“Are you okay?”

Pacey looked up, his face blank although his eyes were dark with animalistic pain. “That seems to be the question of the day.”

“No one knows what else to say.”

“You’re wrong. No one knows what else to say to me. When they think I’m not around, or not listening, they’ve got plenty to say. Why’d she do it? I thought she was cured. Was it really suicide?” He looked back down at the creek, as if the dark, rushing waters might provide some answers. “And those are just the questions. The theories and speculation? The accusations? Those are the really fun and interesting ones.”

“People talk in this town, they gossip. They’ve got nothing better to do.”

“I went into a bar last night where the topic of discussion for the evening was what I’d done to drive her to it. I believe the big money was on asking her to be in a threesome with me and Jack.”

“And the ludicrousness of that doesn’t lead you to realize that no one is truly taking this seriously?”

“No. What’s ludicrous is that they don’t realize we’re already in a threesome, and it was me deciding that I wanted Jack more that pushed her over the edge.”

Joey moved to the end of the dock and stood beside him, slipping her hand in his. “Ah. The Pacey Witter I know and loathe.”

His fingers tightened around hers. “You think I’m joking?” he asked lightly.

She turned, tugging on his hand until he fell into step behind her, heading toward the Bed and Breakfast. When they were inside, she released him and shut the door, leaning back against it as she looked at him. “You know what I think? Really?”

He regarded her warily before looking down at his hands, surprised to find them shaking. “What?”

“I don’t think you have a single fucking clue why she did it.” She watched him carefully as he edged away from her, stopping when he backed into the counter that separated the dining room from the kitchen. “And I think that scares and hurts you more than anything.”

“Why…” he stopped and cleared his throat. “Why’s that?”

“Because you’re afraid that it was you.” She took a step toward him and stopped, continuing tentatively as his eyes dropped to the floor. “You’re afraid that it was you and you didn’t even know it.” She reached him and stopped, lifting her hands to cup his face. “It wasn’t you, Pacey.”

“How can you be sure?” His voice cracked on the words, tears eroding the sound. “How can you know?”

“Because you loved her so much,” Joey assured him, kissing his forehead. “And because I know you.” He didn’t respond as she kissed the tip of his nose, his cheeks, his chin. Soft, soothing kisses meant to calm and reassure him. Joey pulled back and looked at him, wondering at the change in his face. His face was alive now; it held emotion and reaction, feeling and pain. “It wasn’t you.”

He nodded, swallowing the thickness that blocked his throat. The result was hoarse and rough. “Right.”

Joey kissed his forehead once more. “It wasn’t you.” They stared at one another in the distance that separated them, inches, centimeters, millimeters, breaths. Pacey licked his lips nervously as Joey’s fingers pressed against his cheeks, capturing his face before her.

“It wasn’t,” she breathed as their lips met, soft kisses melting like chocolate in sunlight, thick and sweet and warm. Pacey opened his mouth, his tongue moving over hers, tangling with it in the sudden heat of the room as he moved forward, holding her off the ground with strong arms as he pushed her up against the door and held her there.

His mouth left hers to explore the delicate expanse of her throat, his arms hefting her higher so he could trail his tongue over the tanned flesh, taste the salty traces of tears cried just an hour before.

Joey’s breath caught in her throat, hitching there as he nibbled his way down her body, holding her suspended off the ground as he ventured lower toward the neckline of her dress. Her hands were shaking as they lay on his shoulders, stroking the dark black of his suit jacket. “Pacey…we shouldn’t.”

“God,” he mumbled into her neck, his voice muffled even further by her skin, “don’t you think I’m aware of that?” He lowered her to the floor but didn’t move away from her, didn’t do anything but let his tongue dip lower into the valley between her breasts. His hands were on her hips, tugging the skirt of her dress up higher, exposing more silk-clad thigh.

“Pacey.” Her hands slipped down, ostensibly to push her skirt back down, but instead running over his muscles, only somewhat hidden by the material of his jacket. Her skirt around her hips, Pacey let his hand move to her pantyhose, tugging them down with one hand as the other struggled to unbutton the front of her dress.

