Disclaimer: I don't own the characters, but the plot is my own.
Chapter 15
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Seth had already taken the Hydroxyzine he was prescribed before his next session. He was groggier than normal, his focus a little off. He drank liters of water, constantly complaining about his dry mouth. I even had to dig out my 800mg Ibuprofen for his headaches. He'd get snappy with me at times, but we'd have a talk about it, and he'd cool down. Honestly? It was better than what it had been before—better than the grief and rage, the way he'd choke on his own sorrow. And I'd just watch on, powerless. Stoned.
He'd only taken the pill four nights over the weekend and two during the week. After that, it was over. He did get way more sleep, but he looked like a zombie some days. It worried both me and Jacob.
Jacob was another pill.
Always making under handed comments, always arguing with me. It drove me crazy. He'd been lucky that Seth had taken a liking to him, or I probably would've blown up by now.
We went to see Dr. Foreman mid-week, after the third session. School was wrapped up. Seth passed everything. Completed SATs. Jacob and I felt better with that being out of the way. My sigh of relief I felt was greater.
But, I had a gazillion questions for the doctor about Seth starting EMDR soon. Dr. Cohen had mentioned it again, and I couldn't shake the unsettling feeling gnawing at me. On top of that, Cohen wanted Seth on Zoloft before said sessions, so now I had to go down that rabbit hole with Foreman too. The whole thing was piling up, and I could feel my chest tightening just thinking about it.
Sitting in the sterile, calm office, I tried to keep my face neutral as Dr. Foreman explained it all. Seth had been excused out to the waiting room, giving us some privacy to discuss the details.
"Soon. He'll start on a low dose at the start of June, and we'll adjust as needed," he reassured me, his voice steady, but I could hear the seriousness behind his words.
My eyes widened, my hand flying up to my mouth to chew on my thumb nail. "That's right around graduation, when he walks, are you people crazy?"
Foreman's head dropped slightly, as if he had anticipated my reaction. He was used to me by now. Nothing really surprised him with me anymore. But, the slight furrow of his brow hinted that my reaction was wearing on him. "Cohen is hitting some peak points with Seth in his sessions, so we wanted to shoot for a closer date. But, we can push it for maybe mid-June if you're uncomfortable with that."
Now he was bartering this idea with me? As if I didn't have a choice? What about Seth? What about how he'd feel about this? My heart was already racing, and I could feel the fear bubbling up, threatening to spill over.
"So, he has to take this stupid shit?" I snapped, frustration lacing my words. "As if he's got some imbalance?"
Foreman's eyes softened, but his tone remained calm and professional. "It'll help Seth regulate his mood as he works through his trauma. It's common for patients with PTSD, Leah. The combination of therapy and medication has been shown to be really effective for many people."
I rubbed my forehead, trying to fight off the irritation that was still building. This was exactly what we'd all feared—the medications, the side effects, the risk of him becoming reliant on pills. I hated the thought of him being controlled by something so artificial, even if it was temporary.
"And what about the side effects?" I pressed, my voice shaking slightly as the anxiety crept in. "what if something goes wrong? What if it's too much for him?"
Dr. Foreman leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled in front of him. He gave me a measured look, as if weighing his words carefully before he spoke. "The side effects are something we'll watch closely, especially at first. Some patients experience headaches, nausea, or changes in appetite. But it's rare for anything severe to happen. And if it does, we can adjust the dosage or try a different medication. The goal here is to find a balance that works for him."
I nodded slowly, my hands now clenched tightly in my lap. I could hear the logic in his words, but that didn't make the unease go away. It didn't ease the tight knot in my stomach.
"And you really think he needs this?" I asked, almost as a challenge. My voice wasn't angry now, but it was edged with doubt. "I mean, can't he just...work through it without the pills?"
Dr. Foreman paused for a moment, his gaze fixed on me, as if assessing the depth of my concern. Then, he spoke again, his voice softer but firm. "Leah, I understand how you feel. Believe me, no one wants to put a child on medication unless it's absolutely necessary. But what Seth is going through—it's not something that can just be willed away. He needs help processing these emotions, these memories, and the medication can help him unlock that. EMDR paired with the medication is one of the best approaches to treat trauma like his."
I swallowed hard, my mind racing. I was torn—torn between wanting to protect Seth from anything that might hurt him and understanding that sometimes, help came in forms that weren't what we expected.
"I hate it," I muttered, my voice quieter now, more resigned.
Dr. Foreman nodded, as if he knew I was coming around but wasn't entirely happy about it. "I know you do. But I need to stress this: We'll be monitoring Seth closely—myself, Cohen. We'll be in touch regularly, and we'll make adjustments as necessary. We're all working together on this."
I wanted to believe him. I wanted to, so badly. But the weight of the decision pressed on my chest, suffocating me just a little more.
My mind spun for a moment, processing his words. I wanted to trust him, but it didn't mean I had to like it. "And the EMDR?" I asked, my voice quieter now, almost uncertain.
