Page 59 of Nothing Heals Me Like You Do

Justine closed the remaining distance between them. She took Sienna’s hands in hers. “I know it’s hard. I know that it hurts.”

“I wasn’t even that close to him. I don’t get why it feels like I’ve been torn in half. Like a part of me is missing.” Tears trickled down Sienna’s cheeks.

“He was your father,” Justine said. “He was a part of you and he always will be.”

“I don’t know what to do to feel better.” Sienna’s voice broke all the way.

“Can I hug you?” Justine asked.

“Please.” Sienna’s voice was barely audible, but Justine heard.

Justine folded her arms around Sienna and held her close.

Sienna put her head on Justine’s shoulder and cried and cried.

Justine couldn’t take away Sienna’s pain, but she could offer her arms and all the tenderness she had inside her. Although tenderness may not be the perfect antidote for pain, it was the best place to start healing.

Sienna woke up with her head sore from all the crying she had done the night before. All those tears she was shedding for a man who had barely made time for her still didn’t make much sense. But now that the shock of Bobby’s death had subsided, it had left her surprisingly unsettled. Like a permanent dent had been inflicted on her previously carefree life—a hole in her soul that not even time could mend.

It was early and Justine was still sleeping. Sienna examined her still shape, her peaceful face, and it made her feel a little bit better. It made her feel as though, when all was said and done, she could learn to live with that dent. Being with Justine made her feel as though her soul, even with a big Bobby-shaped hole in it, might find unexpected ways to be all right. Because Justine was all kindness and patience, even after last night and how Sienna had turned up at her house—once again filled to the brim with hurt and demands.

When Sienna had started composing her usual text message to Justine to ask if she could sleep over, something had come over her. An unshakable urge to feel something other than all the nothingness inside her. Something, she knew, only Justine could provide. Something much more intimate than just sleeping in her arms.

Sienna realized she had gone about it the wrong way. Maybe she’d even deliberately sabotaged herself because she knew Justine would not respond to how strongly she was coming onto her—although you never knew with Justine. She presented as the epitome of being dependable only to not show up at your father’s funeral.

Perhaps it could have gone either way, but Justine had put a stop to it immediately. In hindsight, it was a good thing, because Sienna hadn’t been thinking clearly. She seemed to have lost that ability ever since she got that dreadful call about her dad. Because how could you possibly think clearly, or expect to have a logical, sane thought ever again, when a person’s life could be over in the blink of an eye? When her dad could be alive one second and be gone the very next. When nothing made sense any longer.

Justine turned on her side toward Sienna, and Sienna was engulfed with a wave of something. She didn’t know if she was still in love with Justine. Probably. Why else was she here? Why else had she tried to kiss her last night? But Sienna didn’t trust her own thoughts, let alone her feelings. Nothing about her could be trusted right now.

With her eyes still closed, Justine reached for Sienna. She put a warm hand on Sienna’s belly, then slid it over her side, onto Sienna’s back.

Sienna might be grieving, might be experiencing a brand-new kind of pain in her life, but she also knew that Justine was the one who made it more bearable. Justine not only helped her sleep—she did so much more than that. Maybe that’s why Sienna had tried to get it on with her last night. Her body, once recovered from the shock, had not stopped wanting Justine. If anything, it wanted more of her. And soon, only Justine’s arms around her would no longer suffice. Justine might have stopped their kiss—and rightly so—but something else hung in the air.

Sienna scooted closer to Justine, until their bare breasts touched. A flutter stirred in her belly. Maybe, last night, Sienna had just followed her gut. And yes, she had been too aggressive, but Justine had just stopped her—she hadn’t turned Sienna away. She hadn’t asked her to leave.

Justine’s eyes were still closed so she was presumably still sleeping, yet her hand tightened around Sienna’s waist. Maybe she was dreaming. Maybe even of this.

Sienna couldn’t possibly know that, so she quickly dismissed the thought of making Justine’s potential dream come true. All she could do was wait for Justine to wake. But Justine had slipped her hand around Sienna’s waist, so Sienna could do the same to her. She did. Their bodies pressed closer together and it was a natural movement for Sienna to position her head just above Justine’s breast. It was a hell of a lot more than the naked-but-chaste spooning they’d been doing all week, yet it felt, to Sienna, exactly as things should be.

“Hmm,” Justine groaned low in her throat, making Sienna wonder whether she was really still asleep.

“Are you awake?” Sienna whispered.

“Hmm,” Justine replied, then shifted so her lips were dangerously close to Sienna’s.

Next thing Sienna knew, Justine’s lips were on hers. Justine was kissing her. Half asleep or not, Sienna kissed her back. Sleepwalking might be real, but Sienna had never heard of sleep-kissing before.

Justine’s hand slid from Sienna’s back to her belly, then, deliciously, up to her breast. Oh, Justine was very much awake. Maybe she didn’t want to acknowledge it. Maybe she needed this to happen in that fuzzy dreamlike state between being asleep and awake. Justine cupped Sienna’s breast and slipped her tongue inside Sienna’s mouth.

It was all Sienna wanted. It was what she needed. She craved Justine’s soft skin. Her deft, unique touch. Sienna had missed it so much, she instantly wondered why she had denied herself this. Why she had denied herself Justine. Because if anyone could make her feel the tiniest bit better, it was Justine Blackburn—and her alone.

Justine skated her thumb along Sienna’s rock-hard nipple, then let her hand travel down. Instinctively, Sienna rolled onto her back and spread her legs. God, how she wanted Justine. How she wanted to feel her fingers inside her. How she wanted to feel something else than all this grief and pain she’d so suddenly been saddled with. Not just for her dad, but for Justine letting her down when she needed her the most. But none of that mattered right now, because Justine’s fingers were traveling down still, slowly but securely, to exactly where Sienna wanted them.

“Fuck me, please,” Sienna whispered. “Oh fuck, Justine, I need you.”

Justine’s fingers slid between Sienna’s legs. If she could, Sienna would spread farther, but she was already spreading as wide as she could. For Justine. But also for herself. Just as the warm embrace of Justine’s arms around her had helped her sleep, maybe this could help her heal. Or at least help her somehow, if only by being connected to another human being, by feeling alive instead of numb for a few moments, by experiencing the closeness of intimacy and the power of a climax delivered by someone who—unmistakably—cared for her.

Justine gently stroked Sienna between her legs, her fingertips featherlight and oh-so controlled, making Sienna aware of how fully awake she must be. This was not the handiwork of someone half asleep. Justine kissed her way from Sienna’s lips to her neck, then to her ear.

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