Carry Me Home (8 page)

W
e’re here.” Tanner veers off the main road and bumps along a gravel driveway fringed with live oaks. The car windows are down, and crickets hum from the grasslands.

“Will we wake your aunt up?”

“Nah, Sue’s not home. She works as a flight attendant. This place is her retirement plan and hideout for when she’s on vacation.”

The headlights flash onto a cabin and then a white, circular, durable-looking tent, and suddenly I’m grinning ear to ear despite everything revealed this evening. “A yurt! I’ve always wanted to stay in one of these.” As we get out of the car, an unfamiliar shyness takes hold. “Are we sharing the same room?”

“Yeah.” He fiddles with his key chain. “There’s only one bed.”

If we go inside, Tanner and I are turning a corner. No way can what happened earlier in the evening, at my studio, go ignored. Tanner’s a bundle of Christmas lights turning on and off. He doesn’t know which side is up and somehow thinks I’m going to be the one who teaches him.

But I don’t have a lesson plan ready to go.

“Think I might go stretch my legs,” I say, shifting my weight.

“You want to take a walk? Now?”

“I’m not scared of the dark.” But I’m terrified of what might happen if I go into that yurt.

“Let me get our stuff inside and I’ll come—”

“No.” I’m too quick with the answer. He freezes. God, it’s so easy to do damage, to cause him more hurt. “I just need a little fresh air. You have to admit, tonight’s been pretty heavy.”

He gives a curt nod, and I know what I am doing. Pushing him away.
Don’t touch. Stay back.
The same thing Pippa must have done. I hate that Tanner suffered in that relationship, and I hate that none of us knew how much she suffered. It was too much of a burden for her to carry and way too much responsibility for Tanner. He always ends up taking care of everyone. I don’t want to be another problem, and I have never seen a normal functioning relationship firsthand, where partners are equal, share rather than struggle.

I take off toward the wide grassy knoll. Santa Cruz isn’t a big city, but up here in the foothills, silence reigns. I still and allow my senses to attune to the surroundings. No, silence isn’t the right word. Life thrums all around. My body practically buzzes from the vibrations. Insects call. A gentle wind blows through the branches. Grass swishes against my calves.

In moments like these, it’s almost as if I can see how everything threads together. My part of the greater patchwork isn’t the best or the showiest, but tonight I need to be happy with my little square in the universe. And in the yurt waits a guy who is threadbare. I know only one way to patch him back together.

I turn and make my way back.

Tanner is in the shower when I let myself inside. There’s a wooden rocking chair in the corner. I walk over, sit, and close my eyes. Behind the wall, he’s naked, soapy, skin flushed from the hot spray. I could join him. He wants me. The space between my legs throbs to the beat of my heart. What’s set in motion between us isn’t going to stop.

I rock, straighten my backbone, and focus my attentions. Imagine each breath spiraling through the open door, to the sky, leaving the atmosphere. A quiet prayer. Please. Please don’t let me fuck this up. My hands grip the rocking chair’s sides hard, hands that ache to touch his wet skin.

The water turns off and he’s out, rubbing a towel over his body.

I’m going for it, can’t help myself.

I tried my best to be my own island.

Turns out my best isn’t nearly good enough.

The door opens and he stands, backlit in a tight white T-shirt and pair of low-slung jeans. His mop of hair is wet, slicked back from his striking face.

“Good, you’re back,” he says. “I didn’t like you out there alone.”

“I was fine. Nothing scary outside.”

He frowns, catching my double meaning. “I decided to sleep in the back of my car.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“I don’t mind.”

Of course he doesn’t. He’d sleep on bare concrete if he thought it would be easier for me.

“I get it.” He backs toward the door. “Tonight’s been extreme. You want space. I’ll go—”

“Stop.” I’m in the darkest corner, in this rocking-chair throne, the queen of the shadows. There’s a great mystery at work. How can my heart be chained to this guy and still feel free?

A bead of water drops from his thick hair and falls to his shoulder. Then another. Tiny wet patches appear on his shirt each time one makes impact. The way he watches me, his gaze writes a secret poem on my skin. “Tell me you don’t want me,” he says. “Say you’re not interested, and nothing will happen.”

I want to curl into a ball. Instead I stand.