"won't be till the mid or end of June," he replied. "We'll start him on the Zoloft and get him adjusted to that before moving forward with the EMDR. It's a process, but it's one we'll go through together, step by step."
The words barely sank in before he brought up something I'd been dreading.
"Leah," he began, his voice softening, "I've mentioned before, and I'll say it again—you need to take care of yourself. You've been doing an incredible job with Seth, but I'm still concerned about how you're coping."
I felt my jaw tighten, my irritation growing again. I knew he was right, but the thought of talking to someone, letting someone else into the mess locked away in my head, didn't sit well with me. Not now.
"I know," I snapped, the words leaving my mouth before I could stop them. My gaze shifted to the floor, my shoulders tensing. "I know," my tone lilting. Resisting the shaking that took over my body, and the light feeling in my head.
By the time Seth's fourth session rolled around, I could tell he was still holding a lot in. He came home from the session looking drained, his eyes heavy. He was quieter than usual, shoulders slumped in exhaustion. The sessions were clearly taking their toll, and while I didn't expect miracles, I wished he'd start showing some kind of relief soon. His mood was still up and down—some moments he was himself, a little snarky, teasing me, but other times he seemed so distant. Like he was somewhere else, stuck in his head.
Jacob wasn't letting up about being against all of this bullshit. And honestly? I just didn't know anymore.
My only real escape was Edward. Every time I saw him, or if he'd pop up randomly, I felt this rush, this overwhelming sense of comfort that seemed to push everything else away, even if just for a moment. Just being around him made me feel lighter, better. My heart would jump into my throat whenever he showed up.
It was ridiculous, but I couldn't help it. My smile would turn goofy, and I'd blush without meaning to. I felt so taken by him, like he had this ability to instantly make everything feel better, even if the world was falling apart around me. He was always busy, yet he'd carve out time to be with me, to check in. And that... that meant the world. Even with the time feeling like it was whipping by at an extraordinary pace.
The weekend came, and as usual, Jacob came over to stay with Seth while I worked my shifts at the club on Saturday and Sunday. I always had this mix of guilt and relief as I walked out the door. I was glad someone was with Seth, but I couldn't help but wish I could be the one to help him feel better.
It's not like we didn't have connection, or moments of growing up. We definitely did. Just, when our dad passed things changed like a twig snapping. Things were brighter with both parents...It wasn't perfect, but it was something.
By Sunday night, after my shift, with groceries in tow, because apparently I have to continue feeding the consumers eating the food in my kitchen like vacuums, I pulled into the driveway, tired but glad to be home.
And who do I find parked there?
Edward.
My heart skipped a beat.
Hands stuffed in his pockets, casually leaning against the bumper of his car.
He offered to help me bring everything inside, something I was more than grateful for.
"What brings me the pleasure?" I asked, passing him a few bags.
He shrugged, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. "I couldn't stay away," he said, his voice rich and intoxicating. "If you'll have me tonight, I'd love to sleep next to you."
The words hit me like a slow burn, creeping up before I even fully registered it. The way he said it—low, confident, deliberate—sent a shiver down my spine, warmth unfurling in the pit of my stomach. My breath hitched, just for a second, my pulse kicking up as his words settled between us like something tangible.
I shifted, suddenly hyperaware of myself, dressed in my work clothes—the way my skin felt too sensitive, my nerves buzzing with anticipation. Heat spread through me, tightening in my chest before sinking lower, curling deep inside. I swallowed, my mouth dry, as if that would steady me, but it only made me more aware of the tension crackling in the air.
It wasn't just what he said—it was how he said it. And now, I couldn't unhear it. Couldn't unfeel it.
"I'd love that," I whispered.
He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to my lips before effortlessly taking the bags from my hands and heading toward the side door, closest to the kitchen. I followed quickly, hurrying past him to unlock it.
Kujo was already barking on the other side, his claws scratching against the door.
I reached down, running my hand along his muzzle, giving him a few affectionate pats as Edward carried the bags inside, placing them atop the dining table.
Kujo barked again, trotting toward him with his tail wagging. Edward turned and knelt, scratching behind his ears, murmuring something low to the dog.
Jacob grunted as he came out of the bathroom near the stairs, his sharp gaze flicking between us like he'd just walked in on something he didn't want to see. He adjusted his sweatpants, completely ignoring Edward, and instead calling Kujo to him.
It took a couple of tries before Edward finally stood, and only then did Kujo begrudgingly trot over to Jacob.
"He sleeping okay?" I asked, watching Jacob carefully.
He shot me a look, his expression tight.
I shook my head at him in a silent, hurry the fuck up, Black kind of way. My face said it all.
His thumb jerked toward Edward. "You expect me to talk to you about this personal shit in front of him?"
I sighed, irritated, but when I glanced at Edward, he seemed amused by the exchange. I smacked my hands against my thighs in frustration.
Jacob scoffed, shaking his head as he walked toward the front door. His heavy boots clomped against the wood floor, Kujo's paws ticking alongside him.
I didn't bother chasing after him—I knew better by now. If I stayed quiet, he'd eventually cave. That was a learned advantage.
