He’s trying to make a joke of it, but I can’t stand to listen to this. “Hart –”
“Nah.” He cuts me off again. “I’ll never get outta here. And we both know it. There’s no place else for me to go. It’s too crowded out there. Too many damn people in the world.”
Too many damn feelings in the world. That’s what he means.
He’d never survive all their pain. He hadn’t even been able to go to school up in Kinter. Becky pulled him out halfway through kindergarten so she could teach him at home. The little cinder block building packed full of big emotions had been too much for him to handle. He’d started hurting himself. Slicing at his little arms with chunks of broken glass and sharp bits of plastic. Pulling his hair out. Chewing the skin off his lips.
I push myself to my feet. The boat rocks under me, and I lay a hand on Hart’s chest to steady myself. I feel his rhythm. That constant thumping under his ribs.
The boat rocks again, and we both stand there trying to find our balance together. It feels like forever since I’ve stood on solid ground.
The night presses in, heavy and wet.
Hart studies me with dark eyes, and everything inside me melts together into a solid lump that settles somewhere low in my stomach. I feel the sudden heat of it.
He grins and cocks his head to one side. I blush in the dark and try to take a step backward, but I’m too late. He grabs my hand and my heart races.
Shit.
The bemused look on his face tells me that he knows exactly what I’m feeling. No use trying to hide it.
Hart hooks a lazy finger through my belt loop and pulls me against him. His other hand reaches around behind me to snake its way under my tank top. Rough fingers on my skin. I gasp out loud as my bones dissolve.
“Greycie.” My name catches in his throat as he bends low to brush his lips against mine. It’s not much of a kiss at first. More of an accident born of closeness. Like we’re both tumbling toward each other, and it’s our mouths that break the fall.
But then he pulls me harder against him. And I don’t resist.
He tastes different than he did at thirteen. Back then, he was all Dr Pepper and Big Red gum.
Now he’s seventeen.
Jack Daniel’s and Marlboros.
And it turns out his tongue definitely works.
Hart presses himself into me. Wet clothes and hot skin.
We take our time with each other. Slow but not gentle. I feel his teeth on my neck. Biting and sucking and pulling at me. Dismantling me bit by bit.
Stubble burns my cheek and his palms press hard against my back, sliding around to my sides to let his thumbs play over my hip bones.
I pull his bottom lip into my mouth, testing it with my teeth, nibbling on it as my fingers tangle in those sexy curls. I hear him moan, and a deep shiver runs through his whole body. He pulls back for a second to look at me.
“Fuck, Grey,” is all he gets out before we’re on each other again.
We kiss until my lips are swollen and my arms ache and all I feel inside is this desperate wanting. It swells and builds like a cresting wave. And that is so much better than anything else I’ve felt lately. It beats that broken feeling all to hell.
Because I’m not thinking about Elora. Or about my mother’s haunted eyes.
I’m only thinking about what I need. And what Hart needs. What feels good. And this feels good. Hart feels good.
Hart is what I need.
We need each other.
So bad.
When we finally stop to breathe, Hart untangles himself from me and takes a few steps backward. He’s blinking at me now. Almost like he’s trying to remember who I am. His mouth opens and closes like a fish when it’s pulled out of the water. Then he sinks down to sit on one of the peeling bench seats.
And I don’t know what to do. I’m not sure what he wants from me in this moment. So I sit down across from him and wait for my heart rate and breathing to drop back to normal.
That good feeling is slipping away fast, and the lost, hurting feeling comes rushing back in to fill in the void. Except it’s different this time.
It’s bigger.
Deeper.
It’s like we let ourselves feel one thing, and now everything is more raw. Even closer to the surface.
Elora’s absence stretches out between us like the Grand Canyon. Hart’s sitting inches away from me. I can still feel his lips on my neck. His fingers against my skin. But I don’t know how to reach him.
His breath hitches, and this strangled sound tears its way out of his throat. Hart drops his head to his hands, and I see his shoulders shake.
But no tears leak out.