“Sunny,” he whispers, and it’s hard to know if he intends my name as a question or an answer. Funny, the way it sounds like both.

My lids flutter as he closes the distance. He’s tall enough that when he bends, his face buries into the top of my head. He inhales as if I’m a secret flower. I wish I only ever bloomed for him. A stupid notion. This moment would be perfect if it weren’t us. If we were other people.

I move to hook my fingers into his belt loops but aim too high and brush his stomach instead. His abdominal muscles flex, and there’s my cue to explore. I can’t help but inch under the cotton, trace the thick muscles that make up his defined V-line. My nails gently cut to the top of his jeans. His groan vibrates into my skull.

He’s slipping, less careful with every ragged breath. His skin heats under my fingertips. There’s no choice. There’s never been with him.

Every place my fingers travel pulls from him a different sound. Together we compose something beautiful from the carnage in our lives. He drops his hands to my waist as I loop my arms around his neck, hikes me belly to belly. I jump, fasten my legs around his narrow hips, let his erection press where I need it most.

I rock into him, hard, and his mouth explodes on mine like a wet, hot grenade. He bites my lower lip, and even though I’m scared, I’m not scared of him anymore. He settles me on the bed, stands between my splayed legs, and hesitates at my shirt’s buttons.

“There are a lot,” he whispers. “Fuck it.” He tears open the front, and the little glass buttons
ping
off the wall, scatter across the floor while I kick off my skirt.

I don’t have on a bra and am wearing only a thong, which he wraps in one hand and yanks free as if it’s nothing but a scrap of cloud.

“I hope you’re taking me clothes shopping in Vegas.” I gasp as he sucks my neck. I’m naked and he’s still clothed. Not fair. He’s seen me, or at least enough of me. It’s my turn.

He hears my thought and fists off his shirt, throwing it over one shoulder. I like his muscles. The way they bunch and flex, the light blond dusting of hair across his chest, the darker, thick line disappearing beneath his waistline. He unzips his jeans, stands in black boxer briefs, and pulls a condom from his wallet.

“Hang on. I should check the expiration date,” he says, examining it.

“Oh, Tanner.” I slide to the edge of the bed and take his hand. “Are you sure about this?”

His eyes hood, his breathing quickens, and then he turns me around, spanning my breasts between his big hands, biting my shoulder. My knees sink into the feather-down mattress, his dick hard against my ass. I grind back, getting the growl I seek. I’m not going down without a fight, and something tells me he needs it rough, hard enough to pound through any self-doubt. Lucky for him, that’s my favorite way to play.

There’s a tearing sound. A tremble runs through me as he puts the condom on. He slides a hand between my legs to find me more than ready and hauls me back against his haunches, burying himself with a sudden deep thrust. I didn’t expect such a power play. My mouth opens, but no sound escapes. For a moment I don’t move—I can’t. I just let him fill me, slowly adjusting to his thickness. He lets out a husky groan, slides out, then fills me until I’m broken and whole. His next thrust is harder. I shove my ass back, giving as good as I receive. I’m not facing him, and yet, with his whole body anchoring me, every point of our connection is hypersensitive.

I reach to touch myself, and he knocks away my hand.

“I got this.” The gruff, unfamiliar note to his voice constricts my inner muscle as he begins to rub me. He’s in the moment. This is pure unfiltered Tanner, no censoring or editing. He’s taking what he wants, and right now that’s me.

It’s fucking hot.

He fills me again and again as I settle the back of my head against his shoulder. The build is there, just ahead, the last
tick-tick-tick
of the roller coaster, but for once I don’t want to go over. I’m not ready. I want to keep climbing.

“Sunny,” he chokes, and as he falls, I let him take me down, down, all the way down.

We slow, breathing hard against each other, the sweat from our bodies making a soft, sticky sound.

“Christ, Sunny,” he breathes. “You’re everything.”

A single tear slides over my cheek. Tanner Green is turning me into something impossibly fragile, a line of moonlight slashing across the water.

You’re everything
. Those two words enter my bloodstream and circulate like a drug. It’s dangerous to get hooked on the feeling that you matter, that you are cared for.

Thank God I’m facing out so he doesn’t see, he doesn’t know. I’m his. I’ve always been his.

