Kele Moon: Crossing the line

They rode out the storm together, trembling in each other’s arms as Wyatt’s hips slammed into hers to the hard, erratic pulse of his orgasm and her body milked him in response. Then Wyatt was over her, crushing the air out of her chest and panting in her ear. She just savored the feel of being pressed into the mattress and holding him as tight as possible as he took several minutes to come down from the high.

When his breathing finally evened out, Wyatt said, “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Tabitha assured him. “It was perfect.”

“I don’t think it was perfect. It was quick and messy and not at all how I pictured it. I need more time.” Wyatt pushed up, making his massive biceps bunch as he looked down at her in concern. “Once’s not gonna cut it, Tab.”

Tabitha’s gaze darted to the ceiling uncertainly. Things were nice now, but she had so many issues Wyatt didn’t know about. “Wy—”

“I know you had plenty of good reasons to end us,” Wyatt started, his voice cracking with emotion. “Don’t think I don’t take at least half the blame, but you’re here now, and I think you owe it to what we were to give us more time.”

“I can’t live in Garnet,” she said in anguish. “I’m not staying.”

“And I’m not asking you to.” It was a harsh reminder that neither of them might be able to recover from what leaving had done to a love that was once beautiful and perfect. His light eyes narrowed as he studied her. “But I am telling you I need more than one afternoon with my wife who’s been MIA for the past thirteen years. I got a big house all to myself with a whole lot of empty rooms. Makes no sense for you to be renting this place from Terry. You can stay with me till you get everything settled with your mother.”

“We can’t just—”

“We sure as heck can.” Wyatt cut her off. “And I ain’t taking no for an answer.”

When Tabitha would’ve argued again, Wyatt kissed her. She’d like to think she was a strong, independent woman who wasn’t prone to being swayed by his cavemannish tactics to persuade her, but the truth was she wanted more time too.

They’d lost too much, too soon, and a little more time was too tempting to resist.

It was foolish and impractical and likely dangerous as hell for both of them, but then, Wyatt had always been the one to make Tabitha believe in the impossible.

Still connected like they were, she could feel him get harder as they kissed, reminding her of sweaty nights a long time ago when they could stay wrapped up in each other for hours. His lips became softer, less demanding as his hips started moving in her a second time, and everything became enveloped in the misty memories of the past when youth made them invincible and love made them courageous to the point of stupidity.

Every story had an innocent beginning, even theirs, and Tabitha found herself wishing she had a chance to go back and relive it one more time, because she didn’t want to let go any more than Wyatt did.

September 1986

Wyatt Conner loved red hair. He liked the way it shone in the early-morning sun, like the brightest, newest kind of penny. He liked freckles too. He found himself wanting to spend a day trying to count all of them sprinkled over one pert, slightly upturned nose.

Wyatt pressed his face to the window, stretching the seat belt.

“Stop it.” Wyatt’s sister Jules punched his arm. “You’re making it pinch me.”

Wyatt stayed where he was. “Good.”

“Daddy!” Her voice was shrill enough to make Wyatt wince. “He’s making the belt pinch me.”

“Boy, sit up straight.” His father reached around Jules and lightly smacked the back of Wyatt’s head for good measure. Then he turned back to his police radio and pushed the button on the mic. “Sorry, the twins are fighting again. Go on.”

The police radio crackled with the voice of Deputy Henry Caraway, properly distracting their father. Wyatt sent a scowl at his sister, but she just gave him a smug smile before she worked on straightening her headband and then ran her fingers through her long blonde hair.

“I hate you,” Wyatt told her matter-of-factly.

Unfazed, Jules stuck her tongue out at him.

“Dang it, lemme call ya back once the school opens up.” His father hung the microphone back on the police radio mounted on the dash. Then he turned to glare at Jules. “Ladies aren’t supposed to be letting their tongues hang out like that. What would your mama think if she just happened to be looking down from heaven? On the first day of school, don’t think she ain’t watching.”

Jules glanced up at their father with big blue eyes that shone with false innocence. “I didn’t.”

“Juliet Emma Conner. I saw you with the eyes God gave me.”

“I had something on my teeth. I’m just trying to look good for the first day of school.”

Their father frowned, his dark eyebrows scrunching together in disbelief. “You’re saying you weren’t just starting something with your brother?”

Jules blinked, still maintaining a look of perfect righteousness. “I give ya my word, Daddy.”

Wyatt snorted in disbelief. If his father fell for that, he’d put himself up for adoption.

“Well, seeing how Conners know better than to lie.” Their father leaned down, looking at Jules critically. “Lemme see your teeth. Can’t be showing up a mess for your new teacher.”

Jules beamed, showing off a sparking smile that smelled like mint toothpaste.

Wyatt thought he might lose his breakfast.

“Pretty as a penny,” their father announced as he leaned down and kissed the top of Jules’s head. “You look just like your mama in that color blue.”

Jules preened and smoothed out her new dress that she’d been anticipating wearing for the past three weeks. “Thank you.”

Wyatt rolled his eyes and looked back out the window. He stared at the kids sitting on the benches outside the building waiting for the doors to open. Most of them were the bused kids who got free breakfast. Their clothes weren’t pressed and new like Wyatt and Jules were wearing.

Speaking of pretty pennies.

He studied Tabitha McMillen, who was sitting next to that big oaf Clay Powers. She had a book in her hands, and her head was bowed as she read intently. Her long hair hung shiny and loose past her shoulders. Unlike Jules, who always wore something in her hair, Tabitha never had any fancy headbands or bows. It was just that bright, glimmering red that actually sparkled in the sunshine.

“Daddy, he’s making the belt pinch me again.”

Wyatt huffed and turned to his father. “Can’t we just go and sit with the bused kids?”

“Naw, ain’t fitting to just dump you off on the first day of school. I was gonna walk ya to class.”

“We’re in third grade now,” Wyatt said it with authority, because third grade felt like an accomplishment. It seemed so much older than second, and he was as excited to be going back to school as Jules, though maybe not the same reasons. “We’re okay.”

“We are okay,” Jules agreed very diplomatically. “We know how to get to Miss Hatly’s class, and we got all our things.”

“I guess.” He shrugged, making it obvious he was anxious to get to work. “Your grandpa has been working a long night shift. I know he’s beat.”

Wyatt opened the door, desperate to get out of the police jeep and put some distance between him and Jules. If they sat him next to her for another school year, he’d lose his mind. Why’d everyone think he wanted to spend every waking moment with his sister?