Sure enough, just as I heard him reach the door, Jacob called back over his shoulder, "He's fine. Been sleeping like a baby since eight."
I gave Edward a knowing look as I strolled past him, heading to see Jacob out.
Edward's brows lifted slightly. His smile deepened, the mirth in his eyes clear. "You two always this charming with each other?"
I huffed, crossing my arms and leaning against the doorframe as I stood by the entrance to the living room. "Mind you, this is us being charming."
Jacob scoffed without turning around, pulling the front door open. Kujo bounded out, tail wagging furiously as he ran to Jacob's truck.
"Yeah, yeah. You'd miss me if I wasn't around to keep you humble."
"In your dreams, Black," I quipped, smirking.
Jacob grinned back over his shoulder, eyes full of sarcasm. "I'd be thrilled to never have to deal with you again—less of a headache."
"Don't worry," I shot back, "I'll be sure to pass on the compliment next time I see you—and don't act like I'm not doing you a favor by letting you 'keep me humble.'"
He let out a mock sigh, shaking his head, then waved over his shoulder. "Goodnight, see ya tomorrow."
"Yeah, yeah. Tomorrow, same time," I said, as he pulled the door shut behind him.
Edward gave me a wry smile, his eyes sparkling with quiet humor as he watched me. "You two really know how to keep it fun."
"That's one way of putting it," I muttered under my breath, shaking my head.
We busied ourselves with putting the groceries away, our hands brushing against each other with each pass as we handed over food items.
"I think he likes you," Edward said with a teasing smirk.
I sighed, a shudder of distaste rolling through me. "Please, don't."
He chuckled softly. "I'm serious."
I shot him a glare, clearly unimpressed. "Wouldn't that bother you?"
His smile never wavered. "I'm a secure guy, Leah," he said matter-of-factly. "Plus, I know you're mine, and I'm yours. Nothing to worry about."
I raised an eyebrow, handing him the pack of ginger ale to put in the fridge. "Mhm, I'm sure," I said, my voice tinged with genuine appreciation.
We finished putting everything away in silence for a moment.
Later, I made my way upstairs to check on Seth. As I peeked into his room, I couldn't help but smile at the sight of him completely knocked out, snoring softly. The steady rhythm of his breath was such a relief. For once, he was actually getting some real rest. It wasn't much, but it felt like a small victory. I lingered for a moment, watching the peaceful rise and fall of his chest before quietly slipping back to my room.
Edward was already there, seated on the bed, shirtless, his presence filling the room. His gaze was intense, but there was a warmth in his eyes that I couldn't ignore. He was leaning against the headboard, looking like he had been lost in thought, but when I entered, his eyes darkened slightly, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them.
"Everything okay with Seth?" he asked, his voice soft, like he was trying to gauge how I was holding up.
"Yeah, he's out cold," I said, offering him a smile. "He's getting some real sleep."
Edward tilted his head slightly, studying me with a muted passion. "You know, Jacob might not say it, but I think he's holding onto something for you."
I grimaced, shaking my head. "No way. Not happening. Not now, not ever."
A slight, charged quietness settled among us as I shut my door. I gazed at him with suspicion. "I thought you said you were secure?" I teased.
"I'm a complicated man, Leah," he said, his intensity smoldering me.
"Complicated, huh?" I murmured, moving toward him with deliberate slowness. Kicking off my under garments, as I climbed onto the bed, straddling him, I felt his breath hitch at the sudden intimacy. His hands instinctively found my waist, gripping just enough to make me shiver.
"So, tell me," I whispered, leaning in until our lips were a breath apart, teasing, tempting. "Who do I belong to?"
Edward's lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk. "I know," he murmured, his voice thick with possession. "I'm just being jealous."
I arched a brow, refusing to let him off so easily. "Who do I belong to?"
His expression darkened, primal, his grip tightening on my hips. "Me," he said, low and sure, like the words were an unshakable truth. "I belong to you, Leah. And you belong to me. No one else."
A shudder ran through me, my pulse hammering. The sentiment of his words wrapped around me like a tether, pulling me in, sinking deep into my bones. I barely managed to nod, my voice coming out in a whisper. "Yeah… I do."
Edward didn't hesitate. He leaned in, brushing his lips over mine—soft at first, then firmer, deeper, more consuming. His fingers tangled in my hair, holding me there as he kissed me like he needed it, like he had to prove his claim in the way his mouth moved against mine.
Heat curled through me, heavy in my stomach, as his hands roamed, claiming and sure. Every touch, every kiss was a declaration—an unspoken vow that I was his, that this hunger between us was ours alone.
I was drunk off him, off the love he poured into every press of his lips, every slow, touch. And God, I wanted to drown in it.
I reached between us, deliberately slipping my hand beneath the waistband of his boxers, wrapping my fingers around him. His breath hitched, his muscles tensing beneath my touch. I could already feel how hard he was, the heat of him against my palm. A deep, rumbling groan vibrated through his chest as I freed him, shifting to rest on him, my body already aching for more.