I
wake at first light, and for once my first conscious sensation isn’t gut-shredding guilt, but disorienting sweetness. Sunny’s red hair splays across my bare chest. Our fingers are laced. Beneath the back of my hand is her breast, so small, barely even a rise when she’s stretched out like this, at peace, lips parted, one arm thrown carelessly over her head. Her nipples are sensitive, more than I’d imagined. The urge strikes me to bend down and lick the point, circle it with my tongue until it hardens. What happened last night was mind-blowing. I felt her tight pulse over every inch of my dick.

She opens her eyes, and her bright gaze locks on mine like she’s never had them closed. “Hey, good-lookin’.”

I smile back. She rolls to snuggle and freezes midway.

My arm half extends to gather her closer, but I don’t know what to do with this sudden tension. Old habits are hard to break, so I stiffen and draw back.

“I should shower.” She throws back the blankets and puts distance between us in record time. She’s a pro at the hookup, getting out as soon as possible.

“Sunny.”

“Don’t worry.” She blows me a kiss. “I’ll save hot water.”

I don’t want her twisting what happened into a joke. “Hey—”

But she’s shut me out. The shower turns on.

It’s impossible to stay in bed, so I get up and neaten the destroyed bedding. We didn’t go easy on each other, but she seemed to like it, and I know I did. But night’s gone, and we’re supposed to be in Las Vegas by late afternoon. It’s a long drive, around eight hours, so we’ll need to leave soon anyway.

At least that makes a good official story.

She comes out twisting a scarf around her hair. The hard edge to her smile keeps me quiet. She’d said we needed to get each other out of our system. It looks like she’s drawn the windows and closed up shop. Whatever magic happened last night is long gone.

“Come on.” I grab my backpack. “Let’s hit the road.”

We drive over the Sierras and into the desert. The landscape turns harsher, drier, and the road is mostly empty, except for people like us, people passing though. Delilah lives in a place like this? How could you trade the ocean, leave Santa Cruz for this barren isolation? I don’t ask Sunny. She’s sleeping, or at least wants me to believe she is. The way her fingers curl every once in a while tells me she’s awake. Pippa used to fake sleep, too, when she didn’t want me to try to help her. She’d say she was tired and would lie stiff as a board. But I knew the difference between sleep breathing and real breathing and still do.

I pull into a truck stop for lunch. We head into the dingy diner, one with mounted animal heads on the walls and background music set to a country twang. We slide into a booth and look over the menu. The only thing without meat or cheese is a side salad. Rural Nevada isn’t exactly a vegan hot spot.

“Is that going to be enough?” I ask her.

“Probably not.” She throws the menu to the Formica with force.

“Want to talk?”

“Sorry.” She points to her temples. “Headache.”

I’m not used to this subdued version of Sunny. She’s always the one who smiles the brightest, talks the loudest, does the craziest stuff. Out the window, a trucker stands by the road, smoking. “I’m going to make a call,” I say after a few minutes of uncomfortable silence. “We can try to eat somewhere else, but—”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll suffer through the iceberg lettuce.” She puts on her sunglasses and starts stacking Sweet’N Low packets.

I go outside and hit Ford’s number in my contacts. He doesn’t know I’m coming. I booked a hotel room on the Strip but want to see him sooner rather than later. The call goes right to voice mail. Shit. I have his landline, so I try that. Someone picks up on the third ring.

“Hello?” The girl sounds frazzled. There’s a baby crying in the background.

“Hey, is Ford there?”

“Who’s this?” She sounds a little suspicious.

“Tanner Green.”

“Oh.” The pregnant pause makes me clench my teeth. “He’s in LA.”

“For real?” Goddamn it. I punch the brick wall. Man, I need a break. I really do. “When’s he coming back?”

“Look, Tanner…” It sounds like she’s adjusting the phone because there’s a muffled noise and then the baby’s crying gets louder. “Call his cell. He’ll want to talk to you.”

“I already left him a message.”

“Then wait. He’ll be in touch. Listen, I have to go.”

“Yeah. I get it. Oh, and hey, congrats on the baby.” Is being a teen parent a cause for congrats? I don’t even know.

“Thanks. Bye now.”

Ford wants to talk? Doubtful. Or maybe he wants the chance to say fuck off. We’ve always had a rivalry, and that last competition was his big chance to take me down. Everyone knew it.

