Falling Into Fate: A Stand-Alone Friends-to-Lovers Short Romance Read online

  Her back to me, she walks toward the window and wipes away a layer of grime with her sleeve. “This is where I was.” She turns around to face me.

  I say nothing because I’m beginning to piece it together, but I don’t want to jump to conclusions.

  “Oak Haven Youth Treatment Academy. This is where they brought me when I was fifteen years old. It is—or was—a private school for kids with behavioral problems.”

  My mind races back to where we were ten years ago. “The bulimia thing?”

  She nods. “And the ditching school. And the drinking. And all of the general teenage shit we used to get into. My parents were quietly wigging out about all of it, way more than I realized. One morning I woke up and got ready for school, and I thought it was weird that both Mom and Dad were there. Dad was usually at work already. Turns out, he took the day off to make sure Mom didn’t have any trouble with me when checking me in.”

  I am horrified. “Checking you in …they ambushed you?”

  “They knew I wouldn’t go quietly.”

  “Why did your parents tell me you went to live with your grandparents out of state?”

  Billie is strangely calm and serene in this setting, while I’m growing even more upset. “Simple. They wanted to keep us apart. If you knew I was in a treatment facility, it wouldn’t matter whether I was allowed outside contact. You would find a way.”

  My chest feels tight. “I don’t know whether to put my fist through the wall or set something on fire.”

  She chuckles softly. “That’s why they didn’t tell you the truth. For the same reason, they told me you died. I mean, you did set a few fires in your day.”

  “Damn straight, I would have burned this entire town to the fucking ground if I’d known you were here and I couldn’t get to you.”

  “Ben,” she says, cupping her face with her palms. “I’m sorry you’re having such a strong reaction. I didn’t think it through. I thought it would be easier to show you than to explain it all. I—“

  And now she’s apologizing. I’m having none of that.

  Chapter Eight

  Billie

  Maybe I should not have brought him here.

  Maybe I should have just taken him to Ruby’s for a sandwich and a chat.

  Too late for that. The man in front of me does not appear interested in a burger and a lighthearted catch-up.

  “Everything got so fucked up,” he half-whispers.

  The two of us stare at each other from across the room, and the air between us seems to beg to be compressed. Neither of us makes a move for an infinity.

  The wait is torture. What’s he going to say? What are we going to do? Is he going to walk away to cool off? Punch something? Start a fire?

  Ben does none of that.

  He lunges.

  Everything shrinks down to just us. The world is made up of only his long fingers tangled in my hair, his rigid arms caging me against the wall of his torso. Roughly, earnestly and deeply, Ben’s lips find their home against mine.

  This kiss brings back everything I remember about that day when we were fifteen, yet it’s also so different. I remember this taste of alcohol on his lips and the smell of woodsmoke on his shirt. Wood shavings and turpentine from art class and woodshop. So many emotions flood back into my consciousness. I remember how much I thought about him while I was locked away in this room. Adults keeping me away from the one person who was my touchstone and yet wondering why I was rebelling against so-called treatment.

  When we break from the kiss, I have so much to say, but he speaks first.

  “Billie—I’m still getting used to calling you that—I missed you so much.”

  “I missed you, too. I did nothing but wish you were with me the whole time they kept me here. I kept your face in my mind. I’m so glad you kissed me that day because I held on to that. It kept me sane…until I believed that I’d never have you again. I’m sorry,” I say, cursing the tears leaking from my eyes. “I didn’t mean for this to happen. I don’t know what I was thinking, bringing you here. I didn’t think it would mess with me anymore, but….”

  I press my face into Ben’s chest and heave a sigh. All the emotions of the last ten years that I thought I’d dealt with are bubbling back up. I can’t feel my knees. “Hey. I got you.” Ben’s reassuring voice wraps me in warmth equal to the heat radiating from his body.

  The next thing I know, he’s pulling me down on top of him on the mattress. “Oh, honey, this mattress can’t be sanitary,” I chuckle, dabbing my eyes with my dress.

