After We Fell (After 3) - Chapter 161

“How is Tessie doing?” Richard asks me the moment I walk in the door.

“Why are you wearing my clothes, again?” I groan, not necessarily expecting an answer from the man but knowing I’m going to get one anyway.

“I only have that one shirt you gave me, and I couldn’t get the smell out of it,” he replies, rising to his feet.

“Where’s Landon?”

“Landon’s in the kitchen.” My stepbrother’s voice carries into the living room from behind me. A moment later he joins us, a dish towel in his hands. Drops of soap fall to the floor, and I scowl at him for not making Richard do the damn dishes.

“So how is she?” he asks.

“She’s good. Fuck. In case anyone was wondering, I’m good, too,” I gripe.

The apartment is much cleaner than it was when I left it. The stacks of shitty manuscripts that I had planned to throw away are now gone, the tower of empty water bottles I had built on the coffee table is nowhere to be seen, and even the dust mound that I’ve grown used to watching grow has disappeared from the corners of the television stand.

“What the fuck happened in here?” I ask both of them. My patience is wearing too thin, given that I’ve only been in this apartment for a couple of minutes.

“If you mean what happened, as in why did we clean the place—” Landon begins, but I cut him off.

“Where’s all my shit?” I pace across the floor. “Did I ask either of you to touch any of my shit?” My fingers move to pinch the bridge of my nose, and I take a deep breath in an attempt to control my sudden anger. Why would they just clean my fucking apartment without asking me first?

I look back and forth between the two of them before stalking off to my bedroom.

“Someone’s in a mood,” I hear Richard remark just as I reach the door.

“Just ignore him . . . he misses her,” Landon quickly says.

As a fuck-you to both of them, I slam the door as loudly as possible.

Landon is right. I know he is. I could feel it as I drove away from that damned city, away from her. I could feel every single tendon and muscle in my body tighten the farther I got from her. Every single fucking mile widened the gaping hole inside of me. A hole that only she can fill.

Cursing at every asshole on the highway helped maintain my temper at a slow burn, but it wasn’t going to suffice for long. I should have stayed in Seattle a few more hours, convinced her to take the week off and come home with me. With the way she was dressed, I shouldn’t have given her a choice.

The more I sink into my thoughts, the more I find myself visualizing her half-naked body. Her skirt was bunched up around her waist, creating the sexiest sight. As I rocked into her repeatedly, she promised not to forget me during the long week ahead and told me how much she loved me.

The more I think about the way she kissed me and then kissed me again, the more agitated I become.

My need for her is stronger than it’s ever been. It’s lust and love melted together—no, the need I have for her goes much deeper than lust. The way we’re connected while making love is indescribable, the sounds she makes, the way I’m reminded that I’m the only man who has ever made her feel that way. I love her and she loves me, end of fucking story.

“Hey,” I say into the receiver, having called her before I even realized what I was doing.

“Hey. Is something wrong?” she asks.

“No.” I look around my bedroom. My newly tidied bedroom. “Yes.”

“What’s wrong? Are you home?”

No, it’s not home. You’re not here. “Yeah, and your fucking dad and Landon are on my last fucking nerve.”

She lets out a little chuckle. “It’s been, what, like probably ten minutes you’ve been home. What did they do already?”

“They cleaned the entire apartment, moved all my shit around. I can’t find anything.” I wish there was a dirty shirt on the floor or something I could kick.

“What’re you looking for?” she asks, but in the background I hear another voice on her end.

It takes everything I have not to ask her who the hell she’s with. “Nothing specific,” I admit. “But what I’m saying is that if I did want to find something, I wouldn’t be able to.”

She laughs. “So you’re mad that they cleaned up the apartment and you can’t find something you’re not even looking for?”

“Yeah,” I say with a grin. I’m being a fucking baby, and I know it. She knows it, too, but instead of chastising me, she giggles.

“You should go to the gym.”

“I should drive back to Seattle and fuck you over your bed. Again,” I fire back. She gasps, and the sound resonates deep inside me, making the need for her stronger.

“Um, yeah,” she whispers.

“Who’s with you?” I lasted about forty seconds there. Progress.

“Trevor and Kim,” she replies slowly.

“You’ve got to be kidding me.” Fucking Trevor is always around. He’s becoming more of a nuisance than Zed, and that’s saying a fucking lot.

“Har-din . . .” I can tell she’s uncomfortable, and she doesn’t want to explain herself in front of them.

“Ther-esa.”

“I’m going to go to my room for a minute.” She politely excuses herself, and while I listen to her breathing, I grow more and more impatient.

“Why is fucking Trevor at your house?” I say, sounding more like a lunatic than I’d planned on.

“This isn’t my house,” she reminds me.