When Pippa died, people were sad because they thought I lost my girlfriend. No one knew we’d broken up. When I won the competition, people congratulated me even though I knew someone else was better.

I keep being shoved into these roles where I’m living a life that’s not mine.

What I need to do is say, “This is what I want,” and go for it.

And what I want is sitting inside that shitty highway diner.

Vegas lights are always a shock after the long dark of the desert. We arrive on the Strip just after dark. “So about the call I made?” I say. “Earlier, at the diner?”

“Yeah?” Sunny’s conversed only in monosyllables all day. Does she regret having sex with me?

“My friend Ford’s not in town. Turns out he’s in LA.”

“That sucks.” She grabs ChapStick from her purse, smears it on her lips.

That shouldn’t turn me on, but my hard-on begs to differ. If I’m going to ask, now’s the time. “I was wondering…Will you spend another night with me?”

She gives me an alarmed glance. “Thought we agreed last night would be a onetime thing. A little fun on the side.”

“I never said that’s what I wanted. You aren’t a fling to me, Sunny. You aren’t a random hookup. You’re every—”

“Don’t act like
hookup
is such a bad word. Guys sleep around all the time, and for whatever reason that makes them even more awesome. Girls do the same and get judged. Such a fucking double standard.”

“I’m not holding you to any criteria. I’m saying that I like you and I want to be with you and I think that you liked being with me.”

“It felt good, but…” Her forehead wrinkles like she’s working out a puzzle. “I wouldn’t say I liked it.”

I try to focus on the growing amount of traffic, my lips pressed tight.

“That came out all wrong.” Her voice is quiet. “I loved it. I’ve never had that kind of connection with someone.”

Hope flares in me. “Then say yes.” I reach over and take her hand. “Please. Stay another night. You have to be at your mom’s tomorrow. I get it. But let me have this one night.”

She rolls down the window and dangles her free hand out, lets her fingers surf the breeze. “Okay. I’ll stay.”

My shoulders drop. “Thank you.”

“But let’s go out first.”

“On the Strip?” I don’t want to be in some scene. I just want her, alone, with me, figuring out what we are to each other.

“I haven’t been here since I turned twenty-one.”

I’d buy her airy offhand tone better if she weren’t keeping her gaze averted. “Okay.”

“I want an epic night.”

“Me too.” But I can’t shake the feeling that we have different definitions.

We check into the hotel, and Sunny doesn’t budge from the doorway to our room. The bed is huge, king-sized. She won’t look at it. “Ready?” she asks. “First drinks are on me.”

We hit a kitschy tiki lounge nearby, a dimly lit joint blasting Jawaiian music and lined with bamboo pots and carved wooden masks. I go to order two beers.

She puts a hand over mine, silencing me midorder. “One does not enter a tiki bar for beer.” Instead she shouts, “Two Bearded Clams.” She gives me a wink. “Trust me—one of these bad boys will lift your grass skirt.” The bartender passes mine over and I take a tentative sip. Sick. It’s way too sweet. Sunny pounds hers in a few gulps.

“Ah.” She spills a bit on the bar and uses the edge of her skirt to mop it up. “So much better. Onward and upward.”

Then she’s dragging me to the next place, an ultramodern bar, all glass and techno with hookahs on the table. Our table gets littered with more and more glasses. She switches to tequila. I can’t keep up. I don’t drink a lot, hardly ever do.

“Dance with me.” She stands and gestures toward the bodies grinding beneath the DJ booth.

“That’s not my scene.”

“It is tonight.” Her eyes shine, but they are almost too bright. A hectic color flushes her face.

“Sunny—”

“Come on, Gramps.” We get on the floor. She doesn’t rub against me like I expect. Instead she closes her eyes and starts to weave her hips in a hypnotic figure eight, her head arched back, her lips parted. I can’t move. I’m mesmerized. Then she turns around. God, the way her ass shakes? It’s like I never want to look at anything else again.

She starts dancing with a cute blond girl. They brush on each other, and people around start to take notice. Two hot girls might be the ultimate for a lot of guys, but the only thing it’s doing is making me vaguely jealous. I don’t want to watch some big performance. I want Sunny with me, back in our room, in bed.

