Kane’s Hell

By Elizabeth Finn

Kane’s Hell

By Elizabeth Finn

Copyright © 2015 Elizabeth Finn

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the author.

This is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is completely coincidental.

Basically: Please don’t steal my work. I work hard to make a living to support myself and my child, and I appreciate your support very much when you pay for my books. This story came entirely from my weirdo brain that usually keeps my head in the clouds for long periods of time. If you’re lucky enough, or unlucky enough depending on the chapter you happen to be reading, to experience such a journey as I’ve created, then way to go you! But it is nothing more than mere coincidence.

Blurb

Kane and Helene were the best of friends until a nightmare devastated them… Hopes were destroyed, dreams shattered, a budding teenage love torn to pieces. Eleven years later their lives are nothing like they once were. Time has changed them … and not for the better.

Helene is smart, driven, and accomplished—her education and achievements a smoke screen hiding the frigid and fragile child wounded long ago.

Kane is equally obsessed with his coping mechanisms—fighting … drinking … screwing … compulsively destroying himself one vice at a time.

When their paths collide again, their past becomes an obstacle no coping mechanism in the world can protect them from. But confronting the past so they can heal in the present is no easy task. Can Kane reach Helene and recapture what used to burn so warmly between them, or will his own self destructive demons pull her into his hell?

A woman determined to look forward. A man always looking back. A love desperate to be restored.

“You’re the brightest, warmest star in my universe.

You’ll never be less than everything to me.”

Table of Contents

Part I: A Past Relived

Chapter One: Helene – Eleven Years Ago

Chapter Two: Helene

Chapter Three: Kane – Eleven Years Ago

Chapter Four: Kane

Chapter Five: Helene – Eleven Years Ago

Chapter Six: Helene

Chapter Seven: Kane – Eleven Years Ago

Chapter Eight: Kane

Chapter Nine: Helene – Eleven Years Ago

Chapter Ten: Helene

Chapter Eleven: Kane – Eleven Years Ago

Chapter Twelve: Kane

Chapter Thirteen: Helene – Eleven Years Ago

Chapter Fourteen: Helene

Chapter Fifteen: Kane – Eleven Years Ago

Chapter Sixteen: Kane

Chapter Seventeen: Helene – Eleven Years Ago

Chapter Eighteen: Helene

Chapter Nineteen: Kane – Eleven Years Ago

Chapter Twenty: Kane

Chapter Twenty-One: Helene – Eleven Years Ago

Part II: A Today Undefined

Chapter Twenty-Two: Helene

Chapter Twenty-Three: Kane

Chapter Twenty-Four: Helene

Chapter Twenty-Five: Kane

Chapter Twenty-Six: Helene

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Kane

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Helene

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Kane

Chapter Thirty: Helene

Chapter Thirty-One: Kane

Chapter Thirty-Two: Helene

Chapter Thirty-Three: Kane

Chapter Thirty-Four: Helene

Part III: A Tomorrow Gone

Chapter Thirty-Five: Kane

Chapter Thirty-Six: Helene

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Kane

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Helene

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Kane – Eleven Years Ago

Chapter Forty: Kane

Chapter Forty-One: Helene

Part IV: A Future Reborn

Chapter Forty-Two: Kane

Chapter Forty-Three: Helene

Epilogue: Helene & Kane

About the Author

Part I: A Past Relived

Chapter One

Helene

Eleven Years Ago

“Wha’d ya get on… nineteen?”

I looked over at Kane lounging casually against the take-out pizza counter. “Don’t you have pizza to make or something?” I asked, feeling my cheeks warm even as I joked with him.

“Nah… slow night. Plenty of time to get through my Poly-Sci homework … if you help me,” he said sweetly. “So… wha’d ya get on nineteen?”

I snorted, even as I looked down at my nearly complete worksheet in front of me. It was a slow Friday night. Slow enough for me to tend the counter at the old gas station and finish up my homework too, so I didn’t have to worry about it for the rest of the weekend. It was no mistake Kane had the same book and assignment out as I did. This was how we spent at least three evenings a week. He making pizza and trying to coax the answers to our homework out of me, and me running the cash register and ignoring his charm.

“I got the right answer,” I said as I smiled haughtily at him.

“Ah, come on, Hell. How’m I supposed to know what the right answer is?”

“My name is Helene. Stop calling me Hell.” I chastised. “You could try reading?”

Kane sauntered toward the counter where I was sitting on a stool by the register. “In the percolation-up model, where does political power come from?” Kane mocked with a feigned snobby scholastic voice. “What the fuck does percolation have to do with Poly-Sci? Coffee percolates, not politics,” he muttered.

I smiled. “Again, we have an entire textbook filled with all sorts of knowledge—like the percolation-up model. You’re seventeen. Please tell me I’m not the first person to introduce you to the oft forgotten yet absolutely invaluable invention known as the textbook.”

He laughed. “You always talk so smart-like, Hell,” he said in his best Hill-Billy accent. He pulled a bag of chips off the nearby rack and opened it up.

He offered it to me, and I snatched one from the bag as I closed my worksheet inside my textbook and shoved it aside.

He leaned against the counter across from me. “What can I say, that’s why you’re the honor student, and I’m the…” He trailed off.

“Miscreant, troublemaker, popular kid,” I supplied for him.

He smirked his devilish and flirtatious smile right back, but then his expression went slack, and he sighed. “You know I don’t care about any of that.”

I nodded. I knew that fact very well. He was literally the only guy I’d ever met who didn’t care in any way whatsoever who was cool, who was uncool, who was smart, who was a jock. Odd thing was, it made him the coolest of them all. He wasn’t afraid of the fact I was a smarty and his friends thought I was a complete nerd. He also wasn’t afraid they knew we were friends and had been since we were children. He was so unafraid, in fact, that he’d regularly sit with me at lunch if he saw me sitting by myself, ignoring the leering eyes of his buddies and turning his back on their jeering jokes and snide comments.

“You’re not going to help me, are you?” he asked as he sighed. His eyebrows were cocked as he studied me with his crystalline blue eyes.

“I am helping you … by making you do the work yourself.”

He bit his lower lip, his eyes hooded and sexy, and when he reached out to my hand, I held my breath as warm pulses of electricity coursed through me in waiting anticipation. He stroked the side of my hand lightly with his finger, and the pulses of energy buzzing through me went into hyper-drive. It was amazing what just the lightest touch of his skin against mine could do to me.

God I needed a boyfriend.

“Please?” he begged with a very contrived pout.

He waited for me to respond as he watched me. I was refusing to say anything, but it was as much nerves as it was stubbornness. His lips finally pulled up seductively, and then he easily and casually sauntered to the end of the counter, rounding it toward my little workspace where I was still sitting on the swivel stool.

“I’ll take you to the homecoming dance in a couple of weeks,” he said in this taunting sing-songy voice.

I was struggling to breathe as I regained myself from the touch. I could still feel the very place his fingers had brushed my hand. “I’m too smart to fall for your bullshit.” I straightened my back defiantly. I might be smart, but I was definitely not above falling for his bullshit.

“I’ll even buy you one of those nice corsages with the pretty little flowers to go with your pretty little dress.” He was still toying with me as he stepped closer and closer, flirtatiously closing the space between us.

