A/N: After the death of her husband, Michonne returns to her hometown to rebuild her life in the home they once planned to live in together. She reconnects with Rick, a recently divorced former high school sweetheart, who stirs up memories of their shared past and the night that changed everything—prom. As the two rekindle their friendship and navigate the complicated terrain of past relationships and lingering regrets, they confront their choices, the people they've lost, and the powerful connection between them.
Thanksgiving was just around the corner, and this would be my first holiday in the new kitchen. After months of repairs, the space gleamed—polished countertops, stainless steel appliances, and cabinets painted a cheerful off-white. It looked perfect, but it didn't feel like mine.
Determined to change that, I decided to make a Thanksgiving meal just like Mom used to. I invited my brothers, Morgan and Ezekiel, certain they'd jump at the chance for a home-cooked meal. But Morgan already had plans with his girlfriend, Jenny, and Ezekiel and Carol headed to her parents in Alexandria.
That left me with a quiet holiday by myself.
After work on Wednesday, I stopped at the grocery store for a pared-down menu: a small turkey, greens, mashed potatoes, stuffing, rolls, and a single slice of pumpkin pie from the bakery. Baking a whole pie seemed excessive for one person.
I slept in on Thursday, having stayed up too late flipping through old photo albums. Pictures of prom night stared back at me, the memories I usually pushed aside rushing to the surface.
Prom had been a night of contradictions. I'd gone with Shane, the charming playboy who'd asked me only after being rejected by other girls. I should have known better, but I hadn't wanted to spend the night alone. I saw Shane kiss Lori that night—drunk, reckless, and unthinking—while Rick stood frozen nearby. Lori was his date, his future wife, but that kiss shattered something unspoken between them.
That same night, Rick and I had found each other. The connection between us had always been there, but it felt unreachable. He was the steady, popular football player; I was the quiet girl with a sharp wit and a tight-knit group of friends. But in the haze of rejection and vulnerability, we collided. For me, it had been my first time. For Rick, it had been the start of something he never fully let go of.
Though Rick and Lori reconciled in college and eventually married, their relationship was rocky and ended in a tumultuous divorce after five years.
Life moved on—college, marriages, heartbreaks—and now here we were again, both back in the same small town, both starting over.
The turkey was nearly done when I noticed a voicemail I'd missed earlier.
"Hey, Michonne. It's Shane. Just checking in... If you need company tonight or anything, let me know. Bye."
I pressed the phone to my ear, caught off guard by the loneliness in his voice. Shane had been calling since I moved back, trying to convince me he'd changed. But I wasn't sure I believed him. In high school, he'd played with my emotions. Even as a grown man, I doubted he'd outgrown his old habits.
And then there was Daryl. We worked together, and he'd been a steady presence during the hardest months after my husband's death. He was kind, but the spark wasn't there. I didn't have the heart to tell him.
But none of that mattered tonight. There was only one person I couldn't stop thinking about.
When the food was ready, the counters were filled with steaming dishes. I stared at the solitary place sitting on the table, my chest tightening. The meal looked perfect, but the emptiness of the moment stole my appetite.
I stood abruptly, wiping my hands on a towel, and moved to the living room. Maybe music would help. I let a soft melody play, its warmth filling the space where laughter and voices should have been.
A knock at the door startled me. My heart leaped as I peered through the peephole.
Rick.
He stood on the porch, hands full—one holding a punch bowl, the other clutching a bottle of wine and a charcuterie board. His familiar tousled hair caught the golden glow of the porch light, and my breath caught in my throat.
I opened the door, trying not to look as stunned as I felt.
"Hi," I managed, my voice barely above a whisper.
"Hi." His smile was soft, disarming as always. "Can I come in?"
"Oh—of course. Yeah, come in."
Rick stepped inside, balancing a punch bowl, a bottle of wine, and a charcuterie board. He set them carefully on the counter, and I couldn't help but admire the care he'd put into assembling it all.
"You brought the punch bowl back," I said with a small laugh.
"Figured you might want it." His voice carried that familiar warmth. "Liberated it from—you know who." His smirk had just the right touch of mischief.
I shook my head, laughing softly. "I thought I'd never see it again."
He glanced toward the living room, where soft music played in the background. "Am I interrupting anything?"
I hesitated, then shook my head. "No. Just... keeping myself company."
Rick nodded, understanding flickering in his gaze. "I get that."
"Would you like some cider?" I asked, moving toward the counter to pour a glass.
"Sure."
As I handed him the glass, his hand brushed mine. The warmth of his touch lingered a little too long, igniting something unspoken between us.