She threads her hands through the other girl’s long hair and they grind closer. The girl cups Sunny’s ass, and someone gives a wolf whistle. I turn and walk back to our table. She doesn’t notice I’m gone.

I text Ford,
Call me
, then finish my drink. Sunny comes over, arm slung around her new friend.

“Chloe.” Sunny slurs a little. “Meet Tanner. Tanner, Chloe.”

“I want to leave.” I yell to be heard over the throbbing music.

“Good idea. Let’s go.” Sunny smushes her cheek against Chloe’s face. “She’s coming too. She’s at the same hotel as us. Isn’t that crazy?”

“Great.”
Just fucking great.

We walk to our place. Turns out Chloe is here on some business, working a trade show. I don’t get why Sunny insists on bringing her along.

When we get back to the hotel, I give Chloe a stiff smile, more than ready to wrap up. “Good to meet you. Have a nice night.”

She frowns, an uncertain expression flickering over her dainty features. “But I thought—”

“She’s coming up to the room for a nightcap,” Sunny says, stepping between us.

“We don’t have any alcohol,” I answer.
And you don’t need any more.

“I used to be a Girl Scout.” Chloe giggles, opening her bag and pulling out a silver flask. “Always prepared.”

“Oh my God.” Sunny lets out a little squeal. “You are so cute. Isn’t Chloe cute, Green? And so fucking hot?”

What’s happening here?

Sunny blows past me to the elevator. “Ready to get it up?” she asks, directing a smirk in my direction before eyeing Chloe up and down. “I mean, go up?”

The elevator doors close, and it’s hard to ignore that I’m wedged between two girls. They lean in to me, get close, then closer. Sunny’s hand snakes around my waist. She turns me to face Chloe.

“Tell me you don’t want her?” she whispers.

The elevator doors open to two guys in suits waiting. They give me a wink and a thumbs-up as we exit.

No. This is not what it looks like. I don’t want Chloe. Whatever game Sunny’s playing doesn’t have winners.

“I’ve had enough.” I pull out our key card. “Today was a lot of driving. I’m ready to crash.”

Sunny follows me into our room. “Come in.” She’s not talking to me.

She better not be thinking what I think she’s thinking.

Chloe shuts the door as Sunny turns on a lamp by the bed. She lies down and holds out her hand to Chloe. They cuddle, their long hair mingling together, the blond and the red.

My neck muscles are so tight my teeth hurt. I have to stop this. I have to stop Sunny.

“Snuggle us.” She flexes her toes at me. The nails are painted a pale sea blue.

“I’m fine standing.” I lean back against the dresser and take off my hat. “What the hell is going on?”

“You said you wanted another night.” Sunny rolls on one side and strokes Chloe’s shoulder. “Thought we’d go big or go home.”

“No.” The word is out before I can even think. It’s a reflective instinct.

“No?” Sunny’s brow wrinkles. “I don’t think you understand. Two girls, Tanner. That’s like what, every guy’s biggest wet dream?”

“Not mine.” My hands are in two tight fists. I walk to the window, look down at the bustling city street.
What the fuck?
My heart is beating hard.

“Maybe I should leave.” Chloe sounds uncertain. “This seems like—”

“Stay.” Sunny’s voice is firm. “Tanner’s got to learn how to let loose.”

“Go.” I turn around and address Chloe straight up, no bullshit. “You seem like a nice girl, but whatever you thought would happen here, isn’t.”

“But you’re Tanner Green.” Her voice takes on a whiny edge. “I mean, you’re, like, famous.”

A sharp pain spreads between my shoulders. Sunny baited the girl using my name? Brought her back to the room for me to fuck? My chest tightens and I’m nauseated. “Time to go. Party’s over.”

“Green,” Sunny snaps. “Stop.”

“You. Stop.” In an instant I shift from shocked, sickened even, to straight-up pissed. Shaking pissed. Gut-curling pissed. I break down my defenses for Sunny and this is what she gives me in return? A half-assed offer of a threesome with a drunk starfucker?

Chloe scuttles past and pauses at the door. “Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

She huffs out, slamming the door.

“What’s up your ass, Green?”

I turn and move toward the bed. Sunny shoves off the mattress and stalks toward me. She wants to fight fire with fire? Fine. Let’s burn it down.