Waking Up 39

Author's Note:

This is a companion piece/epilogue to

Runaway

, the story of Noah and Lacey. While the romance can be enjoyed on its own, it's extra-good if you've read the original story first.

This story was written for Nora Fares' birthday. Because she is an exceptionally amazing human being, she has urged me to share it with all of you. I hope you enjoy, and if you do, please send a note to Nora to say thank you as well!

**

Waking up used to be the worst part of my day.

Sometimes it meant not knowing when or where I'd be sleeping next. Occasionally, it meant I was being prodded awake by someone telling me that this was the end of the line, I had to get off the bus. In prison, it had meant it was 5 AM and it was time for another day of monotonous bullshit. As a kid, it meant deciding whether to eat right away or wait until stars of white light pinpricked my vision and I was so light-headed, I thought I might pass out.

Since her, though, waking up was everything.

No matter how we'd fallen asleep, even if we'd gone to bed at different times, I woke up with her in my arms. During the night we came together, our souls magnetic, unable to let something as pedestrian as sleep keep us apart.

Sometimes she faced me, small puffs of breath dancing against my skin as she cuddled me in. I drew my arms around her, needing to offer my protection even in sleep. Other times she turned away and I clutched at her, pulling her body close to mine, needing to know she was there and real and

mine

. I would bury my face into her hair, breathing in the light scent of flowers that allowed my subconscious to drift into a world of dreams and contentment and peace.

Always, I woke up holding her, skin burning where we touched, burrowed in piles of blankets. When we travelled, she would lean into me, only able to sleep when she was curled up against my chest, halfway between her seat and mine. I would wrap my arm around her shoulders, ignoring the tingling sensation as my nerves fell asleep and my arm went numb. I didn't mind. I welcomed it. Needed it.

Needed her.

We slept that way a lot over the summer, wandering from city to city on trains and buses. Seeing the country through Lacey's eyes had been magical, like seeing it for myself all over again. When we left her brother Sean's home in Montreal and went back to the train station with no real idea of where to go, she'd developed a system of making those choices. I'd sacrificed more than a few pieces of my bagel-and-cream-cheese so she could throw it at a map like a dart. More often than not, we'd end up laughing as she wiped cream cheese off the map, vetoing destination after destination until we found one she actually wanted to go to.

Her method had brought us to cities and mountains, as far west as Vancouver and back east to Toronto in September, where we settled in with Tom and Jenny so I could work back the salary advance they'd given me.

Jenny shrieked in delight when Lacey had entered the house.

"Girl, I am so happy to see you," she squealed.

Lacey looked relieved as Jenny hugged her.

"I'm sorry for how I left last time," she said softly.

"Water under the bridge." Tom clapped me on the back and hugged me tightly before he and Jenny switched places.

"Nothing to be sorry for," Jenny said, still looking at Lacey as she brought me in for a hug. "I am just so happy you're back. Now, for real this time, can I put you in the same room, or are we still dancing around whatever you two got going on?"

Lacey's face went a delightful shade of pink and she looked at me, alarmed.

"Same room is fine," I answered for her.

Jenny squealed again and batted my arm lightly.

The roommate situation had changed a bit since we last stayed with them. Robbie had moved out of the basement and in with the proverbial What's-Her-Name, whose name turned out to be Leslie and who was a lovely, ambitious girl that brought out the best in him. More than once, the two of us expressed our astonishment for Lacey and Leslie. Both of us broken, both of us pieced back together by women who could have been with anyone but somehow chose us.

Tanya and Shannon had lived with Tom and Jenny the longest but weren't interested in moving to the basement suite, claiming it was too cold down there. Duncan had the next claim on the basement rooms but insisted it made more sense for us to have the larger space. He later confided that his room was above the bed in the basement and he didn't want to, in his words, "listen to the two of you fuck all the time."

If it weren't for the fact that we had our own space, I think Lacey and I would have left after the couple of weeks I promised Tom I'd work for him. Duncan might not have been entirely graceful with his wording, but it was true that I had a hard time keeping my hands off Lacey. For what it was worth, she seemed to struggle as much as I did. Having our own place to... well, you know, fuck, made it a lot easier than if we were just in Duncan's nasty-ass bedroom for a while.

It was the night after I started working with Tom that she brought it up.

"What would you think if I maybe interviewed for a teaching job?" Lacey asked.

"Here?"

