Sweet Ache

“Yes ma’am,” I tell her, our eyes meeting for a beat, before I stand from the chair. And I can’t resist, something in her eyes, in the moment, has me squatting down in front of her. Her eyes narrow for a moment, but she doesn’t pull away from me when I reach out and place my hand on top of hers. “I think your boys are going to love you more than you’ll ever know. I think they already do.” I choke on my own words, on the emotion that clogs in my throat, and the need for her to know in the hopes on those days when her brain allows her to be present, she can carry the knowledge with her.

“What a sweet thing for you to say,” she says, angling her head. It takes her a moment but she slowly lowers her eyes to my hand on hers and then places her other hand on top of mine, sandwiching it in between her palms. We sit there for a beat, me absorbing the gentle and longed-for touch from my mother and recommitting it to memory.

She raises her eyes back up to mine and there is a clarity in the gray color that I haven’t seen in what feels like forever. In that moment our connection feels so real I almost believe she can remember me. I lean forward and press a kiss to her hand on top of mine, half expecting her to slap me, half not sure what to expect.

I keep my lips there for a beat, desperately wanting her to wrap her arms around me, pull me close, but know I have to take what I can get and this … this is ten times more than I’ve gotten in so very long. I just want it to last. But I know it won’t because she has a date with her beloved Joshy.

And the thought hits me that the date she has might have significance. That she might be communicating to me she knows her body is failing her. I hate the thought that creeps through my mind but I can’t shake it. Can’t get it out of my head.

I look up to my mother and say the words I need her to know, that I need to know I told her. “I love you, Mom. More than you’ll ever know.” I choke back the sob that tries to force its way out as all of the need for a mother’s love comes flooding back with a vengeance.

She gets the strangest look on her face, almost as if I’m crazy. “Oh, Hawke, don’t be silly,” she says, shooing me away, but I’m rooted still as her words hit my ears, as she tells me she remembers me. “You act like you’re not going to see me again. I’m just running to the store. You know I love you, you silly boy. To the moon and back.”

The tear leaks over and slides down my cheek, the smile tasting bittersweet on my lips as my mom gives me the only thing I’ve needed from her in the past five years. She may still think of me as a little boy in her mind but she’s just given me the greatest gift. She’s stitched closed the wounds in my soul with those simple words, made me the most complete person I’ve been in the longest time.

Has given me the capability and hope to love someone else.

I nod my head and selfishly force my feet to move, afraid if I stay too long she’s going to revert back and ruin this moment I so desperately needed. “Bye, Mom.”

“Mm-hmm,” she says and smiles softly before looking back out her window. I stare at her for a moment longer, memorizing this feeling I have, the lighter heart and clearer head.

Quinlan reaches over and links hands with me as I leave Westbrook for the first time with a fuller heart than the one I entered with. With each step we take into the parking lot I feel a rush akin to the one I get after being on stage. It’s a bittersweet emotion but shit, I’ll take it. I’ll take anything that doesn’t leave me with that churning in my gut.

Once we reach my car, our hands still linked, it feels like there’s so much possibility stretched out before us that I’m looking forward to the tour now. I’m excited to be trapped on a tour bus with Quinlan.

Damn. The thought takes hold as I look over and meet her eyes and that fucking jolt hits me just as hard as it did the first time I laid eyes on her. I’m riding my high of the present and possible future. Hell if I’m waiting for the tour bus when everything I want is right in front of me.

I pull her into my arms, lift her feet off the ground, and I’m already spinning her around when my lips meet hers to quiet her laugh.

Rocker trumps everyone when it comes to her.

QUINLAN

Hawke moves inside me.

My head drops back and his hard cock slides against my tensed muscles to heighten the pleasure starting to rock my world. The piano keys fill the room with a mangled sound when our bodies hit against them, my feet and his thighs.

We move at a demanding pace yet there is an underlying tenderness to it that resonates within me. Even if he tied me up and blindfolded me it wouldn’t hold a candle to how much he owns me, mind, body, and soul, right now. His intensity, his reverence, his rough edges turned smooth just for me pull on so many emotions that I can’t process them right now. I’m so overwhelmed, consumed by him, and saddened that he’s leaving in a matter of hours and I’m just not sure how I’m going to cope with him thousands of miles away even if it’s for just a few days.

I push it all away. Allow the moment to exist, the emotions to flow, and the pleasure to pull us into its addictive haze. It’s only us, only him, only this, and hell if that doesn’t make me the luckiest girl on the face of the earth.

“Quin.” He calls my name in that liquid sex rasp of a voice at the same time he stills his hips. Our eyes connect, sensations tackling me from every angle as we sit in the silence of the room. It’s a fleeting moment because we’re both chasing the pleasure the other one is offering, but it’s enough for me to see what I need to see in his eyes, even if he’s unable to say it.