"Let me feel you," he murmured, his voice rough with need, his hands trailing up my back, kneading the tension along my spine with surprising tenderness.
"You feel so amazing, every time," I smiled, pressing my forehead against his. "I should pay you."
His eyes darkened at my teasing, his grip trailed back down to my waist tightening.
"It must be like a shrink's office for most sex workers," I continued, amusement lacing my voice. "Having to hear their clients drone on about their problems… 'My wife fuckin' hates me!'"
Edward let out a startled laugh, shaking his head. "Jesus," he chuckled, his hands sliding beneath my shirt, his fingers tracing the heat of my skin. But as he pressed his palms against me, feeling the way my body burned for him, his amusement melted into something darker, something deeper.
"What the fuck," he groaned, his voice thick with desire.
I reached for him again, and he inhaled sharply as I lowered myself onto him. My head tilted back, a moan escaping my lips as I felt him stretch and fill me completely. The sensation of Edward—thick, hard, and unrelenting—always left me breathless, my senses overwhelmed by the sheer force of him.
"You're already so wet," he murmured. "Can you feel how hard I am for you? How much I want you?"
I nodded, our eyes locking, neither of us willing to look away. The connection between us was constant, unbreakable.
"Ride me, baby," he urged. "Let me watch you take every inch."
I began to grind against him in long deliberate strokes. Placing my hands across his chest. He watched me, his hands resting on my hips to help me move. He let out a deep raspy breath.
"You know how much I love it when you ride me like this," he murmured, a hungry growl slipping from his lips.
I arched my back, rolling my hips in a slow, intentional rhythm, my hands drifting up to cup my breasts, teasing my nipples through my shirt as I moved. His gaze burned into me, locked on the way I touched myself, his breath labored, his body tensing as he edged closer to release.
"God, you're perfect," he breathed. "So fucking sexy."
My moans grew softer, more urgent, his name spilling from my lips in a whisper. I pressed down harder, my hips meeting his with every thrust, my body tightening around him, pulling him deeper. My hands slid to his throat, fingers curling gently but firmly, and his response was instant—a deep, guttural groan that sent a shiver through me, our breath trembling as we lost ourselves in the sensation.
I squeezed harder as my ass bounced on his lap. The sounds vibrating around us. The slick, rhythmic collisions intensified, each one rougher than the last, my moans spilling into his mouth. My tongue teased and tangled with his, coaxing a shuddering groan from his lips. His eyes fluttered shut, his body surrendering beneath me. Every roll of his hips met mine, matching my pace, lost in the pleasure I commanded. Mine to control.
"Fuck, yes," he let out another tapered moan. Trying to be quiet as his hand smacked against my skin, the sharp sting sending a rush of heat through my body, and his fingers tightened around the curve of my ass.
Our bodies moved together, the rhythm so perfectly in sync it felt instinctual, like it had always been meant to be this way. Each shift, each press, was a seamless pulse, creating a tide of heat that swelled inside me. I could feel every inch of him against me, his touch igniting the fire in me, it was as natural as breathing.
I placed my hands on his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath my palms. His eyes never left mine—intense, filled with a hunger that mirrored my own. The way he looked at me, like I was everything he had ever wanted, sent a chill down my spine.
"You're so beautiful," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion, his hands gliding up my sides like a slow burn, leaving trails of fire across my skin. His touch was a paradox—gentle yet insistent, as though he couldn't decide whether to cherish me or devour me. In the end, it was both, and it left me breathless.
I rolled my hips again, a gasp escaping me as pleasure surged through my veins. His grip tightened on my waist, guiding me, his body moving in perfect time with mine. The air between us was electric, every sound—every sigh, every moan—amplified, every touch sending sparks through us.
"Edward," my voice trembled as I leaned closer, my lips brushing his. His name felt sacred on my tongue, a prayer, a plea, a promise. He groaned softly, his forehead pressing against mine as we moved together, lost in the heat of each other.
He held my hips briefly as he thrusted quick short strokes, working his cock head against my tender spot. I bit down hard on my lip so I wouldn't cry out.
"Who do you belong to?" His voice was low, possessive, yet laced with an aching tenderness that made my heart race.
His hands slid up to cradle my face, his thumbs brushing my cheeks as he kissed me. It was deep, knowing, and utterly consuming, as if he were pouring every ounce of his desire, his devotion, into that one kiss. When he finally pulled away, his green eyes—those mesmerizing, endless green eyes—were brimming with need, his breath ragged.
"You, Edward," I gasped, my voice breaking as I clung to him. "I'm yours."
"And I'm yours," his gaze locking onto mine with a depth that made my chest ache. "Completely. Irrevocably. Mine."
The word hung in the air between us, blended deeply with meaning, a declaration that went beyond the physical. It was a claim, a vow. And in that moment, I felt it—the depth of his possession, the way he belonged to me as much as I belonged to him.
As the concentration softened, our bodies still entwined, I collapsed onto him, my head resting against his chest. His arms wrapped around me, holding me close, as if he could keep me there forever. The warmth of his skin against mine was a comfort, a reminder of what we'd shared. For a long moment, neither of us spoke, the only sound the steady rhythm of our heartbeats, slowly syncing as we came back to ourselves.
