Page 44 of The Games We Play
My phone buzzes.Stop overthinking, Iris.
I send a laughing emoji.How did you guess?
Because I learned last night that you have a small problem expressing yourself. Want me to go first?
I feel the heat rise in my cheeks. When he went first last night and said all those things, it was ... incendiary. I stroke a fingertip along my lips.
Yes.
I’m pissed I’m at a truck stop just outside of Yonkers instead of there with you. Leaving you in bed last night was real fucking hard. Kinda like my dick which has thought about the way your pussy hugged my fingers for most of the damn night.
I take a sip of my coffee to ease my suddenly parched throat.
After taking a deep breath, I start to type. I can do this. I can be the sexually confident woman.I wish you were here right now so you could show me what you’d do with that hard dick of yours.
I hit send before I can delete it or overthink it. But I screw up my face with nervous excitement.
There she is. I like bold Iris. I gotta get back on my bike in two minutes with a raging boner. If I call you later, you wanna be bold some more?
I look out of the window where the landlord and his goons are sawing wood for a new doorframe. Spark did that for me. Without me asking him or prompting him.
I think that’s enough for one day.
It takes a moment before I get a response.I’m gonna call and take my chances anyway. I called the school. Told them you weren’t coming in today because of the accident. They said get well soon. Later LC.
LC? It takes me a minute. Little chick.
And he called the school? Jesus. We need a chat about boundaries.
There’s another knock on the front door. This time it’s Thomas and Michael. Michael is proudly holding a large bunch of flowers. “Wanted to come see how you are,” Thomas said. “And I promised I’d take Michael out on the trains.”
I’d messaged Thomas from the hospital to let him know and to ask if he knew a good mechanic.
“For you,” Michael says and thrusts the bouquet of slightly battered daisies at me.
I press them to my nose. “They smell so good. Did you smell them?” I say offering them to Michael.
He bats them away. “No.”
“Okay. Let’s go put them in water.”
“Lots of trains,” Michael says as he follows me to the kitchen. “Yonkers. Grand Central. Times Square. Penn Station. Asbury Park.”
I look at Thomas, my eyes wide. “Wow. Great memory. It must have been a grand adventure.”
Michael opens his tablet and shows me a list. “Thomas made a list,” he says.
Thomas grips Michael’s shoulder and shakes it playfully. “That’s right, I wrote it. But you followed all the instructions like a champ. Why don’t you go sit down?” He points Michael towards my sofa. When he’s out of hearing, Thomas leans toward me. “I forgot what a shit show trains are, but he only got overwhelmed twice. I’m getting a rideshare back.”
“I think Cillian forgets he’s a young adult and capable of doing more than he lets him. I’m glad you two did this trip together today,” I say as I grab a vase and arrange the flowers. “These are lovely.”
“They were lovely when we got on the train in Yonkers, but Michael wanted to hold them all the way here.” I’d forgotten what a great smile my brother Thomas has. Since walking in Cillian’s shadow, he’s lost a bit of it. Even at his young age.
On autopilot, I start to make Michael his favorite drink, a hot chocolate. “Do you want one?” I ask Thomas.
He shakes his head. “I’ll take a Coke if you have one.”
I grab one from the fridge for him before I take Michael his drink.
