Page 73 of Something that Could Last

Funny, I thought the same thing when she cooked for me. I smile to myself at the thought of us cooking for each other every day, sharing a kitchen and a home.

After dinner, Abby and I curl up on the couch and search through the movie collection left by the cabin’s owners. We both reach forDazed and Confusedat the same time, our hands bumping each other.

“Guess we don’t have to argue over which movie to watch,” I joke.

“Guess not,” she giggles.

I have no idea where Luke is, but I’m glad Abby and I have the cabin to ourselves. Her sweet, contagious laughter is refreshing. We both quote all of Matthew McConaughey’s most memorable lines right along with him. Abby does such a good job imitating him, I almost pull a muscle from laughing so hard. This girl is a whole lot of fun and a whole lot of sweet wrapped up in one tiny, beautiful package. I’m falling more and more in love with her every day.

As soon as the credits roll, I turn off the TV and stand up, reaching down to pull Abby to her feet. “Ready for bed?”

“Yeah,” she answers, stifling a yawn.

We brush our teeth, our eyes meeting in the mirror. Hers are filled with trepidation, mine with worry. I hope she knows that I’d never pressure her to do anything. If cuddling is all she’s up for, then that’s what we’ll do. I never thought I’d be the kind of guy who likes that sort of thing, but I could hold Abby in my arms for hours. The next time our eyes meet in the mirror, I wink at her in hopes of dissolving some of the tension. It seems to work, her shoulders visibly relaxing.

I remove my shirt, slip under the covers, and wait for her to join me. She pulls her hair up into a messy bun and climbs in beside me. She has no idea how beautiful she is with her hair pulled back away from her face. I wrap my arm around her waist and pull her in close to my body, placing a kiss on her forehead.

She reaches one shaky hand up to my face and cups my cheek. Her lips part with an inhale, ready to speak. She searches my face, uncertainty creasing her brow. I wait for her to say something, anything, but she remains silent. After a moment, she just sighs, afraid to say whatever is on her mind. I place my finger under her chin and lift her mouth to mine and kiss her slowly, lovingly, hoping to comfort her. She kisses me back with the same slow, languorous tempo and we keep on that way for a long time.

She pulls back, panting, our kiss having become more urgent. I swipe my thumb over her full bottom lip, collecting its moisture on my skin. Suddenly, she wraps her arms around me and kisses me more furiously than before, pressing her body to mine. We make out for a long time, her fingers clawing at me like she’s trying to burrow her way under my skin, pouring all her fear and desperation from the last few days into our kiss.

After a long moment, she breaks away, chest heaving with her rapid inspirations. “Jacob,” she whispers my name, her voice laced with tension and want and need. And maybe a little apprehension. Her cheek presses against my chest as her arms encircle my waist. I hold her as she clings to me, the safety of my embrace a much-needed comfort in her vulnerable state.

I hold her for a long time, rubbing my fingers up and down her back until she starts to relax. “Goodnight, baby girl.” I press my lips gently to hers one last time and tuck her into my chest, my chin resting on the crown of her head. I do my best to avoid pressing my raging hard-on into her body, but it’s difficult when that’s exactly what I want to do. After all she’s been through, I’m not sure she’s ready for that, and I don’t want to push her too far.

When her frame goes limp and her breathing evens out, I know she’s asleep. I lie awake, thinking about the last nine days and how they’ve changed me, how Abby has changed me.

I know I’ll never be the same.

Abby

I WANTED MOREfrom Jacob last night. I wanted to let him touch me and kiss me all over. But I was afraid. I was afraid that once he started removing my clothes, I’d be back in the basement from my nightmare, back on that hard slab with my wrists and ankles shackled, a knee jammed between my thighs, forcing them open and a hand covering my mouth to muffle my screams.

It’s amazing and terrifying what your mind will conjure when you have no recollection of what really happened to you. Caleb never got the chance to carry out his plans, but I think somehow my subconscious knows what he would have done. Maybe not the specific details, but it knows he would have hurt me. A man doesn’t drug you and try to sneak you out the back door because he wants to have a nice quiet chat. He wanted something I wasn’t willing to give and he was going to take it by force. Thank God, he never got the chance. Thank God, Jacob was there to stop him.

I close my eyes and take a deep breath, doing my best to clear my mind. Today is going to be a good day. Jacob and I are having lunch at Wolf’s Den Lodge, and we’ll hopefully get to eat outside on the deck overlooking the river.

I brought my favorite sundress with me. I guess you can say it’s vintage; it was my mother’s when she was a teenager. Pale yellow with little lilacs on it, the simple, cotton dress with its sweetheart neckline, inch-wide straps, cinched waist, and flowy skirt was more than likely bought at a second-hand store, but I love it. It’s one of the few things of hers that I still cherish.

I’m in Jacob’s bathroom getting ready when I hear voices coming down the hall. I peek my head out into the bedroom, surprised to see Tiff walk through the door.

“Hiya, toots,” she says playfully, waving at me.

“Hey, Tiff. What are you doing here?”

“Well,” she begins with a wicked grin. “I came home with Luke last night and saw your car here. You guys must have already been in bed, though.” She gives me a playful wink and my cheeks flush. “When I came downstairs this morning, Jacob told me where you guys are going and I thought I’d offer my cosmetic services.” She removes the clip holding my hair in a twist atop my head, letting it fall down my back. “What are you wearing?” she asks, shaking out my long, dark tresses.

“Mama’s yellow sundress.”

“Ooohh, nice choice.”

“Thanks.”

“You bring your flat iron?”

“I think so. I threw just about everything from my bathroom into that bag.” I point to where it’s sitting on the sink.

“Good,” she nods, rifling through my things. “I think you should wear your hair down and straight with that dress.”

---