HAPPY THANKSGIVING EVERYONE! I am so thankful for all you! We hit a big # yesterday *glances in awe at review count* and I'm beyond tears right now.
To Cherry and Mia, this story wouldn't be what it is without your red ink and snarky comments, so TY!
Readers- I loves you so much. One of these days, I'm going to make you love me back!
*turkey cupcakes all around*
Chapter Twenty-Three: Taters & Threads
"Go to sleep, Jessie."
I'm supposed to meet Rowdy at midnight, but it's already past ten and AJ and Jessie are still not in bed.
"It's my turn to pray," Jessie whines. Once Jessie's made up her mind about something, there's no changing it. Besides, I don't have time for one of her hissy fits.
I want to stuff her pink footed pajamas right down her wailing, little throat.
"Fine," I say in a huff. "C'mon. You too, AJ."
"Yeah, you too, AJ," Jessie says, mocking me.
The three of us get on our knees and prop our elbows up on the comforter. "Well, go ahead, Jessie. Quit stalling!"
"I am!" she remarks. "Don't rush me. I'm making sure Baby Jesus is awake."
Oh, for Heaven's sake.
"Dear Baby Jesus, thank you for all the blessings you've given us. Thank you for making Papa rich so he can help Rowdy so Emmett isn't sad. If Rowdy dies then Emmett will cry, and I won't have a friend anymore…"
"Really?" I interrupt, opening one eye. "You're praying for Rowdy to live so you can play with Emmett? That's selfish, Jessie!"
"Says the person who prays for wellies," Alice Jo mutters.
"Shush! I'm still talking!" Jessie pinches me on the arm and then clasps her chubby hands back together. "And thank you for Miss Sue, who hid the taters from Ma so I wouldn't have to eat them. I'm real thankful for that, Baby Jesus."
"And Jasper," adds AJ. "Pray for Jasper."
"We're not praying for Jasper," I tell her. "You're too young to be thinking about boys, AJ."
"You can't tell her not to pray for someone," Jessie says in shock. "That's bass-family."
"Blasphemy," corrects AJ. "And yes it is. Cotton's just jealous of what Jasper and I have."
"Jealous?" I stare at my younger sister. "Why would I be jealous? Jasper's got a mouth like a horse. Neigh!"
I start making sounds like a horse, Jessie cries that Baby Jesus can't hear her, and AJ reaches for my pillow to hit me with.
Ma comes running in to see what all of the commotion is. "Girls! Girls! I can hear you all the way down the hall! What are y'all doing?"
We all freeze in our positons. I'm stuck in a gallop pose, AJ is holding a pillow in a kung-fu stance, and Jessie is in a screaming fit about Jesus sending back taters to eat us all.
Jessie pouts and crosses her arms. "They won't let me pray, Ma!"
"Cotton started it!" AJ accuses, pointing at me.
"I just want to feed the boy some hay!" I respond, laughing.
Ma shakes her head. "Enough. The three of y'all are a hot mess. Drop the pillow, Alice Jo Summer."
AJ whacks me one good time and lets the pillow fall to the floor.
"How about I pray for you?" Ma motions for us to get on our knees beside her. "God, I pray for my three girls. I ask that you watch over them and protect them. Give them the wisdom to know all they've got in this world is each other. Let them love one another as much as you love them. I want to thank you for Cotton and her heart of gold. I thank for you for AJ, my darling middle child who is special and dear to me. Lastly, I thank you for Jessie. Even though she doesn't like my potatoes, I love her just the same. Amen and amen."
"Amen," we say, giggling.
Ma takes turns tucking us in and kissing our foreheads. "G'nite girls."
We say goodnight and just as Ma leaves and turns off the light, Jessie stops her. "Ma?"
"Yes?"
"You know how you always tell us everything happens for a reason? I think Baby Jesus sent us the Masens so we could have friends."
"Why, that's a beautiful thing to say, honey." Ma smiles at her sweetly.
"Yep." Jessie yawns and snuggles into her blanket. "He gave me Emmett to eat all the taters so I wouldn't have to."
Ma rolls her eyes and this time, all three of us yell.
"Go to sleep, Jessie!"
.
.
.
"You're late."
Rowdy smirks at me from under the dim light next to his makeshift bed that's been converted from their dining room. Esme and Carlisle did their best to make it feel like his old bedroom, and all of his footballs are lined up on a shelf.
I quietly shut the window, wincing at the squeaking sound it makes. I don't want to wake Harley Gene up—or anyone else for that matter. "By eight minutes. Don't hold it against me."
Rowdy lifts up his comforter and I take off my boots, propping them against the wall. Sliding into bed beside him, I immediately cuddle underneath his arm.
"I didn't think you were coming," he whispers, stroking my hair.
