Everly After (23 page)

“There’s a great beach in Étretat. Very famous. I think you’ll love it there.”

“I was planning on going to Italy. Or Spain, maybe. They have beautiful beaches there, too.”

I can’t tell if she’s being coy or if she really doesn’t want to come with me this summer. I’ve lost her to that place again because I had to press her for an answer when I should have kept my mouth shut. But answers are all we have left.

“I’ll be there.” I flash a stupid grin, trying to hide my nerves. “Writers are great in bed.”

A low laugh uncurls from her throat. “Is that so?”

“We’re good at taking in the details. Like the soft skin at the crook of your elbow and the way you sigh when I kiss it.” I do just that, growing harder as I sweep my tongue over her soft skin. “The way I can see your pulse quicken here.” I circle my fingers over her wrist, her pale skin a window to the veins and flesh that mold her into existence. She flinches, but I continue. “The small freckle you have on the tip of your index finger.” I draw it into my mouth, my tongue swirling around her fingertip. “The beautiful curve of your palm.” I kiss that, too, so caught up in her small details that I want to keep going until I know them all, from head to feet, top to bottom. If I know where bottom is anymore.

“That’s only my left arm.” She rolls over, sighing, as I draw my fingers up and down her arm. She shivers, and I do the same when I feel her reaction.

“And you’d be making a mistake,” I whisper into her ear, drawing her closer, “if you think that’s all I see in you.”

“A pretty face?” She tries for sarcasm, but her doubt muddies the attempt. “A sexy body?” She draws out the word
sexy,
and it is… Fuck, she really, truly is the definition of
sexy
.

I shake my head, holding her hands in mine as I roll over to cover her body. “You are sexy. You know that, Everly. But there’s more to you, too. The way you twirl when you think no one is watching. How you have so many different types of smiles, but it’s only here in London that I’ve seen the real one. The way your shoulders relax when you talk about traveling the world…”

She’s watching me, her features blank, but I won’t let her hide. She needs to know that I’m here with her, that I see her, that I am falling for her—all of her, her faults and flaws, every gorgeous messy detail. She could turn purple tomorrow, and there’d be no changing it.

I kiss her deep, forgetting for a moment that I haven’t said what my body is trying to tell her. I pull back, breathless, my pulse racing. But I like this about her, too. That she scares me, shakes me up, makes me understand the world in a completely different way.

She lifts her chin, her eyes shiny when our gazes meet. I curl my fingers into her hair and fight back the urge to say this against her lips. I need to see her when I say this. I need her to know that I mean it.

“You hide from the rest of the world the fact that you’re extraordinary.” I rest my hand over her chest, her heart rattling inside. “That you’re a dreamer, that you’re lonely.”

She shuts her eyes, blocking me out.

I kiss her eyelids. “I won’t let you be alone anymore.”

She nods, her body arching under me. She’s good at making me forget, at using her body to move past uncomfortable truths.

“Look at me.”

She kisses my neck and grips my hand tight, grinding her hips against me. I swallow back my groan. I lean her back against the pillow and lift my body from hers, pushing up onto my elbows. She opens her eyes, then, confusion swimming in her tears. In her sad, beautiful blue eyes.

“I’m not letting you disappear. I’m not letting you go,” I repeat softly.

She nods, wetting her lips. I bow closer, resting my forehead against hers. I close my eyes, wishing I could shut out the world half as well as she can. Maybe this wouldn’t hurt as much.

“Me either.”

Her lips are soft against my cheek, small pecks that are chiseling away what little control I had over this conversation.

“I know you think I’m a mess,” she whispers. Her fingers press against my mouth as I try to counter. “It’s okay. Everyone does, even me. Can you promise me something, though?”

I bend my head so I can see her, weariness seizing me up. It’s not a matter of trusting her—I do. It’s a matter of trusting myself. Of believing we can make whatever it is between us work. Tonight, it seems that we’re set on acknowledging what’s going on.

I flip us over so Everly straddles my waist.

