she pulls me into my room. Stripping my clothes and boots, she curls up with me on the bed. Her arms stay around me and we simply lie together. She doesn’t utter a word; she allows her touch to speak for her.
Hours pass and finally, I say, “It was my fault.”
She cups my face as she looks up at me. “No, it wasn’t.”
“I told him to come here. If I hadn’t done that, he’d still be alive.”
She moves so she’s on top of me. “Baby, no. You can’t think like that. You didn’t take that gun and shoot him. It’s not your fault.”
I don’t want to fight with her. Not today. So I nod and let her think I agree.
“Do you wanna shower?” she asks. “I’ll make you something to eat while you’re in there.”
“Yeah.” As she moves off me, I reach for her arm, stopping her. “I want you in the shower with me.”
“Okay,” she says without hesitation and I let her go.
She heads into the en suite and flicks the shower on. When I meet her there, she’s got her clothes off and is reaching for her bra to undo it. I take over, growing hard as my hands glide over her skin. It’s been over a week since I’ve fucked her. This is exactly what I need to forget everything that’s happened today. If only for a small amount of time.
I bring my lips to her breasts as her bra hits the floor. Sucking a nipple into my mouth, I push her panties down and stroke her clit. Her arms slide over my shoulders and she grinds herself against my hand.
I kiss my way down to her pussy before pushing my tongue inside her. Gripping her ass, I eat her. The pleasure of having my woman in my hands and between my lips helps me escape the nightmare on repeat in my head.
Birdie’s hands come to my head and she pulls my hair as she comes. The sounds she makes reach deep in my gut, and I stand and lift her into the shower. Her legs and arms wrap around me as I thrust inside her.
“Fuck,” I growl, pulling out and going again.
My veins fill with more need the closer I get, and I pick up the pace, slamming harder and faster into her. I come long before I want to, because going without Birdie for as long as I have always results in a fast orgasm.
Dropping my head, I take a moment to get my shit together.
She tilts my chin up and finds my eyes. “I love you,” she says softly. Three little words that I fucking crave from her.
I kiss her before saying, “I love you, too.”
We shower and once we’re dressed, Birdie says, “Take me home. We need our bed.”
She means we need our space. Birdie isn’t a fan of spending the night at the clubhouse. Tonight, I agree with her. We do need our bed. But more than anything, I just need her.
25
Winter
* * *
There’s nothing in the world like burying a loved one. Fucking nothing. I’ve done it three times now and, fuck me, each time has shredded me a little more. Saying goodbye to my brother has been the hardest. We’d grown closer than ever over the last eight years; losing him feels like someone has hacked through my veins and spilt my blood all over the fucking place. We might have held a funeral to say our goodbyes, but I don’t know how to begin saying goodbye.
I scrolled my phone for photos of him yesterday and every memory killed me a little more.
The fishing trip we went on last year during which he counselled me over Birdie’s and my latest IVF disappointment.
A photo of the two of us at my fortieth birthday party Birdie organised.
The time Birdie convinced him to dress up as a dick for another party she threw.
There won’t be any more fishing trips or parties or Christmas’s or anything with Max and I can’t fucking imagine a life without those things or him in it.
Birdie and I flew to Brisbane for his funeral. I wanted us to spend some time with Max’s sons, and we did, but their mother restricted it to half a day. Jesse and Thomas are as broken over their father’s death as Birdie and I are. That half-day with them didn’t come close to being enough time together. I’ve made it clear to Melissa that there’s no fucking way Max’s death will stop