"The kitchen looks great," he said, eyes scanning the space.
"Thanks. It's... nice, I guess. Doesn't feel like home yet, though."
"A house doesn't always feel like home," Rick said quietly, his gaze softening as though he knew the weight of his own words.
The sentiment struck me, heavy with unspoken meaning. "Rick," I started, but he spoke first.
"I've been thinking about you, Michonne," he said, his tone steady but raw.
My breath caught. "I've been thinking about you too."
His eyes searched mine, and our silence grew thick with unspoken truths. "Do you ever think about prom?"
The word rippled through me like a long-forgotten melody. I swallowed hard. "Yeah. Sometimes it feels like it was a lifetime ago."
He looked away, tracing the rim of the punch bowl with his fingers. "I've never stopped thinking about it. Or you."
His admission made my chest tighten. I let out a shaky breath. "We should have talked after that night, but I avoided you," I confessed, the long-buried emotions stirring.
Rick stepped closer; his gaze unwavering. "If I could go back, I'd do things differently. For you. For us."
He leaned back in his chair, his fingers curling loosely around his glass. "When I saw you at that party last month, all those feelings came rushing back. It was like I was eighteen again, watching you walk into a room and knowing no one else could hold a candle to you. And when I found out that punch bowl was yours... I knew I had to see you."
I laughed softly, shaking my head. "You're telling me you came here because of a punch bowl?"
Rick grinned, that lopsided smile making my heart flutter. "It was a damn good excuse, wasn't it?"
"You could've just called," I teased, though my voice carried no sharpness.
"Nah," he said, his voice dropping to a tender note. "I wanted to see you. Needed to."
The weight of his words settled over me like a warm blanket. I shifted in my chair, my fingers tightening around my glass. "So... what now, Rick?"
His gaze locked onto mine, unwavering. "I want you to know something. You were never a second choice to me. Not then, and not now."
The sincerity in his voice made my chest ache.
"I know you've been through so much," he continued, his voice gentle. "And I know I'm not exactly coming to you with a clean slate. But Michonne, I've thought about you every day since prom. About what could've been."
My breath hitched as he stood and moved to kneel in front of me, his hands resting lightly on my knees. His blue eyes searched mine, raw and open.
"I'm here because I don't want to wonder anymore. I don't want to waste another day wishing I'd done things differently."
Tears welled in my eyes, but I whispered, "I've thought about that too, Rick. More than I should've. That night changed everything for me."
"Michonne," he said softly, his voice dipping into that tone I remembered from so long ago—gentle, curious, but certain. "I've been meaning to ask... why didn't you ever tell me what prom night meant to you?"
His question caught me off guard. I drew in a shaky breath, my fingers tightening around the stem of my glass. "You mean…when we…?"
Rick tilted his head, his wry smile softening the tension. "The kiss. The dance…After the dance... everything. It wasn't just a night for me, Michonne. It never felt like just a night."
The memories came rushing back—the way he'd held my hand so tightly during the dances, how his eyes lingered on mine as though I were the only one in the room.
"I was scared," I admitted, lowering my gaze. "Scared of what you'd think if you knew how much it meant to me."
Rick leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. His voice dropped to a whisper. "What could I have thought, Michonne? That night... it changed everything for me too."
I swallowed hard, my cheeks burning. "It was my first time, Rick."
The silence that followed was heavy, his reaction unreadable. His eyes widened slightly, then softened with awe and regret.
"Your first time?" he repeated, his voice thick with surprise and something deeper.
I nodded, my throat tightening. "You were... everything I thought it would be. Everything I hoped it would be."
Rick sat back, running a hand through his hair. "God, Michonne, if I'd known—if I'd realized—I would've done things differently. I would've—"
"Rick," I interrupted, my voice firm but soft. "I don't regret it. Not then. Not now."
He reached for my hand across the table, his touch grounding me. His thumb brushed softly over my knuckles.
"I always had a thing for you, Michonne," he admitted, his words tumbling out now. "You were the girl I watched from the stands during debate tournaments, the one I always thought was too good for someone like me. But Shane..."
He trailed off, shaking his head.
"Shane," I echoed, bitterness creeping in despite myself.
Rick sighed. "He was my best friend, and he had a way of making everyone fall for him. I didn't think I could compete with that. So, I stayed on the sidelines, just… wishing."
"You thought you couldn't compete?" I asked, stunned. "Rick, you were the only one I ever looked at like that."
He blinked, his jaw tightening. "I didn't know. Not until prom night. And even then, I wasn't sure. I didn't want to push you or make you think I was just... some guy taking advantage of the moment."
"You weren't," I said firmly, covering his hand with mine. "You never were."