I cleared my throat and pursed my lips. “You can’t flirt the answers out of me.”

He smirked, but he didn’t respond right away. He finally took a deep breath, and he sighed. There was a sudden and odd seriousness to his disposition. “I know,” he finally said. “Doesn’t mean it’s not fun to try.” He glanced away for a moment, clearing his throat, but when he looked back, his expression was easy again. “Remember when we were kids, and your parents still lived in that big old farmhouse out by my place?” He took another step toward me.

Of course I remembered. He was the only kid for miles around, and that made him my first and only friend at that time. “Yes,” I said.

“Do you remember how I used to get you to do things I wanted you to do?” he asked, getting closer and closer to me by the second.

“No.” My brow furrowed as I tried to figure out where he was going with this, but even as the gears turned in my head, my body flushed with that same electric warmth I always felt when he was so close to me.

He stepped right in front of me, just marginally too close to be appropriate. “I … tickled you,” he finished in a rush as he reached for my sides, his fingers grazing me gently and quickly along my ribcage.

I instantly fell apart, giggling, laughing, tightening all the muscles in my groin to keep myself from peeing. He leaned into me, my legs parted around his hips. As his fingers slowed and his touch softened, my cheeks burned. His face was so close to mine as he pressed forward, and I glanced down between us before I could stop myself. He was hard. I wasn’t even sure what that would look like were he unclothed, but I knew the concept well enough thanks to Health class. He was aroused.

His nostrils flared, and he leaned marginally closer to my mouth. God, he was going to kiss me. I wanted him to kiss me. He studied my eyes, and I could see the tension in his neck when he swallowed. But as the moment drew out painfully long, his brow flinched, and he eventually pulled back quickly as he inhaled a sharp gasp.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. He stared at me, and his eyes drifted down to my lips for a moment. “I—”

The bells suddenly jangled out on the door as someone walked in, but Kane didn’t pull his eyes from me right away. His focus shifted to the ground, and he shook his head before he turned and walked toward his own counter.

“Hey,” he said as he nodded to the stranger who’d just walked in.

Chapter Two

Helene

“Here you go, Ms. Hess. That should be the final version—at least for the moment.”

“Thanks,” I said distractedly as I stared at my cell phone in my hand. When I glanced up and took the sheet of paper from the woman behind the desk, she smiled at me. “Oh, and it’s just Helene,” I added as I returned her smile.

“Very well, Helene. Glad to have you back this semester.”

“Thanks,” I said, again struggling to concentrate on anything but the phone in my hand.

I stumbled out of Schiavo Hall where the administrative offices of Penn State Hazleton were housed and headed toward the Evelyn Graham Academic Center, ignoring the feet that passed me on the sidewalk as my heels clicked against the concrete. I stared down at my hand, scrolling through email after email. When my phone rang, I jumped.

“This is Helene,” my voiced rushed out even as my finger still brushed across the screen.

“Hello, Helene. This is Ava from the University of Pennsylvania. I have Doctor Briggs on the line. Do you have a moment to speak with her?”

“Yes, yes. Of course,” I said hastily, still walking briskly and blindly toward the Academic Center.

“Helene,” came Dr. Briggs always serene and graceful voice. “I’m so glad I finally reached you.”

“Yes, I am too.” My voice was bordering on shrill. “Thank you for calling me back—”

“I’m not going to waste any time. If you want to go justice, then go justice. It’s been done to death, and it can be seen as cliché and safe. As your dissertation director, it’s my job to be frank, and that’s as frank as it gets. That said, I truly think if someone can pull some perspective out of this topic, it’s you. I want you to stick with your instincts on this. I really do.”

I fought against the sudden loss of wind from my sails for a moment. “Okay,” I said, my tone mildly deflated. Done to death, cliché, safe? None of those were inspiring words.

“I just sent you some suggestions on your thesis that I think you’ll find very useful. When you have a moment, review them and then get back in touch with me. I know you’ve already done a fair amount of work on this, but I will caution you, you need a narrow direction. Justice is broad, and a broad scope dissertation can kill your chances with the committee. You’re an advanced doctoral student, Helene. That comes with high expectations.”

“Yes. Yes, I will definitely narrow it down. Thank you so much, Dr.—”

“Very good, dear. I must go, but we’ll talk soon. Make sure you review Crito. It’s fundamental, I know, but you must start with your basics and build from there.”

“Yes, yes… Of course I will.”

“We’ll talk soon.” And then the line clicked dead even as I opened my mouth to thank her once more.

“Okay,” I said under my breath. “That was… Well…” I looked around, wondering for a moment where I was, and when I glanced in front of me, it was the physical education building I was looking at. “Shit,” I muttered. I’d missed my turn.

By the time I made it to the Academic Center, I was five minutes late, and when I pushed through the door into the lecture hall, every eyeball in every head turned to stare at me.

I cleared my throat as I walked toward the front of the room, and the eyes followed my every move. They roved, and I could feel them walking and crawling over my skin, judging, appraising. I ignored it, feeling my cheeks flush but refusing to react to my nerves.

“Good evening, class,” I said as I finally stepped up to the large desk that sat in the center of the vast room with its tall ceilings and cavernous echo. “I’m Helene Hess, and this is Philosophy 101. I’m an assistant professor here at Penn State Hazleton. I’m in the process of finishing up my dissertation for my Doctorate in Philosophy from the University of Pennsylvania—”

“Ivy League…” a young man sitting near the front said. “Impressive.”

I stared at him for a moment. “Is it?” I asked blandly. “As I was saying, I’ll be your instructor for this course. We will be meeting every Wednesday evening from five to eight in this lecture hall.”

I spent the next thirty minutes reviewing the syllabus, and every time I mentioned an assignment or a test, the group of thirty or so supposed adults broke out into a chorus of groans. And when I mentioned the term paper that students would be required to write, you’d have thought I’d sentenced them to a life of hard labor.

Nearly half of the class was missing their textbooks, because apparently knowing what the text would be a month prior wasn’t long enough for anyone to actually find the textbook … at the campus bookstore that would literally find the book for them if they cared to ask. The majority of students who did have their books were the adults—the real adults. There were always plenty of those in an evening class, and I’d decided they were literally the only thing that could save my faith in collegiate education.

“I heard the bookstore was out of a lot of textbooks,” the same young male student who was impressed with my Ivy League education said as he lounged back in his chair as though it were a recliner.

“Is that so?” I asked, not the least bit amused. “And are they out of this textbook?” I asked, holding my copy up.

He shrugged.

“Amazon?” I asked. “Barnes & Noble, eBay … to name a few. All good examples of places you can actually buy a book.”

The number of shrugs that were returned to that comment was countless.

This was my second semester teaching an evening course at Penn State Hazleton, the first being the summer semester directly preceding this one. And I’d TA’d during my years of graduate school at the University of Pennsylvania in Philadelphia. There was one thing I’d determined over those many semesters and countless students… Freshman … strike that, undergraduates in general were no more mature than the average high schooler. Less so by all accounts thanks to the fact the one source of discipline—parents—was no longer a going concern in their lives.

A masculine looking hand rose from near the back of the room, and as I took a deep breath, tempering my irritation, I pointed toward the student. “Yes, you in the back. And please tell me you haven’t also failed to show up to my class prepared.”