  “I’m your mattress now, baby.”

  Suddenly I’m no longer crying but snorting. “You’re such a dork. An adorable dork. And a good kisser.”

  He raises an eyebrow. “More adorable and a better kisser than last time?”

  Snaking my way up his torso, level with his gaze, I tell him the whole truth. “You were adorable at 15. The kiss…I’m not sure I can compare. I’ll need another sample.”

  I might have jokes, but he’s got none. Everything he says, he means. His hands cup my face still so he can kiss me again. This time, the delivery is just as intense as before but slower. He marks me with his lips, pressing upon me his intentions. He intends to make up for all the lost time. His kiss promises that this is just the beginning.

  “I’ve loved you and no one else, Billie.”

  My heart breaks for how lonely he was, how lonely we both were. “I should have known they lied. I should have looked—“

  He shushes me with another kiss, this one sweet and tender. “Doesn’t matter now.”

  I squeak in happiness and heartbreak, coming dangerously close to crying again. But his kisses, alternating between scorching and sweet, have a way of making me forget anything I might be sad about.

  This is right. This was meant to happen. The past is the past and the present—well, the present is cradling me like a porcelain doll while also nudging a rigid length of iron into my leg. I shift my weight to the side so I can slide one limb up, slowly, resting my thigh against that hardness. Ben breathes a half-sigh, half-groan into my mouth, full of appreciation for the friction. Feeling naughty, I run my thigh up and down his middle, removing any doubt the initial contact was an accident.

  He groans a little louder but deeper in his chest like he’s trying to hold back. Ben’s tongue teases my lips open, and I welcome the new sensation. My heart races as this hot, wet tangle of tongues seems to open up all sorts of new feelings everywhere in my body. My skin wants more contact; it wants this dress gone. My body wants to feel his hands against my skin. My nipples tighten, and I press them against his hard upper chest while the kiss deepens. My sex contracts, and moisture pools inside my panties.

  The kissing continues as Ben’s hand on my face begins to travel lower, exploring the span of my neck. His fingers curl around my throat, not squeezing but holding. Claiming me. I have no choice; my body lets him know I like this feeling of his fingers there; my pelvis takes on a mind of its own and grinds into his side, my thigh pressing harder against his stiff cock.

  He pulls away, and his eyes fill with dark longing. His eyes train on my reaction to his hand roaming lower, his finger tracing a line across my collar bone. I close my eyes, noticing the tingle, cursing the material separating most of my shoulders from his fingers. When his hand travels lower and cups my breast, I’m not ready.

  I startle and gasp. His hand pauses and pulls back. “Not okay?”

  I open my eyes. “It’s good. I like it. I just…nobody’s ever touched me there before. No one but me. I wasn’t ready. But now I am.”

  Ben’s brow knits together. I know what he’s thinking. He’s hesitating now. Oh, I know he’s with me, a hundred percent, but I also know he thinks he needs to slow everything down because of my lack of experience. He might want to press the brakes and try this another day. God, I hope not.

  “I have something to tell you,” he says. “You were my first kiss and my only.”

  We stare at each other for a moment, and the chasm in between us lengthens again. I’m confused. “All this time you never…?” But that can’t be right.

  It makes sense that I’m a virgin. I left everyone behind; changed my name both as a way to forget my past but also to send a message to my parents that I was done with anything that connected me to them. They could have pulled me out of that center anytime they wanted, but no matter how much I begged, they doubled down. When I finally gained my own autonomy, I maintained a relationship with my grandparents. Other than them, I retreated into myself, not trusting a single soul for anything other than casual friendship.

  But Ben? “Really?”

  “If I couldn’t have you, I didn’t want anyone.” He places a sweet kiss on my nose, then my forehead, then my lips, and says, “It’s always been you or nothing at all.”

  I choke out, “I was almost too embarrassed to tell you I was still a virgin.”

  His hand returns to caressing my breast, and my body eases into it. “Nothing is too embarrassing. I know you forward and backward like I always did. Just tell me what you want me to do, how fast or slow. Don’t be shy.”