His hand cupped my cheek, his thumb brushing away a stray tear. "You were my first love, Michonne. I don't think I ever stopped loving you."
He kissed me with a slow tenderness that erased the world around us. I opened my mouth to him and sucked on his tongue with a hunger that surprised me. I pulled away from him, gasping for breath.
"I've missed that kiss," Rick responded by lifting me off the ground, pushing my body against the wall, and covering my face with soft kisses.
A whimper escaped me as I opened my legs and wrapped them around his waist, so I could rub myself against him. I moaned when his straining erection pressed against my sex, sending a flood of moisture to my panties.
His fingers worked up the bottom of my shirt, sliding his cool fingers under the strap of my bra until he worked the material out of the way, exposing my hot flesh. His mouth moved down my neck and settled in the folds of my shirt that covered my breasts, impatiently nuzzling the material out of the way. I pulled my shirt off my head, giving him greater access. I sighed when his mouth latched onto my nipple, making me arch against the wall until his mouth was full.
"Damn Chonne," He growled and lifted me higher off the ground so he could lick my stomach and suck my other breast into his mouth easier. I dug my fingers into his hair and encouraged him to move back to the other breast, which was feeling neglected.
Rick lifted me again, moving me away from the wall and setting me down on the end of the table, pushing my plate and flatware out of the way. He kneeled, continuing to suck and lick until my nipples were impossibly hard. I leaned back and smiled at the look on his face.
"You are so beautiful," he said, his eyes had a dreamy quality to them that conveyed his pleasure.
I leaned back and opened the button on my jeans, inviting him to undress me further. Rick did not hesitate and pulled my jeans off exposing the soft pink panties I was wearing.
He inhaled sharply, "Mm, I love these...sexy..." his fingers caressed the material lovingly, making my body shudder. His fingers hooked under the thin material and pulled them off. I opened my legs, letting them dangle off the edge of the table.
"Sweet darlin," Rick growled and pulled me towards him until I was resting on my elbows and he was burying his face between my legs and making me gasp as he thrust his tongue between the wet folds that had been yearning for him. I let my head loll back and felt my orgasm building quickly.
"Rick...oh!" I came in quick bursts, filling the quiet kitchen with sounds of intense pleasure. Rick's tongue made languid movements up my slit, gathering as much of my orgasmic release as he could.
"Now that's the sweetness I needed," Rick smiled at me and stepped away from me as he stood up and began to undress.
The t-shirt came off first, exposing his perfect chiseled chest, and then his hands moved down to the button of his jeans. I held my breath and watched with wide eyes as he pushed his jeans off his ass and let them drop to the ground. His massive dick is proudly on display.
I licked my lips and smiled at him, and then crooked my finger to get him to come to me. He kicked off his boots, stepped out of his jeans, and stalked over to me, wedging his body between my trembling legs.
He leaned over me and kissed me passionately, his hair hung around my face, caressing my cheeks. I could taste myself on his tongue. I bit his lip playfully, eliciting a growl from deep inside Rick's chest. I wriggled down until the head of his cock pushed against my slippery lips and moaned as he moved forward.
I held my breath as he filled me, stretching me most deliciously. Rick groans as his eyes flutter shut. "I've missed you so much..." He pulled back and then thrust into me, setting a rhythm that pushed me over the edge, making my body shake as another orgasm claimed me.
Rick groaned and made a guttural sound as he fought to remain in control. He slowed down, spiraling his hips as he drove into me, filling me and then pulling away to make me beg for more. I wrapped my arms around his neck and pulled myself up until I was sitting on the edge of the table.
Rick responded by tightening his grip on my body, pulling me against him, and pounding into me with fierce need. Our combined sound of pleasure filled the kitchen.
"Oh...Chonne, I'm...I'm gonna..." he kept thrusting.
"Oh, Chonne" his hard, smooth length, and then with one final thrust, he moaned against my neck and his cock swelled more, throbbing as his load spilled deep inside of me.
"Rick!" I screamed as I came with him, feeling satisfied for the first time in two years. We panted as we came down, and clutched Rick's body to mine for several moments.
He slowly pulled away from me and kissed me sweetly, "I've worked up an appetite for some food...that's if you still want some company..."
I smiled at him and nodded my agreement, still finding it difficult to breathe normally. "Of course, I'm thankful I have you here to help me eat all of this..."
"Isn't that what today's all about? Being thankful?" His lips found mine, the kiss tender yet electric.
"Yes, it is...and I am," I answered honestly, knowing that I would never be able to let him go again. For the first time, the house didn't feel so empty. It felt like home.