The student’s hand dropped, and I started to roll my eyes, but then the hand rose again, clasping the textbook in his hand.

I smiled.

“Can you stand, please?” The problem with large lecture halls without leveled seating was they didn’t offer the same convenient eye line. I missed that about the University of Pennsylvania. Penn State Hazleton was a smaller satellite school located in Hazleton, Pennsylvania that was part of Penn State University. It was a good school, small, but adequate. It did, however, lack some of the conveniences I was used to at my larger, and frankly, more prestigious university.

The man stood, and as he did, every head in the room craned around to see him.

“How are you, Hell?” he asked.

A shudder ran through my body, traveling from one nerve ending to another as I gaped at him, and when my breath left me in a rush it was audible.

Students craned their necks to see who this man was that had just thrown me off track so effectively. It was utterly silent in the hall, and that silence became so deafeningly obvious that students started to fidget and clear their throats.

“Please don’t call me that,” I managed to finally get out on a breath as it escaped my lungs.

He looked back at me calmly, a subtle smirk pulling up his lip.

I was panicking. I was also pulsing with warmth, and as the blush crept back into my cheeks again, I failed completely at tempering my reaction to it. My hand moved to my cheek, feeling the burn, and when I realized what I’d done, I dropped my hand so fast I could literally see multiple eyes bulging as they focused on me.

“Is it true Nietzsche caught syphilis from a prostitute and lost his mind?” he asked, holding his textbook in both hands now.

I just stared, failing to react in any way much less respond.

“Well, did he?” he asked again. He studied me seriously, but his lips still pulled up in a small smile.

I cleared my throat. “There’s some … debate … about—”

“Did he literally fuck himself insane and then die?” he asked more bluntly. When he bit into his lower lip, it was almost a sheepish expression, and his eyes flit to the floor for a moment before returning to me.

The reaction from the class was a combination of things. Men chuckled quietly if they had any sort of decorum, some laughed loudly, slapping their legs and buckling over with amusement. Some women, namely those who were mature enough to find such behavior appalling, gasped and covered their mouths. And then there were the younger women who giggled and blushed even as they batted their eyes at him. Why wouldn’t they bat their eyes? He was good looking. Always had been, and his mouth was filthy. There was nothing new about that either.

I finally coughed, glancing away for a moment as I regrouped. I grabbed the attendance sheet I’d just picked up from admissions shortly ago. “If you brought your book, show me when I call your name.” I called off names, noting the students who’d brought their books. When I was finally finished taking attendance, I crossed my arms. “If you failed to bring your textbook this week, I want a two-thousand word paper over Marcus Aurelius on my desk by next week,” I said. “You’ll find an entire section in chapter one related to him, and I expect you to find two additional sources of information as well—one of which must be considered scholarly. If you decide to show up unprepared, I’ll see to it you’re kept busy outside of my class.”

There was a communal groan as that registered with the slackers.

“Everyone is expected to have read the first two chapters by class next week as well. We’ll be discussing the human condition and empiricism. And yes, there will be a quiz. Class is dismissed,” I said abruptly.

The room erupted in chatter as students stood and moved down the rows of desks toward the exit. I was glared at multiple times—mainly by the students without textbooks. I was smiled at a few times too—by the students who were getting out exceptionally early without the added two thousand word paper. And the cocky boy who didn’t know how to purchase a textbook actually had the gall to wink at me. I stifled an eye roll as I forced my attention to move down to the desktop.

The room eventually quieted—all that is but the sound of lone footsteps on the hard concrete floor of the room. I didn’t need to look up to see who it was that had hung back.

“I see you’re going for the teacher of the year award,” he said. “You’re quite brutal.”

I looked up. “Kane.” I said his name and nothing more, but it was too breathy, too quiet.

“Hell.” He walked toward me slowly, his face sly and mischievous. He’d always had that countenance to him—as though nothing, not life, not nightmares, not boogiemen, nor monsters could rattle him. I’d loved that about him once. Of course it wasn’t true, and he was just as vulnerable to monsters as I was.

He’d changed in the eleven or so years since I’d last seen him. His eyes were as blue as ever, and his hair was the same sandy light brown color, but it was longer, pushed back and curling around the backs of his ears. He looked so much like the roguish carefree kid I knew before, though he was a little too rough around the edges to pull it off completely. He had facial hair now, and it was scruffy and thoughtless, but it made him look intimidating. His jeans were worn, but they fit impeccably—even if they looked aged to perfection. His work boots were just as broken in as his jeans, and the gray T-shirt he wore clung to chiseled muscles that had hardened over the years.

I took a deep breath, cramming my laptop and folders back into my briefcase. “Hell is not a name. It’s a place. A rather unpleasant place if I know my geography.”

He chuckled. “Yes. If I recall we both took the guided tour once.”

I didn’t have a clue how to respond to that. I stopped cramming my belongings into my bag and looked up at him. His brow flinched, and he looked away for a moment as his jaw tightened. Not even he, in all his laid-back coolness, could reference our past without some reaction. That was almost comforting.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice breathless again.

“Learning about philosophy,” he said simply.

“And what was that before,” I asked as I pointed to the back of the classroom where he’d come from. In truth, my insides were still fluttering with emotion I couldn’t begin to pin down, and I was rambling just to keep my mind moving.

“What? Isn’t Nietzsche’s sexually transmitted lunacy a valid topic for this class?”

I didn’t respond. I just stared at him.

“Fine,” he finally conceded. “Just getting your attention.”

“And you couldn’t have simply said hello?”

He smiled, studying me for a moment. “Hi,” he said quietly, his smile sincere and real. He rounded the desk toward me, and when he reached for the collar of my fitted suit jacket, he ran his fingers under the lapel. “You look so grown up,” he said as he studied the fabric and his thumb as it ran over the top of the material. When he looked at my eyes, his face was serious. “Do you feel grown up?”

I took a deep breath, an odd nostalgia that was both painful and intoxicating coursing through my veins. “I feel…” My eyes wandered. “…too old to be twenty-eight.”

He nodded. “Yeah,” he said quietly. He sighed as he looked away for a moment, but his hand never left my lapel. “Me too.”

“Why are you in my class?” I watched him, waiting for his attention to return to me.

When it finally did, he was smirking again. “I happen to have Wednesday nights free, and as I said before, I want to learn a little something about philosophy.” He held his textbook up, and he finally released my jacket as he started flipping through the table of contents. “Lots of interesting stuff in here from the looks of it.” His voice sounded sarcastic, but his eyes studied the pages intently. “The nature of being, divine knowledge, love and hate…” He glanced at me for a moment before looking back down. “Justice…” he said with particular enunciation, and then he looked back at me, his eyebrows shooting up.

“My dissertation topic.” I offered nothing more.

He nodded slowly. “Of course it is.” He was quiet for a moment as he stared at me blankly. “I just wanted to see you. I’d heard you were back in town. I’ve only been back six months myself. My dad had a stroke, and…”

“I’d heard that. I’m sorry.”

He nodded again. “He’s in a nursing home now, and I’m trying to get his house ready to sell. It’s in pretty … rough shape. Not that it was ever the nicest house on the block,” he said quietly.

“Don’t recall your dad’s house being on a block.” Buried in the woods just outside of town was more accurate actually.

He smiled. “No.”