  To let him know he’s not dealing with a shy, withdrawn Nora anymore, I grind against him once more, and I drag my hand down under the hem of his shirt. I flatten my palm against his lower stomach, thrilling at the fuzzy I find there as my fingers tease the waistband of his drawers.

  He growls into my mouth when his lips attack me once more. His hand kneads, stroking over my taut nipple. I lift my thigh and let my hand travel lower, gauging his length over top of his jeans. “I want the last thing to happen here to be a happy memory.”

  He grunts at my teasing hand, thrusting into it.

  I gasp as several things happen at once. Ben grabs my roaming hand and locks both my arms around his shoulders, then hikes up my dress, dragging his hand up my leg, over my cheeks, then around to the front. His deft hand tugs at the waistband of my undies, and his fingers slide against my skin, slowly making their way down to my split. A tidal wave of surprise and desire sends me into a state of pleasant shock. The newness is almost too much but oh, so good.

  Ben cups my folds like he owns my pussy, kissing me through these new feelings. The cupping turns to gentle petting while his mouth kisses down my neck and latches on to my nipple through my dress. The blaze building inside me is like nothing else I’ve ever felt. I memorize all of it: the brush of his soft shirt against my arms, his beard scratching against the neckline of my dress as he works the drawstrings open with his mouth. His fingers delving in between my folds. It’s all entirely too much and yet not enough.

  The passing of his fingers over my pussy, incidentally brushing my clit, makes me jerk in his arms and gasp once more. “Tell me to slow down if—“ he begins, but cuts himself off when I press into his hand and moan. Am I making too much noise? Not enough? Do I need to tell him with words or with my body?

  I give up asking myself questions. I barely can overthink anything when his fingers find my clit again. I whisper, “Yes, Ben.”

  His cheeks turn pink, and his eyes widen, realizing what he’s found. The hunger in his expression grows as he swipes his fingers over my clit, again and again. I feel as though all the blood pumping from my hammering heart is headed straight to my pussy. I’m lightheaded in the best way. And dripping.

  The feel of his tongue teasing my neck, his growls spiking my blood pressure, and his hand groping me downstairs—it’s all so needy and desperate and hot. We should have been doing something like this behind shop class. Which puts all kinds of wicked ideas into my head.

  I’ll save that one in my memory banks for our first anniversary.

  The petting and exploring morphs into more assertive stroking of my clit. This spot is now so taut and throbbing, I have an inkling of the discomfort that must be happening inside those tented jeans of his.

  Ben’s lips, hands, heat, and unfettered desire push me to the breaking point. One more nudge to my clit sends me shattering in his arms. Relief and joy flood me like nothing I’ve ever felt; I had no idea this was what my body could do. For a second, I forget where we are as the involuntary spasms own me.

  “Ben!” I cry, at the mercy of my release.

  “Baby,” he rasps, still claiming me with more kisses, more touching, more rubbing, more exploring, and loving. It’s too intense, but I let it go. I’ve missed out on so much time with him. I’ll let him do whatever he wants to me.

  Despite our missing each other, he still knows me better than anyone, and I trust him more than anyone.

  He’s the only person I would ever trust to break me apart so thoroughly, and to sift through the wreckage to care for the tattered, glittering pieces of my true heart and soul.

  Chapter Nine

  Ben

  Billie will never see the inside of that godawful place again.

  With relief, I take in the sight of her actual residence—a small bungalow within walking distance from the square—and breathe in the homeyness.

  Everything about the outside of it screams Nora. Or Billie, as she is now.

  Built into the side of a hill, the sloping lawn is filled with flowering shrubs and plants, bird feeders, birdbaths, and a butterfly garden. There’s hardly any grass to cut, and I’m sure she likes it that way. She shows me inside, past a swing on the wooden front porch, and into a small, bohemian living room with a straight view through a galley kitchen to the back door.

