Page 43 of Buried Dreams

“You didn’t have to do that,” he says, and I sit down and smile up at him.

“It’s her spot, and no one should take it.” He nods as he sits down in the chair beside me. “It smells good.”

I grab the salad bowl and put some on my plate before offering it to him. “Stop making this weird.”

He chuckles as he grabs the bowl from me. “This is fucking weird,” he finally admits as he puts some on his own plate. “Never thought I’d be sitting at a table with you.”

I grab the plate of potatoes. “Well, to be honest, I never thought I’d be sitting at a table with you either.” The two of us just laugh as he takes his bottle of beer and brings it to his lips. “So now that all the heavy stuff is sort of behind us”— I cut into the steak he put on my plate—“Charlie and Autumn?” I question, and he nods.

“Did you hear about Brady and Winston’s wife?” he asks, cutting his own steak. “Well, ex-wife now, but it was so?—”

“I know, Autumn told me a little bit about it.” I shake my head. “Crazy, right? Like holy shit.”

“It’s good for Wyatt,” he says, of Harmony’s little boy, who Brady has taken under his wing and treats him exactly like he’s his. “He had a sorry excuse for a father, and now he has a real father.”

“I mean, Waylon wasn’t much of a prize, and I don’t want to talk ill of the dead.” I cut another piece of steak. “Actually, fuck that, I don’t care. I hope he’s rotting in fucking hell where he belongs. He ruined all of our lives. And like the coward he was, he’s not even here to face it.”

Brock leans back in his chair. “Even if he was, you think he would have answered for any of it?” I look at him, thinking, I was hoping with the time that went by, looking at him wouldn’t make my heart speed up. Hoping with the time that went by, that looking at him I would forget how much I loved him. Hoping with the time that went by, I would be able to sit at this very table, or any table, and not long for him. To be in his arms. To be kissed by his lips. To be loved by him.

“You’re right,” I agree with him, blinking away the tears. “As always,” I joke, and he puts his head back and laughs so loud I can’t help but join him in the laughing.

We finish eating the meal not really saying much, not sure what to say. When I push away from the table, I start to help him clean up. “Where do you want to have dessert?” I ask when I wipe the water from my hands. I can see the twinkle in his eye, and then he looks away as he smirks. “For my donuts,” I stress, and his eyebrows just shoot up at me. “That didn’t sound better either.” I toss the dishrag at him, and he catches it with one hand as I stand in front of him.

“We can have it outside, sitting on the porch,” he suggests. “Do you want coffee?”

“No, I have to be up at three,” I explain to him. “I’m making the donuts in Mom’s kitchen.”

“How much is she itching to get back to work?” he asks, taking the plate from the island and unwrapping them.

“She’s fit to be tied,” I share as he picks up one and takes a bite and then looks at me.

“These aren’t your mom’s,” he says to me right away as he looks down at the donuts. I shake my head.

“No.” I smile, putting one foot on the other. “Those are my creation. I roll them until they are paper thin and then stack them on top of each other so they are flaky.” He takes another bite. “Are they good?”

“No.” He shakes his head, making my heart stop in my chest. “They are better than good.” I roll my eyes and breathe a sigh of relief.

“You’re a jerk,” I kid with him, and he puts the donut down on the plate.

“I should go,” I say, and he looks up at me.

“I don’t want you to,” he says softly and slides his hand in mine. “Come and sit with me outside.” He moves quietly outside to his back deck, where there is a long L-shaped patio couch. He goes to sit in the corner, stretching out his legs. “Sit with me,” he urges, pulling down my hand.

I sit beside him, looking out into the darkness and curling my feet under me. He wraps his arm that was holding my hand around my shoulders, pulling me into his side. I shouldn’t be here with him, but there is nowhere else in the world I would rather be than right here. I put my head on his shoulder, looking out into the darkness. The next thing I know, my eyes are so heavy I can’t open them.

“Baby.” I hear his voice softly, and when my eyes flutter open, I’m lying with my head in his lap, right on top of his hard cock. I push up, looking at him. “It’s almost three.”

I sit up. “What?” I ask him, and he rubs his eyes.

“We fell asleep,” he explains, and I sit up, blinking away the sleep from my eyes.

“Shit,” I swear, getting up. “I closed my eyes for a minute.”

“Well, it was a little bit more than six hours,” he corrects, getting up with me.

“I have to go,” I say and walk to the door with him on my heels. “Thank you so much.”

“For what?” he asks, standing there looking at me with sleep in his eyes.

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