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Sobbing, I sat up and threw my arms around his neck. "Denny. . . " I brokenly tried to speak, "I'm so sorry. . . " In my head, I was more sorry for Kellan, than for our fight, but I wasn't about to tell him that.
"Shhhh. . . " He held me close, rocking me gently and stroking my hair. "I'm here. . . it's okay. "
I pulled back to look at him, tears on his cheeks now too. "You came back. . . for me?"
He sighed and brushed a lock of hair behind my ear. "Of course. . . did you think I wouldn't? That I would let you slip away? I love you. . . " His voice broke a little at the end.
I swallowed the lump in my throat. "Your job?"
He sighed again. "I told them no. "
Sudden despair for my selfishness overwhelmed me. Two years. . . it had seemed an eternity last night, but with him now in my arms, it seemed like a ridiculously short amount of time. "I'm so sorry. I overreacted. Of course you should take the job. Call them back! Two years - it's nothing. This is your dream. . . " Panic was leaking into my guilt.
"Kiera. . . " He stopped me softly. "They offered it to someone else already. "
"Oh. " I bit my lip. "Your internship?"
He sighed once again. "No, they gave that to someone else when I took the job. "
I couldn't say anything else as the facts settled in my brain. He gave up all of it. . . for me. The dream internship, which had been our reason for moving here, the once in a lifetime job, that no intern had ever been offered. All of it - gone, because I couldn't wait two short years, and he wouldn't let me go.
The tears of grief and guilt assaulted me again. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Denny. I'm sorry. . . " I repeated it over and over while he held me to his shoulder. When the tears over my selfishness finally subsided, the tears over being with Kellan last night during our "brief" time apart, broke me down again.
Denny simply held me, telling me over and over that everything would be okay, that we were together and that was all that mattered. Eventually, and more to distract me than anything I think, he lightly grabbed my chin and pulled me in for a long, sweet kiss.
The warmth, the familiarity, the comfort in that kiss silenced my guilt-soaked brain for a moment. Then as his lips parted and his tongue lightly found mine, another section of my brain woke up. Desire flooded me and I kissed him eagerly. I couldn't stop the last few tears that rolled down my cheek though and he tenderly brushed them away with his thumb.
He lowered me back onto the pillows and kissed my lips, my jaw, my forehead, all the while still stroking my cheek. I ran my hand through his hair, down his cheek, along his jaw - the familiar hairline soft under my fingertips, across his lips. I couldn't believe he was actually here.
I pushed the grief and guilt and horror at what I had done last night to the very back part of my mind. I would deal with it later - this moment was all I could concentrate on now. I pulled his wandering lips back to mine and kissed him fiercely. He made a pleasant noise in the back of his throat, his breath quickened.
I pushed him back a little bit and pulled the covers away from me. He had been too far from me for too long. I needed him much closer. "Come here. "
He stood up for a minute and smoothly undressed then crawled under the covers with me, wrapping his arms around me. He nestled in to kiss my neck. "I missed you," he breathed across my skin.
My breath caught and I blinked away a quick tear. Later, I reprimanded myself. "I missed you, so much, Denny," I sighed, bringing him back to my mouth. It was as if his lips were oxygen and I was suffocating, I couldn't stop kissing him. It was all I wanted. All I needed was his soft lips on mine, his tongue lightly brushing mine. My mind started relaxing into him, slowly stopped thinking.
His hands started pulling down my pants, slowly, gently. I sighed and kissed him harder. He slipped them off and started back up for my underwear. My mind snapped awake as I suddenly got scared that he would somehow know. That he would have some sixth sense that told him I had been unfaithful to him. But he pulled my underwear off without hesitation. His lips never left mine, his breath was still heavy. He didn't hate me, he still wanted me.
His fingers slipped inside me and my mind completely shut off - I didn't care anymore.
I took off my tank top, needing to feel all of my skin pressed against his. His lips finally left mine and trailed down my neck, down my chest. His lips teasing and nibbling my breast, his fingers sliding along my wet skin, raised my desire for him and I moaned his name. "Denny. . . "
He stopped swirling his tongue around my nipple and looked back up at my face. I pulled him back up to my lips. "I need you. . . " I whispered. I meant it in every way those words could be interpreted.
Gently he moved over me and his fingers were replaced with something far more satisfying. I gasped and closed my eyes as he slid into me. A shudder passed through my body as he began to move. The ache of my loneliness over the past weeks crept up on me unexpectedly and one tear escaped my eye. "God, I missed you. . . "
He bent over to my ear. "I love you," he whispered raggedly.
All too soon, my desire for him rose along with his. I couldn't hold back the sounds, I didn't want to. For that perfect moment, I didn't care where I was or who else was there, I only cared that Denny was here with me, finally. We finished together and afterwards, he held me in his arms for a long time, stroking my hair and kissing my temple, until sleep eventually took him.
I, however, was suddenly wide awake.
The room, filled only with the sound of Denny's light breathing, was suddenly suffocating to me. My guilt, my grief, that I had somehow managed to push away from me, was springing back. Not wanting to wake Denny, not wanting him to question my despair, I quietly tossed my clothes back on and left the room, shutting the door as smoothly as I could behind me. Not looking at Kellan's door, I made my way down the stairs. I made it all the way to the living room, before the first tears started to fall.
