Page 76 of I Could Be Yours

She unscrews the lid and squeezes some onto her fingers,moving to stand behind me as I sit in a chair. “It looks so much better this morning.” She swipes gently over my skin.

I let my head fall forward and my eyes close, enjoying the contact. “That’s good. It doesn’t feel nearly as awful. Thanks for the food. That was nice of you.”

“I figured you’d be hungry when you finally woke up, and my purse snacks, while good in a pinch, probably wouldn’t have been enough.”

“Purse snacks?”

“Yeah. I always keep snack items in my purse. Mostly it’s a leftover habit from my university days with Rix,” Essie explains.

“She does that, doesn’t she? Always carries crackers and stuff.”

“Mm-hmm.” She settles one hand on my shoulder and skims my ribs with the other. I move my arm so it rests on the back of the chair, giving her better access to my side. “Fortune cookies, soup crackers, animal crackers, fruit leathers, mini bags of nuts—her purse is where airplane snacks live.”

“We went to a maple farm once when we were kids, and Tris and Rix came along,” I tell her as an old memory surfaces. “She wanted to buy one of those little bottles of maple syrup so badly.”

“I remember her talking about it afterward. All she ever had growing up was the fakle stuff,” Essie says.

“Fakle?” I parrot.

“Fake maple syrup. The kind made with corn syrup and food coloring.”

I nod. “Oh yeah. I’ve never heard that term for it.”

“It’s what she always called it after she tried the real stuff.”

“Makes sense. I didn’t even know the fake stuff was different when I was a kid. I thought everyone had the real stuff until my dad explained that it’s expensive and not everyone could afford it. Tristan went out and bought a big container for her family with his own money.”

Essie’s fingers stop moving for a second. “I thought it was your dad who did that. So did she.”

“It was Tris. He’s always had a soft spot for her. At least until our mom left. Then all his soft spots disappeared for a while.” She moves around to my right, and I finger the hem of her nightshirt, less pleasant memories from all those years ago floating to the surface. “Tristan went from being fun to…angry. Lots of dents in the garage siding from pucks after she left.” And broken sticks. Brody had always been quiet, but after Mom left, he turtled. I put all my energy into school.

“I’m so sorry, Nate.” Essie caps the cream and sets it on the table, hands coming to rest on my shoulders again.

I want the affection. Crave it. Need it, even.

“I just wish she’d stay out of our lives. Everything was fine until she started calling again.” I shake my head. “I don’t know why I’m telling you this.”

“Probably because our families arrive today, and I’m sure that’s a weight for all of you.” Her nails drag gently along the back of my neck.

“Yeah. Maybe.” I settle my hand at the back of her thigh. Lately I find myself wanting to confide in her. “Most of my memories of her are shitty. She was always upset with one of us for something. Tristan’s hockey equipment took up too much space, my projects were too messy, Brody was too quiet. And then she was just…gone.”

I wish she would stay that way. I wish the calls would stop, along with everything else. They’re needles under my skin, pricking at a wound that never heals. I wish she hadn’t started calling again last year, acting like she could erase years of silence.

Essie cups my face in her palms. “You can talk to me, Nate. I can’t even begin to imagine how hard that was for your family.”

I pull her closer, needing the contact to ground me and keep me from falling back into a past that always hurts. “Talking about it makes me feel worse.”

“I can understand that.” She skims the edge of my jaw with her thumbs. “What do you need, Nathan?”

For you to stay. For this not to end after this week. I try to push that thought back down before it has a chance to dig its nails in, but it’s too late. As I gaze into her soft, empathy-filled eyes, I realize that somewhere along the way this did stop being about just the sex.What would she say if I wanted more than this week?

She traces the contour of my bottom lip. “Do you need a distraction from all the stuff in your head?”

I lean into her touch. I don’t know if I should take what she’s offering, but I want her. Desperately. “Maybe.”

Her expression is as gentle as her touch. “It’s also okay if that’s not what you need right now. You can be honest. It won’t hurt my feelings.”

“I just don’t want to get lost in the past.” I skim the curve of her ass, moving her to stand between my parted thighs. I wish I wasn’t so closed off, that I wasn’t so afraid of the feelings thatprick at me.

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