Page 45 of Peaches

“You’re so good at this, you beautiful girl,” I murmur, licking up her neck. Her body squeezes mine with an orgasm that lasts for several long moments, her nails ripping into my skin and drawing blood. It’s the way her eyes roam over me, glassy and sated, that sends me over my own edge. One more thrust,one moreflexing reach into her body, and I have to quickly yank her off of me as I come all over her thighs.

The sight of it makes me fucking feral.

This time, as I clean us up, I know we can’t end up back in bed tangled together the way I want to be. It’s getting late, and we both have early mornings. Still, it’s really damn hard to stop myself from tucking her back against me and holding on to her with everything I have, scared of what happens when I cut her loose from the cocoon we’ve wrapped ourselves in.

It’s even harder when I give into temptation and push her against the wall in the stairwell on our way out. My mouth scorches a blazing trail up her jaw as her breath hitches, one leg lifting high to wrap around my waist. It takes sheer will to pull myself away from her, to stop myself from throwing her over my shoulder and marching right back into that apartment.

I keep one arm stretched behind me on the bike, hooked around her back to hold her close to me the whole ride back to her place. It cuts deep to watch her walk through her front door alone, but I don’t trust myself to follow her. When I pull the bike back onto the main road and point it toward the ranch, I wrench the throttle open and fly on the high of everything she is and every new part of me born from it.

* * *

The high doesn’tlast long.

On Monday, Melody comes home from the hospital—but it’s not because she’s doing any better. The doctors decide she’s stableafter breaking her fever, and then tell Brooks there’s no good enough reason to keep her under their observation, much to his frustration. She’s transported back to her temporary room in the main house with the help of two nurses who set her up in the hospital-grade bed that definitely cost more than Brooks could afford.

The ranch paid for it, like it’s been paying a lot of her medical bills, but I don’t have to look at the books to know business isn’t going to cover things for long. We’re already struggling to stay afloat with Sawyer gone and Brooks distracted. Wells entered his name in a few small rodeo circuits this spring, hoping to earn the first-place prize money to help, but the first one is still over a month away.

Colt must have developed a weird level of telepathy because he calls me again Monday night, trying to convince me to go to their upcoming card game by again flaunting the obscene amount of money up for grabs. I have to admit—it’s more than enough cash to take care of things around here for a good long while. But I know in my gut it’s not worth the risk.

Money like that is a felony. A long sentence behind bars.

Brooks grows restless and impatient the more uncomfortable Melody becomes. She’s made it clear to everyone that she doesn’t want to live sick. Doesn’t want her boys to have a sick mother, to see her like this. On Wednesday, when her oncologist comes by to check in on her in the late afternoon, things get worse.

“How long, doc?” she asks. Kasey and I stand together in the hallway, quietly looking in through the open door. Her face is so goddamn pale it twists tight in my stomach.

“Not long,” he confirms, eyes kind. Patient.

“Will it hurt?”

The doctor shakes his head. “No, Melody. I’ll make sure it doesn’t.”

Brooks bursts from his chair, eyes wild as he looks at his wife. “Do not quit on me, Mel,” he nearly spits. “You’re not fucking dying, do you hear me?” He turns to face the doctor. “Do you hear me!” he shouts. “You keep her alive!”

Dr. Hawthorne’s face remains stoic yet solemn. “I’m afraid this is no longer a matter ofif, Brooks, butwhen. Melody is presenting with multiple-system organ failure. Her body is not responding to our efforts to eradicate the cancer, and it’s only a matter of time before she succumbs to it.” Melody closes her eyes as the words wash over her, but she doesn’t cry. “I’m so sorry, to all of you,” the doctor continues. “Sincerely. I wouldn’t wish this on anyone.”

The sound that rips from Brooks’s throat is guttural as he launches himself at the doctor. Kasey and I burst through the door and hurl ourselves at him before his fists can make impact, pushing him back against the wall of the room. “No!” he screams, eyes filling with tears. “Help her, dammit! Fucking help her!”

“Brooks.” Melody’s voice cuts through his terror. He turns to her, utterly broken, and climbs onto the bed to wind his body around hers. Like if he can just hold her tight enough, he might be able to stop what’s happening. He might be able to keep her here far longer than her body is giving her.

I don’t have the stomach to see that look on his face for a second longer. Pushing past Kasey, I flee out of the room and then leave the house altogether.

The hours I spend on my bike do little to settle the panic.

I’m keyed up through my whole shift at Wild Coyote, anxious for a distraction. It used to be so easy to turn all of this off with booze, but now all I want to do is drown in Olivia, to lose myself in the heat of her touch. With her, I don’t go numb. With her, it feels more like white-knuckling the reins of a racehorse as we approach the edge of a cliff—scary as fuck, but . . . different.Gooddifferent, I think.

Being known by her doesn’t feel like a threat. It’s almost a relief, even with the deep unknown of it all. She’s a beacon of light I want to cling to when the demons threaten to pull me in with their claws. Still, her presence in my life is a whole ’nother tornado of worry that threatens to sweep me up when work isn’t busy enough to distract me from it. I haven’t heard from her since dropping her off Saturday night, and I’m sure she’s probably still processing everything that happened, but the urge to show up at her house grows every hour that my phone stays quiet.

When I first proposed this hasty plan to unofficially date her, I had no fucking idea I’d trip into something this deep. If anything, I thought it was ridiculous:me, suggesting I could somehow positively support her dating life. But it pissed me off to see her with the losers she was going out with, and I guess I just thought I could be a better version of them. That she deserved a little more of an effort.

Turns out I’m greedier than I thought I’d be.

CHAPTEREIGHTEEN

OLIVIA

Avoiding my mom becomes an intricate dance—especially with it being a slow week at the café—but I’m having areallyhard time finding the confidence to talk to her about the wedding. I’ve thought about continuing on like nothing’s changed, pretending I have no interest in going to Charleston or meeting a whole group of strangers I happen to share a bloodline with, but after allowing myself to admit what I wanted with Rhett over the weekend, it feels like I’m burning with a newfound need to be honest about this too.

Still, the fear of Mom’s reaction scares me more than anything. I’m so worried she’ll feel like I’m choosing my father over her, which isn’t the reality at all. Every time I catch a glimpse of her long red hair floating somewhere back in the kitchen, my heart stops in a panic. I spin on my heel and bail, convinced she’ll see the truth of my feelings written all over my face if I let her look too long. When she’s out on the floor or rooted in front of the POS system talking to Teresa, I find a reason to be in the kitchen, pulling out more napkins or making small talk with Mark while he works on a meatloaf special that smells amazing. I move through every shift carefully, ensuring I never end up alone with her. But if she senses anything wrong with me, she doesn’t make it known. She’s calm and graceful as always, her easy smile bestowed on every patron who walks through the door.

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