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“You want to?” she questions me, lifting one eyebrow.

“I don’t want to.” I wrap my hands around her ankles and pull her to the edge of the bed. “I fucking need to.” I work her panties down, stop at her boots, pull them off one at a time, and drop everything on the floor. The room holds its breath. Or maybe that’s just me. She laughs softly and then stops when I move closer. Slow. I want her to feel every inch of it. “You drive me a little crazy, you know that?” I let the words land close, my breath against her skin. She shivers. I feel it.

“Tell me to stop,” I instruct quietly, “and I will. Or keep those pretty lips quiet and let me make you a promise.”

She doesn’t say a word. Can’t, maybe. The space between us closes until there is nothing left but heartbeats and everything I still haven’t found the words for. One long lick and I melt into her heat.

“Oh my god,” she breathes. That’s all I need. I press her thighs wide and put my mouth on her once more. Lick up the center, slowly, until I find the spot that makes her back bow off the mattress and her hand fly to my hair. She moans, one hundred percent unguarded, and I hold her hips against me, not stopping.

“You taste incredible.” I work two fingers inside her while my mouth stays on her clit. She makes a sound low in her throat, and her hips roll into me, asking for more. I give it to her. My name on her lips is the best sound I’ve ever heard. I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to earn it again. I bring her down slowly, softening until she is trembling and breathing hard; one hand presses flat to her chest like she is trying to hold herself together.

My turn. I stand. Push my boxer briefs down.

“You ready for me, sweetheart?” My hand pumps my thickened cock. She opens her eyes. Smiles. The light catches her pale freckled skin, making her look ethereal. Her hair is wrecked. Cheeks are flushed. She looks completely undone, and it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen in my life.

“Ready,” she breathes.

My hand cups her cheek, my thumb dragging across. “You have no idea what you do to me. Every time you look at me like that, I forget how to breathe” I admit.

She laughs softly, and I catch the sound between them with my lips, our foreheads touching. “Then don’t breathe,” she teases.

“Not if it means losing this.” I press my forehead to hers, my finger skimming down between her breasts. “You're it for me. I knew it the second I heard your voice. There's something about you that quiets everything in my head. The noise, the darkness. All of it goes quiet when I'm with you.”

I rest my body over hers and pushed my cock inside her. The tightness makes her hiss, and I kiss that sound away. "Oh god," she moans. I bow my head and move slowly at first; her legs fall open wider, as her body pulls me in, almost too much. "More," Kitty hisses. I slide my hands under her lower back and lean into her chest. I. Let. Go. Our movements match a wild rhythm until my core tightens, tingling down my arms and legs. My hips slam into her core, rubbing against her clit. Her breath quickens, moans sharpen, and then she cries out, "I'm coming! Oh god, I'm coming!" That unravels me completely.

I’m relentless, buried deep in her, holding her tight, the whole world going white and still for a handful of seconds that feel longer than anything I’ve lived through in years. Everything I have empties into her heat. Neither of us move. We just hold on, catching our breaths. The pulse between us slows to something firmer, feels like it can last. Her fingers traces slow circles on my shoulder. Like she’s memorizing me. I press my lips to her temple. “You okay?” I ask. “Also, I’m clean. I should have wrapped up.”

She nods, eyes still closed, smiling against my chest. “Better than okay. And I’m on the pill.” A quiet laugh comes with it. “I didn’t expect it to feel like this,” she murmurs.

“Like what?”

“Like peace,” she replies. “Like finally not struggling to smile some days.”

I pull her tighter. “That’s exactly what I want you to feel,” I state with a rough voice. “Safe. Wanted. Home.” We stay together for a long time. The wind hits the windows, causing a small draft. Gonna need a cat sticker on that next, I think to myself. Our heartbeats find each other again. And then I feel it, that slow, inevitable pull for more. I’m not done. Not even close. “I’m far from finished with you, sweetheart.”

Her giggling is the best sound in the world. I roll over her body and slip my cock back inside her heat. The night stretches out long ahead of us.

Last night was more than just bodies, giggles, and tangled sheets. Something got into my chest and settled there, quieting my broken heart. Rydker is everything. I didn’t know I still had room for charm in that attentive way that makes me feel like I’m the only person he breathes for. He knows how to make me forget myself. Even the delicious ache I wake up with. A reminder of something good in my life. And I don’t mind it. I turn my head before I even fully open my eyes. Then, I slide my hand across the mattress on its own, seeking out Rydker before I even know what I’m searching for, like my body just knows where to look.

Empty. I press my palm to the little heat left on the sheets and smile at the ceiling. I can still hear last night echoing in my mind, and honestly, I love it.

A tiny meow pulls me back to earth. Sunny Buns, my morning toe-biting menace, blinks at me from her spot at the foot of the bed, her tail wagging with impatience. She looks almost smug, which, honestly, feels earned. I can tell that she already approves of the hardware store owner, and the thought of Rydker becoming a real, regular part of this home, maybe even part of the café, makes a flutter of hope rise in my chest.

My last relationship ended because my boyfriend couldn’t handle me. The depression. The grief. The way my dad’s illness had turned me into someone I barely recognized. My boyfriend left, and honestly, I couldn’t even blame him. But that didn’t make it hurt any less. And then, like a switch flipped somewhere in my heart, the cloud over my head moved on without warning, pulling me from a darkness that was swallowing me up.

That’s the thing about depression; it’s not a friend that likes to knock. It never does. It just walks in, sits down, and makes itself at home. Depression presses into my shoulder like a fist, creeps up the back of my throat, and makes breathing feel like a task. I lay there staring at the ceiling and can’t find a single word for the same sadness that has walked back into my life.

Dad.

The thirtieth.

The third anniversary.

Last night's memory fades, and depression settles on my heart instead, pulling away my happiness. I’ve been holding it together, or at least acting like I am. Acting cheerful all the time, with my big smiles and laugh, which I keep in the pocket of my apron, is starting to drain me. As fall creeps in, the leaves turn red, it keeps getting harder. Every day is a reminder of what I lost three years ago. But when Rydker is near, the sadness in my head gets quieter. The rope around my heart loosens its grip just enough for me to breathe. That probably should scare me. Instead, it just feels like relief. It should frighten me with how much I need Rydker, and how fast we’ve moved. And somewhere underneath the grief, the memory of my dad flickers, because being in Rydker’s arms just feels right.

I glance at the calendar on the nightstand. My eyes catch the date once more, and my stomach drops straight through the mattress. The thirty-first. Not the thirtieth. The thirty-first.

I’ve missed it. The realization hits me as I count the days. Yesterday had come and gone without me drowning, without the pressure on my chest. A sharp, burning ache climbs my throat. My hand presses flat against my chest like I can keep my heart inside my body. Tears come fast, and the anger comes next. Hot, messy. I’d forgotten. I had actually forgotten. And yeah, maybe Rydker has given me the first real breath of air I’ve had in years, but what kind of daughter forgets the day her father died because she’s too busy being happy? With deep disappointment, I struggle with the guilt of forgetting something so important. All because I chose to be with someone who let me escape my grief for a little while.