AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Sometimes words mean nothing, Julian,” I state, my tone cold and numb, “I called my brother. My call put him on the road. A jury would agree it was my initial action that caused him to be on the road. It is my fault.”
“You can’t think like that.”
I don’t know how not to. I see it as a one-plus-one scenario, Julian. I called and asked Peter to come to me, and he did. I killed him.” I mutter; the tears feel like acid as they slow to a trickle down my cheeks.
“I’m a monster, a villain. Ask my brother Henry, and he’d agree. He hates me.”
“No, he doesn’t.”
I snort. Julian hugs me tighter. “We all react differently to pain, Poppy, Sometimes we lash out, sometimes we break, other times we just need time. Maybe thats’s what you and Henry needed.”
I close my eyes, pressing my wet cheeks into his shirt as he cradles me. “Time doesn’t bring back the dead,” I whisper. But…it does bring you closer to them. I don’t voice that thought. I’m not eager for death anymore. Julian’s helped change that; he’s plucked that darkness out of me.
He kisses the top of my head. “Listen to me, Poppy, I never knew Peter, but as a brother myself, I know he wouldn’t want this for you. We can’t control everything, and sometimes terrible things happen to the most undeserving people. Grieving can lead us to cope by placing self-blame, but it’s like a cancer, eating away at us.” He gently tilts my head up, and through blurry eyes, I see his grey eyes mirroring the mountain tops behind him. "I don't want you to keep making yourself sick with blame, Pumpkin."
“I’m trying,” I whisper. Maybe if Henry acknowledged me, I’d be able to move on, to untie the rope and set myself free.
“I don’t think we should drink wine anymore." Changing the subject, I attempt a lighter tone. “It makes us too serious.”
He chuckles, kissing my head. “So beer with the burgers... oh shit,” he suddenly says, gently setting me down, "The burgers!" He gasps, and then he rushes to the grill.
Julian
Poppy pokes the burger, all the while trying to hide a grin, as the evening sun casts a warm glow over the patio of my Lake Tahoe backyard. The gentle sound of waves crashing on the shore creates a serene backdrop.
It's a relaxation I haven't had in a long time.
A charred flake drops off the burger and hits the plate, making a small dinging sound. “Blame it on the wine,” I joke, the fading light reflecting in my eyes.
“Gets distracted when he cooks,” Poppy says, her voice playful as she raises the burnt burger to her pouty lips. “That’s a red flag, Neighbor.” She quips, then takes a deliberate bite. Her gaze flickers to the horizon where the sun meets the lake, the sky a canvas of oranges and purples.
"Good thing I'm not just your neighbor," I retort playfully, leaning back in my chair, the sturdy wood feeling warm against my back. The smell of the charred burger mixes oddly with the fresh, pine-scented air.
Her head tips to the side, her hair cascading down like a silken curtain, catching the last rays of the sun. Our eyes lock, and the familiar chemistry that always sparks when we're close begins to pulse. I feel it in my heart, a deep thump, then a stirring lower down.
"No, you're not," she smiles sincerely, her eyes twinkling with a hint of something more. I can't help but wonder what's going through her mind.
She bats her lashes and looks back at the burger, her expression one of mock appraisal. "At least the buns look appetizing."
"That they do," I reply as I raise my brow.
She rolls her eyes playfully, "You and Harper always make everything sexual."
"It's a talent, but I think Harper takes the gold."
Poppy giggles.
That sound. I crave it now. Like a dose of vitamins, I want to hear her laugh every day.
"I agree." She replies.
I pick up my burger, which is dripping with ketchup, to hide the burnt taste and copy her as I take a bite. It’s not awful, but what I cook for Poppy, I don’t want to be 'not awful.’ I want it to be the best damn burger she has had, so she keeps coming over and wants more.
The setting sun casts a golden hue over the patio, the shadows growing longer as the evening sets in. I contemplate the night ahead. Unlike past relationships, where physical intimacy came early, with Poppy, it's been a slow burn, a dance of patience. I never thought I was a good dancer, but I've found my rhythm. I'll wait as long as I have to.
I've wanted her from the moment I saw her, but I've learned to temper my desires. It's hard when all the blood leaves my brain and my cock takes over.
Is it insane to admit I've had more than one mental conversation with my dick, trying to convince him the wait is worth it?
