24

As the season reached its overture, Edward rummaged around town and searched for his old friend. After attending countless meetings, he was starting to feel hopeless, wondering if he had imaged the whole thing. I was happy he had the drive to continue attending AA. His bleak outlook was transforming, and sometimes, he even showed up early to meetings and sat in the classroom looking through pamphlets as people trickled in.

All day, his body had vibrated as adrenaline coursed through his veins; the prospect of finding Paul always put him on edge. I watched him now through the reflection in the foyer mirror and noticed that he seemed uncomfortable in his skin, scratching at it as if by doing so, he could shed the cells and transform into something else. I bounced Charlie in my arms, facing him toward the window so he could look at the falling leaves.

"You want us to come with you tonight?"

His gaze widened before he turned away from the mirror and faced me.

"No, I'm fine. Maybe tonight will be the night." He paused and ran a hand through his bedhead. "You never know. I don't want to overwhelm him."

I nodded, giving him a small, understanding smile. Feeling useless, I leaned forward, hoping my gentle expression would ease his mind a bit.

"Well, regardless, come home in a good mood. I have a surprise for you."

"A surprise?" He cocked his brow.

"Don't think I'm going to tell you now." I interrupted myself with a giggle, and then an ungraceful snort that caused me to blush. "Just come back to me."

He moved across the room and bent down, pressing a whisper of a kiss against my lips before pulling away with a proud smile. Seeing my flush, his eyes lit up. I bit down on my bottom lip as I tried to calm my breathing. My eyelids fluttered as his lips found mine again, teasing me with a long, gentle kiss.

When he pulled away, he replied, "I'll be back before you know it. Wish me luck tonight."

"Good luck."

My body tingled as he pulled away—addicted to the feel of his calloused fingers.

"Considering these past few weeks … I'm going to fucking need it." As he moved toward the door, I heard him mutter, "I'm starting to feel hopeless."

It was obvious he thought I hadn't heard him. I didn't comment and smiled and waved as he did the same. He opened the door and stepped out of my apartment, shutting it with a graceless bang. I found my eyes glued to the now empty space in front of me. I needed to clear my head, and there were three things I needed: Charlie, a sketchpad, and graphite pencil.

We ended up perched in front of my favorite window—the place I always escaped to when I wanted to be alone with my own thoughts. Everything faded away here and became fuzzy and faceless. I could breathe in the scent of books and lavender candles and stare out at the world without having to interact with it. I picked this apartment because of a window—a spot where I could feel like nothing else existed. One simple thing—one decision—could be so transformative.

That knowledge made me want to trust my gut more. It made me want to chase after more things—ignoring my burning muscles and weariness as I plowed ahead. What did I have to lose? Except time.

Charlie babbled something, pulling me away from my random musings. I dropped the pencil on my art pad, letting it roll into his side as I reached down with both hands and tickled his belly. He threw his head back and laughed until he hiccupped. His eyes moved from me to the television in front of my bed. A classic was playing—black and white and nothing Charlie had seen before. His eyes quickly became glued to the TV just as his mouth began to move along with the words.

The light was dim but his smile illuminated the entire room. An hour passed in an instant. I continued to watch, captivated, as his mouth moved along with the lines, trying to form words. Darkness flashed in the corner of my vision, and I tilted my head away from him and found Edward leaning against the doorframe. He stood with his phone out and aimed at us.

A commercial came on, and I turned to him. "What are you up to?"

He lowered his phone and smiled at me.

"Just taking a picture. You two always look great together."

With that, he moved to join us on my little loveseat by the window. The second he hit the cushion, his head bent forward and his lips found my forehead, pressing a quick kiss there before he pulled away and breathed a long sigh of relief. There was something so intimate about a kiss like this. Whenever I felt his warm mouth against my forehead or temple, I felt so cherished—like I was as breakable as glass. Logical and coherent, he had never told me the words "I love you" (being high from an orgasm doesn't count). He didn't have to utter the words—I felt his love devouring every inch of me. As I bathed in it, I could breathe easy. I felt weightless in his arms. Verbalizing what I knew to be true would just be an added bonus.

