Page 57 of Running Home to You
Kate stiffened and peered up at her. She’d slept nestled in Abby’s neck, locked in her arms, legs knitted together. Abby didn’t stir, lips slightly parted as she breathed. They’d slept next to each other before during road games, but never like this. Never close enough for Kate to detect the tinge of cardamom and salt from her skin or to relish its heat.
She scooted away, so close to climax that it hurt. But before she could completely detach, Abby’s arms tightened around her.
“Stay,” she murmured.
Her stomach somersaulted. She prayed it didn’t mean Abby had been awakened by Kate humping her leg. She wished to disappear when fingers traced between her shoulder blades. Kate’s lungs released enough for her to draw in the chilly mountain air. And Abby’s caress, more sweet than sexual, inspired her to dissolve into her while she reflected on how they ended up in a tangle of limbs.
She remembered being high. She remembered getting high because Abby thought she wouldn’t and shouldn’t. But she wanted some sort of vengeance, a defense against the anguish of Abby spending the summer having sex with tourists. The crushing truth that Abby wasn’t hers and she wasn’t Abby’s.
Abby muttered incoherently and rolled to her back. She kept hold of her as Kate rested her head on her chest and draped an arm across her stomach. Abby’s heartbeat echoed in her ear. Her chest oscillated as if on a sprint, and Kate wondered if it meant Abby was as turned on as she was. Just the prospect of Abby’s arousal rekindled Kate’s, and she sighed against it.
“Did you sleep all right?” Abby asked.
“Yeah.” Kate swallowed.
“You were funny last night.” Abby put her cheek on Kate’s forehead.
“Sorry,” Kate whispered.
“You feel okay now?”
“Just a little lightheaded.”
“Me too.”
Abby’s hand stopped stroking Kate’s back and shifted lower, rested on her hip, just above her ass. Abby turned so they were flush. Her eyes dilated and aimed at her mouth. Her lips coasted nearer. Kate clenched a fistful of her sweatshirt. She didn’t care about Blake or her family or God. Just those lips. She panted, prepared to jolt up to meet Abby, to end the ache, when the tent shook.
“Wake up!” T.K.’s shadow hovered outside. “I literally can’t go another minute without hot water or service.”
Kate jerked away from Abby, who groaned, “Fuck.”
“You guys, come on!” T.K. kicked the tent before stalking away.
“Are you okay?” Abby asked her.
Kate threw on her coat and tripped out of the tent. She hurried from the campsite, dodging trees and other campers, gasping, and staggering until she reached the lake. Fog drifted over the motionless water. Tears welled in Kate’s eyes. She berated herself for how far she let it go. For how close she came to betraying Blake and everything she’d been taught. Her stomach lurched. Kate leaned against a tree trunk and gagged. Nothing came up. Just panic and a few hiccups. She pressed her forehead to the bark.
“You okay?”
Kate whipped around to find Jill. “I’m fine,” she said.
Jill frowned as she wandered closer. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. I’m fine.”
“You don’t seem fine.”
“It’s probably just from the weed.” Kate didn’t know if that was possible, but she didn’t care, and was thankful that Jill simply went along with it.
“Yeah, probably,” she whispered before embracing her.
Kate sniffled into her shoulder. The enormity of her fear shrank her even further among the trees. Jill rocked her for the brief minute it took to recollect herself.
“You want to talk about it?” she asked.
“No,” Kate said.
Jill’s eyes met her with sympathy, and maybe a semblance of understanding. Part of her wished she knew. Wished that maybe Jill had the answer. But she knew with unbearable weight in her heart that no one else could help her. She prayed on the walk back to the campsite, but stopped halfway through, no longer sure that God would answer.