“I should … go.” But I didn’t make any move to leave, and he reached out once more. He didn’t touch my jacket this time though, and as I inhaled deeply, his finger met my skin just at the base of my neck where it hollowed in at the top of my sternum. He traced that finger down and over the pendent on my necklace, stopping just below it.

“How can one little thing destroy so much?” His voice was distant as he stared at the place his finger still touched.

I closed my eyes, letting it sink in. So much. So much more than I ever realized I had in me to destroy.

“It wasn’t such a little thing,” I whispered.

“No it wasn’t,” he agreed.

When his arms wrapped around me, I sank into his body, resting my cheek to his shoulder. I could hear his heart beating, slowly and evenly as we stood there, and I reached around his body, clasping at the backs of his shoulders as the tight muscles underneath tensed. I closed my eyes, remembering a time when being close to him felt good.

Until the day one … little … thing … destroyed it all. But that was just it. It wasn’t a little thing at all. It was the worst of things.

He released me on a heavy sigh. “It’s good to see you, Hell. I really am looking forward to your class. Perhaps you’ll let me read this dissertation of yours. Teach me a thing or two about justice.”

I didn’t know how to respond to that. It wasn’t a light comment. It was exceptionally loaded with a past too heavy with secrets for either of us to ignore in the silence between us. He stared at me, his face expressionless, and I just felt slack as I looked back at him.

“Good night,” he finally said quietly, and then he turned and walked out of the room.

Chapter Three

Kane

Eleven Years Ago

“What’s up, dude? Help ya with something?” I asked the man who’d just walked into the store.

I was moseying slowly across the store, still kicking my own ass in my mind for not spitting out the fucking question before we were interrupted. Actually, I had spit out the question. I’d just not managed to do it in any legitimate way that convinced her I was serious. Why did I always turn things into a joke with her? And why the fuck was it so hard to ask her one simple question? Will you go to the homecoming dance with me? Simple. But it wasn’t simple. And now I was frustrated as hell that I’d once again missed my opportunity.

I eyed the customer as he walked in, almost hating him for the interruption. The man just looked around for a moment. When he finally met my eyes, his were cold. Judging this book by the cover was easy—he was an asshole.

“I said… Can … I … help … you?” I asked slowly as though he were impaired, but the man just smirked back at me, saying nothing.

The guy eventually shrugged, and he cocked his head to the side. His eyes traveled down my body, stopping at my feet for a moment. I glanced at Hell, and I scoffed in amusement. Hell didn’t look at all amused. The man’s eyes moved back up to my face, and he smirked again before he sauntered off toward the junk food aisle. He reeked like body odor and stale cigarettes, and I waved my hand in front of my face as I looked at Helene. Apparently the stranger wasn’t much for hygiene.

The gas station stayed pretty quiet most of the time. It wasn’t a busy area to begin with thanks to the station being just outside of city limits. The owner was an old man, who, legal or not, tended to vacate the premises by seven most nights and leave his high school help to run the joint and sell his alcohol.

That meant Helene and I were on our own to deal with the weirdo. I knew Hell, and I could tell the man was making her nervous. I shrugged as I looked at Helene, and she bit her lower lip, looking up at the clock and sighing. My eyes followed hers. Eight-thirty. Thirty minutes to go until we could close this joint down for the night.

I glanced back at the stranger who was still walking slowly down the aisle. He pulled a bag of Twizzlers from the shelf then a package of some kind of gummy candy. He pocketed both as I watched.

“Seriously, dude?” I asked. “I’m staring right at ya.”

The man turned slowly back around, a cold glare leveled on me. I sneered in return.

“You’re paying for that shit you just stuck in your pocket, yeah?” I could be a smart ass. I knew that, but I rarely seemed to be able to control it the way I should. Hell, I’d been kicked out of a class or two thanks to my fucking mouth. And I fully expected Helene to lay into me the moment crazy-pants left the store. She didn’t have much patience for my stupid mouth.

“Yeah,” the guy grunted out the word. He turned around, heading down the aisle farther. He grabbed a bottle of vodka, the very same brand Helene and I indulged in one night after work, and then he headed back up toward the counter. I turned and followed him, and I watched as Helene exhaled deeply. What I didn’t like was the worry on her face.

“That it for, ya?” Helene asked the man when he set the bottle down and pulled the candy from his pocket.

“Yeah.” His eyes wandered down to her chest, stopping at her small tits, and he stared.

I stepped up beside the man a foot or so down the counter, and I looked over at him, studying him while he studied Hell’s chest. “Doesn’t she have a nice smile?” I asked, my smart ass smirk firmly affixed to my lips. “Yeah. It’s about eight inches higher than you’re looking, asshole.”

The stranger, glanced over at me, laughing even as he fished some cash out of his pocket.

“Didn’t see you pull up in a car,” Helene said. I could tell she was trying to ease the tension. “Staying nearby? Not much around her.”

“Nearby…” the stranger grunted.

The nearest business was a rundown old strip of ten or so hotel rooms—very Bates motel like in my opinion, and it was rarely occupied.

Helene nodded.

The man just stared at Helene’s face. She looked terrified, and I wanted to be rid of this asshole if for no other reason than that.

Helene rang him up quickly, her fingers trembling slightly on the cash register keys, and when the man finally walked back out the door, she instantly sighed.

“Wow, what a fucking whack-job—”

“Did you have to bait him like that?” Helene cut me off angrily.

I knew that was coming. I was silent for a moment, my jaw tensing. “I … wasn’t—”

“No? What the hell was that then? You just showing off? Is that it?”

She was glaring at me, and rather than let it continue, which I knew from experience could go on perpetually, I rounded the counter to her side. She bit her lower lip. It wasn’t often she got angry with me, and I hated it when she did. I literally never got angry with her.

When I reached for her arm, it wasn’t playful or flirtatious like it’d been earlier. I pulled her closer with my hand on her elbow, and she turned to face me.

I rested my hands on her shoulders. “I’m sorry,” I said quietly.

She nodded.

I glanced up at the clock. “Twenty minutes to go. Your parents are out of town this weekend, right?”

She nodded. “Visiting Hilde at college.”

“How about we lift a bottle of Jack and I come over for a while?” And maybe the Jack will loosen up my mouth, and I’ll finally be able to spit out the fucking homecoming dance invitation. Maybe…

She finally smiled at me. “Don’t forget the Coke.”

I laughed, relieved she didn’t hate me anymore. “You got it. I’m going to go close down the kitchen. I’ll make us a pizza to take with us.”

“Okay.”

Chapter Four

Kane

“What’s she like now? She still a dork? You two were tight back in the day, weren’t ya?”

“Fuck,” I muttered as I rolled my eyes at Shawn, glancing over my shoulder so he wouldn’t miss it. “The day? What day was that?”

I set the trowel down that I was using to mud the drywall, and I pulled my T-shirt over my head, using the fabric to wipe the sweat off the back of my neck. It was too fucking hot for early September in the Poconos. It was sure as hell too hot to be working my ass off in a house with no functioning air conditioner—one of many items on my to-do list for this place. I tucked my T-shirt into the waist of my jeans and stooped to pick the trowel up again.

Shawn snorted. “The day when you were actually cool, and she was the nerd with the remarkably great ass who challenged my ability to keep you cool. The girl was a cool wrecker.”