She was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching as I changed out of my work clothes.

"Yeah. Like maybe... maybe we spend the winter here or something."

I snorted softly. "Winter in Toronto is shit. But winter everywhere is pretty much shit." I dropped the shirt I'd worn into the hamper, looking up at her. "You wanna stay in Toronto?"

She stared at her fingers, not looking up at me as she spoke. "I don't know. I wouldn't mind. I mean, we have Tom and Jenny, a place to stay... If not, that's okay. But we should probably figure out... you know, something. If not here, then where. And... you know, if that means... if we both..."

I knew what she wanted to ask. The way she avoided looking up, the tension of her shoulders as she stared at her hands told me everything.

"You really asking me if I want to stick with you?" I asked.

Her skin was slowly turning the colour of a new rose, pinkish tinges crawling up her neck towards her cheeks as she nodded. Even after everything we had been through, she was still nervous, still worried that I would leave her behind.

As if that would ever be an option. She didn't know it, but leaving her would be akin to purposely choosing to stop my own heart.

"Miss Lacey," I said softly.

I saw the corners of her lips turn up, just slightly. Moving in front of her, I crouched down and took her hand.

"Interview for the job. If you don't get it, we'll figure something else out. Together."

She finally looked up at me, warm brown eyes glistening with the slightest wetness. I hated to see her cry, but she never hid her emotions, and I appreciated that about her.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

I sealed it with a kiss, her lips warm and inviting and

mine

. One kiss turned to more as her fingers trailed along my neck and up to my hair, gently guiding my body towards her. Powerless, I followed her direction, moving on top of her as she lay back on the bed.

"I just got home," I murmured against her. Her legs parted as she pulled me closer, her hand moving across my bare chest to my shoulders. "Covered in dirt. I probably stink. Let me shower first."

"I don't care," she whispered, fingertips trailing lightly along my side, making me shiver. "We can shower together after."

How could I say no to that?

After dirtying up the sheets, "showering," then taking another shower to clean up after the first shower, she told me more about the job. It was to join the substitute teacher rota, she said, so she wouldn't necessarily be working full time, and she wasn't even sure they'd hire her. In the meantime, she had found a job teaching piano a couple of evenings a week at a nearby music school, but said we should wait until she heard back from the school board before deciding for certain that we'd stay in Toronto.

I didn't wait. When Tom called out for us to take lunch the next day, I approached him.

"You got any work after this job?" I asked bluntly.

"For you, man? Always." Tom grinned. "How long you sticking around?"

I shrugged. "Lacey's gonna work as a teacher for a while. Figured we'd see how it goes."

"I've got jobs booked up until February. Probably past that, but nothing certain yet." Tom clapped me on the back as we walked towards his truck. "We'll start training you as a site manager."

"Dude, I can't—"

"Won't take no for an answer. You're one of the best fuckin' workers I've ever had. Might as well get you moving up the chain."

It was hopeless to argue with him. "Is it cool if we stick around your place?"

"Jenny'll be ecstatic. When does Lacey start?"

"Dunno. She's calling them today to set up an interview. Would be as a substitute, sounds like."

Tom laughed. "You seem pretty certain she'll get the job."

"She will." I looked at him seriously. "You know Lacey. They'd be fucking stupid not to hire her."

I didn't know how long it would take for the school board to get back to her, but even Lacey seemed surprised when she had a job offer just two weeks later.

"They must be desperate," she said.

More likely it was because they saw what everyone saw. It was impossible not to love Lacey.

We celebrated that night. Jenny was so proud of Lacey that she cried, hugging her until Lacey had to beg for a moment to wipe her own eyes. Tom chuckled and tilted his head towards the door.

"Come smoke with me, Noah."

"Don't smoke, man."

"Good. It's a disgusting habit. Come anyway."

We left Jenny and Lacey in the kitchen to collect themselves. Tom lit up a cigarette and leaned against the wooden railing on the back porch. Through the window, I could see Lacey giggling as she and Jenny wiped their eyes.

"You in love with her?"

The question didn't surprise me. The fact that I couldn't bring myself to answer did.

Tom chuckled as I looked at him. "Not ready to admit it yet?"

"I... I mean..." I stopped, glancing back towards the window.

"You do, man." He took a long drag on his cigarette, flicking ash onto the grass behind him. "Loved her the moment you met her, didn't you?"

