Page 30 of A Little More Forgiveness

“Did your wife love being here too?” I took a risk asking the question, sure he would shut me down, but surprisingly, he didn’t.

“Yes, she adored everything about our land. She made so many plans, had so many dreams for what we’d achieve.” His small harrumph made me smile. “I didn’t have her vision. Never will. She saw things in her head I had no way of comprehending. What the guest cabins would look like. What our own cabin would look like, the stables, picnic area, the lake, everything…” he trailed off, lost in his memories.

“Will you tell me what happened?” I spoke quietly, not wanting him to stop talking about her.

“Automobile accident,” he forced out, a flash of pain and what appeared to be guilt washing over his face, confusing me. I understood his pain, as I’d experienced my own after almost losing Caitlin, but why the guilt? I deserved mine for not being vigilant when I should have been looking out for my sister. But his wife’s death had been accidental, and nothing he could have prevented, so what possible reason did he have for feeling guilty? “No one is really sure of the details,” he continued in his deep voice. “The car went off the road and crashed into a ravine.” He tensed. “She wasn’t wearing her seat belt. Went through the windshield. Died instantly.”

“Oh, Mitch, I’m so sorry.”

He blinked rapidly a couple of times, turned his head away to stare out into the forest, making my heart ache for him. He’d lost his wife, the person he loved more than anyone in the world. He must have been devastated. While not the same, I empathized with the deep emotional trauma he’d been through, was still working to deal with. My sister, Caitlin, had lived, but in truth I didn't feel like she had sometimes. Machines and drugs kept her in this world, nothing else. Over the years I’d often agonized if we’d made the right choice keeping her alive, for both her and me.

Mitch was at least able to mourn his wife, while I had to cling on to the dwindling strands of never-ending hope I held in my heart, Caitlin would eventually wake fully from her coma and return to us. That one day she’d open her eyes, look at me, and smile her beautiful smile. In reality, my wish would unlikely ever happen, but I determinedly had to believe in the impossible, nevertheless, and sometimes, in the quiet of my bed late at night, the strain of keeping my belief would bring me to my knees, and I’d silently wish for her suffering to be over, so Caitlin finally had the peace she deserved, and I’d be allowed to mourn the sister I’d lost so long ago.

So, yes, I understood Mitch’s desire to hold on to the past and keep their dreams alive. The similarities between us gave me a bit more insight into this gruff, prickly man, and I better understood his motivation for keeping their home. If they’d dreamed of running it together and his wife’s sudden death had ripped their dream apart, I’m sure I’d try to do the same. I was doing exactly the same. Keeping Caitlin’s memory alive for as long as possible by following through on the promise I’d made to her to never give up.

However, Mitch’s approach was doomed to fail. Without more people to help him achieve his goal, and a lot more money, he’d never succeed. And if he didn’t succeed, what then? Would he doggedly continue following the same path regardless, as the weight of responsibility continually chipped away at his soul, piece by tiny piece, until he lost what remained of his life in the process?

Fuck, what was he going to do? What was I going to do?

“If you need to talk—”

“I don’t.”

“But if you do, I’m here, okay?” He turned toward me, hesitation in his eyes. He wanted to say something. I’m positive he did, but after years of keeping his emotions locked up tight, he unsurprisingly found difficulty in expressing his feelings now. “Anytime, Mitch.” I leaned over and clasped his arm. “Now.” I gave him a cheery smile. “Is there someplace we can get a view of the lake? I’d love to see it.”

He watched me for a few seconds, his face pensive. I took it as a sign he’d at least think about getting stuff off his chest. “Sure.” And he gently dug his heels into his horse’s flanks. “This way.”

Chapter Thirteen

Gabe

It sucked being on my own, having no idea when either or both of them would make an appearance. To take my mind off my boredom, I’d decided to make us dinner for tonight. Not to be judgy, but by the extent of crappy food in the refrigerator, Mitch had become your typical frozen meal in front of the TV type of guy, though rummaging around in the freezer did yield some cuts of venison. Having spotted a rifle in the mudroom, I didn’t want to ask where he’d gotten the meat in case he told me all the gory details. The couple of things he did have in abundance were herbs and spices, something I was extremely grateful for, as I’d need them to pep up the stuff he called food. Surprisingly, he also had a decently stocked wine cellar, which I’d make a determined effort to deplete during my enforced incarceration.