It was my turn to snort, and I did. “Why? Because she was smart and actually did what a decent student is supposed to do by studying and getting good grades? You know, she’s almost a doctor. Not like a doctor doctor, like the other kind.” I glanced over my shoulder again. Shawn was cracking open a beer, barely listening to me.

“Snore,” Shawn said when he finally chucked the beer cap on the floor. “Don’t know why you gave two shits about that chick.”

I swallowed, gritting my teeth as I stared at the unfinished wall in front of me. “Her family used to live about a half a mile down the road from here in that big farmhouse when we were little kids. We had no other neighbors with kids out here, so it was just Helene, her sister, and I. But her sister was older than us, and she didn’t like hanging out with us. Hell was pretty much my only friend until her family moved into town when we were in junior high.”

“Didn’t mean you had to stay friends with her after that. You think I don’t remember all the times you ditched us just so you could hang out with her, walk her home, sit with her at lunch. It was pathetic, man.” Shawn laughed.

“You just didn’t know her the way I did,” I said, my voice too quiet. No one in all the world knew her the way I did.

“So, what? You feel like you need a little doctor pussy now? Get the ex-girlfriend out of your system?”

“Jesus,” I muttered, half disgusted I’d once called this man my friend, half disgusted I still did. “I never dated Helene. We were friends.” I wasn’t quite able to disguise the irritation in my voice.

“You telling me you never fucked her?” Shawn was laughing again.

My hand paused, holding the trowel to the wall. That wasn’t a question I had any intention of answering. “You know, I got a lot of work to do. And you clearly didn’t stop by to lend a hand, so…” I nodded toward the door, hoping he’d take the fucking hint.

“Answer the question, asshole.” This was just random conversation to Shawn. He had no idea he was treading so close to a hard limit for me. It was just crude rhetoric to him—much like every other conversation I’d had with him since we were kids.

“Like I said,” I set the trowel down again, giving up for the time being. “If you’re not going to help me out, then get lost. I have too much to do.” And every last word out of Shawn’s mouth made me want to punch something.

“Your dad’s a fucking asshole, Kane. Don’t know why you give a shit about this place.”

I finally let out an annoyed huff and turned to face him, planting my hands on my hips. “Seriously?” I snapped, my voice loud and angry. “Last thing I need is the nursing home releasing him to me, so I can try to figure out how to deal with an old man with brain damage who wasn’t nice to begin with and is now an even bigger asshole than he was before his brain decided to blow up. Medicare doesn’t seem to think he’s critical enough to need long term care yet. The disability approval process is taking forever, and I have no hope of getting him on Medicaid until he’s declared disabled. The whole fucking thing is a nightmare. What that means is that selling this fucking place is the only way I can pay to keep his ass in. I’d like to actually make enough fucking money off it to do that.”

“Yeah?” Shawn muttered. “And then what?”

I shrugged. “Then…” I ran my hand through my hair, pushing it back. “I’m … going away for a while.”

“Gonna disappear for another eleven years again?”

“It really won’t be up to me,” I muttered under my breath.

Shawn scoffed, but it wasn’t humored. “What the fuck does that mean? Who the hell’s it up to?” His voice was irritated. “You ain’t been home since the day you ditched this town when you were seventeen, and you’re already planning your escape. What the fuck you even come back for, man? I mean, shit, ain’t like you and your dad ever got along.”

“Then what happens? They release him, and he becomes the crazy hobo sitting on the street corner,” I snapped. “I just need to take care of business. Make sure he’s squared away.”

Shawn drained his beer in one long gulp, burping loudly as he tossed the bottle toward the large fifty-five gallon garbage can I had in the middle of the floor for my scraps. He missed, and the bottle bounced off the side, clanking to the floor and splattering beer on the subfloor I’d only just finished repairing the week before.

“Shit,” he grumbled. What he didn’t do was pick up the bottle. “I gotta go. I’ll catch ya later.”

I followed him to the front door, and as I pulled it open, relieved to finally be rid of him, I found myself face to face with another piece of my past—this one a far kinder and prettier piece known as Helene, or Hell as I liked to call her for no other reason than she hated it and I’d always loved getting under her skin in any and every way I could.

Her hand was lifted as though she were getting ready to knock, and her lips parted as our eyes met, locked on one another, and then refused to look away.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Shawn asked me as he pushed past me and reached for the screen door.

Helene glanced at him, her eyes widening for a moment, and then she stepped away from the door, letting Shawn pass through. Shawn and Helene hadn’t been friends growing up. In fact, it was probably safer to say, very few of my friends had been Helene’s and vice versa. Shawn looked her up and down, and when he looked back to me, he smirked.

“Don’t remember you looking so good back in high school,” he commented to Helene.

She crossed her arms. “Don’t remember you looking so ugly.”

It was true. Some people fell apart after high school. Some blossomed. Hell had definitely blossomed. Shawn had definitely not thanks to a beer gut, unkempt hair, sloppy clothes, and too many cigarettes. The odd thing was, I couldn’t say seventeen-year-old Helene was any less beautiful than the statuesque version standing in front of me with more curves, thinner cheeks, and a more composed stature. She was just Helene, and regardless of the package she came in, she still felt like my Hell.

Shawn snorted rudely as he walked past her and down the rickety old wooden porch steps. “Nice, coming from a doctor,” he muttered over his shoulder. “Knew I didn’t like your uppity bitch attitude.”

Helene’s eyes that had been following Shawn over her shoulder suddenly snapped back to me. I wasn’t stupid. She’d caught it. He’d called her doctor, and she knew full well the only way he’d have known anything about that was if I’d mentioned it—which all meant I’d been talking about her—to Shawn no less.

I held the door open for her, and she stepped through, glancing sideways at me as she passed into the living room. I’d already gutted this room down to studs, re-drywalled, taped, and partially mudded the walls. The floors had been taken down to the sub, and the sound of her sandals brushing the rough exposed OSB echoed in the small space.

She was wearing a sundress that fit close to her skin and hugged her curves, and as I glanced down along her figure when her back was too me, I focused on that “remarkably great ass” Shawn had been talking about. It was round, and she still looked toned and tight under the clingy fabric of the dress.

When she turned to look at me, she seemed to suddenly realize I was shirtless. Of course my eyes were moving over the light gray cotton material of her dress, focusing entirely too much on the small swell of her tits, so clearly I’d realized she had breasts too. Her eyes wandered quickly over my chest, straying down to my stomach, and then bouncing back up to my face. She cleared her throat and looked away for a moment, swallowing visibly.

I kept my mouth shut, waiting to see where she was going to take this.

“I always loved this house,” she said as she looked around the empty room that was still very much a work in progress.

“What did you like so much about it? The dark brown carpet that reeked of my dad’s cigarette smoke, the equally dark paneling on pretty much every wall? Or maybe it’s the avocado green cupboards in the kitchen?”

She just smiled this small smile that took me back to another time. She didn’t realize it, but she was a walking memory to me—everything about her meant something. And this smile was a chastising one—not real chastisement, though. The kind that looked more like she was trying to hide a crush by playfully scorning something I said. I got this smile a lot “back in the day,” as Shawn would say. But it was unexpected now, and when I saw it, my stomach muscles clenched tight and my throat constricted.

