Perfect for Me by Claudia Burgoa

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Hazel

When you put your arms around me, I’m home. — Hazel Beesley

“This is it,”I mumble, jittery with excitement. As the elevator takes me to the top of the building. My heart thunders fast against my chest, threatening to break loose. It’s the thrill of being back home but also the fear of what’s about to happen. I hate uncertainty, and for the past twelve hours, I’ve been thinking about this moment. Between closing the house in Santa Cruz, packing up most of my stuff, and hopping on a plane that took almost six hours to fly from coast to coast, I’m about to lose my mind.

The elevator doors slide open, slowly. It’s Harrison who is in the foyer, arms crossed waiting for whoever is inside the elevator. When he sees me, he grins. Then, he turns around and yells, “Who had Sunday seven o’clock in the morning?”

“What are you talking about?” I frown, biting my lip.

“And why are you here so early on a Sunday morning?”

He steps aside, letting me in. Fitz and Hunter stand around the pool table. The Everhart house doesn’t have typical furniture. After their parents died, Fitz went through a phase where he only wanted to party and get into trouble. Scott redecorated the living room and dining room to look like a bar so Fitz would hang out with his friends at home.

“I believe it was Grant Beesley,” Hunter says, and I notice that the three of them are wearing sweats, a hoodie, and running shoes. “He said Sunday. First thing in the morning.”

“Explain.” I cross my arms, studying the three brothers.

“We have a bet running.” Harrison pulls out his wallet and a hundred-dollar bill, placing it on the pool table.

“On?”

“When you’ll come back running to your Scotty,” Fitz grins, pulling his wallet and places his losses on top of Harrison’s. “I wish you had waited a day.”

“Who is it?” Scott steps outside of the kitchen and freezes as he spots me.

“And it’s time for us to leave, children,” Harrison says, and the three leave the apartment without saying another word.

“Hi,” I greet Scott as I hold my breath waiting for him to…what do I want from him?

To hold me in his arms and swear that he’ll never let me go. His eyes dart at me, his face struggling to hold in all his emotions. But I see them, the pain, the rage, but most of all, the love.

“You’re here,” he rasps.

“Where else would I be?” I respond, holding my breath in anticipation.

My heart pumps faster as I wait for him to say more or give me a sign.

It’s when he finally grins that I rush toward him. He opens his arms, and I launch myself onto him. He captures me. Grabbing me into a tight hug, he lifts me off the ground.

“Thank fuck you’re here,” he repeats, nuzzling my hair.

“Of course, I’m here.” I wrap my hands around his neck and my legs around his waist. “It’s hard to be away from home.”

“You’re my home.” I bury my face in the crook of his neck. Breathing in his scent soothes my soul.

“I’m your home,” he repeats, throwing that cocky Everhart grin.

I untangle myself from him. “You’re my place in the world—where I belong.”

He swipes his thumb across my cheek. I shut my eyes as he leans closer to me and caresses my eyelids with his soft lips. I had no idea that I was crying until I feel the wetness of the tears running down my face. His arms hug me tight as he murmurs reassuring and loving words.

“Why are you crying?”

“You left me,” I sob, my chest heaving.

“After I gave you everything, you left me,” I repeat. “Numbed, I tried to be with someone who wasn’t you.”

“I was an idiot.” His strong arms squeeze me harder as he’s trying to absorb all the pain from me. “It’s impossible to assume that you’d stay with him when we are one. We’ve been one for so long.”

“We were afraid,” I say in a soft voice, trying to regain my strength. I work to stop the toppling tears that are soaking his shirt.

“What we have is big,” I sniff. “Our love is bigger than the universe. We just had to find a way to embrace it.”

I rest my head on his chest while he draws circles on my back to soothe me. My heart is finally beating at the right tempo. We have to discuss San Francisco and our future, but I need to be in his embrace a little longer. The darkness dissipates when I’m nestled in his arms.

“I was getting ready to fly back to San Francisco, though,” he mumbles. “Last night, I couldn’t breathe. My heart jolted. I could almost hear your silky voice calling me from far away.”

He kisses my knuckles, staring at me. “I just have to ask one last question.” He lifts my chin, brushing his lips against mine. “Do you love him?”

I shake my head. “Not the way I love you. The way I feel about you knows no limits. It’s…”

“Infinite,” we say at the same time.

“Have you found what you were looking for?”

“I had it all along.” I run a hand through his hair. “My family, my life.”

I sigh, kissing his jaw. “And you.”

“We found each other.” Scott kisses the back of my hand.

Then he tilts his face, his mouth coming down on mine. His warm hand cups the nape of my neck while the other presses my ass. I’m aroused. My body comes to life, ignited with desperate need. His tongue twirls with mine. They dance to our tune, the same melody that’s been playing since our first kiss. My body melts against his as he presses our bodies closer. My blood pounds deep into my core.

“I love you,” I tell him.

“I love you more,” he answers back as we walk toward his room.

After my journey, love still has the same meaning it’s had for as long as I can remember. It’s a verb, a noun, an adjective, and an adverb with many meanings, but it’s hard to explain in only a few words. As I glance at the pictures on top of the dresser, I smile. Love still matters. Love is wanting to see the other person happy. Love is choosing someone above everybody else over and over again: choosing them without a doubt. Love is having the courage to think of ways to spend every second of your life with your other half.

Love is Scott.

“By night, Love, tie your heart to mine, and the two together in their sleep will defeat the darkness” ― Pablo Neruda

Scott

I take her in my arms, kissing her hard and fast, claiming her lips as I plan to do with her body. My hands roam all over it. She runs her fingers down my back and pulls the hem of the shirt, lifting it over the top of my head and breaking our kiss. She runs her fingernails over my chest, her touch searing my skin as she traces my ink.

“I love you so much, Hazel.” I hold her face in my hands, catching her mouth and kissing her deeply, parting her mouth and tasting her desire. I kiss her slowly like we have an eternity to love each other.

From this day forward, I have a place I can call home, Hazel. I set her on the bed, taking off her leggings and pushing down my pants.

“Don’t,” she orders as I open her thighs and lower my head. “I’m ready for you. I want you inside me, please.”

I crawl between her open legs, my cock right at her entrance. Our gazes meet, and I see the flare in her eyes and the love. She’s all mine without fears or reservations. I thrust inside her, filling every inch of her as she coats me with her sweet heat. We are one. I take her mouth. Our souls fuse at this moment as I drive myself deeper and deeper inside her.

“I know you,” I tell her, breaking our kiss. “Every pulse, every thought, every fear, every freckle, every scar. For that, I love you more.”

With every consuming thrust, I feel content, complete.