It was seeing Denny's bags placed behind the chair, his jacket, thrown over the back of it, that finally released the wall holding back my tears of guilt. I sank into the chair, nestled my head in the cool sleeve, and sobbed. What felt like hours later, I was still sitting in the chair, deep in thought and despair and guilt, when a soft knock on the door awoke me from my despondency. Wondering who could possibly be knocking at this hour, and hoping they didn't wake Denny, I brushed away my tears and quietly went over and opened the door.
A worn looking Sam stood there, supporting a very drunk looking Kellan. "I think this belongs to you. " Not waiting for the shock to slide from my face, he stepped inside and half-dragged Kellan to the living room, shoving him down into the chair. "There, all yours. "
I stared at Kellan in disbelief. He had definitely been a touch drunk last night, but I had never seen him anywhere close to this bad before. He hunched over in the chair with his head hanging down, like he had lost the ability to sit straight. "What happened?"
"Uh, whiskey, I'm pretty sure. I don't know, found him like this. " He shrugged his massive shoulders.
"You found him?"
"Yeah, wasn't hard. Nearly tripped over him, sprawled on my doorstep as he was. " He turned to leave, running a hand over his shaved head and then down his tired face. "Well, I got the idiot home. I've got to get some sleep, I'm beat. "
"Wait! What am I supposed. . . ?" I let it trail off as Sam disappeared through the door. "Great. . . "
I walked back to where Kellan was still collapsed on the chair, wondering what had happened to him. Probably out partying with some girls. The thought irritated me and then I was irritated for being irritated. I smacked his thigh. "Kellan. . . "
He slowly raised his head, his eyes squinting in the soft light from the lamp. "Hey, it's my roomie. . . " He stressed the last word oddly and bit his bottom lip. Drunkenly, he stood up, or attempted to anyway. He collapsed back down in the chair, looking surprised.
I sighed and held out my hand. "Here, let m
e help you. "
Anger flashed in his eyes as he looked up at me. "I don't need your help. " He nearly spat the words at me.
Startled, I dropped my hand and watched him successfully stand up. . . and immediately start to tip over. I quickly helped him steady himself, putting my shoulder under his, my hand on his chest, supporting his weight. . . whether he wanted it or not. He sagged into me a little and made no move to push me away.
He smelled horrible - like whiskey and vomit. Again, I wondered what the heck he had been doing. "Come on. " I pulled him towards the stairs. Being so close to him again, brought images of last night to my mind. I still wasn't sure what to feel about that, other than guilty. I pushed it further back in my head. I couldn't deal with that yet.
Somehow I managed to get him up the stairs. For every two steps he clumsily took up a stair, he seemed to take one backward. At about the half-way point, he started to sink down and I feared for a minute that he was going to collapse on the stairs, on top of me. That brought to mind such a vivid memory, that I blushed and smacked him on the chest to keep him walking forward. He didn't say anything, but glanced over at me, seemingly torn between irritation and another emotion I couldn't even begin to guess. Near the top, we crashed into the wall rather noisily and I froze, looking over at my door, praying Denny didn't wake up. Kellan followed my gaze but I couldn't see his expression, I was too intently watching the door. Not hearing any movements, I exhaled deeply and glanced up at Kellan, who had turned to stare blankly at the floor.
Wanting to help him in some way, I thought maybe showering away the smell permeated on him would ease his pain in the morning, since waking up that gross wasn't going to be good on his stomach. I dragged him to the bathroom and set him on the toilet. He watched me quietly with unfocused eyes. I ran the water, wondering if he would be able to do this without killing himself. I blushed suddenly, wondering if I was going to have to undress him. He took the option away from me by standing awkwardly and stepping over the tub rim into the shower, fully dressed. He slumped against the far wall and sank down into the tub, closing his eyes and letting the water drench him. The water streamed down his face, his wet hair clinging to his skin, his lips partly open, breathing shallowly. His soaked shirt clung to his body. He was gorgeous, even stumbling drunk.
I sighed again. His boots were far enough from the water that I was able to get them and his socks off before they were completely soaked. I contemplated what else to do for him. I brought my hands back to his face and ran my fingers through his hair, letting the water soak in completely. He sighed, eyes still closed. I couldn't stop the memory of clutching his hair last night. I swallowed the lump in my throat painfully.
He had gotten so still, that I was afraid he had passed out. Moving him would be impossible on my own. I would have to get Denny. What if Kellan let something slip around him? What if he flat-out told him? I desperately did not want Denny to know. He had actually come back for me. Given up everything and returned. . . just for me. It would kill him if he found out.
I shut off the water, but he didn't move. I brushed some strands of hair away from his eyes, still no movement. "Kellan. . . " I lightly smacked his cheek - nothing. "Kellan. . . " I smacked him a little harder. He moaned softly, and then groggily opened his eyes. He tried to focus on my face, then blinked his eyes excruciatingly slow and shook his head a little.
"Come on. " I tugged at his shoulder, wondering if I'd be able to get him back out of the shower. I had tried to help him, make tomorrow slightly better for him, but now it didn't seem like such a great plan. Finally, my tugging got a response, and he slowly rose and exited the shower, stumbling and dripping water everywhere. I dried as much from him (and myself) as I could, finishing by scrubbing his hair a little and then running my fingers back through it. He looked a little pained when I did that, so I stopped.
I took his hand and led him back to his room. I had so many questions to ask him, but he didn't seem eager to speak, and before things had gotten. . . intense between us last night, he had been respectful of my silence. I could at least do the same now.