Written in the Stars(74)
Elle could picture it perfectly. A too young Darcy sneaking around behind Brendon’s back. She was still doing it, still taking care of him, even now.
Elle bit the inside of her cheek to get a handle on herself. “You really love him, don’t you?” She laughed. “I mean, duh. Of course, you do. I just meant, I love my brother and sisters, and as contentious as things between us can get, I know they love me, too. But I can’t imagine any of them going out of their way to do anything like that for me.”
Darcy shrugged. “I learned about Santa too soon when I was six and realized Santa used the exact same gift tags as Mom and Dad. I wanted Brendon to believe as long as possible. With Dad gone half the time and Mom either traveling with him or being obvious about how she wished she was, it wasn’t much, but it felt like the least I could do.”
There was nothing small about it. Darcy didn’t do the bare minimum, she went above and beyond, more than any sister should feel obligated. Driving him to school, fixing him dinner, making sure he believed in magic for just a little while longer.
Darcy glanced at Elle and squeezed her knee, smiling softly before turning back to the twinkling Christmas tree. It was a quick look, but in that brief moment when their eyes met, something rearranged itself inside Elle’s chest, all her maybes becoming certainties, her anxious musings about what this was and what it meant, resolved.
Darcy was sitting there, lips pursed so prettily, completely lost in thought, oblivious to how the earth was teeter-tottering under Elle, shifting and turning and spinning her around like those nauseating teacups at Disney she rode each time she visited without fail, because apparently, her memory was a fickle friend.
But Elle wouldn’t forget this, her ass falling asleep from sitting on Darcy’s floor, her heart stuttering and speeding, mind spinning, and her stomach swooping.
She swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “You take care of your brother. You take care of everyone. Who . . . who takes care of you?”
All she could think about was the night she’d sat on her floor beside Margot after that disaster date. Hopeless and raw, and so damn tired. How she’d decided to pack it in, take a break, quit looking for love and let it find her.
Boy, had it ever.
Something like panic flashed in Darcy’s eyes, a fleeting, frantic flicker. She shook her head slowly, shoulders sagging, mouth opening and shutting before a desperate laugh that sounded almost like a sob burst from between her lips. “You’re doing a pretty good job of it.”
No one had ever said that to her before. Elle had never been put in the position of caring for someone, not really, not beyond a weekend of babysitting. Margot was too headstrong for it, and no one else trusted Elle enough to let her take care of them.
Stomach jittering like it had the first time she’d seen a meteor shower, watched while celestial debris fell from the sky, Elle reached out, cupping Darcy’s jaw. She turned Darcy’s face toward her and leaned in, brushing a kiss against her mouth that immediately made her stomach drop like she was one of those stars, falling, falling, gone.
Quitting grad school and pouring herself, heart and soul, into Oh My Stars hadn’t been easy. Making that leap into the unknown had been terrifying, but it had always felt right, because she wasn’t one to settle. She wanted more. This, kissing Darcy beside the rainbow lights of a Christmas tree with more heart than pine needles, was the closest Elle had ever come to experiencing real magic, the kind that sparkled inside her veins and electrified her from the ends of her hair to the tips of her toes.
Hands drifting, Elle sneaked her thumbs beneath the fabric of Darcy’s untucked blouse, needing skin, needing more. She traced her nails over the thin skin on Darcy’s hip bones, making her suck in a quiet breath.
Darcy drew back, lashes fluttering as her gaze immediately dropped to Elle’s mouth like she already missed kissing her. Maybe Elle was giving that look more credence, maybe it was just a look, nothing more, nothing less, but speculating made her heart pound.
“Elle, I—” For a moment, Darcy looked utterly and completely lost and all the more terrified for it. She blinked twice, her breath shuddering from between parted lips that twitched into a smile. “We should go to my room.” Darcy reached out, fingers tracing the plains of Elle’s face, each brush of her fingers driving Elle’s need for her up a notch. She wanted her touch, wanted Darcy to touch her everywhere.
“Oh yeah?” Elle let her fingers drift to the hem of Darcy’s skirt. “What for?”
Fingers brushing the soft skin of Darcy’s inner thighs as she slid the fabric up her legs, Elle bit the inside of her cheek to keep from smiling when Darcy practically panted. Skin. Now Elle was biting her cheek for a whole other reason. Darcy was wearing stockings, the band of her lace only going so far.
Eyes slipping shut, Darcy’s tongue darted out to wet her bottom lip. “Elle.”
She leaned in to Elle’s touch, hips pressing into Elle’s hand like she was trying to get closer. Elle slipped her hand higher, fingers dipping inside Darcy’s underwear and through her curls until she found her clit.
Darcy let loose the softest, greediest little moan as her nails bit into Elle’s arm, her hips rocking against Elle’s hand, squirming. Darcy slipped down until she was no longer resting against the couch but instead splayed against the rug. She glanced up at Elle from beneath heavy lids and thick, dark lashes, and the hungry look in her eyes robbed Elle of the air inside her lungs.