“No?” I asked. “It must be the tan linoleum in the kitchen that’s been peeling since the last time you were in this house.”

“Bingo,” she said. “I’ve a thing for peeling linoleum.” She wandered around the room for a moment as I watched her. “It’s got good bones,” she mused.

I smirked. “Does it? Does anyone actually know what ‘good bones’ means, or is it something we’ve all just picked up from watching too much HGTV?”

She shrugged. “Maybe it means … the footings are poured deep … the studs up to code.” She shook her head as she shrugged. “Just … good bones.”

“Well it has some skeletons in the closet if that’s what you’re trying to say.” I stared at her, and the lightness in her expression faded slowly before my eyes.

She ignored my comment as she wandered again. “I didn’t realize Shawn still lived here. You two were good friends in high school.” She approached the nearby window, looking out toward the dirt parking area out front.

“Yeah,” I agreed.

“Does he know?”

She brought me up short with that question for a moment, or rather, her willingness to ask it so bluntly right out of the gate. Of course I’m the one who referenced the skeletons, so should I be surprised she’d bait me as well? Instead of dealing with the weight of that question, I smirked. “No, Hell. He doesn’t know how much you used to have a crush on me.”

She stared at me expressionlessly. “I didn’t… That’s not what I meant,” she finally said quietly.

“I know.” My sarcasm was gone, and I stared at the floor between us for a moment, taking a deep breath. “No, he doesn’t.”

She nodded, but her focus shifted out the window again for a moment, and when she looked back, her eyes glanced down along my torso, quickly flitting over my skin. She couldn’t seem to let go of the fact I didn’t have a shirt on, or maybe her eyes just didn’t want to cooperate, because she kept glancing away as though embarrassed she couldn’t stop looking at me.

“How is he … Shawn?” she asked nervously. “I didn’t realize you two were still friends.”

“We’re not. He’s just still here, and seeing as I am too now…”

“So does that make us friends?” Her lips pulled up slightly, but just as quickly as the small smile appeared it fell.

“BFFs til the day we die,” I remarked, letting my lips pull up too. “So what’s with the social visit? Didn’t think professors were supposed to fraternize with their students.”

“Just getting your attention,” she repeated my line from class a few days before.

I laughed and crossed my arms on my chest. “Well, you did. You always did.”

Her cheeks instantly blushed. “So where’ve you been all these years? What have you been up to?” Her expression was cool. She may have nothing at all in common with Shawn, but they certainly both had a shared resentment for my abrupt departure from Hazleton eleven years before.

“Not much,” I responded. I wasn’t one to fall into verbal traps easily, and rather than let her resentment drive the conversation, I decided to shake her up a bit. “I bounced around here and there. Drank some drinks, did some drugs, ate some … pussy.” I smirked at her. “Fucked some too… Among other things.”

“Oh…” She looked around awkwardly for a moment. “Well, that’s…” She nodded.

“How about you?”

“I … uh … had some drinks,” she said awkwardly. “I didn’t—”

“Eat any pussy?” I asked.

She smiled nervously. “It was on my shortlist. But I was busy.”

I hummed in response to her sarcasm.

“I should… I should go,” she said abruptly as she turned toward the door.

But I grabbed her by the elbow, stopping her as she passed me. I wasn’t sure why I did it, but I needed something more than that. If she walked out now it would leave nothing but question marks in my mind that would eat at me. I needed a period, something definitive, something that would give me some measure of peace with her—if that was even possible.

“How’s this going to go?” I asked the question, staring at the side of her face. She’d not yet managed to look at me. She seemed to be avoiding it.

When she finally looked sideways at me, her big blue eyes were wide and terrified. She shook her head subtly.

“Do you want me to ignore you? Pretend you’re nothing more than some long lost acquaintance? Good to see you, but not much more than that…” I stared at her, refusing to look away.

Her lips were parted, and her chest rose and fell deeply as her breathing became pronounced. But she said nothing.

“Do you want to see me? Be my friend? Get close again? Rehash our darkest secrets?”

Her eyelids fluttered, and the blue of the irises suddenly shimmered in glossiness. I had no idea if they were tearing because she couldn’t seem to fully blink or if they were tearing for some other reason entirely.

“Do you want me to come onto you? Seduce you? Let you fuck me? Use my body? Hurt it?”

Her breath left her in a rush, and I could feel her trembling as I held her elbow. She licked her lips, looking at my mouth for a moment. But she glanced back at my eyes, and her jaw tightened. When she turned toward me, facing me full on, I was almost shocked. She reached for my stomach, letting her palm cover the four inch scar that ran from my navel off to the left side of my abdomen. It was her scar as much as mine, and she damn well knew she didn’t need permission to touch it.

She held her hand over the gnarled tissue, and when she dropped her forehead to the center of my chest, I exhaled. I ran my hand over her long auburn hair, smoothing it as I went. And when my hand traveled back up, it settled on the back of her neck.

“What do you need from me?” I asked.

She lifted her head from my chest, staring up at my eyes as her tears pooled on her lower eyelids. I waited, hoping she’d rise to the challenge and give me something. Instead, she walked toward the door, and my heart fell.

I suddenly felt self-conscious and grabbed my T-shirt that was still tucked into the waist of my jeans. I tossed it quickly over my head. I held my breath as my throat burned and my chest tightened. I needed her not to walk away from this, but she was.

“Please,” I begged, crossing my arms on my chest and stuffing my hands under my opposite arms as though I could somehow protect myself from all the hurt between us. I’d lost my sarcasm, I’d lost my bullshit playful attitude that could toy with her until she forgot about the things I didn’t want to deal with, because in truth I needed to deal with them desperately—even if I didn’t know how.

She stopped at the door, gripping the door frame with one hand as she paused, and I inhaled deeply in relief. She turned back slowly, and she sniffed her nose and brushed a tear from her cheek. “An apology. An explanation.” Her voice broke over the words.

The barely restrained emotion I’d been trying to suffocate broke free. My eyes teared as I watched her, but they didn’t fall.

“I needed you, and you left me. You left me in this place to deal with … everything on my own.” She cried freely, unapologetically letting her emotion show while I tried to hide mine. “I need you to let me be angry with you. I need you to let me yell at you…” She shrugged as more tears fell. “…forgive you.” Her eyelids fluttered. “Just tell me why?” she pled quietly. “Why?”

“I can’t,” I whispered, and then I lost the fight against my own emotion as a tear ran down my cheek. I brushed it away angrily, stuffing my hands under my arms again.

Her eyes closed for a moment, but when they opened, she scoffed angrily and walked out. I followed her, standing on the porch as she stalked to her car. But she didn’t climb in. She paused with her hand on the handle and she turned toward me, glaring.

“You can’t?” she asked incredulously. “We shared the worst… We share it still … every day,” she half spoke, half cried the words as her lips trembled. “And you can’t?”

I said nothing, but not because I didn’t want to. I wanted to say so many things, but it was as if they were stuck just at the base of my throat, and my body wouldn’t let them go. She yanked the car door open, and I clenched my teeth and watched, waiting for her departure to be over. But then she paused again, looking back at me once more.

“What do you need from me?” She asked me the same question I’d asked of her. “You’re the one who showed up in my class, remember? So what do you need?”

My throat tightened as I tried to swallow. “Absolution,” I whispered.

