But Kash… I love him. And his loss is heavier than I can bear. Whatever happened to him, whether he decided to leave or was taken, translates into this vast, dark absence that’s tearing me apart.
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When I think he might be dead, I want to scream and crawl into a deep hole, and never come out. If it wasn’t for Nate and West… I’m sure I would’ve done it many times over. I want to think I’m strong. But I wasn’t ready to let Kash go.
Nate has walked me back from work, and he’s puttering around in the kitchen—probably nuking something frozen for us to eat, since West isn’t around to make sure we eat properly. I listen to him curse and stomp around, and my heart lightens a little.
“Syd?” he calls out. “Didn’t we have pop in the fridge?”
“You finished it the other day!” I call out, and get up to go join him. I itch to decipher more of Kash’s words, but I need to eat and get ready for work. My head throbs. I haven’t been able to focus on anything today—actually for weeks. Not since Kash left.
Nothing feels important anymore—apart from my boys. Nothing registers—except for my boys’ touch. I need them to hold me, fill me, push me to feel, to forget. Guilt eats at me for wanting sex so much, for turning into a sex-obsessed nympho, but I need it. I need them as close as possible, to keep from sinking into sadness. Or madness.
I open my bag, pull out my pack of contraceptive pills and swallow one. I decided to get on the pill the first time we had real sex, when Kash was inside me, but only made my move after Nate’s tests came back clean. I’m so happy Nate is better, and devastated Kash is gone.
Even if every moment without him is tinged with sadness, for all of us. The guys are doing their best to hide it, like they always do, but I see it in every word they speak, every move they make. They miss him, and they’re worried, too. They feel helpless, and it hardens their eyes.
We’re still looking. Always looking, asking, searching.
“Syd!”
“On my way!” With a sigh, I cross the apartment and enter the small kitchen. “What delicious food have you prepared?” I study the plates on the table. “Are those supposed to be tacos?”
“Sure are. Dig in, girl.”
I sit and take a dubious bite. “You made this all by yourself?”
“Me and the oven. A relation old as time.”
“Ah-huh.” He inhales his taco-flavored mess, while I poke around in mine. “Thanks for…” Cooking is not the right word. “For taking care of me.”
He winks at me. “Chef Nate will always be at your service.”
My eyes grow hot even as I laugh. “Thanks. I mean it. I just…” I bite my lip. God, when will I stop falling apart all the time?
“Come here.” He doesn’t wait for me to move. He grabs me and hauls me onto his lap, though I don’t miss his wince. He may be strong, but his ribs are still bruised. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
“Don’t make fun.”
“I’m not. You’re pretty all over. That’s how you are.”
I can’t help a smile. This boy… “Thanks.”
“And clever. It’s why you’re so into me.”
I slap his arm lightly. “Smartass.”
“Aren’t you, though? Into me?”
“God, of course I am, silly boy.” I turn to kiss his cheek and he turns, too, so our mouths brush. “So much.”
“Good,” he growls and hauls me closer.
He’s getting better with contact, I think. I’m so frigging proud of him, and I hope his first sessions with the psychologist have helped. I hope they help a lot more, and I hope West agrees to go, too.
Then Nate’s hand delves under my blouse, and into my panties, and oh God… he’s getting so much better at many things that involve contact, and touching, and…
“Nate…” He’s circling my clit, getting me all worked up, pressure building in my belly. I’m getting wet from the combination of his clever touch and his proximity—his male spice scent, his muscular chest behind me, the rasp of his stubble when he kisses my neck.