Page 45 of Sugar
I don’t even register the decision, only realizing that I’ve reached for her when I feel her soft hair cascade along the hand I’ve buried behind her neck. She still doesn’t move away. Instead, she pulls the lollipop out just as I dip to capture her wicked little mouth with my own.
Lightning cracks through the sky, booming with thunder.
I’ve never felt more alive.
Four whole dayswithout seeing Ava, and I feel like I’m crawling out of my fucking skin. I refuse to let myself think about all the ways I’mrightback in that place, desperate to know what she’s thinking, how she’s spending her days. I can’t help but wonder if she regrets any of this yet, if she’s finally realized what a bad idea it all is.
It’s not too late to stop it.
I look at her now, seated next to me in a matching armchair while Pastor Brown studies us from the other side of his obnoxiously large desk. Her face is a perfect mask of patience, beautiful but guarded. I know her well enough to know there’s a fire deep inside that she’s learned how to keep hidden.
“As I stated in our initial meeting,” Pastor Brown remarks, “today’s session is all about heart.” His focus bounces back and forth between Ava and me. “This discussion will allow me to evaluate the stability of the more . . .intangiblestrengths of your relationship. A common issue I see in young couples seeking to be married is that they are in it for all thewrongreasons—like lust, money, or status—when really, love and God should exist at the center of any marriage.”
It takes effort not to react. I’m not sure how much love or God I have in me these days, but the goal is to make the old man believe plenty of both exists. I sneak another look at Ava and find her still calm and relaxed.
The good pastor starts off with a bang. “How do you like to fight?” he asks, flitting his gaze toward Ava.
She smirks. “That’s actually one of our specialties.”
“Do you fight often?”
“Not as often as we used to,” she says carefully. “But even when we do . . . I’d call it a love language we share.”
“How so?”
She tucks her hair behind her ear, revealing two small gold hoops hugging her lobe. “With me and Kasey, fighting is basically foreplay.”
“Ah.” Pastor Brown clears his throat. “You’re saying that fighting often leads to . . . physical intimacy?”
My face heats. Ava just smiles.
He taps his knuckles against the surface of the desk, considering his words. “Tell me, do you find that . . .strategyleads to healthy resolution?”
“Oh yes,” Ava says emphatically. “Lots of them.”
Fucking hell.
“What about general communication with each other? Would you say that’s something you excel at?” He looks at me to answer this one.
“Yeah,” I say. “Definitely.”
“Give me an example.”
“We tell each other hard truths. Even when it hurts.”
He considers. “What’s Ava’s biggest fear?” he asks.
Dread spikes through me. “What does that matter?”
“It’s not so much the ‘what’ of it as much as it is ensuring that you know.”
My traitorous eyes slip sideways and look at her. Her gaze is already trained on me, but it gives nothing away. There’s a cautious expression on her face, one that I can’t read. I look back at Pastor Brown and straighten, shifting in my seat. “Not having the opportunity to realize her fullest potential,” I answer. “It’s important to her that she has her freedom.”
I don’t know if it’s the right thing to say here, in this room, under an old man’s judgement. But at least it’s honest, and I can’t see how a little honesty would hurt. The truth is I’ve always known Ava never wanted to be tamed, never wanted to feel shackled to any man or course of life. And I know I complicated that with both my love for her and my dedication to the ranch.
She’d asked me to go slow, to be patient with her. And god—I tried. I tried so fucking hard to wrangle the intensity of my feelings for her, terrified letting it loose might scare her away. I thought I could reveal the way I felt little by little, like pressure escaping out of a valve slow enough that nothing would burst. After a couple of years together, I guess I thought she could handle it. I thought she would trust my presence in her life enough that the strength of my feelings wouldn’t send her fleeing.
Boy was I wrong.