"Edward, I—"

Excited claps interrupted me, pulling my attention away from my inked man. I peered down and found an exuberant baby staring up at me as if to say, "Why aren't you giving me any attention, guys?" He almost looked grumpy as he reached for his daddy, needing to feel his embrace.

"Dada," he said, causing my eyes to widen slightly.

Whenever he spoke a word, pride burned in my chest. He keeps getting smarter and smarter every day … Edward reached for him—pride filling his eyes, too. He was quiet as he held him, rocking him against his chest as he stared off into the space ahead. With his eyes fixated on a point, his facial muscles relaxed, and he leaned back against the cushions.

After a few minutes, I asked, "What are you thinking about, Daddy?"

"Nothing."

His answer was quick. Pink kissed the cheeks of his expressionless face as he avoided my eyes. Poker face. Always a poker face. Why can't I read him as easily as he could read me? A few heartbeats passed without a word. I pulled my gaze away, cheeks flushing, too, as I peered back at the television and enjoyed the warm feeling that classic black and white always caused.

With the richness of James Stewart's voice oozing from the television and filling the room, we sat in silence and listened as the energy became comfortable around us. Light from the television illuminated their faces, causing me to watch them instead of the film. Moments like these were ones I committed to memory. The simple ones. The ones only family and a safe space could provide. The world was moving around us—out there, so many people went on with their lives, living stories we would never know anything about—and we were here, relaxed and filled with love in a quiet corner. I loved these moments more than anything. They made all the bad times seem tiny and insignificant.

"Did you get a costume for Charlie?"

"Maybe," I teased. Tomorrow was Halloween, and for these two, I had gone all out, wanting our first holiday together to be a memorable one. "I guess you'll have to wait to find out."

Edward turned to me and smiled before pressing his lips against mine. Everything became unfocused—unimportant. My body heaved, yearning to rest beneath his. Under his inked, sculpted, sweaty frame, I felt at home—like I could open up and blossom.

"Why are you teasing me?" he asked as he pulled away, eyes bright and devious. "Are you dressing up, too?"

"It's nothing much," I replied with a wave of my hand. "Just something I've worn a few times already."

His lips twitched. We sat, nearly squirming in our seats, seeming like two teens, tiptoeing around their feelings in study hall.

"I'm sure you'll look hot in whatever it is," Edward commented, causing my mind to snap back to the present.

I nodded and smiled, exhaling as he pulled me against him. Our bodies melted together, fitting perfectly—jagged edges fusing to create one cohesive unit. Flushed against his frame, I smiled at the differences in our bodies. In so many ways, we were opposites. I want to lick every inch of him … I want to get lost in his body again … and again … and again … One thought jumped to the next, pulling me deeper and deeper into a fantasy that involved us both soaked and needy.

"I thought a—after the movie"—I stumbled over my words, trying to get my head on straight—"we could finally carve those pumpkins. They've been sitting around for like a month."

"Charlie's too little, isn't he?"

"You can carve the pumpkin for him and help him get all of those pumpkin guts out."

"Pumpkin guts?" Edward asked as his eyes danced with laughter.

"That's what Harper calls it. She used to do it when she was younger, and she always loved it. It'd be fun for Charlie. I promise. Aren't all boys supposed to like playing with gross stuff?"

"I think? Charlie's the only kid I've ever known."

Edward was still tense—a ball of nerves as he sat beside me. The movie played but I didn't comprehend a word, watching numbly and wishing I could steal a glimpse of whatever was laying behind Edward's eyes. My toes dug into the carpet as I focused on the way he buzzed beside me.

My eyes fell to the chapped skin covering Edward's knuckles. While he sat lost in his own world, I played with his hands. How long had he been clenching his fists? Long enough for his fingers to appear permanently stressed. My fingers teased the tenseness. Every muscle felt like a little rock beneath his skin—whatever was weighing on his mind was torturing his body, too.

"Maybe we can just listen to the movie from the kitchen?" I suggested as I pulled away to look at him. "Charlie doesn't seem interested anyway, and I want to get started."

Light from the television danced across his smile. I smiled, too, slowly untangling myself from him before I rose from my seat and moved to the kitchen. I felt his eyes following my body the entire way—everything I did seemed to fascinate him. Every time he looked at me, it seemed like he was soaking everything up.