She just stared at me, her eyes swimming in tears. “For what?” she asked.

But I couldn’t answer that question, and as I stayed silent, she watched me, waiting, and then eventually shaking her head when I failed to respond. She finally climbed in the car and slammed the door shut behind her. I watched her leave, and when she was gone, I walked back inside, slamming the door shut as I cursed loudly.

“Fuck!”

I paced in the living room for a few minutes, my jaw tense as I tried to relax. When I snatched my phone up from where I’d left it on the window sill, I gripped it so tight my palm hurt. I downed half a beer standing in front of the open fridge door, and when my phone rang in my hand I just stared at it for a moment.

“Goddammit,” I muttered, swiping my thumb across the screen. “Yeah,” I said, forcing my voice to calm.

“This is Sadie Miller, head nurse over at Shady Oaks, and I just wanted to let you know of an incident that occurred shortly ago involving your father.”

I stayed silent, inhaling deeply rather than communicating.

“Mr. Thorson—?” she started to say.

“What did he do?” I cut her off.

“He… Well, he hit one of the nurses’ assistants. Broke her nose. He was very agitated, and we ended up sedating him. He’s resting fine now, but I just wanted to let you—”

“Thanks,” I mumbled. “If it makes you feel any better he broke my nose once too.”

Sadie was suddenly silent. “Uh… Umm…”

“I have to go. Thanks for calling.” And I hung up on her.

I didn’t bother setting my phone down. I closed my eyes, letting the cool air from the fridge prickle over my skin. When I closed the door, I dialed another number quickly.

“Well, hey, there. I was starting to think you’d forgotten about me,” Cassie said in way of greeting.

I had actually started to forget about her. But it had no real bearing on what I wanted now. “Sorry,” I lied. “I’ve been busy. Thought maybe you’d want to come over for a while tonight. I’m just working on the house. I could use a distraction. Maybe pick up a pizza on your way.”

“Use a distraction,” she repeated, her voice light and flirtatious. “You mean, use my pussy?”

I said nothing for a moment. “Yeah, as well as a couple other holes if you don’t mind.” My voice was oddly flirtatious considering how I felt inside.

She was silent for a moment. She should be offended. She had every right in the world to be offended, and if she was, I’d hang up the phone and call another number. It was kind of sick and twisted that I knew all of that, and yet, I was willing to do it. I needed to feel something better than what my life felt like right now. It was a very simple problem, and an even simpler solution.

“Sure,” she said, hiding her offense well or missing the fact she should feel it entirely. It didn’t really matter to me.

Chapter Five

Helene

Eleven Years Ago

“Yo, Hell,” Kane yelled over the kitchen counter. “You want onion and sausage, right?”

“Yeah.” I went back to scrambling around, trying to get the place squared away. I was ready to be done with this night.

I could hear Kane clanking around in the kitchen, and I knew he was tossing pizza grates up onto the shelf without even looking. I entered the walk in fridge that ran behind the built in beverage cases, and I started restocking as quickly as I could, peering out between the wire shelves to make sure no customers were walking in last minute.

Kane walked by toward the front door with a bag of garbage in his hand, and I faintly heard the bells on the door tinkling out their sound as he exited. I busied myself with restocking until all the shelves were full for the next day. And when I walked back out, it was just as the bells on the door jangled out again.

“You’re not burning my pizza are you?” I asked as I rounded the end of the aisle near the front door. But my gate stopped instantly when I saw Kane standing there with a man behind him. It was the same man who’d been in the store less than thirty minutes before, and he held a knife to Kane’s neck.

A vibrating pulse of terror coursed through my body, radiating out from my heart, and I inadvertently clasped my hand to my chest as though I could make it beat again.

“Wha…wha…what—”

“Lock the fucking door.” When I didn’t move quickly enough, the man’s face pinched in anger. “Now, you stupid cunt!” he yelled.

I pulled the keys from my pocket, my hands trembling so much I could barely grasp the ring.

“It’s okay,” Kane said softly as I stumbled toward the door.

“No, baby, it’s not fucking okay,” the stranger said, and then he chuckled cruelly. “Unless you want to see what it looks like for your boyfriend to bleed out, I suggest you get your ass in gear.”

I whimpered as I fumbled with the lock on the door, and I contemplated for a half a second pushing through the door and running like hell down the street. But I couldn’t do that without killing Kane, and I closed my eyes as the realization sank in that I might very well die because of that decision.

“Get in the back room,” the man barked at me once the door was locked.

He followed me as I walked toward the stock room that sat behind the kitchen, and he flipped the lights out in the main store as we passed through the door. No one would even know we were in there once he closed the door behind us, and a dread I’d never felt before creeped over my skin at what that meant.

This monster could do anything to us, and there was absolutely not even the most remote of possibilities he could be stopped. When I heard the door latch behind us, I started crying. My chest lurched, and I bit my tongue as I tried to stifle the sound. It was useless, and when I turned around to face them, I saw Kane’s eyes had filled with tears too. He watched me, his body held rigid as he tried not move against the blade that was held tightly to his neck, and I focused on the knife, unable to look away.

“Take your clothes off,” he said to me.

The sobs I’d been biting back erupted from my mouth, and my body tried to double over as panic hit and coursed through me in a very physical way.

“No. Please don’t fucking do this to her,” Kane begged. “Please. I’ll do whatever you want, but don’t—”

“Don’t worry. You’re going to do it to her.”

Kane’s eyes flashed to mine, but then his focus dropped and started bouncing quickly around as his own panic hit. His mouth was open, his lips trembling.

“Take your fucking clothes off!” the man yelled.

When he suddenly shoved Kane toward me, it was just as he pulled a handgun from the back of his pants. He pointed the gun at both of us, and when Kane slowly turned to face him, he stepped in front of me, reaching back and holding me in place behind him.

“Please,” Kane begged again, and I could feel his fingers trembling against my sides as he corralled me and shielded me.

The man quickly stalked straight up to Kane, raised the gun, and placed the muzzle directly to Kane’s forehead. A strange gasp escaped Kane’s lips, and just as quickly as the stranger had walked to Kane and threatened to kill him, I started scrambling with trembling fingers to take my clothes off.

Kane’s hand met my arm, and he squeezed, but I paused for only a moment before pulling away and stripping my shirt off over my head. My hands shook as I undid the button and lowered the zipper of my jeans, and by the time I pushed them down to my ankles, I was crying as quietly as I could, tears streaming down my face.

I hugged my arms around me and let my forehead drop to the middle of Kane’s back as I closed my eyes. A hand reached around Kane, clutching my forearm, and I was yanked out from behind him by the stranger.

“Was there some part of take your fucking clothes off that didn’t make sense to you?” the man asked coldly. He tucked the gun in the back of his pants, and when he pulled his hand back out, he was holding the knife again. He reached for the center of my bra, clutching it and yanking the fabric forward as he slid the blade under and snapped it through the fabric.

I cried out, clutching at my breasts to cover them. But he wasn’t done, and the second he had my bra destroyed, he yanked at the fabric of my underwear over my hip, slicing through first one side and then the other, tugging me around as I stood there trying to hide my body.

“Lay on the floor and spread those fucking legs open. If you don’t want to listen, I’ll put a bullet in your boyfriend’s brain, and then I’ll force you to do it anyway.”