Eventually, I rolled onto my side, facing him. He mirrored me, one arm draped lazily over my waist, his fingers tracing slow, idle patterns along my skin. I let my own fingertips roam, following the sharp lines of his collarbone, the curve of his shoulder, the faint rise and fall of his chest. His green eyes, those eyes I could lose myself in forever, stayed locked on mine, even as his breathing steadied.
He sighed, a small, contented sound, as if this—just lying here, touching, breathing, being—was enough.
His knuckles skimmed over my hip, his voice a quiet murmur in the dim light. "I love the way you feel."
I smiled, enjoying that L word, but scared of it. We hadn't said it to each other yet. Not outright. But, it didn't need to be said. It was felt, fully at this point.
A lingering kiss to his shoulder was my first response. "I love the way you touch me."
His fingers slipped beneath my chin, tilting my face up just enough for his lips to brush mine again, softer this time, slower. No urgency, no hunger. Just us.
Edward's fingers traced lazy patterns on my thigh, his touch warm and lingering, as though he couldn't bear to break the connection between us. The early morning light filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow over my room—our temporary sanctuary. The air was still thick with the scent of us, of sweat and skin and something uniquely Edward. My body hummed with the aftermath of what we'd shared, a quiet contentment settling deep in my bones.
For a while, we just lay there, caught in the in-between of sleep and wakefulness, of closeness and thought.
Then—
"So…" Edward sighed, his voice low and thoughtful, breaking the comfortable silence.
I turned my head to look at him, my cheek brushing against the pillow. "So?" I prompted, my voice barely above a whisper, waiting for him to continue.
He hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching mine. "I know when I mentioned a vacation before, you looked at me like I was crazy," he said softly, his fingers stilling on my thigh.
I raised an eyebrow, a small smile tugging at my lips. "And?"
"Your brother is gonna walk the stage soon." He paused, watching me carefully, as if gauging my reaction.
I narrowed my eyes, already sensing where this was going. "So?"
"He can come," he said sweetly.
"You wanna bring us all to Florida?"
Edward's lips curved into that irresistible smile of his, the one that always made my stomach flip. "Think of it as a graduation present for him… and a vacation for us," he said, his voice laced with a hopefulness that was hard to resist.
I chuckled, shaking my head. "Yeah, good luck getting Seth to go. If Jacob isn't there, you can count him out."
Edward hummed, his hand sliding up to rest on my hip, his thumb brushing against my skin in a way that sent a shiver down my spine. "Then why doesn't Jacob come too?"
I gave him a look, my eyebrows shooting up. "Are you nuts?"
He leaned in closer, his breath warm against my neck as he spoke. "I know you wouldn't come without your brother, and if he needs Jacob there as well, then why not?" His words were logical, as always, but there was a hint of something else in his tone—something that made my heart skip a beat.
I searched his face, narrowing my eyes. "You do realize you'd be spending said vacation with me, my teenage brother, and that relentless curse?"
Edward smirked. "Sounds like an adventure."
I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "More like a headache."
He shrugged, sliding his hand up my back, fingers tracing slow circles against my skin. "Then I'll just have to make it worth your while."
His voice dipped lower, teasing, and when I glanced up at him, his expression was downright sinful.
Gosh, he made such good points.
"Come on," he hummed, his excitement barely contained as he clutched my thigh, giving it a playful squeeze. "Expenses paid. Let me take you out there."
I narrowed my eyes, studying his face. "Why are you so persistent about this?"
His expression softened, but his words were blunt—honest in a way only Edward could be. "I already told you—I think my mother would love you. And her opinion means a lot to me."
Something in my chest tightened at that, a mix of warmth and nervousness twisting together. I swallowed hard, trying to ignore the way my heart pounded. "We'd still have to be back before Seth's appointment," I reminded him, my voice quieter now. "I don't want him missing any sessions."
Edward nodded without hesitation, his hand moving to cup my cheek, his thumb brushing over my lower lip. "Three nights, four days. We'll make it work," he promised, his voice firm, unwavering. Then he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to my lips—slow and sweet, like he was sealing the deal.
I melted into him, my fingers tangling in his hair as I kissed him back, the world outside fading away for just a moment. When he pulled away, his forehead rested against mine, his breath mingling with mine. "Let me do this for you," he murmured, his voice barely more than a whisper. "For us."
And how could I say no to that?
Before I could answer, his phone rang. Edward barely glanced at the screen before setting it back down on the nightstand, his jaw tightening.
"Who was it?" I asked, noticing the way his expression darkened.
He exhaled sharply, shaking his head. "Just my dad. He's been calling me constantly lately."
"You haven't answered?"
His lips pressed into a thin line. "He's always either complaining or nagging," he muttered. "Not in the mood for that right now."
I watched him for a moment, tracing absentminded circles on his forearm. "Maybe he just wants to talk."