Again, the words got stuck in my throat. I nodded instead, not looking at Tom.

"Should probably tell her."

"Yeah."

"She knows." He inhaled again. "God knows you've proved it to her. But she'll want to hear it."

By the middle of October, she was teaching one or two days a week. I worried at first. The schools were all over the city and Lacey wasn't especially comfortable getting around on her own. She managed, though, and by November had struck up a good relationship with a school not too far from Tom and Jenny's place, and was their go-to choice for a substitute.

I worried about that too. It wasn't the kind of place Lacey grew up in and the rundown houses and pawn shops just highlighted the differences between us. I knew Tom's story was like mine: he grew up poor and transient and then got arrested for doing stupid shit just like I had. He had made something of himself, started his company, and vowed to help dumbasses like me. It meant when he finally could afford property, he bought it in the neighbourhood he knew... which was full of dumbasses like me who needed his help.

But I didn't give Lacey enough credit. She didn't see the neighbourhood the way I did and saw the best in everybody, no matter their background. Every person on the street got a warm smile and a hello from her, and she never seemed uncomfortable when faced with people who were rough around the edges. People began to recognize her, and soon enough she had endeared herself to nearly everyone. If someone fucked with Lacey, they'd have a host of people to deal with.

Even still, when she started working at the school more regularly, I begged Jenny to go with her in the morning and meet her after work, just to make sure she was safe. Lacey saw the best in people, but people weren't always the best. I didn't want her to get hurt.

She had a full two weeks booked at the school at the beginning of December. It was during that week that the temperature dropped, a snowstorm battering the city with wind and slush.

"You can't walk in this," I told her. "Tom and I will drive you before we head to the site."

"It's fine, Noah," she said. "I grew up in Manitoba. This is a lovely spring day compared to what I'm used to."

"Fine. I'll call you a cab."

"It's a fifteen-minute walk. I will be fine."

I lost that fight but begged Jenny again to walk with her, telling her I'd pay for a cab to bring her back. She accepted begrudgingly but warned me that I was being overprotective.

"She's not a child, Noah," Jenny said. "She can walk on her own, you know."

Friday brought wind strong enough that Tom called it quits mid-afternoon. "Can't work in this," he said to the team. "Get home, get safe. I'll need some overtime from you once the weather lets up, if you don't mind."

Not a single person on the team minded and we got back into the neighbourhood around four o'clock.

"Wanna call Jenny and see if they got a cab home?" Tom asked. "About that time, isn't it? If she's still at the school, we'll pick her up."

He slowed as we approached the school, waiting as the phone rang. I stared out at groups of kids walking home, hoods up as they played with the slush that passed for snow there. It wasn't cold so much as it was windy, but I still didn't want Lacey and Jenny walking in that weather.

"Noah?"

"Hey, Jenny. You and Lacey home already?"

"Um... well, I'm home."

My stomach dropped. "And, uh, Lacey?"

"She..."

"You haven't been walking home with her, have you?"

"Noah, I'm sorry, she just said she didn't need—"

"Fuck!"

I hung up and immediately tried calling Lacey. My heart pounded as the phone rang, and rang, and rang.

"Hello! You've reached Lacey's voicemail. I'm so sorry I mi—"

I hung up.

"She's not answering."

Tom's face was as serious as mine. "I'm gonna start driving the route home. Keep an eye out for her."

He crawled along the route. I kept redialing Lacey's number, peering at groups of teenagers suspiciously as I watched for her. Each time it reached voicemail, I hung up and tried again.

"There." Tom jerked the wheel suddenly.

A wave of relief washed over me, the tightness in the pit of my stomach releasing. Almost immediately, anger replaced it as Tom pulled up next to a woman in a long green parka with the hood up.

I rolled the window down. "Lacey?"

She turned towards me. Her face was mostly covered by a scarf, but the patches of skin that showed were red with windburn. Her eyes sparkled brightly as she saw me, and her smile matched as she pulled the scarf down to speak.

"Oh, hey. You left work early?"

"Yeah, it's really fucking windy." It came out more harshly than I intended, and Lacey's smile faded.

"Um..."

"Why are you walking? Why isn't Jenny with you?"

"Lacey, hop in," called Tom. "We'll drive the rest of the way."

She stared at me, her face unusually unreadable.

"No," she finally said. "You're mad at me."

I sighed, frustrated. "I'm not... I mean, yeah, but not... look, just get in the truck. We can talk."