After defrosting and marinating the steaks, neither man had returned, so being alone in the house with time to spare, I decided to use Mitch’s walk-in shower instead of the handheld one over the small tub I’d used this morning. For one, it was far bigger, and I’d noticed the extremely tempting rainfall showerhead when changing into the clothes he’d given me earlier.

I stripped and stood under the deliciously hot water moments later, the shower’s powerful jets cascading over me, heating my skin. Officially the warmest I’d been all day, it was total and utter bliss. Soaping my body with Mitch’s—yep, I’d already guessed correctly—pine shower gel, putting a nail in the coffin of my thinking he was anything other than straight. I pondered how nice it would be for a change if those guys used something other than the standard boring fragrance. We don’t all want them to smell like they’ve been rolling around in a forest, for fuck’s sake.

Once I’d covered my body in bubbles, I started working my dick. My sudsy hand moving slowly along its length felt amazingly good, so I carried on, getting myself good and hard in the process.

It’d been over a week since I’d last had sex and a few days since I’d jerked off, so I was more than ready to indulge in a little happy time. If nothing else, losing my load might release some of the pent-up tension in my body, since getting stuck in this dump with no way out. Sliding my fist up my shaft, I gave a couple of twists around the head making myself groan, before slicking down to the base and repeating the movement, loving the endorphins being released in my body. My free hand slid under my balls and massaged those, too, squeezing and pulling, heightening the pleasure.

A noise in the house had me stilling my movements and cocking my head trying to hear over the stream of water, but after a few seconds of quiet there were no other sounds. Besides, I’m sure the dogs would bark or give me some sort of notice if they detected anyone.

My fingers tightened, continuing to work my cock as I shifted my other hand from my balls around to my ass, playing with my hole. The sensation felt fucking awesome, so I slipped a finger inside my ring, the glide easy with the soapy lubrication. Head falling back, I gave in to the feelings spiraling throughout my body. My hand methodically working my shaft while a finger, then two, pumped in and out of my ass, hurtling me ever closer to the edge.

Maybe due to the water falling all around me I didn’t hear him come into the bathroom, or maybe I’d been too far gone in my own pleasure, I didn’t care. But Mitch’s loud and completely unexpected “What the hell!” had my head snapping forward to see him standing a couple of feet away on the other side of the glass, his hands on his hips. Even with him as a surprise spectator, I’d already passed the point of no return and couldn’t prevent my ejaculation if my life depended on it. The climax tingling in my balls made me stiffen as pleasure ripped me apart. Spunk shot from my cock in long white streams, painting the glass shower door as I simultaneously let out a deep satisfied moan, my orgasm that fucking good.

Panting heavily, my cock still pumping cum, I fell against the tiled wall, my legs shaking as they tried to hold me up. Damn, that was intense, and having Mitch as the audience only heightened my pleasure all the more.

“Hey,” I grinned lazily as Mitch and his ever-present scowl stared back at me. “I was cold, and your shower looked too good to resist,” I said, turning off the valve. Why I did what I did next, I had no idea. It might have been due to my pent-up sexual needs being assuaged by my hand job and I was completely relaxed, or maybe I wanted to provoke some reaction from our reluctant host other than annoyance.

Exiting the shower, I stood unashamedly naked in front of him, hands on my hips, mimicking his stance, making sure the action would draw attention to the semi-hard dick between my legs. “It was, by the way,” I drawled.

To his credit, he didn’t look anywhere but at my face. Disappointment at his lack of reaction soon turned to triumph when I noticed him rapidly swallow a couple of times. His husky voice gave even more away when he spoke, “What was?”

“Your shower.” Still not retrieving a towel, I let the cooling water drip down my bare skin, the change in temperature making my nipples hard. I smirked. “It was really good. Big enough for two.” I let my observation hang for a second. “Or three…”

This time he did react, his eyes darkening briefly, his lips parting. He covered it well, but his façade had cracked just a smidge.

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