Ch:53 Unfinished Buisness

Renee braced herself against the cold stall wall, her breath still ragged as Mike's arms remained locked around her. The tile echoed with silence, just the sound of their heartbeats. Her skin was flushed, her hair messy from what they’d just done—something impulsive, electric… and so undeniably familiar it hurt. “We shouldn’t have done that,” she whispered, not meeting his eyes. Mike didn’t move. Still deep in the moment, in her, still connected to her in more ways than one, he pressed his forehead to her shoulder and exhaled. “You’re right,” he murmured. “I’m… seeing someone. It’s new. Fun. But not you—” His voice cracked. “You’ve always been gravity, Renee.” She turned slightly in his arms, enough to feel the weight of his words more than his touch. “Then why didn’t you stop?”
“I didn’t want to,” he admitted. “I don’t think I ever will.”

He lowered onto the toilet, pulling her with him, her legs still wrapped around his waist. The stall was too small for all the emotion between them, too quiet for the noise inside her chest. He shifted slightly beneath her, his hands drawing slow, careful circles along her spine, coaxing a tension neither of them were ready to let go of. Renee buried her face in his neck, her voice barely a breath. “What are we doing, Mike?” He didn’t answer—he just held her tighter. And then he moved again. Renee’s breath hitched as he shifted beneath her again, slow and deliberate. He moved her as he thrusted inside, not missing a beat. The movement was subtle, but it rippled through her—like a secret being whispered from their bodies. Her fingers squeezed at the back of his neck, grounding herself in the only thing that felt real in this dizzying moment: him.

Mike’s lips brushed her shoulder, soft and reverent. “Tell me to stop,” he murmured. “And I will.” She didn’t. Couldn’t. Instead, she traced his jaw with trembling fingers, eyes locked on his as she whispered, “I can't... I missed you...” He groaned softly, his forehead resting against hers now. “God, me too... That’s the problem.” His hands found her hips again, guiding her in the slowest, smallest motions—barely movement at all, but enough to send warmth flooding through her veins. The air between them turned thick, humming with restraint and something wilder that neither of them dared name. “This changes everything,” Renee breathed. Mike nodded, his voice gravel. “I hope so.” Every shift of his body, every tender squeeze of her waist, said what words couldn’t. That he missed her in many ways. That he never stopped.

And that maybe, just maybe… he wasn’t ready to let go again. The bathroom stall held their bodies close, but their emotions—grief, longing, the ghosts of what could have been—took up all the space between. And still, they moved. Not fast. Not frantic.
Just… together. Mike started moving more, pushing himself inside her deeper. Renee cried out his name. Mike held her tighter as he continued pumping himself inside. As if letting go would break whatever spell had pulled them back to each other.
Neither of them moved. Not at first. The silence stretched, charged and breathless. “I wasn’t supposed to… let this happen,” Renee murmured, voice breaking at the edges. “But I didn’t want to stop.” “I didn’t either,” he said, pressing his lips to the hollow of her neck. “God, Renee… I tried to forget how this felt. I really tried.” Her chest rose and fell against his, every part of her still wrapped around his warmth. But reality crept in with every cooling breath. She slid off his lap slowly, carefully adjusting her clothes, avoiding his eyes as she fixed her hair with shaking fingers. Mike stood and tucked himself in, watching her, but not touching.

“We shouldn’t have,” she said quietly. “No,” he agreed, eyes dark with everything he wasn’t saying. “But I won’t pretend I regret it.” Renee swallowed hard and nodded, grabbing a paper towel to dab at her flushed cheeks. He offered her a bottled water from his jacket pocket—something he must have grabbed before following her out. She took it without a word. They stood there, inches apart, the air between them still thick with what they’d just done. He was the first to break the silence. “Do I walk you back… or should we part ways here?” She looked at the door, at the world waiting just beyond the quiet. Then back at him. “I don’t know,” she said, voice barely above a whisper. “But I think we both know this isn’t over.” And with that, she pushed the door open and stepped into the hallway—leaving Mike to follow, or let her go.
Renee drove home in silence, windows cracked just enough to let the night air sting her cheeks. Her lips still burned with the taste of Mike. Her body still ached with the echo of what they'd done.

But her heart… her heart didn’t know where it belonged anymore. The house was quiet when she walked in. A glance down the hallway showed both boys’ doors were shut, the glow of their nightlights seeping through the cracks. She leaned against the wall for a moment, exhaling the weight of her guilt, her craving, her confusion. Jake’s boots were gone from the doorway. He was in the barn. She found him out there minutes later, sitting on an overturned bucket, nursing a glass of bourbon. He looked up as she approached, eyes softening the moment they found her.

“Kids still down?” he asked. She nodded. “Sound asleep.” He offered her the glass without question, and she took a sip, letting the burn clear her throat. They stood together in the hay-scented silence for a moment before she said it. “I saw Mike.”
Jake’s jaw flexed, but he didn’t speak. “We talked,” she added. “And then... it went further.” Still, he said nothing. Not a flicker of rage. No broken glass. Just the sound of bourbon sloshing in his glass as he stood.

“Jake—” she started, heart stammering. But his mouth was on hers before she could finish. There was no gentleness in his grip as he lifted her, spun her, and shoved her against the wall. His hands were at her clothes, rough and desperate, like he was trying to burn her betrayal out of his memory with the heat of her skin. The way he grabbed her up reminded her of the first time they got rough, the way he said he was hers. She gasped, half from surprise, half from the way he was unraveling her without a single word. Her back arched, hands tangling in his shirt. His breath was ragged in her ear, his body pinning hers with unmistakable need. But he still hadn’t spoken. Not one word.
As the barn filled with the sound of movement, friction, and the rasp of want, Renee realized something chilling— She didn’t know if this was love… or if she had just broken him. And Jake?
He was about to show her which one it was.
“Don’t ever let him touch you again,” Jake whispered fiercely. “You’re mine, Renee. Only mine. He left you.”