Page 15 of Buried Dreams

Neither of us says anything when he pulls out of me. His arm moves, and my foot drops to the ground. My skirt slips down, and I right my bra, pulling down my T-shirt while watching him tuck himself in and then zip his pants up. He looks up at me as he buttons his jeans, but I’m not going to give him the time of day. Instead of saying anything to him, I move past him and away from him. I have to get away from him before I cave and ask him why he did what he did to us.

Why he chose everyone else before he chose us. Why? That is the only thing I want to know. Why? But instead, I walk away from him. Or better yet, I run away from him. My body aches for his heat. My mind replays every single second we were together. My fingers come up to touch my lips that are still tingling from his touch. No one has ever had this effect on me but Brock. No one has ever had me like he has. No one will ever have me again because I’m not giving myself to anyone like I gave myself to him.

I turn the corner and walk toward my house, seeing the bike is gone from the street. The house is dark as I walk up the steps. I turn the handle and step in, finding it quiet in the night. I tiptoe to the end of the hall, pushing open the slightly closed door to see my mother on her side, sleeping.

I’m about to pull the door closed when she speaks, “You’re home later than I thought you would be.” She looks down her legs toward the door at me.

“Yeah, Autumn and I were talking,” I lie just a little. I mean, Autumn and I did talk. Except I would have been home earlier. It was better than saying, “Sorry I’m late because I was fucking Brock against a tree. Or better yet, Brock was fucking me against a tree.”

“That’s good.” She turns on her back. “It’s about time the two of you let bygones be bygones.”

“I think so too,” I admit. “I can’t believe her and Charlie.” I shake my head. “And they have a baby”—my voice goes up—“together.”

“You aren’t the only one.” She laughs. “Ruffled lots of feathers, that pairing. No one saw it coming.”

“He loves her,” I say softly. My mind goes back to tonight when he got up to go and whispered something in her ear and then kissed her lips. But it was more than that. It was the way his eyes followed her the whole night. The way, if she was down the bar at our end, she had to be touching him, even if it was her pinky with his. You could feel how much they loved each other.

“He loves her fiercely,” my mother confirms. “Only one other person I saw in my life love someone like that.” She closes her eyes as her voice trails off. “Get some rest.” It’s her way of letting me know the conversation is over.

“What’s going on with you and Dr. Oliver?” The question comes out to change the conversation over from whatever I was going to say to her.

“Good night.” She ignores that I even spoke, and I smile in the darkness before turning and walking to the stairs. I walk into the bathroom, turning on the light and pulling my shirt off me, before turning and looking at my back in the mirror. There are red lines all down my back. Gasping out when I see something I haven’t seen in nine years. Something I thought I would never see again. Something I vowed to make sure was never on my body. Not by him and not by another man. My fingers come up, but my eyes are fixated on the mark he left and not the fact my hands are shaking when I touch it. “That motherfucker.”

I shake my head and walk over to the shower, turning on the water as hot as my body can take it, before stripping down and getting under the spray. The water is hot enough to almost burn me as I wash his scent off my body. I ignore looking at his mark and know it’ll be gone in seven to nine days. That was how long it took for the last mark he put on me to disappear. I know because the last time he left a mark on me, I watched it fade away, just like I did.

I wrap myself in a towel before walking to my bedroom and sliding into the bed, naked. Too tired to even dress, I turn on my side and close my eyes. I tuck myself under the blankets, and my head immediately goes back to Brock. I can hear him as if he’s right in front of me.

“I swear, baby, sometimes I think you do things to piss me off just so we can get my cock in you.” The smile I used to love filled his face. “If you want me, baby, all you have to do is tell me.”

“Brock, just admit you do things on purpose to piss me off so we fight, and then we fuck.”

“The only thing I’ll admit is that I’ll love you until I’m dead and gone.”

My eyes fly open to make the memory go away. “He’s a liar,” I remind myself. “He has no idea what it means to love anyone.” I don’t know if I’m saying the words out loud in order to convince myself or not. Finally, turning on my back, I look at the stars until my eyes won’t open anymore.

The following morning, I’m walking down the steps quietly, getting ready to head to the bakery, when I hear movement coming from the side and look over to see my mother coming out of her bedroom. “Where do you think you’re going?” I put my hands on my hips and stare at her.

“I’m going to the kitchen to make myself a coffee,” she snaps, “or am I not allowed to walk in my own house?” She’s wearing beige linen pants, a white tank top, and a long peach sweater that hangs to her knees. Her hair is pinned on the top of her head. “Someone is crabby this morning.”

“I’m not crabby.” I slip my feet in my sneakers. “I just thought you were going to make a run for it.”

“You’re safe for today,” she assures me, pouring coffee in a mug and then putting some in a stainless-steel cup. “Now, tomorrow is another story.” She hands me the to-go cup.

“We’ll see.” I grab the cup from her. “I’ll see you later.” I kiss her cheek before I walk out of the house.

The walk to the bakery takes even less time today since I’m speed walking, especially in front of the garage. I don’t even look to see if his truck is there. Last night was one of the biggest mistakes I’ve made, and it’s not going to happen again.

I’m almost at the bakery when I notice two guys hanging around out front. One of them tries to open the door, while the other one looks in the window. They are both dressed in jeans, T-shirts, and baseball caps low on their heads to hide their faces. I wait a second to see one of them tell the other to go to the back. He takes a couple of steps toward the back when he looks up and notices me.

The scar on his left cheek makes shivers run down my spine; his blue eyes almost look like he is looking right through you. “Can I help you?” I ask them when I’m standing in the parking lot.

“Um.” The one at the door fumbles with his words, and I look at him. He’s shorter than the other guy, but not by much. The man at the door has brown eyes, and when he smiles, there is nothing friendly about it. “We heard this is the place to get some coffee and donuts.”

“It is.” I look around, wondering if anyone is going to see if something happens to me. The street is pretty much empty with just the three of us. “But we open in about an hour,” I tell them. “You are more than welcome to wait.”

They share a look. “We’ll be back,” the man who was going to walk in the back says, nodding at the other man, who shares a nod with him, and the two of them walk over to a black car. I watch them get in and drive down the street. My eyes go to the license plate as I take my phone out and take a picture.

“You are being paranoid,” I tell myself, putting my phone into my back pocket before I open the front door. The sound of a car approaching has me looking up to see if they have returned, but instead, it’s Harmony, who is parking right in front.

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