Neat (Becker Brothers, #2)(67)

Mallory fell limp in my arms, burying her face in my neck. I held her for a moment, one hand at the small of her back, the other running back through her hair — which had come loose from her ponytail at some point. I rubbed her scalp before running my fingers through the roots to the ends, and repeated it again and again as she hummed a sated approval.

“That feels nice,” she whispered.

I rolled us over until we were on our sides, disposing of the condom in the trashcan and shutting off the lamp before I climbed in behind her again. I pulled her into me, spooning her, wishing I could crawl inside her mind and know everything she was thinking in that moment.

For a long while, we were quiet. I watched my fingers running patterns over her skin, content to sit in that secret silence with her for as long as she’d let me. Her breath evened out, her eyes closing, and she snuggled closer to me. Before she could fall asleep, I wrapped my arms fully around her, tucking her into my chest, and whispered into her ear.

“Mallory?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think there’s a universe that exists where you could be mine?”

Her eyelids fluttered open, and she turned in my arms. Even in the dark, those blue eyes of hers shone, and she locked them on mine, one hand crawling up to frame my face, sliding back into my hair, pulling me closer, her lips brushing mine when she gave her answer.

“Let’s make one.”





Mallory


That weekend was the best weekend of my life.

I woke the next morning with Logan’s arms around me, his legs weaved through mine, my back to his chest. We’d kicked the covers off, but the warmth from his body alone was enough to sustain me. I’d rolled in his arms, watching him sleep and thinking over the promise we’d made the night before.

To make a universe — one where we could be together.

It didn’t exist. That much, we both knew for sure. There wasn’t a day anywhere in the future where his family or my family would be okay with us being together. But sometime in the last month, we’d decided it didn’t matter anymore.

Logan had kissed my nose when he woke up, smiling and running his fingers through my hair as he watched me. I could tell he was just as worried as I was, that he was wondering if what we’d said in the dark still held true in the light. He’d told me to stay in bed, brought me coffee and made us breakfast, and then we’d sat there in the sheets we’d made love in, and we’d talked.

He’d asked me if I wanted to be with him, and I’d said yes. I asked him if he was ready for the consequences of being with me, and he’d said yes. And that was all it took. Neither of us were in a rush, we knew we had time before we needed to tell anyone. For a while, we wanted to keep it between us — mostly because we were selfish, but a little because I needed to find a way to talk to my dad before we told him.

Logan was sure his family would come around, that they would support him eventually — even if it took a while. And from what he’d told me about them, I believed it. They may never fully approve, but his brothers would stand behind their brother, his mom would stand behind her son. There was love there, and understanding, and communication.

All three of those things were missing in my family.

I couldn’t imagine a day or scenario where I told my father I was falling in love with Logan Becker and he said, “That’s just swell!” I needed to think, to figure out a way to prove to him that Logan wasn’t whatever it was my father thought he was. I needed to show him that I didn’t do this just to piss him and Mom off, but because I cared about Logan — more than I’d cared about anyone before.

If Dad found out before I had a plan, everything would crumble. He’d take my shop, kick me out of the apartment above it that I called home, and if I knew him well enough, he’d find a way to take it out on Logan, too.

That was what scared me most.

So, with a promise to each other that we were together, but that we both needed time before we told anyone, we ate breakfast in bed, and then Logan laid me down in those sheets and made love to me slowly, sweetly, with his eyes watching mine, his arms trembling on either side of my head where they held him above me.

And the best weekend of my life continued.

It was absolute bliss, playing house with Logan. It was the first weekend of the shop being open, so all day long on Saturday, I was downstairs, hosting classes and talking to potential customers who would stop in on their walk down Main Street to find out more about what we offered. Logan was there, too, for a while — helping restock supplies, ringing people up at the Square register, cleaning up after one class so that I could get ready for the other. But when Mrs. Brownstein came in with her children, casting us questioning looks, we knew it was a little too dangerous. Nearly everyone in town knew our family history, and we didn’t need word getting back to either of our families before we were ready.

So, Logan went home for the day, working on cracking the password to his father’s hard drive and — God bless — working on that perfect body of his, too. Then we met up for a late dinner at my place, and he told me about the Elon Musk book he was reading while I told him about the hidden art talent in Stratford. We spent Saturday night tangled up in each other, talking and laughing and never even bothering to get dressed, because we knew it wouldn’t be long before we’d peel those clothes off once again.