He was changing. Every day, he was transforming into something different. Sometimes, his silence got to me. There was a darkness I was dancing around. Even on his good days, he was in pain. Pain was an infection that could spread everywhere. Little moments like these—the quiet, simple ones—seemed to be the pill he needed. Even if in the end, these moments were little more than placebos.

I finished setting up the kitchen just as he came into the room, wearing his typical calm expression. He held Charlie, who was exuberant enough for all of us.

"Sit down and dig in. You've done this before, right?"

"Of course." Edward grinned. "I used to love this shit."

As Edward picked up the knife, his calm, expressionless face transformed into something carefree and child-like. His movements were choppy and uncoordinated as he began to cut into the pumpkin's head. I couldn't take my eyes off him for a second. His unskilled, trembling hands were endearing.

"This is harder than I remembered." He laughed at himself.

This was a rare moment when he let his guard down. Lost in the work in front of him, he let me really see him. This was the Edward untouched by tragedy. The man—or boy—he must have been years ago. As he slashed into the pumpkin, he drifted into some sort of contentment.

After a moment, I tore my eyes away from him and began to work. Charlie giggled as his daddy dumped pumpkin guts onto the newspaper-covered kitchen table. My cheeks ached as I beamed. It was hard to tear my eyes from them, and I barely focused as I started to carve.

"Eww—I know—eww," Edward teased as he mirrored the faces Charlie made.

With them, seconds seemed to be fleeting—every indication of time chilled me. It was impossible to look at the cute, little baby posed in front of me without thinking of his past. At least, I have my memories to cling to. What does he have? Some memories were colorfully animated while others were a slate of gray. Every one was important.

I cut until I remembered myself and choked on thoughts and an inhale. I dropped the plastic carving knife onto the table and stuck my hand inside, digging for pumpkin seeds while enjoying the squishy, slimy texture between my fingers. Shoulders slumping forward and spine cracking, I felt all my tension melt away as I threw the gooey seeds onto the newspaper. Edward's eyes were on me—I knew the sensation too well—and my gaze shot up.

Redness bloomed on my chest as I wondered what I must look like to him. The sticky greasiness from the pumpkin's inners covered parts of my skin, and my chest felt splotchy—as it always did whenever I got excited or emotional about something. I was certain I looked like a mess. Still, his heated gaze was potent enough to make me feel beautiful. His eyes fell from me with a smirk, and he returned his attention to Charlie.

"You ready to help me take the brains out of the pumpkin, little man?"

Pink-cheeked and eager, Charlie reached into the round pumpkin as Edward tilted it toward him. Charlie's mouth puckered as his fingers touched the slime-covered seeds. His eager grin morphed into a confused, flustered pout. He felt around a bit more, his brows drawing together as he seemed to be debating whether he liked the feeling or not. Then, he leaned forward and stuck his head out to peer into the pumpkin, wanting to see just what he was touching. The smell must have triggered him because, instantly, he smiled, giggled, coughed, and sneezed—it happened so quickly, it appeared as though he was spazzing out. He gagged as he reached forward again, grabbing ahold of another small pile.

As his gag reflex went wild, he persisted, wanting to clean out the pumpkin, watching me every so often as I enthusiastically cleared out mine. After a few moments, his hand began to slow down, and he started to pay attention to the seeds. For a moment, he stared at the gooey pile of seeds and guts in his hand—eyes widening as if he had found a treasure. His face filled with amused wonder as he rolled the seeds around in his hand before he gagged again, and then giggled at himself. He smiled up at his daddy, gagged, and then persistently reached back into the pumpkin, grabbing another handful.

"I can't tell if he's liking this or not," Edward commented, rubbing his son's back as he continued to gag at the smell and texture.

I opened my mouth to say, "What do you mean? Of course, he likes it!" before I saw Charlie's hilarious, skeptical face. Edward chuckled before bending down and placing a kiss on top of the boy's head. Charlie giggled before the sweet sound morphed into another gag.

"It's okay, buddy. Daddy can do it for you."

