Starlee's Turn (The Wayward Sons 2)

As the show unfolds and Sam, Castiel, and the others mill around the bunker worried and searching for Dean, who (typically) has been possessed by a deadly arch-angel, I realize more than ever the symbolism of the tattoo each boy has inked on their arm. Family is More Than Blood.

Sierra opened her home to these boys. Dexter gained three brothers. Just like Leelee took me in, and together we’ve forged a bond between neighbors and friends. I feel the heat of the boys around me.

George and Charlie surround me—both eating non-stop. Quietly, but non-stop. In my own silence, I lift George’s arm and run my fingers over the tattoo. He freezes and I feel Charlie’s eyes shift from the show to watch me touch his brother.

There’s no denying I came back out here for these guys. For my grandmother, for freedom. But at the time, I thought I was running away more than anything else. I didn’t want to go back home for a variety of reasons, but in an instant that shifts. Solidifies. I graze the taut skin of George’s arm and I know that there’s no way I can return home now. I’m one of them and they’re part of me.

I get it.

Nothing’s ever going to come between me and my family again.

He gets an hour. That’s all, and I plan my work schedule around it. On the days we’re together I come home, open the cottage with my key, do my chores for Leelee and then slip back to the cottage as dusk settles on the mountains.

The first few times I had to force him off the game, but after that it doesn’t take Charlie long to realize the reward is worth it. Now, it’s like he’s waiting for me. Clear-eyed and focused. Not on the game, but me.

The week after the Supernatural viewing party, I get caught talking to a tourist on my way out of the office. She’s just come from the National Park, with muddy boots from hiking the Meadows, and heard about our little town from ano

ther tourist. She was intrigued enough by what she heard about the amazing accommodations and food that she decided to drive out. I give her my suggestions, focusing on the Epic Café next door and the Wayward Sun for coffee and pastries. I’m ten minutes late to the cottage, and where a week ago Charlie would have been excited about having extra time on his game, that’s no longer the case.

“You’re late,” he says, with anxious eyes. He opens the door before I can insert the key. I step in quickly, making sure no one saw me walk back here.

“Got caught up leaving the office,” I say, taking off my coat. I toss it on the hardbacked chair. When I turn, he’s right in front of me, hands clenching around my waist.

We start where we left off the last time we were here; kissing gently and then a little harder. His lips are soft, his tongue eager. The pinch of his fingertips sends a thrill up my spine. I like to feel him—know that he wants me—know that I bring out the craving in him that used to be reserved for his game.

He’s got a real-life girl.

Like the last few times we met, Charlie guides me to the couch, where he sits and pulls me to his lap.

I’ve grown used to the feel of our bodies connecting like this; the hard arousal meeting the warmth between my legs. We keep everything over our clothes. We’re already breaking too many rules, telling too many half-truths, although I can tell it’s getting harder on him. The pure physical nature of it all. He doesn’t push me but more than once he’s had to ease me off his lap and go to the bathroom to get a handle on things.

There’s a subtle shift as I grind myself against him. His mouth moves to my ear and I hear the tiny pants of his excitement. My body is on fire—conditioned now to what’s coming—but we’re moving too fast and I lift myself on my knees, relieving the pressure. I don’t expect what comes next.

His hands move from my thighs around to my backside. My chest is in his face—not exactly what I’d intended, but his hot mouth makes contact with my breast, heat through fabric. His fingers slip casually between my legs. The sound that comes from me is unexpected. Embarrassing.

“Charlie,” I say, having no idea what’s going to come out of my mouth next.

He looks up at me, mouth red, cheeks redder, eyes glazed behind his glasses.

We’re saved, literally by a bell.

His phone.

I ease myself back, accidentally landing on his lap in the process. He grunts but I grab his phone. Sierra’s name and face lights up the screen.

“Answer it,” I say, holding it out.

“Now?” His jaw is tight.

“Yes. Now.” I climb off his lap and head to the bathroom, hearing him answer as I shut the door.

I don’t look at myself in the mirror, instead sitting on the closed toilet to catch my breath. I care for Charlie. A lot. But I don’t want these meetups in the cottage to only be about sex. Once we go there, I’m not sure we can go back. Sure, I haven’t had sex with Dexter again but we’re both so busy, and we’re always being watched. That may be more out of a lack of convenience. Something Charlie and I have managed to work around.

I hear his voice through the door as he hangs up and then a knock on the door. “Starlee?”

“Yeah?”

“Can you come out?”