Page 17 of Samhain
No distractions.
“I’m not a baby.” I laughed.
“You’re always my baby boy.”
When Lizzie came back, she brought something she thought would fit our mother, and Mom’s jaw dropped to the ground. Sensing I might get roped into dress-up if I stuck around, I let the girls have their fun and found my way to the blue room.
Later that night, I listened to the sounds of the ocean outside my balcony window. The waves crashing against the shore held such a peaceful rhythm, and in the lulling stillness of its melody, I almost forgot everything was such a mess.
I thought of Ivy again, her bright smile and her shiny red hair. I thought of the way she laughed and how she’d moan please in my ear with her breathy sigh. I wondered what they were doing. Were they happy together? Were they miserable? Had they found in each other a comfort that Miri and I were desperate to find for ourselves?
I traced my thumb over her name in my phone, the last text we sent to each other still on my screen.
Ivy: Carter, I love you. But my mother doesn’t want me in contact with you anymore. If my phone gets hacked, if we get found out—I’m finished. We said we wouldn’t hold each other back. I need that now. Please don’t reach out to me again.
That was three days ago. This was the longest we’d ever gone without speaking to each other. I wanted to reach out to her in the worst way, maybe plead with her to take me back, maybe promise her the world if she’d let me say filthy shit to turn her cheeks red.
Maybe I’d get her to finger herself while I watched and urged her on.
Maybe Lex would walk in…
Maybe they would…
I stopped myself.
Ivy broke up with you.
Ivy is marrying someone else.
Ivy is marrying your best friend.
Pictures of them walking together on the street haunted my social media feed, Lex’s arm over her shoulders, her fingers in his, that puppy dog gaze in her eyes. It was the way she used to look at me.
It’s all for show, I reminded myself.
Other memories flickered through my mind—the way Lex had kissed her at the pub in Ireland, the way he’d pulled her into the woods at Midsummer, how he’d fucked her when the lust took hold of us again in our dorm room. He hadn’t fought the arrangement because he loved her, truly loved her, even if he couldn’t admit it.
And there was the proof—right there on the internet for all the world to see.
I knew this would happen. I knew this was coming. But tears still burned my eyes, and rage boiled in my heart.
I wanted to call them both and cuss them out. I wanted to make them fuck on screen so I could watch it and see for myself how real it was. I shook with fury for both of them, all of them, all of us, all together again.
The only thing that kept me sane, the only thing that kept my jealous rage in check, was the ring on her right ring finger—the opal I’d given her before I left.
Representation.
In every picture I saw of her, it was there. Sort of like her signal to me that despite her text, she still loved me and she always would.
And poor pitiful me, I still had nothing to offer.
Not yet.
I clicked my phone off, put it on my nightstand, and fucked my fist as I remembered our last time together. When I came, silently moaning into my pillow, I thought of steel-gray eyes and a tattooed forearm holding me down.
5
Miri
