Page 41 of Forever After Fall

Fannie’s sister is who I am in this town. The same way the sky is blue.

“Darlin’, I forget my own name. You walk in, and I don’t give a damn about anything else.” He lets out a rumbling, self-deprecating laugh. “So yeah. I forget you’re her sister, and even when I do remember, it doesn’t make one single bit of difference to me.”

“It would make a difference to a lot of other people. They’d have all kinds of thoughts. A lot of words too. And I imagine a few names.”

“The people who matter in our lives wouldn’t.”

“Not even Ford?” I get to the heart of the matter. “I might not be his mom. He may never think of me that way. But since you never got remarried, you’re right. I’m the closest he’s got, and I can’t lose that.”

“I don’t want him to lose that either.”

“What if he hates this? Us?”

“He won’t hate it. He’s barely even aware you’ve been around more. He’s too focused on his own life to care what we’re doing.”

“You’re sure about that?”

“I know my son.” Anson pushes off the wall and closes the distance between us. “And he loves you so much that if he did find out, he’d never hate it. He might worry about losing you if things ended badly between us. But I meant what I said when we started this. For me, this doesn’t change anything else we have. You’re still part of this family, and I hope I’m part of yours even though you know the truth now.” He takes my hand and runs his thumb over my knuckles before meeting my eyes.

“Of course you are. Always.” I promise.

He kisses me, softly at first, but then his hand slips to my waist, and he pins me against the wall. His kiss turns deeper, more pointed, and if I didn’t know better, I’d swear he was claiming me for something more than what we’ve been doing.

EIGHTEEN

Bristol

After the heart-stopping kiss last night, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Anson. The potential for something more and the offer he made me in the changing room are replaying in my head. The way he must have hurt those first few years after Fannie. All that he’s done for me and everyone else. I want more of his confessions. More of the man beneath all the hard work and stoicism.

He’s been patiently letting me lead the way in this whole friends-with-benefits deal and always giving me what I want. I want to put him first the same way he does for everyone he loves in his life. But the only way for us to get there, especially after he spilled his heart on the floor last night, is to show him I can be vulnerable for him too. I’m just hoping I can walk the line without making a mess of this perfect thing we have going.

I lied before

When I said I didn’t have a fantasy. I do. But I’m scared to tell you what it is.

ANSON:

There’s nothing to be scared of.

Judgment free zone here.

Unless you want me to wear one of those blow up T.rex outfits or something. I mean. I’d do it but I don’t know how serious I could be about it.

I burst into loud laughter that earns me a raised brow from one of my customers. I mumble an apology and sneak behind a row of shelves before I answer him. I’m still picturing him in the costume, bumbling around with tiny arms and a tail.

I’m not even sure how that would work. Are there access panels on those things?

ANSON:

I don’t know. This is your fantasy. You tell me.

My laughter dies as I try to work my courage back up to telling him I just want to have sex in his bed. That should be so simple right? But it would be crossing a line for us. A big one. Dragging this thing we’re doing in back rooms and store alcoves right into the heart of his home. That’s a bigger ask than he might be willing to take on. Not just because of us, but because I don’t think he’s ever brought anyone home since Fannie.

He turned their old bedroom into a lounge area for him and Ford and moved into a smaller bedroom down the hall. Bought a whole new bedroom set. I assumed at the time it was the grief. Missing her and not wanting to drown in it. Not wanting to see the things she’d touched every day and know she’d never be in his bed again. But after his confession I imagine it was probably a lot more complicated for him than I ever knew.

I’d always given him a wide berth. I avoided his bedroom even when I helped with chores around the house while babysitting Ford over the years. It felt like invading a part of his space he didn’t let anyone in.

At least not until the night of the bat incident. He practically forced me to take a nap and refused to just let me hit the couch. It took me forever to fall asleep. Too busy cataloging all the little things about his room and him that I’d never known before. The smell of his soap and cologne on the sheets. The way he arranges his watch and wallet on the dresser. When I finally had drifted off to sleep, I’d had another dream. Another version of us as strangers, but one where he drags me back to that bed and tells me he wants me. Not just for now but for always. Ever since then, I can’t stop imagining us in that room. In that bed. Even if it’s just once, I want the chance for it to feel real between us.