Edward let out a short, humorless laugh. "Yeah. Talk my ear off about everything I'm doing wrong." His fingers tightened slightly around my waist before relaxing again. "I'd rather be here, with you."
I didn't push him. Instead, I kissed his shoulder, letting the conversation drift as he pulled me closer, his body warm and comforting against mine.
We fell asleep like that, wrapped around each other, the burden of the world fading as we found solace in the quiet.
The next morning sunlight filtered through the kitchen window, casting a golden glow over the countertop as I finished plating breakfast. Omelets, crispy bacon, and seasoned potatoes—simple, but hearty. The scent of it must have lured Seth downstairs because he strolled in with a rare, easy grin, plopping down at the table without his usual morning grogginess.
"Smells amazing," he muttered, practically bouncing in his seat when I set his plate down in front of him. His eyes lit up the moment he took the first bite.
Happy as a clam.
Edward sat across from him, sipping his coffee, the steam curling lazily upward. The two fell into conversation easily, Seth asking what he did for a living. I watched as Edward leaned back slightly, fingers drumming against his mug before launching into an explanation about art appraising.
It should have been boring, the way most adults talked about their jobs in dull, monotonous tones. But not Edward. No, he spoke with this effortless charm, his voice rich and smooth, threading a story together like it was something out of an adventure novel. He talked about traveling the world, about roaming the ancient streets of Rome, the way he'd traversed the winding landscapes of Vietnam for months, soaking in the culture, the history, the art.
Seth was riveted, nodding along, eyes wide with wonder. I swear, for a moment, he forgot he was eating.
I smiled, resting my chin on my palm as I listened. That was Edward—effortlessly magnetic, a man who could make even the most mundane things seem like poetry.
After breakfast, Seth shot up from the table, muttering something about hopping into the shower before school. His mood was lighter than usual, and I knew it wasn't just the food.
Edward and I lingered in the kitchen, the quiet hum of morning settling around us. He moved beside me, helping to clear the table, but before I could protest, he was behind me, close—so close that the warmth of him wrapped around me like a second skin.
His breath was hot against the back of my neck as he gently moved my hair aside, his fingertips barely grazing my shoulder. A shiver ran through me, goosebumps prickling my arms.
"Waking up with you is the best feeling," he whispered, his lips brushing over my skin, sending a wave of heat curling low in my stomach.
I melted against him, my body instinctively responding to the slow, sensual way his hands skimmed my waist, his fingers teasing the hem of my shirt.
We barely made it to the couch before we were tangled in each other, lips crashing together, hands greedy and desperate. I tugged his shirt over his head, letting my fingers roam over the hard planes of his chest, tracing every line, every dip of muscle.
Edward had this way about him—every touch, every kiss felt intentional, like he was painting a masterpiece with his hands, crafting something meant to be savored. For only being twenty-seven, he carried himself like a man who knew exactly what he was doing.
And God, did he know.
His hands skimmed beneath my shirt, his palms rough and warm, trailing higher, making my breath hitch. His lips burned a path down my jaw, his weight pressing me into the couch.
Then, just as he gripped the fabric of my shirt, ready to pull it over my head—
The shower upstairs shut off.
Jacob's rig rumbled up outside. Picking up Seth to bring him to the auto shop, since school's out.
We both froze.
Edward exhaled sharply, his forehead resting against mine, his fingers flexing against my waist as if reluctant to let go.
"Timing's a bitch," I muttered breathlessly.
A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. "Yeah, no kidding."
I groaned, reluctantly pushing him off just as the front door swung open.
Jacob strolled in, his usual swagger intact, keys jingling in his hand. But the second he took in the scene—Edward lounging shirtless on the couch, his arm draped lazily over the back of the cushions, his chest still faintly flushed from our little moment, and me, still in my pajamas, legs tucked under me like I'd just been caught red-handed—his expression darkened.
His eyes narrowed, flicking between us, suspicion and irritation flashing across his face like he was debating whether to say something or just let his presence be enough of a warning.
Great. Just great.
Edward, ever the smooth operator, didn't seem the least bit fazed. Instead, he took his time stretching, his muscles flexing under the morning light, before leaning down to brush a kiss against my forehead. His lips lingered just enough to make a point, his voice low and intimate as he murmured, "I'm gonna hop in the shower."
A smirk curled my lips, and I tilted my head just slightly, teasing, "See you in there in T-minus five."
Edward chuckled, his eyes gleaming with something dark and promising before he turned and strolled off toward the stairs. He passed Jacob without a second thought, offering a polite nod that was met with nothing but a hard stare. Jacob, in true Jacob fashion, refused to acknowledge him directly, shifting his glare off to the side until Edward disappeared upstairs.
The moment he was out of sight, Jacob's sharp gaze snapped back to me.
"You got this fool walkin' around half-naked? Your brother's home—have some damn decency," Jacob scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest, his tone dripping with mock disapproval.
I rolled my eyes, completely unbothered. "Yeah? Damn, I was gonna invite you to Florida with us, but now I'm not too sure I like your tone."