Neither did I. It took forever for Jessie to fall asleep, and even then I was nervous to leave. Once she stopped muttering in her sleep about melted butter and sour cream, I ran through the night as fast as I could.
I'm pretty sure God frowns on young girls sneaking out to see boys, but I couldn't find a scripture about it so my conscience is clear.
"I told you I'd be here. You're such a worry wart!" I tease. Rowdy tries to adjust his body, but he can't. I sit up and fix his pillow, pulling him up as hard as I can without hurting him.
"Thanks," he says, somewhat embarrassed.
"Anytime." I don't want him to be ashamed. I'd do anything for him. One of these days, he's going to realize it; he's going to know he's the reason my tummy does flip-flops and that he's the cause of the goose bumps that trail up my arm.
I curl back into my favorite position, the lace of my pale yellow sundress tickling my thighs. Rowdy rubs little circles around my shoulder and my thoughts go round and round at the same time.
I love our little moments like this, when we're free to be us and escape. There's none of the drama or loudness that comes from having so many kin. I grin to myself, relishing the moment as Rowdy whispers in my ear.
"What are you smiling about?" he asks softly.
Everything.
Us.
You.
I turn my body to the side so that I'm facing toward him. He outlines my face with the tips of his fingers. I shiver even though he's as warm as the summer sun. "I'm happy I'm here with you."
I'm honest about my love. I'd never lie to him regardless, but it's not about telling the truth due to religion. It's about an unending devotion that's as strong as his weakness.
"Cottonseed?"
I'm too busy on the high of his hands caressing my skin. "Hmm?"
"Promise me something," he says breathlessly.
I don't need to ask what. I just do. "Okay."
"Promise me that one of these days you're going to marry me."
My chest tightens, and though I know he doesn't mean right now his words send happy trembles all through me. He means he wants to be with me forever. At 15, I'm too young to say yes. At 15, I'm too love-struck to say no.
"I promise."
Rowdy grins and he's got that sleeping-in-late, first-swim-of-the-summer, warm-clothes-from-the-dryer smile on his face. He kisses me with an open mouth. It should be sloppy, but it's not. It's falling-leaping-flying and I'm doing everything to hold my grounding.
His tongue traces my bottom lip, and I feel vibrations in the pit of my belly. He's so fragile with me and yet he's the one that's on the verge of breaking.
Rowdy's hand moves down my back, tickling the skin just above my dress. He compels me to move and I do so slowly, lifting my leg over him and straddling his waist.
We're going too far.
We're not going far enough.
I can't stop kissing him and he lifts my dress higher, inch by inch until it settles just so on my lower back.
"Am I hurting you?" I breathe out.
"No," he says roughly, pulling me back to him. I don't know how he does it, turning my brain to mush until all I can see, think, and feel is him.
Rowdy presses my hips into him, coaxing me to grind. I don't know what I'm doing, but he seems to like it.
That familiar ache-burn is back in my center, only this time it's hurting so bad I want to cry. I want him, likereally want him, in ways the Bible says I shouldn't. His flannel pajama bottoms rub against my ankle and I need air.
Some energy in the universe tells my lungs I require oxygen, but my lips refuse to move from his. Finally, Rowdy pulls back first. "I'm sorry, Cotton. I'm getting you all worked up and I can't."
He can't? Can't what?
I frown, my heart thumping rapidly at the thought of him not wanting me. He's doing it again, breaking parts of my soul because they're all I have left. He took the rest the day I met him.
"I can't," he repeats, emphasizing the last word. "I mean … I literally can't do anything."
He literally can't do wh-?
Oh.
Ohhhh.
The shock that crosses my face is exactly what he's been dreading. He's as red as a beet and I feel awful to my core.
"No! It's okay," I say quickly. "Here. I'll just move-"
Rowdy stops me, grabbing my thigh. "Please don't," he begs. "Let me try, okay? I need this. I need you."
I nod and he worships my lips like a Baptist worships their Bible. He's greedier this time, pulling, tugging, and yanking me until I don't know whose air belongs to whom.
I crave him just as much as he craves me, and my hips move back and forth on a bulge that should be there but isn't.
"Harder," he groans, digging into my back. His begging only makes me moan, and I do as he asks. The knot in my stomach ravels tighter and tighter, each thread threatening to break.
He may not feel anything, but I do. I feel things I shouldn't and I feel things I want more of.
"Fuck, Cotton," Rowdy growls into my ear. "Don't stop, baby. Don't stop. I'm getting there."
His dirty words exhilarate me, making my toes curl. His hands have no path; they ravage my back, my hair, and down my back again.
"Baby…" Rowdy pleads in whispers I hear and in ones I don't. "I can feel your pussy rubbing on my cock. D-don't st-stop … I'm…"
He begs, but I'm the one taking.
I'm a sinner and I'm a thief.
And I rob him of everything he's got.