“I’m a disaster at my best times. I know that. I’m working on fixing it.” She sighs, walking her fingertips up my chest. It’d be sexy if there still weren’t tears in her eyes. “Promise me you won’t treat me like I’m broken. Promise me you won’t keep everything to yourself.”

I understand now why people say you fall in love—except, as with everything with Everly, I don’t fall. I plummet into the unknown with her. The consuming tide rushes over me, and I’m nerves and emotion and want. Everly makes the world seem possible again, makes me want to open up to her completely. And I want…

“I was kidnapped in Afghanistan and held for ransom.” The words tumble out as everything slams to a stop. “I was nearly dead by the time I was rescued. I’d been beaten because I tried to escape.” I struggle to stay present, to stay here in this small room with Everly. I hate the panic. I hate the rage that fills me. A heavy sigh bursts through my lips as she waits patiently, pushed up on her elbows, her hair curtaining around us. “Those dog tags are from two soldiers who died because I had to stop and ask a question.”

It’s quiet, so terrifyingly quiet that I expect Everly to jump up from bed and head back to Paris.

“It was a bad spot, and I shouldn’t have been there reporting. I knew something was wrong, I felt it, but I still went to ask this villager a question. When the two soldiers I was with came up to tell me it was time to go, I hesitated.”

She cups the side of my face, her forehead against mine, her tears running over my cheeks. She’s crying for the both of us. “I’m listening, go on.”

“A woman with a vest stepped out of the house—a suicide bomber. I blacked out after the blast, but when I came to, it was too late for the others. And then I was being dragged into a truck, being threatened. For two weeks, I thought I was going to die. And when I was finally rescued, I nearly was dead.”

I’ve talked about this for weeks now. I’ve been forced to relive those two weeks over and over because apparently that’s the only way I can overcome them. I’d rather forget it. I’d rather remember when I wasn’t a coward. War isn’t anything new; death isn’t something foreign to me. I grew up with violence, and I thought I had nothing to lose by throwing myself into the dangerous spots of the world. Except I was wrong. I had everything to lose. Me to lose.

Maybe I was lost when I first met Everly, but she’s drawn me out into the world again. Nothing’s easier, but it’s getting better and I guess that counts for something.

“I never meant for it to happen. None of it.” I wrap my arms around her and pull her tight. “I never thought I’d come to hate what I love.”

Her hands are strong as they brace the nape of my neck and draw me into her shoulder. “But you’re going to do it again, aren’t you?” she asks. I nod. “Is that what you want? To keep reporting?”

I draw away and move us onto our sides so we’re facing one another. “I’m not sure what I want anymore. I don’t know.”

She’s never let go, still surrounding me like she always does, forcing me to face a future I didn’t count on.

“Beckett?”

I kiss her for a few minutes, forgetting to answer. The damnedest thing is I feel a bit lighter now, having this secret out between us. Feeling as though I don’t need to hide myself from her. Admitting that I’m not as strong as she thinks I am.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she whispers against my lips when we break apart. “Take me away this summer and tell me all your stories. I want to get lost in you and me.”

Everly

“Pack your things,” Beckett says, spinning me around. He whirls us into my bedroom and starts throwing stuff onto the bed, one arm still wrapped tight around my waist. We’ve been back in Paris for twenty minutes, and we’re not wasting time leaving this city. I reach for the few dresses draped over the dresser and throw them over his shoulder.

“Put me down,” I say with a laugh. When he doesn’t, I peck kisses across his face. “It’ll be faster if I can pack myself.”

“Four arms are better than two.”

“Right now, your two arms are holding me to you.”

“Just the way I like it.”

I pull back and scrunch my nose at his handsome, lovely face. “Beckett Reid, you charming, charming man.”

He slowly lowers me. I scrape against the hard line of his body. His eyes soften, the amused smile relaxing to something else entirely. He looks as if he’s going to speak before he draws me in for a slow, intoxicating kiss. When we’ve finished, my legs are wobbly.

