Just One of the Guys(93)
Before I’m completely aware of it, I find myself standing in front of Trevor’s building. Someone nearby plays a guitar, the gentle strumming floating easily to my ears. A baby cries. Gazing up at the windows in the northeastern corner of the building’s top floor, I see lights. He’s home.
Someone’s just coming out of the building, so I don’t have to buzz myself up, just grab the door before it swings closed. I run through the lobby and up the stairs, taking them two at a time, whipping around each landing and charging up the next flight like a Marine. When I reach the fourth floor, I burst into the hallway and skid to a halt in front of apartment 4D.
I knock sharply, my breath ragged, and when Trevor answers the door, looking more than a little surprised, I don’t wait. I just throw myself into his arms.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“CHASTITY, WHAT IS IT?” he asks, trying to pull back to see my face. I don’t let him, just clench him against me, feeling the warmth of his neck against my cheek, the comforting strength of his arms around me, the smell of soap and shampoo. Oh, God, I recognize these smells, this feeling. I remember everything about him.
“My mom…” My voice is unrecognizable even to me.
“Is she hurt?” His voice is calm and quiet, even asking such a question.
“No!” I sob. “She’s fine.”
“Come on in, sweetheart.” Trevor disentangles himself from me, takes my hand and leads me into his apartment. I’ve never been here. His living room is painted a warm yellow, there’s a fireplace and a lot of plants, and I can’t see anymore because of the tears in my eyes. He pushes me gently onto the couch and leaves the room, returning in a second with a box of tissues, which he hands me.
“What’s the matter, Chastity?” he asks as I blow my nose loudly. I need several tissues to mop up my tears. My hands are shaking, and so are my legs. I can’t answer right away. “Chas, honey, what’s wrong?” Trevor kneels in front of me and takes my hands.
“She’s getting married, Trevor,” I whisper, then start bawling again. “She’s getting married to Harry and my father is so…he sounded so…and I just—I never thought—they loved each other—but now…”
Trevor slides onto the soft brown couch and holds me, letting me cry into his neck. He strokes my hair and murmurs things I can’t quite hear over the raw, seal-like barking of my sobs. He shifts so I’m closer, kisses the top of my head, and, crap, I give in.
I can’t hide from myself anymore. I love Trevor. Always have, always will. I never stopped, and right now, I love him more than ever. For twelve years, I’ve been trying to make him just one of the guys.
He’s not.
I love him. And like Mom’s love for Dad, that love might be worn down by time and dejection. Someday I might look at Trevor, my Trevor, the way my mom now sees my father…the man who used up her heart.
“Trevor, I—” My voice breaks off. I pull back to look at him.
He knows. I can see it in his eyes, he feels how much I love him still, and maybe he’s always known. He cups my face in one hand, his thumb sliding away my tears, stroking my cheek.
I kiss him.
It’s a kiss filled with longing and heartbreak and sorrow and hurt…and love, of course, because it’s burned in my soul, somehow, that I was meant to love Trevor, that no matter what he feels toward me, I love him with my whole heart and every molecule and muscle and fiber of me, every ounce of blood. And I don’t want that to be worn away.
For a second, he doesn’t move, doesn’t respond, and the echo of rejection starts to sound in my heart once again.
And then he kisses me back, hard and soft at the same time, his mouth desperate and hungry on mine. Oh, thank God, I think. Thank God.
His hands are on my skin, under my shirt, burning hot. I slide my hands through his thick, still-damp hair, opening my lips underneath his, and wrap my legs around him. My foot connects with the coffee table, which falls over with a thunk, but we don’t stop. There’s nothing that matters but us. The two of us, coming together again, at last. It’s been so long, but it’s like we were never apart. He feels so warm and smooth and hot and so, so good. So perfect. Absolutely right.
I yank his shirt open, tearing off a few buttons, but who cares? I’ve loved him for so long.
We’re not gentle, and we’re not graceful. We’re a force of nature as we pull off clothes and kick off shoes. Something else breaks, but it’s just background noise. The couch cushion slides and we roll onto the floor and don’t even come up for air. I can barely hear, my heart is pounding so hard. My skin is burning, and when I feel Trevor against me, his skin just as hot as mine, I suck in a ragged breath. “Chastity,” he says, his voice tight and rough.
“Please. Please, Trevor.” Please don’t stop. Please don’t send me away. Please love me again.
He says nothing more, his eyes dark and molten, and when we come together, I know that this is how it’s meant to be. That’s all. It’s just the way things should be. He’s my home, and I belong exactly where I am. Then my brain stops formulating thought, and only feeling is left. I love him so much my heart practically cracks in two.
It takes some time for my breathing to return to normal, for my vision to clear. Trevor is still, his heart thudding against mine, his face against my neck. His own breath is ragged, his arms still tight around me.