atmosphere thing you’re always going on about. I got caught up in it, and I shouldn’t have done it without talking to you. I’m sorry.”

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