Page 42 of On the Mountain
“We need another stool,” I told him. “And a chair. I’d offer to stand, but I know you won’t let me.” It made me feel cherished, taken care of and precious to him, though I figured that was just the way Crow was. He ignored that, the brat, and once we were done eating, I forced him to sit down while I cleaned up the mess. “I can’t let you do everything for me…but I’ll definitely let you do a lot. I’ve never been spoiled before. Do you like doing it?”
His forehead wrinkled in that way it did when he thought something was strange or something I asked was strange. It was amazing how quickly I was learning Crow’s quirks.
“I want to take care of you. I don’t know why.”
I chuckled. “Way to make a guy feel special.” When the lines in his forehead deepened, I waved off his concern. “I know what you meant. I was joking. I can take care of myself, though. I’ve been doing it most of my life.”
“Yes, but now you’re mine,” he said simply, as if it wasn’t a big deal.
My mouth dropped open for a lot of reasons. We hardly knew each other. I knew he didn’t mean he loved me, but still, he was claiming me. What did being his mean? I shouldn’t want to belong to someone, but I sure as shit had never wanted anything more than I wanted to be Crow’s.
“Did I say something wrong?”
“No.” I shook my head.
Afterward we went to the greenhouse and checked on the plants, and then I helped Crow carry firewood into the house, and he taught me how to start a fire. It was…more special than it should be. It reminded me of my mom and how she’d always loved fireplaces.
He also showed me his shop, which had a locked room in the back that had me curious.
After dinner I crawled between his legs and sucked him off again, then sat there with his cock in my mouth while he read to me. Reading seemed to be different for him than speaking. He could do it a little easier and longer, maybe because the words didn’t come from inside him in the same way.
We slept together, and the next day, did much of the same. Day after day after day, we fell into a routine, showering or bathing together in the mornings, breakfast and cleaning, then outdoor chores. He had another old truck in the garage—one that didn’t run but that he was rebuilding. I swear there wasn’t anything he couldn’t do.
Some nights he fucked me, some he didn’t, but it was still always from behind. While the sex was good, I wanted to see him when he took me, wanted to look him in the eyes and see Crow lose himself in my body.
There were also times when he left me alone to go spend time in his locked room in the shop. What was in there that he couldn’t share with me?
Melody texted me a photo of my favorite latte from the coffeehouse, and I smiled. I’d talked to her about checking up on my apartment—Crow was helping me pay my bills—and she’d agreed.
“God, what I wouldn’t give for a mocha latte with an extra shot.”
“Do you want to go back?”
“What? No! God no.” I stared at Crow with what I hoped was a look of horror.
“We can try to make one here.”
I could tell he was about to go and do just that, so I put my hand on his. “For someone who’s been alone for over ten years, you sure do know how to use your heart better than anyone I’ve ever known.” Hell, maybe that’s why he could. Crow would always look at the world differently from other people. He would never be seen as “normal” by most. The man growled, for Christ’s sake, but I thought humanity would be a whole lot better if more people were like Crow.
He shook his head but didn’t speak, so I let him off the hook and complained about something else instead. “I want us to make a stool for the bar and a chair for the table. Can we please do that today?” I’d been there two weeks, and Crow still stood beside me at breakfast because for whatever reason, he didn’t want two damned stools.
His lips tightened into a straight line. “No.”
“Why? I don’t get what the big deal is!” I snapped, getting upset now.
“Because they’ll be yours,” he unleashed right back.
Okay, that hurt. He could share his house with me, but God forbid we made something that would be mine? “Fine. Whatever. I’m going to take a bath.”
I started to walk away but didn’t make it far. Crow boxed me in, my back against the wall, his hard body against mine, his forearms braced on the wall so I couldn’t escape. “Because they’ll be yours. One day you’ll leave, and they’ll still be here. And when I look at them…”
Oh…oh. Shit. I hadn’t expected that. All the furniture in his house, even the stuff he didn’t use, he’d made for himself or for his house. He hadn’t made them with another person in mind, but if we made furniture for me, it would always remind him of me. “What if I don’t ever leave? If you don’t make me, I won’t.”
“Yes, you will, little lamb. Everyone wants to leave. Even my mother wanted to leave. And after…when I came back…they were all gone.”
His mom had wanted to leave? His dad had killed his mom…was that why? And did that mean Crow took his dad’s side? That he thought his father was right in what he believed?
But no. He wouldn’t do that. I could never believe that about him, so I reiterated, “If you don’t make me, I’ll never leave. Not for good.”