i need you
(like a heartbeat)

by katie lynn

shaitlyn! with mentions of naitlyn and smitchie. this is kind of sad and pathetic. sadly pathetic? pathetically sad?

anyways, i hope you guys enjoy this. it took me a while to get right. :)

- -

"Nate!"

The sound of your brother's name on her her lips is not foreign to you. You've heard her scream the name over and over, but each time it stabs a little more, guilt prickling your skin.

Her hair is splayed out on your pillow (no, this side of the bed was always Mitchie's – it's Mitchie's pillow), a tangled, sweaty mess of deep chestnut locks. Her lips are parted in all of their chapped, bruised glory as she continues to moan your brother's name.

You wish you could whisper Caitlyn into her ear, but the name Mitchie falls from your lips (and you feel like the biggest hypocrite on the planet).

Hazel-brown eyes meet deep, rich chocolate, and for a moment her face morphs into that of your wife – and angel.

Her hands entwine with yours under the tangled bedsheets, both of you taking in deep, uneven breaths.

Caitlyn (not Mitchie – not your dear, sweet, effortlessly exquisite Mitchie – loud, rough around the edges, innovative, quirky Caitlyn) writhes underneath you in pleasure, her face contorting into a knot of ecstasy as you enter her. And she's Caitlyn at that moment and thoughts of Mitchie are briefly forgotten.

Mitchie.

Mitchie liked soft, slow lovemaking as she whispered your name ("Shane") with love. She was shy, gentle, unoffensive.

Caitlyn likes fast. Quick. Brief, but dripping with passion. Caitlyn is heat, but not the soothing warmth of Mitchie. She's the fire that burns wildly. Desire. Drive.

Lust.

"Say my name," you breathe, capturing her lips in a deep kiss.

"Nate."

Her eyes are closed, and it's obvious that she's lost in some fantasy.

Where Nate and Mitchie are alive. Where she's gotten more than three hours of sleep this past week. Where everything is okay.

"Caitlyn," you desperately just want to hear your name. It's been so long. "Say my name. Please."

Her eyes open, slowly, like she's just waking up.

"Shane," she says quietly, glancing down as if she's ashamed. And it's a little ironic, considering embarrassed to say your name, but not to be squirming around on your bedsheets completely exposed.

It's bittersweet, the sound of your name crossing her lips.

"Nate was lucky."

"Mitchie was luckier."

Lies.

Lucky to have spouses so starved – so desperate – for love and affection, they turn to each other?

You realize this soon enough, and roll off Caitlyn, running a hand through your hair. When did you get so messed up?

"We were the lucky ones," you note, and set your head on your pillow.

Caitlyn says nothing in reply. She turns to you, her fingers ghosting over your cheek.

"I'm sorry," she whispers, brown eyes glittering with tears.

"I know," you turn so that you aren't facing her.

You know she sheds no tears for you.

She cries for Nate – for betraying him. She cries for her kids – for letting them down. She cries for herself – for being an impulsive fool.

Never for you, Shane.

"It's late," you manage to choke out thickly, "I bet the kids are wondering where you are."

Your son and daughter, Caitlyn.

"They're fourteen and eleven. Old enough to be home alone," she says quietly.

"Don't be selfish," you snap, thinking of your own son. The one sleeping over at a friends' house. The one oblivious to the fact that his father is doing the unspeakable to his aunt. The one with his mother's brown eyes.

Poor kid.

She stares at the ceiling, tears sparkling in her eyes when she murmurs, "We can move in, Shane. They'd like it. I know it. It'd be easier."

Something strange and bitter, almost like laughter, escapes your throat. "No."

"But...why?"

"Because you're not Mitchie," you say simply.

Caitlyn hesitates and doesn't respond. She gathers her things swiftly, quietly. Apologies leave her lips, but not to you. You hear your brother's and your wife's name – not yours.

Nate had said to take care of Caitlyn and the kids, if anything ever happened to him. Take care of them, Shane. Make sure Caitlyn doesn't overwork, and the kids don't give her a hard time.

There was nothing about screwing her (pseudo lovemaking) or anything about letting her spend the night. But you do all that anyways.

Not because you love Caitlyn. You care about her. You want her to be happy.

But because you need this.

You need her like a heartbeat, for an hour a night. Not for the sex, or the head, or the chase.

You need the feeling of being needed.

You need to remember Mitchie.

- -

lol, wow. that was like the worst ending ever. did you hate it? because katie lynn does. :-/

anyway, plz leave me some feedback. it's been a really weird time for me lately, so i've been a little slack in the quality of my work lately, I think.

reviews with more than "so cute/sad" or "i loved it," would be much appreciated, por favor! :D