Leaving Amarillo(85)
“Good night, Bluebird,” Gavin says softly, taking my plate from my hands and lowering it into the sink.
There’s a flash of something, a heated flare that flickers between us only for a moment. But then he turns back to the sink and I go to bed alone.
The last thing I remember is staring at dancing shadows on the ceiling made by wind-rustled leaves moving behind my half-open blinds. I must’ve fallen asleep, though because the next thing I know, I’m awake in my bed and it’s still dark outside. I stumble to the bathroom in a stupor and reality doesn’t seep through until after I’ve washed my hands. Why I’m home, why I’m here in this house. Once I get back into my room, I text Dallas for an update on Papa but figure he’s asleep when I don’t get a response in several minutes.
Restless and unable to fall back asleep, I make my way to the living room in hopes of playing Nana’s old Wurlitzer for comfort. I’d thought Gavin might sleep in Dallas’s room but nope, he’s right there on the couch. His bare chest rises and falls with steady breaths and I watch him in his peaceful state for a few precious moments before taking several steps backward into the hall.
My room feels suffocating so I don’t shut the door all the way. It’s warm since the house only has window unit air conditioners in the kitchen and in Papa’s room. After kicking off my pajama pants, I curl onto my side, hugging my pillow to my chest and trying not to think about how many times Papa tucked me in, how, at some point, I outgrew that bedtime tradition and he stopped.
My pillow is damp and I’m lying there wondering if I was crying or drooling or both in my sleep when my bedroom door opens the rest of the way, letting in a thick slice of light from the hallway. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask if I’m okay or if I need anything; he just walks over to my bed and slides in beside me.
“I woke you,” I say softly. “I’m sorry.”
Gavin shh’s me and pulls me in tightly to his bare chest. “I wasn’t asleep. And even if I was, you could’ve played the piano all night if you needed to.”
The rumble of his voice vibrates against my cheek on his chest and I become acutely aware of just how close our bodies are. Me in an old threadbare tank top and panties, and him in boxer briefs. It doesn’t make sense, going from drowning in grief to seeking warmth and comfort in Gavin’s arms in mere seconds, and yet my body has shifted gears before my heart and mind can catch up.
“Gavin, I need . . .” I don’t know what I need, but I feel like someone has poured ice water into my veins and the only way to alleviate the bone-deep chill is to press myself closer to him.
“Take whatever you need. Anything I have, it’s yours. Tell me how to make it better.” He speaks into my hair and I drape my leg over his waist and pull him closer.
“I need you,” I whisper, because even though we’re alone it still feels like a forbidden secret we share.
“You have me, Bluebird. You’ve always had me.”
Sitting up, I lift my shirt over my head and toss it aside. Watching me with his eyes flashing sparks into the darkness, Gavin remains completely still when I climb onto him. My hair covers us both like a protective curtain as I lean down and press my lips to his. He raises up to cradle my face in his hands and kisses me back, his tongue sliding past the seam of my lips into my welcoming mouth.
“I need you inside, Gavin.”
Wordlessly, he strips us both of our underwear and places me above his straining erection within a matter of seconds.
Just before I lower myself onto him, he stills as if remembering something vital.
“Wait. Are you sure? I don’t have anything with me.”
“I’m sure,” I say, easing down slowly until I can’t anymore and whimpering at the fullness.
It’s completely inappropriate to have this kind of pleasure during a tragedy, kind of like experiencing mind-shattering joy at the throwing of glass bottles against a brick building the day of your parents’ funeral, but Gavin gives me this. This release, this reminder that I am alive in the midst of so much grief. He fills me, letting me work out my pain and overcome the numbness, taking me to the edge and over, again and again until I am too exhausted to move before he gives in to his own body’s need for release.
“I didn’t come in here for this,” he says while I’m catching my breath on his sweat-dampened chest. “To take advantage of you or anything. I just—”
“I know.” My lips press against his searing skin and I trace the hardened planes of his body. “Good night, Gavin.”
“Good night, Bluebird.” His arms wrap around me and he gathers my hair in his hand. I settle the side of my face just below his shoulder and let the steady beat of his heart lull me to sleep.
Chapter 30
MY GRANDFATHER DIED ON MY BIRTHDAY.
I hadn’t even realized it was my birthday and I don’t think Dallas or Gavin had, either. I only remembered because Robyn texted me Happy Birthday and asked how Papa was doing. Bad news traveled fast in a small town. I was returning from a quick coffee run when I made it to Papa’s room and saw Dallas standing outside of it. He was waiting for me with this look on his face. This deeply sorrowful and sincerely apologetic look that made him appear years older and much more world-weary than he actually was. I knew the moment our eyes met that Papa was no longer with us.