"Miss Stephens!"

I turned my head as a group of teenagers walked up behind Lacey. She turned towards them.

"Hi, guys! Hurry up and get home, okay? It's pretty windy!"

"This guy giving you trouble, Miss Stephens?" asked one of the kids.

He was taller than Lacey, built like a football player, and had a voice that was artificially lowered to mask the fact that testosterone hadn't blessed his vocal cords yet. He stalked up beside her, glaring through the window at me.

"What?" I said indignantly.

Lacey pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh.

"Well yes, he is, Dylan, but he's supposed to. This is my boyfriend."

Dylan looked suspicious as he regarded me.

"Hello, Dylan," called Tom.

"Oh!" He looked surprised. "Hi, Mr. Cardinal. Sorry. Just wanted to make sure Miss Stephens was okay. I didn't know this was your truck."

"That's okay, Dylan. That was a kind choice, making sure your teacher was safe. But maybe Miss Stephens could hop in the truck now before we freeze out here." Tom smiled politely as he looked at Lacey pleadingly.

"Sure," she said, though her voice betrayed her annoyance. "Have a good weekend, Dylan. Thank you. Don't forget, chapter six questions for Monday, okay?"

"Yes, Miss Stephens." The boy waved politely at Tom, nodded sternly at me, and went back to his group of friends as Lacey opened the door to the backseat and jumped in.

"How long—"

"I don't want to hear it, Noah."

"Don't care if you don't want to hear it," I said evenly, trying not to let my anger seep through. "I was worried. You didn't answer your phone."

"It's in my bag, I couldn't hear it."

"How long have you been walking by yourself?"

I watched her reflection in the rear-view mirror as she tilted her head back and sighed.

"Literally, just today. Jenny comes every single day but I felt bad because it was so windy so I told her not to worry about it." She moved her head forward, catching sight of my eyes in the mirror and glaring at me. "I'm not a child, Noah. I'm putting up with you insisting I can't walk anywhere unescorted, but don't scold me."

Before responding, I took a deep breath. The anger in my stomach faded, shrivelling into something that resembled shame.

"You're right," I said.

Lacey's eyes widened. "Wait, what?"

"You're right." I looked away from the mirror, catching the small smile on Tom's face as I glanced out the window. "I was scared."

We didn't speak again until we got home. Tom went up to the main part of the house while Lacey and I went down to the basement.

She didn't say anything as she took off her boots, shaking the snow off onto the mat before removing her scarf and jacket. I hung up my own jacket and boots, running a hand through my hair before turning to her.

"I'm—"

"I'm sorry." Her lips turned down, her forehead tense as she looked up at me. "I didn't think—"

"Don't," I said. "I'm sorry. You were right, I was being unreasonable about—"

We were both so adamant that we needed to apologize that neither of us could complete a sentence before the other was interrupting.

"You were just doing what you thought—"

"I was being overprotective and not letting—"

"I should have told you, or taken a cab, or—"

"It's my fault—"

"I didn't mean to scare—"

She stopped talking as I started laughing. After a moment, her lips curled into a soft smile.

"Fuck, Miss Lacey. We're not very good at fighting."

She giggled and stepped towards me. "I'm sorry. I really am."

I leaned down to kiss her. "I'm more sorry."

Her cheeks were still cold from the wind, but her mouth was warm and inviting. "I'm most sorry," she whispered, her lips brushing against mine.

"Let me make it up to you?" I murmured.

"Mmm," she said. "Well, if you insist..."

I made it up to her twice, bunching her skirt up around her waist before sliding her tights down and burying my face against her pussy. She writhed beneath me as I lapped at her eagerly, the taste of her slick juices intoxicating. The first orgasm came quickly, her hands tugging my hair as I slipped a finger inside of her. As she recovered, I kissed her thighs, then gently pushed my tongue back against her pussy and started all over again. It was only when she gasped that she needed a break, still shaking beneath me from her second orgasm, that I pulled away.

She made it up to me in the shower. I cupped her tits as she reached up to wash my hair, hardly able to stop touching her as she ran a soapy cloth along my body. When she finished, she knelt in front of me. Water beat against my back as she took my cock in her mouth. I watched her lips stretch around me, the warmth of her mouth enveloping me entirely as she pushed her head down on me. I loved watching her, loved the way she moved and the enticing noises she made as she swallowed me.