Charlie squinted at this, sneezed, and then shook his head, continuing to bore inside of the pumpkin with an adorable amount of zealousness. Twenty minutes later, with plenty of help from his daddy and me, Charlie's pumpkin was cleaned out. As soon as the pumpkin guts were all cleared away, Charlie's little gags stopped, and he returned to his usual, giggly self. We regrouped and Edward captured his son in his arms, giving him a quick kiss on the cheek before setting him down in his highchair and moving to grab the carving knife.

"What do you want Daddy to carve, Charlie? Want something scary?" he asked as he eyed his pumpkin like an artist sizing up a blank canvas.

"Dada!" Charlie squealed, eagerly bouncing in his seat, wanting to get closer. "Dada."

Edward grinned at this, appearing inspired as he leaned forward in his seat. He bit down on his bottom lip, concentrating as he began to carve. Edward was so intense that Charlie began to giggle, kick his feet, and clap his hands as he watched. His laughter was infectious—I smiled too as I worked on my smiling cat design.

"Why are you better at this than me?" Edward said, chuckling at himself as he struggled with the small carving knife.

"What do you mean?"

"You're so good at all this shit."

"Don't feel insecure," I teased, continuing to carve. "You always find a way to impress me."

His eyes widened—liquid-fire.

"Thanks, babe."

As Edward finished his design, Charlie was messy and asleep in his highchair. His wild hair was messier than normal, covered in pumpkin guts that were also splattered across his rose-tinged cheeks. Drool trickled down from his mouth, and his head dipped forward, causing a few small rolls to appear beneath his chin. My skin was a sticky messy, too. Elated, I hadn't bothered to wipe away the gunk.

"You look like you need to be cleaned up."

My eyes shot up; my skin became pink and irritated under his gaze. I wanted to cover up, not wanting him to see how my body was reacting to him.

"Fuck, Edward." I smiled, loving the way he reacted when I cursed. Looking to the sleeping baby in his highchair, I continued. "Priorities?"

He rolled his eyes, smiling. I smiled, too, enjoying this rarity.

"I'm going to clean him up, too. Fuck. Who do you think I am?" he asked, feigning offense. "Let me read to him and get him to bed, and then, I'll get to you."

"So romantic, Edward."

He smirked. "You're being all sarcastic now, but just you wait."

"Wait for what?"

"See. You're so fucking impatient."

I threw my head back and giggled, causing Charlie's eyes to flutter before they opened. His gaze moved back and forth between us for a moment—expression confused. Edward laughed and bent down to press a soft kiss against Charlie's forehead before he rose with him in his arms.

They left my apartment, and in a daze, I cleaned up. I danced along with the music filtering through my crappy TV speakers, my movements uncoordinated and staggered as I grabbed a washcloth. My body hummed as I finished up and abandoned the kitchen, heading to my bedroom. I stripped, allowing the cool air to kiss my nipples. My toes dug into the carpet as I grounded myself, clearing my head. My shoulders felt heavy as my hands came up to rest on my breasts. A shiver ripped through me. My pussy tingled, growing needy. My hands dropped to my sides before I traversed across the room, grabbing my favorite robe from my chair.

Wetness gathered between my legs, making my thighs slick, as I left my apartment and moved to Edward's. His door was unlocked and I let myself in, finding him just beyond the door. His eyes moved over me before his hands found my body, swiftly pulling me against him. His frame crushed mine—muscles molding against my curves. I released a quick exhale before his lips found mine, pressing against me until I felt dizzy. Frenzied hands moved over me, and I couldn't tell where I began and he ended.

His lips whispered against mine, teasing me and causing my legs to quiver. His tongue darted out, running along the curve of my bottom lip before he pulled away and allowed his hot breath to tickle my mouth. His head dropped down as his attention turned to my neck. Lips trailed across my collarbone before they expelled a soft breath, heating up my skin. My pulse raced, thumping against the confines of my skin. My core pulsed, too—frantically, yearning for attention. He read my mind, and his mouth moved lower.

Body and mind became disconnected and desperate. Instinctively, my body moved with every kiss. Every bit of him consumed me as my frame thrashed against his; my pubic bone rubbed against his erection as I continued to seep. I whined against him as he pulled away, scooped me up, and carried me into the bedroom.