I know I hadn't completely agreed to Edward about it last night. But, I was sure he'd convinced me of it. Just a feeling that settled over me. My contempt for Jacob brought it out easily. The fact that someone that cared enough would do something like that for all of us. For me.
Jacob's face scrunched up in confusion, his brows furrowing. "The fuck are you on about now?"
"Edward's offering to take us all to Florida after Seth walks the stage," I said, watching him closely.
Jacob let out a short huff, feigning indifference as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "Oh, really?"
"Yep. All expenses paid. Not a dime outta your pocket."
His eyebrows twitched just slightly—so quick most people wouldn't have caught it. But I did. Because I knew him. And I knew that, despite his best effort to act like he couldn't care less, he was definitely interested.
I grinned, unable to resist poking at him. "Lucky for you, you're the babysitter, or else you wouldn't have even been thought about."
Jacob's jaw tightened, his arms pressing just a little harder against his chest. "I ain't a damn babysitter, Leah. I'm a mentor."
"Mentor, babysitter—same thing," I teased, stretching my legs out lazily. "Just one sounds a little less humiliating."
"Yeah, keep talkin' shit," he muttered, shaking his head. "You should be grateful Seth's got me around, or else he'd be—"
"—completely fine," I cut in, my voice light, but my words razor-sharp.
Jacob clicked his tongue, eyes narrowing, but there was no real bite behind it. He knew I wasn't wrong. Seth would be fine. But I also knew Jacob liked to think he was the only thing keeping the kid from going off the rails.
"You are so damn lucky this trip is free, or I'd make you beg me to come," Jacob shot back, his smirk creeping in despite himself.
I laughed, leaning back into the couch. "Oh yeah? You and what bank account?"
"Shut up, I do well for myself," he grumbled. He pushed off the doorframe, jerking his head toward the hallway. "Seth! Let's go, man. Got a Cadillac to work on!"
A few seconds later, Seth came barreling down the stairs, backpack slung over one shoulder, still looking way too pleased from breakfast. He skidded to a stop next to Jacob, adjusting his hoodie.
Jacob glanced back at me, his expression softening just a fraction. "Florida, huh?" he mused, rolling the thought over like he wasn't already leaning toward a yes, Seth glared at us both, looking confused. "Guess I'll think about it."
"Don't think too hard, might hurt yourself," I called after him as they stepped outside. "You know you wanna come."
Jacob didn't say anything, but as he pulled the door shut behind him, I caught it—the slight smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
Yeah. He was definitely coming.
..
Steam curled through the air as I stepped into the bathroom, the sound of water rushing against tile muffled behind the glass door. The warmth hit me first, enveloping me like a heavy, welcome fog. Through the misted glass, I could see Edward's silhouette—broad shoulders, defined back, and that lazy, unbothered stance he always had when he wasn't in a rush for anything.
I slid the door open just enough to step inside, my fingers immediately finding his damp skin as I pressed up behind him.
"That was more like T-minus ten," Edward murmured, the deep rumble of his voice mixing with the steady patter of water.
I smirked, trailing my hands over the warm planes of his back. "Needed a dramatic entrance."
Edward chuckled, turning toward me. Water slicked through his dark hair, beads running down his chest, over the faint scars and tattoos, before disappearing along the ridges of his stomach. His gaze softened as he reached for me, hands settling against my waist.
"Guess I can't complain," he murmured, pressing a kiss to my forehead.
I let out a content sigh, tilting my head up so the water cascaded over me, washing away the sleep from earlier. Edward's hands roamed slowly, smoothing over my back, sliding down my arms, like he was just enjoying the feeling of touching me without rush or urgency.
"Been thinking about that trip," he said after a moment, his fingers trailing the curve of my waist.
I hummed, leaning into him. "Yeah?"
"Mhmm. Was thinking we do it right. Private beach, no crowds, just us. Seth and Jacob can do their own thing, and I get to spoil you silly."
I opened my eyes, watching the lazy smirk tug at his lips. "Spoil me silly, huh? That sounds dangerous."
"Depends on your definition of dangerous," he mused, reaching for the soap and lathering his hands before running them along my shoulders. His touch was slow, deliberate, gliding over my skin in a way that made my stomach tighten—not from heat, but from how easily he turned me on.
I studied him as he bathed me, the way his eyes softened, the way he took his time, like this wasn't just routine but something he wanted to do.
"And," he continued, as if casually throwing it in, "you'll finally get to meet my mom."
I froze mid-rinse, blinking water from my eyes. "Wait, what?"
Edward arched a brow. "What do you mean 'what'? You think I'd take you over there and not introduce you to my mom? I already told you."
I swallowed, suddenly feeling a different kind of heat spread through me. "I just—" I hesitated, my fingers tightening slightly on his forearm. "I don't know."
His lips quirked as he cupped my jaw, thumb brushing over my cheek. "You nervous?"
"No," I lied, which was immediately met with a knowing look.
I sighed. "Maybe a little. What if she doesn't like me?"
Edward scoffed, pulling me closer. "Leah, she's gonna love you."
"You say that like it's a fact."
