The guilt is eating me alive. Not for making love to Rose, because even though I haven’t sunk my cock into her sweet body, that’s what we’re doing. With every thrust of my fingers, every caress of her hand against my cock, we’re lovers. She’s so incredibly giving and the most responsive woman I’ve ever been with. I swear she could cum just from me looking at her a certain way. And doesn’t that make me feel like I own the world?
I cherish every moan and spasm she gives me. Each one filed away in my memory for that time when she’s no longer here.
No, I’m beating myself up for what I’m taking from her by tying her to me. A family of her own, a chance to have kids, make Tris a proud grandpa.
Even if I wanted kids, which I can’t even imagine, I don’t picture my best friend doing anything but cringing if I fathered his daughter’s children. That’s not entirely fair because he’s the kind of pediatrician that really enjoys being around kids and never once blames them for their parents’ mistakes. But still.
And I’m committed for at least the next five years to the hospital in Destiny Bay, a rural area in upstate Washington, hours from the nearest real shopping mall. I know Rose doesn’t mind roughing it for a week or two, but what woman doesn’t want to go hunting for shoes and hitting the spa up on a weekly basis? Particularly if she can afford to, which I’m guessing Rose can.
She’s mentioned a little more about her publishing business over the last few days, and she definitely doesn’t need me to take care of her financially. Hell, she might just make more than I do this year. I’m proud of her but a little at a loss as to how I’m possibly a check mark in the positive column of her life. Beyond the sex, anyway.
And yet I can’t seem to let her go. Not yet. I know she’s wondering what I’m playing at, blowing hot and cold. She’s smart and observant. I wish I knew why I can’t make myself move in either direction. Either let her go or plan a future together. It’s like they’re evenly balanced options and I’m stuck in the middle bouncing between them.
I wish beyond words that I had a plan to offer that tied everything up with a nice neat bow and gave us both what we wanted. Bottom line: I don’t trust that she’s not still just going through a phase, still growing up. She’s going to wake up any day now and realize she’s better off with someone closer to her age. Someone that can adapt his life to her dreams. And he’d better. If any man ever tries to hold Rose back, I’ll fucking kill him.
I want to kill this imaginary man I’ve paired her up with anyway for even thinking about touching my Rose. So yeah, I’m screwed and I know it.
So I’m out here splitting enough firewood to heat the cabin for three years, that’s if Tris ever drags his sorry ass up here again, and trying to figure out how to let Rose go. I’m pretty sure she’s worked her way so deep in my psyche pulling her away is going to leave a big raw gaping wound. Damned if I can see an alternative.
When my arms are aching so badly, they’re trembling and I’m in real danger of sinking the axe in my foot, I stop chopping and head back to the cabin. I need a shower and then Rose and I are going to have to talk. Fuck.
When I get back inside, I’m a little too unsettled from seeing Aiden so worked up to write, so I do the thing that put twenty extra pounds on me when I was a teenager. And it took way too many trips to the gym in college to make it go away again, but whatever. Brownies. They fix everything. Okay, maybe not, but they help. And I know the best recipe by heart.
So I go about melting chocolate and stirring in enough butter and sugar to make him faint with horror. I grin despite my trepidation about what’s to come at that thought. Good, more brownies for me if his body is a fancier temple than mine. I promise you it is. And if I’m being completely honest, I will worship at his alter any day of the week. Just not when I’m about to break up with him. Although don’t you have to be in an actual relationship to break up?
In any event, the best of chocolaty goodness is in the oven and I’ve just set the timer on my phone when Aiden comes in. He looks completely beat and sweaty. I can smell him from the other side of the cabin and I’m worried because he doesn’t smell bad at all. I’ll bet he’s ruined me for any other man ever and I’m going to die a virgin. I check the timer. I need those brownies now. But only ninety seconds have passed since I set it.
Aiden heads straight into the shower without even glancing in my direction, and I sigh. This is going to be epically bad. He comes out wearing only a towel wrapped around his waist a few minutes later. This time his eyes meet mine warily and he half-smiles.
“We need to talk.” I beat him to the punchline and his jaw hangs open for a second as though he’s shocked. But he nods and turns into the bedroom to get dressed. Before I mixed up the brownies, I moved my stuff back upstairs. It had slowly migrated downstairs over the last several days, but the sex has to stop now or I’ll never pick myself up from the emotional puddle I’m about to fall in.
I know he noticed my clothes missing while he got dressed, but he doesn’t say anything when he comes back into the main room. He’s dressed in old worn jeans that fit his butt to perfection (he would blush if I told him that) and an ancient t-shirt that was probably black at some point and is now some weird shade of greenish-gray.
“Want a brownie? They’ll be ready in about ten minutes.” It’s a peace offering and a delaying tactic, but I’m not surprised when he refuses.
“No thanks. So what did you want to talk about? I’ve got a few things to go over with you as well.”
I roll my eyes. I’m willing to bet we have pretty similar agenda items, but he’s never going to admit it. God forbid he ever admits I’m a mature adult.
“We’ve both avoided talking about what happens when we leave the cabin. I’m getting the feeling that you don’t think we’ll be together in the future, but I don’t want to make assumptions about your feelings.” I’m very careful to keep my tone even and not accusatory, but I admit to using air quotes around the word ‘together’. I couldn’t help it.
“Rose…” He closes his eyes briefly, as though he’s got a script written on the back of his eyelids for how to let me down easy.
“Aiden, it’s okay. I learned a long time ago that trying to hold on to someone who isn’t in a place where they can be held, makes it harder on everyone. And it doesn’t work, anyway.”
“Rose, you know I wouldn’t hurt you for the world.” He’s in my space, holding on to my upper arms with a firm grip.
“I know that. But I also know you aren’t ready to let me in, not all the way.”
“You’re so fucking young, Rosebud.” He says it with deep regret and I blink furiously. I will not cry in front of this man. For one, it will make him feel even worse about something he can’t control. Is he being an idiot? Yes, of course, he is. But I love him and I don’t want him hurting, not over something that’s really all my fault, anyway.
“Yeah, well. I’m doing everything I can about that, but I think we have to go back to being… roommates for a few days. I’ll finish the book soon, it’s been going faster than usual.”
He frowns like that wasn’t what he expected to hear. “That’s probably for the best.” He lets go of me and steps back. My phone alarm goes off, so I silence it and busy myself taking the brownies out of the oven. They smell divine and the steam helps disguise my too wet eyes.
“So,” I manage fairly cheerfully, “was there anything else on your list for this meeting or did I steal your thunder?”
He smiles slightly, “Nothing that can’t wait. Don’t eat all those in one go. I’m planning to start dinner in a few minutes. Stir-fry okay with you?”
And just like that, the fact that I’ve had his huge cock in my mouth is pushed behind both of us, never to be mentioned again.
I hold myself together while he fixes dinner, and we sit down to eat it. He tries to introduce a few neutral topics and I do my best to respond but I’m distracted and our conversation dwindles quickly. I keep wondering if he’s going to stay alone forever or if he’ll eventually find a woman he thinks suits him better. (She won’t of course, but he might think that.) I know he hasn’t been a complete monk, a man doesn’t know how to use his tongue like that without practice. Still, I think he deserves something more than casual hookups. What if he gets sick? Who’s going to make sure he sees a doctor? (Because like most physicians, I’m sure he’s a crappy patient.)
I want him to be happy. But I’m not quite generous enough to say I hope he’ll find that with someone else. Not yet. Try me again in a month or two. Okay, maybe don’t ask for a couple of years. Aiden’s a lot to get over, even if I never truly had him.