His eyes blazed. Always passionate, his body worked to fix the moments when words had failed him. He had never been great with words. His cock—this physical connection—filled the parts of him which were shallow or empty.

Maybe he doesn't have shallow bits and pieces. Maybe I just haven't seen all of him yet.

Edward tripped as he neared the bedroom, quickly catching himself as his face flushed red. I giggled, satisfied by his eagerness. When we reached the shower, he carefully set me down on my feet and smiled before reaching to turn the faucet on.

The sound of running water barely masked the sounds of our breathes as his body possessed mine again. Edward watched the stream for a moment as his hands moved aimlessly over my skin. I felt myself heating up, causing my already flushed skin to become hotter—glistening. I pulled at the fabric of my robe as I felt Edward's desperation.

I fell out of my robe and giggled, shocked as he ducked under the water with me, still fully clothed himself. In a haze, he didn't seem aware of any of it. The world around him had disappeared as he had joined me under the hot water. He silenced my laughter, wrapping his lips around one of my nipples—causing my carefree giggles to transform into needy, sickeningly desperate moans. His mouth made my knees weak.

I shuddered, enjoying the feeling of his tongue as my nipples became so hard that they began to ache. A dull ache. An ache that made me want to drop to my knees and suck him off. Leaning my head back on the tile, I closed my eyes and bathed in the waves of pleasure that washed over me. Over the sound of water shooting down on us, I heard the sound of a zipper lowering. My eyes opened—anticipation made my nipples pucker—as I peered down, finding Edward's cock springing free. My mouth dropped open to beg, but Edward, like always, was one step ahead of me, lifting me up and pressing me against the cool tiles of the shower wall.

Our eyes locked, and my breathing faltered as his cock pressed into me in one harsh, powerful thrust. Every time he was inside me, I was overwhelmed. My body took a moment to accommodate the intrusion as my heart raced. My flushed core fluttered around his erection and drew him in deeper—never, ever deep enough. I wanted to feel him in my throat. My legs wrapped around his waist as my body welcomed him. I needed more. Always more.

He thrusted into me—moving at a relentless pace until our breaths were ragged and our bodies were weak. Our orgasm approached, and the water began to run cold, beautifully contrasting with the heat trickling from our pores. The water splashed against our skin, causing me to feel as if I was being embraced from every angle. Wasted and lethargic, Edward yanked off his shirt and threw it haphazardly onto the shower floor before he pushed his pants down, allowing them to pool around his feet. He kicked them off, aiming them at the corner of the shower. He continued to thrust, smiling cockily at his skill.

My eyes raked over his body, and a whimper escaped me as I looked at him. His wet, inked skin looked glorious under the dim light. Every tattoo appeared even darker and more vivid as it told its story.

I want to lick every inch of his ink. Taste every single inch of him.

Every.

Single.

Inch.

Will I feel sated? Will I ever be full?

That question in mind, I felt my orgasm quickly approaching. I was moving uphill, feeling my legs grow weak—feeling my breathing run embarrassingly wild—before finally, I reached the top and slid down past the edge. Then, I was falling. Falling, falling, falling. Falling so fast I could barely comprehend the world around me. I fell further as Edward was pushed himself over the edge, too, spiraling with me—losing control. Freefalling together, exhilaration blazed through me. My toes curled and a hoarse moan caused my throat to vibrate—pussy pulsing around his length, I pulled him in deeper and deeper until he finally had to push himself away—pulling out to ejaculate on my slick stomach.

As we floated down from our high, I finally realized the water was freezing. Edward turned it off before he stepped out of the shower with me safely in his arms. I yawned against the skin of his shoulder. I guess we never cleaned up … What's the point even? I'm sure we'll just get dirty again and again.

He wrapped me in a towel, careful with every moment. I felt full. He's watching over me. That look in his eyes? Where have I seen it before? He carried me into his bedroom—eyes never leaving me.

"You want to sleep here tonight?"

I smiled, nodding gently before he slid me beneath the sheets. His eyes scanned me before he joined me on the mattress and wrapped his body around mine. This is what home feels like, right?