I shake my head, trying to knock away this growing feeling between us. I can lose myself to it later. When I’m out of Paris.

“You’re quite good at that,” I say on a long exhale, the warmth of his lips still on my mouth. Another confession, another thing I can’t take back. I hope not another mistake.

“Good at what, pet?” He cups the back of my head. The low timbre of his whisper convinces me that packing can wait.

“Making me forget everything.”

He leans down for another kiss, an innocent press of his lips against mine. “Then I guess I’ll have to keep kissing you until you remember. That’s important, too.”

Sometimes that sounds nice, to be woken up again and remember what it is to live life. After our time in London, I almost believe it can happen. I’m Princess Aurora, waiting for that one kiss to wake me from a cursed sleep.

I kiss his cheek, then playfully push him away. “Will you go already? I have to pack. Have places to see.”

“People to kiss?”

“Not if you keep me from packing, you smug Brit.”

He laughs as he exits into the living room. “I’ll be right back. I’ll grab some sushi for us, and then we’ll pack you up and head to my place so I can do the same.” The door closes behind him, a loud thud echoing against the nervous flutter of my heart. I sink onto the bed, clutching a shirt he tossed there with a stupid grin on my face. Beckett’s in such a hurry to be with me, to make it out of Paris to spend the summer. With me.

I’m rushing around my bedroom, packing the few things I have, when I hear knocking at my door. I know Beckett didn’t lock it, so I’m confused.

“Back already?” I tease, opening the door.

It hasn’t been long enough. Hudson is standing there, dripping wet, his eyes bloodshot and unfocused.

I choke on his name.

“Expecting someone?” he sneers at me. There’s something off about him. More so than usual. A strange sort of fear chases up my spine. I grab my phone from my pocket to text Beckett.

“Fuck off, Hudson.”

I stumble as he pushes past and then whirls around, his arms and legs all awkward. He crushes me to him, his grip rough. “You left me,” he whispers darkly. “I told you I love you, and you left me.”

He tries kissing me, but I squirm in his arms. I shove my hands against his chest, but he only jerks me tighter, his lips moving over my face. I feel the hot prick of tears in my eyes as panic washes over me.

“You can’t leave me,” he says over my head. “You’re mine.”

Fighting isn’t helping, so I try to pacify him. “I won’t,” I lie. “I won’t, Hudson. I’m sorry I left.” I pinch his face between my fingers, maybe too hard, but right now I feel…

God, I don’t even know. I don’t want him here spoiling things again. I want my life back. Whatever life that is. I’m finally happy, and now he’s back to ruin it all. I’m never allowed to be happy if Hudson is around.

“You can’t.” He seems to be trying to look at me, but I can’t follow his eyes. “You can’t. You can’t.”

“Okay, fine. Fine, Hudson.” He’s scaring me. This is the worst I’ve ever seen him. “Where am I going to go?”

“You’re a lying bitch,” he snaps. “You already left. I came by, and you weren’t here.”

“Well, you haven’t been nice to me,” I yell. His lips tighten, his grip on my hip growing painful until it feels like he’s going to break it again. So I soften my voice—anything so he’ll let me go. “My plane ticket is there on the counter. Same day as yours. We’re going to Italy like you wanted.”

“And you’re going to stay with me?”

I lie again because he won’t be able to find me next time. “Sure, Hudson.”

“Stay with me.”

“Why do you keep asking me to stay?” I wrestle out of his grip, far enough away, but I don’t trust him. I don’t know what he’s done, and I don’t know what he’s thinking. The blank look on his face is scaring me.

“You need to stay with me, Ev. I need you to stay with me. This is going to work.”

Where the hell did Beckett go?

“I love you. You have to stay. You need to stay.”

There’s that word again—
love
. Hudson doesn’t love. He knows nothing of the idea of love. But he thinks that, with me around, everything will be better for him. I’m just as toxic to him as he is to me. We’re as fucked-up as Sid and Nancy without ever having truly loved one another. I won’t let him kill me, too.