She started to push him away as he finally freed the first button, freezing as his lips met her skin, moving over flesh like warm, lazy honey. She shuddered and attempted to push him away when his other hand pushed her panties down as well and slipped between her slightly parted legs.

Pacey continued kissing her, letting his lips stray downward as his fingers wove through the dark tangle of hair to find the warm wetness surrounding her clitoris. He mumbled against her skin, whispering apologizes wet with tears as he touched her, stroked her, teased her. Joey shivered and whimpered in response, leaning back against the door in an effort to remain standing.

Forcing himself away from her flat stomach, Pacey stood and leaned into Joey, his body flat and hard against hers. His fingers still flickered over her clit as his palm cupped her, his other hand now curved around her breast.

Without a word, Joey’s hands moved down and unfastened his slacks, the zipper loud in the quiet of the room. Her mind refused to process facts, refused to see that they were in the main room of the B&B, that someone could walk in at any moment. All she could focus on was the emotions he was fueling inside her, the rawness of his need. She pushed the material away then tugged down his boxers, wrapping her hand around his cock as she freed it, guiding him between her legs.

Pacey removed his hand as Joey urged him toward her, using it to lift her body slightly as he slid inside her. She was wet and hot; her body tight as he entered her, penetrated her. There was something untamed about being inside her, and Pacey couldn’t help but thrust hard, burying himself as deeply as he could.

He held her there, pinned to the door of the B&B, the curtain that covered the window surrounding her like a veil. She slid her legs around his at the knees, bringing him crashing closer, unable to move away, unable to do anything but push deeper.

They didn’t speak, relying on the muttered sounds of flesh meeting to say everything, not knowing the words that would disguise what they were doing. Pacey buried his face in her neck and inhaled her, refusing to look at her as he tangled his hands in her long straight hair, tugging at the strands as he pushed into her, thrusting, grunting softly, growling with satisfaction as his muscles tightened and he came inside her.

Their movement apart was punctuated with a sticky wetness, damp from sweat and sex and guilt. Pacey blinked rapidly as if in shock as Joey looked down at herself. Her dress was unbuttoned to the waist; a halo of material, bunched up and wrinkled. Her pantyhose were tangled around her knees, the tan fabric topped with the creamy silk of her panties. Her hair was a wild mess, artfully arranged by his roving fingers. “I should get cleaned up.”

He nodded, looking around the room, looking now at anything but her. Without a word, he stepped forward and swept her off her feet, carrying her toward the back of the house and into her old bedroom. Setting her down, he backed away and into the door. With a start, he quit moving, turning and shutting the door instead. “I’m sorry.”

Joey kicked off her shoes then did the same with her undergarments. “I’ll be right back.” She smoothed her skirt down and clutched the top half of the dress together before disappearing into the adjacent bathroom.

“I had no intention of doing that.” Pacey paced the small room, berating himself under his breath. “Jesus Christ, Witter. You just buried your wife and you’re banging away at your ex-girlfriend…your ex-girlfriend who is involved with someone else – in a matter of hours. How fucked up are you, exactly?”

“You didn’t do anything I didn’t want you to.”

He stopped and turned around, facing Joey in surprise. “You did? I mean…I didn’t?”

“No.”

“Andie hasn’t even been gone two weeks, Joey. How could I do that? How could I do what we just did?”

She walked up to him, her hair straightened once more, her dress looking nothing like she’d just been ravished. “Sometimes there’s this rush of emotion when there hasn’t been any in a long time. It’s hard to deal with. And it doesn’t always get dealt with the best way.” Touching his arm, she smiled shyly up at him. “You’ve been numb, Pacey. And now…now you’re not anymore.”

“It wasn’t fair to you. Or to Andie.”

“Andie’s gone, Pacey.”

“I know.”

“It’s okay to be sad.” She squeezed his hand and stepped forward, kissing him lightly on the lips. “And, more importantly, it’s okay for you to still be alive.”