"It is a fact." He kissed my temple before nudging my chin up so I had no choice but to meet his gaze. "You think I'm gonna let anyone in my life who doesn't like you?"
I chewed the inside of my cheek, still not entirely convinced, but his confidence made it harder to argue. "She must be something else, raising a menace like you."
Edward smirked. "Oh, she is. But I promise, you'll be her favorite the second she lays eyes on you."
I huffed, still unsettled. "Yeah, okay."
"Relax," he teased before turning me toward the water, his hands roaming my back as he helped rinse away the suds.
I let my body relax into him, feeling the warmth of his chest against my back, the slow drag of his fingertips along my arms.
"Private beach, huh?" I murmured, shifting just enough to glance back at him. "Is that your way of making sure I don't run when I embarrass myself in front of your mom?"
Edward laughed, kissing the curve of my shoulder. "Nah," he whispered against my skin. "It's my way of making sure I get you all to myself."
The warmth of his breath lingered even after he pulled away, leaving me with a stupid little smile I couldn't shake.
Edward left before noon, heading up near his family's estate to assess a private collection. Apparently, some wealthy client wanted an appraisal done before auctioning off a few pieces. He'd asked me to come along—half-joking, half-serious—but I still had too much to do at home. With summer fast approaching, I wanted to try my hand at gardening again, even though my track record wasn't exactly promising.
"So people actually pay you to go authenticate shit?" I'd asked earlier, sitting on the bed while he buttoned up his shirt.
Edward had smirked, tossing his tie over his shoulder before stepping toward me. "They do. Some just want bragging rights—'Oh, look at my priceless Monet'—while others are sitting on a fortune without realizing it. Sometimes I have to break the bad news that their 'priceless heirloom' is a very well-done fake."
I squinted at him. "You ever have someone get pissed about that?"
He chuckled, running a hand through his hair. "More than once. People don't like hearing their masterpiece is actually a knockoff. Had one guy swear up and down I was lying, threatened to sue."
"What happened?"
Edward shrugged. "I directed him to another appraiser, who told him the same thing. He backed down real quick after that."
I'd laughed, shaking my head. "So basically, you travel around telling rich people if their art is real or not."
"Pretty much," he said, pressing a quick kiss to my forehead before grabbing his keys. "Pays well, though. And every once in a while, I get to uncover something incredible—something lost to time."
That was hours ago.
Now, I was up to my elbows in soapy water, scrubbing the last of the dishes when the sharp ring of the phone cut through the quiet. I almost ignored it, but a quick glance at the screen made me pause.
Dr. Foreman.
I sighed, wiping my hands on a dish towel before answering. "Leah," his voice came through, steady, calm. Too calm. I knew that tone—like he was about to tell me something I didn't want to hear.
"Dr. Foreman," I said, moving to lean against the counter, my voice already dry. "What's up?"
"I wanted to check in. Seth's next session is on Friday as we're all aware, but that's not why I'm calling."
My stomach twisted slightly, and I gripped the phone tighter. "Okay…"
"You've been doing everything you can for your brother. Making sure he's in therapy, getting him the help he needs, being there for him at every turn. That's admirable, Leah. Really, it is. But tell me—who's doing that for you?"
I scoffed, shaking my head. "That's not—look, this isn't about me. Seth's the one who—"
"Seth's the one who what?" Foreman cut in smoothly. "Lost his mother? Went through something horrific? Struggles with the weight of it every day?" He paused, letting his words settle before continuing. "Leah, you saw it too. You lived it too. And before you say it's different—pain is pain. Trauma is trauma."
I swallowed hard, my nails digging into my palm. "I don't have time for this."
"You don't have time for yourself?"
My jaw clenched.
The worst part wasn't that he was wrong. It was that he wasn't.
But admitting that was something else entirely.
I pushed off the counter, pacing the length of the kitchen. "I don't need it."
"That's not true," he said, voice unwavering. "And you know it. You're running yourself into the ground trying to hold everything together. That's not strength, Leah. That's survival."
My throat tightened, but I clenched my jaw, swallowing down the weight pressing against my chest. "What do you want me to do? Sit in some office and talk about my feelings?"
"I want you to start your journey," he said. "You're doing everything to help Seth heal, but how are you going to help him if you fall apart in the process?"
I shut my eyes. "I'm fine."
"You're functioning," he corrected. "There's a difference. And sooner or later, ignoring your own pain is going to catch up to you."
Silence stretched between us, thick and heavy.
"I'm not forcing you," he finally said. "But I am asking you—just try it. One session. See how it feels. What's the worst that could happen?"
I let out a slow breath, my pulse drumming behind my ears. The worst that could happen?
That I'd actually let myself feel it.
That I wouldn't be able to stop.
But still, the words slipped out before I could stop them. "...Fine. One session."
"Good," Foreman said, relief clear in his voice. "I'll set it up."
I ended the call before he could say anything else, staring at my phone like it had just betrayed me.
One session.
I could survive that.
Right?
But, why did I feel like I wanted to cry suddenly?
...
..
.