  Everywhere I look, there are comfortable blankets, and fuzzy throw pillows draped over vintage furniture. Rustic bookshelves and built-ins are choked with volumes of hardcovers, paperbacks, comic books, and art.

  I inhale the scent of kitchen herbs. I’m filled with good smells, cozy textures, and pleasing color palettes. It’s everything I imagined for her.

  “Are you okay?”

  I snap my gaze back to Billie. “I’m not sure. Have you ever walked into a place and decided you never want to leave?”

  She beams at me over her shoulder while she flutters around the kitchen, making us both coffee. “I’ll take that as a compliment. You can stay here for as long as you like. But I have to warn you, once it becomes clear that the locals like you, the sheriff will make it difficult for you to leave. It’s a whole thing. So you might have to build your brewery here whether you intended to or not.” She’s blushes and speaks animatedly. The way she used to do, just for me, when we were kids. I love seeing her happy. The only other time I’d seen her this giddy and animated was when she was excused from physical education class after faking “period problems.”

  I smile at the memory. And then, I think, Oh, damn. Our future kids are going to be hell on wheels, aren’t they?

  I’m so glad she found some healing in this place. She goes on, and I’m content to listen. “As for this house, well, I rent from Rex, the mechanic. He doesn’t charge nearly enough, but he knows what I make as a sales associate at that store in Gold Hill. I try to offer him more, with the extra money I make giving knitting lessons once a week at Ruby’s diner. But he won’t take it. He says I can stay as long as I want, but I’m sure there will come a day when he’ll need to sell it. I think he and Juniper and Danny and Izzy are personally trying to contribute to a population boom.”

  I love watching her walk around the kitchen and chatter. I want this, all day, every day. I could give a shit about what she means by the overreaching sheriff; I’m sure he already knows my reputation as a juvenile in Gold Hill. As for starting a brewery here, I already plan to. I have all kinds of plans to take care of my Billie.

  “You got Rex’s phone number?”

  Curious, she hands me her phone and shows me his contact.

  My hand planted on the back of a mismatched kitchen chair, I make the call.

  He answers on the first ring, sounding surprised and worried. “Billie? Everything okay?”

  Hearing the man’s growly voice, Billie calls out. “Everything’s fine! You’re talking to Ben, but I’m not sure why.”

  Rex seems satisfied with that, and I tell him why I’m calling. Billie whirls around, mouth agape, when she realizes why I’ve called him.

  We end the call on a gentleman’s agreement.

  “What did you just do?”

  “Bought you this house.”

  Billie blinks at me. “What?!”

  “His realtor is bringing the paperwork over on Monday.”

  She splutters. “You can’t just buy real estate over the phone.”

  I shrug. “I just did.”

  “Ben, what are you thinking? You …you can’t go buying me a house, just like that.”

  “We’ll see what the bank says about that.”

  She laughs but still looks confused. “Why?”

  “Do you not hear what I have been saying to you? It’s for us. You’re happy here. You belong here. So here you’ll stay. And I’m going to stay here with you and—how did you put it? Contribute to the population boom of Fate.”

  That might have been a step too far. I don’t know if it’s the reunion, or seeing her happy and content, or some kind of witchery of being in Fate for too long in one day. Still, I’m spilling out all my dreams, and I want them to happen now. I want her to start having my babies. Now.

  Her cheeks bloom with heat.

  “Unless you don’t want babies,” I say, holding out my palms.

  Billie blusters, stunned. “I do.”

  “When?”

  “Wh-when? Are you sure those blue balls aren’t fogging your brain, Ben Cotton?”

  I laugh because I can’t deny the blue balls. “I’m not sure they’re not fogging my brain, but one thing is clear. I don’t want to wait a single minute more.”

  I close in on her, and one by one, set the mugs on the counter. Coffee can wait.

  “Well, there’s only one bedroom,” she says.

  I smirk. “I’ll add on a nursery.”

  “But we just got together again. Don’t you want to take some time to be just the two of us?”

  Nodding, I say, “Oh, we’re going to make up for all that time right now. Don’t you worry.”