I sat down on the floor where I stood, glancing up at Kane. The man instantly crouched beside me, grabbed the front of my throat, and slammed me backward into the cold dirty cement floor. He pinned me there, pressing on the front of my throat. It felt like I couldn’t breathe for a moment, and I struggled, my eyes moving around wildly.

Kane was staring in wide eyed horror as I fought for air, but then the man’s hand on my neck loosened.

“Spread your legs,” he hissed quietly.

Every part of my body trembled as I parted my legs, but I didn’t hesitate that time. Kane’s eyes flashed between my thighs for a moment before he looked away. He was standing in front of me, his arms crossed and his hands tucked under them. His jaw was tight, and his nostrils flared as he breathed. He looked back at my parted legs again, and then his eyes moved up slightly to the man who was still crouched over me.

“Get your fucking face between her legs. Don’t make me ask you twice.” The man’s hand on my neck released me, but it was replaced with the knife blade.

Kane knelt at my feet, and his eyes met mine for a moment. A tear ran down his cheek, and he brushed it away. His lips were trembling, and he shook his head as he closed his eyes for a moment. When they opened, he met my eyes again. “I’m so sorry,” he whispered.

And then he leaned forward and put his mouth on me.

Chapter Six

Helene

“Why so gloomy?” Hilde asked me as I sat at her kitchen island.

Hilde was busily rinsing vegetables in the sink as Sienna and Brody made a mess of the living room. Sienna was three and had Hilde’s, mine too for that matter, auburn hair and blue eyes. But her cheeks were speckled with freckles, and she was the very epitome of a toddler. She could get in trouble faster than I could change my shoes, and I often questioned whether I would ever want to have children after spending a mere thirty minutes with her.

Brody, on the other hand, was the most laid-back five year old I’d ever met. His hair was redder like his father’s. Mark was Hilde’s high school sweetheart, and he was tall with reddish hair. Brody took after him in appearance and demeanor, and Brody was the only thing that actually saved my desire to have children someday after the thirty minutes with Sienna wrecked it.

“Mom, Sienna just put a fish stick in the register again,” came Brody’s tattling voice from the living room.

Hilde ignored it. “You going to answer me?” she asked me.

“Class tonight. I’m just…” Dreading seeing Kane again. “…too tired to deal with college students.” I hadn’t told Hilde anything about seeing Kane yet, much less that he’d decided to enroll in my class. But even if I were too, Hilde wouldn’t truly appreciate the impact it had on me. She’d never understood our friendship, and by the time things got … complicated when we were seniors in high school, Hilde was already two states away in college, busy living a life apart from Hazleton.

“Pretty sure you’re the one who accepted the job, honey. How’s the dissertation going?”

I groaned, lifting my coffee cup to my mouth. “Okay, I guess. I spend nearly all day working on the damn thing, and I’m never sure I’m on the right track. I mean, I’ve written over a hundred pages so far, and the last conversation I had with my DD she suggested I narrow my scope. Now, I’m searching for a way to not lose all the work I’ve already done but incorporate this narrower scope.”

“What does that mean?” Hilde asked as she lifted her handful of carrots from the colander and placed them on a cutting board.

“So, justice is a broad topic in philosophy. You can drill down to politics, to human rights, to theology, to law, to psychology even. And don’t get me started on the sub categories within each of those. My approach was too high level apparently, and I now have to decide what path to choose. And I don’t honestly know what path I want to choose.”

Hilde looked up from her chopping and gave me a sympathetic smile. “You’ll figure it out, sis. You always do.”

“Sure,” I said.

“What about your personal life? You figuring that out?” she asked. She always asked. Hilde didn’t like that I preferred to focus on my professional life more than my personal life, because she was the polar opposite. In fact, it was safer to say, Hilde thought my life was severely lacking because of this fact.

“I’m busy,” I replied, my eyebrows shooting up challengingly.

“Well what about that guy you were seeing in Philadelphia?”

I’d been avoiding this conversation for a reason. Shit. “He … broke up with me a month or so ago.”

Hilde stared wide eyed back at me. When she sighed, her shoulders slumped too. “Oh… Well, what happened?”

That was my limit. I might be willing to fess up about the break up, but rehashing the truth of why my relationship with Brian fell apart was simply not something I was willing to do thirty minutes before I needed to be in class. Hilde liked to fix things, including me. It was a trait she’d picked up from our mother, who lived far enough away now in Chicago that the meddling was tolerable. Didn’t mean my mother and Hilde didn’t spend exorbitant amounts of time on the phone analyzing why I was single. I could only imagine what would happen if I told Hilde that Brian had left me because I didn’t like to be touched. The amount of non-professional, completely untrained and untried psychology that would spew from her mouth after that would be enough to twist me up in my head for years. And don’t get me started on the emails and phone calls that would ensue from my mother—my father too once she twisted his arm into doing her dirty work for her. No thank you.

I stood from my chair, and I drained the last of my coffee. “Long distance relationships can be difficult.” I offered nothing more.

“Philly’s not that far away,” she muttered. “Well … that’s too bad. Mom will be sorry to hear that. She liked him.”

“She never even met him. She just liked the idea of him.”

“Well—”

“I better get going.”

Hilde stared at me for a moment before she turned toward the living room. “Come give your auntie Helene a hug and a kiss,” she hollered.

Little feet trampled from the living room into the adjoining kitchen and dining room.

“Why’s your sister covered in red and blue marker,” Hilde asked Brody.

“Cause she was coloring…”

“I see—” Hilde started to say.

“…on the walls,” Brody finished.

Hilde groaned. “I’m beyond caring at this point,” she remarked to me. “The house is going to have to be completely redone when this child finally stops destroying everything.

“Heen-Hee,” Sienna said as she lifted her arms up to me.

I swooped her up in my arms, planting her on my hip. “You be a good little girl for your mama, and stop writing on the walls.” I kissed her cheek, and she squirmed in my arms, already anxious to get down and destroy something else.

I let her down to the floor, and she took off toward the living room again. I ruffled Brody’s hair and leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Bye, Brode-man.”

“Bye, Auntie Helene,” he said sweetly as he smiled up at me.

Hilde watched me for a moment, her hands distractedly fidgeting with carrots. “You sure you’re okay?” she asked.

“Mm-hmm. Yeah, I’m fine.” I forced a smile to my mouth and walked out of the room.

* * * *

The slackers were glaring at me again as they set their papers on my desk. I smiled at them. Not a one was empty handed though, and I saw a sea of white textbooks on the second night of class. I flipped through the two chapters we were going to be covering, reviewing my sticky notes and the reminders I’d written in the margin, and just as the hour hand clicked to five, I stood up.

At that very moment, the door opened and Kane walked in. He carried his book in one hand and a pen tucked behind his right ear—nothing else. He walked toward the front of the classroom rather than toward the back where he’d sat the week before.

“Class, please open your books to—” But I made the mistake of looking at Kane as he sat at a vacant desk smack in the middle of the front row. My stomach knotted, and my hands became clammy so fast it was damn near shocking. He winked at me, and my lips parted as I stared at him. Students were watching me with furrowed brows as though concerned for my mental wellbeing, and I finally had to force my eyes away from Kane.

I cleared my throat, trying again. “As I was saying, please turn to the beginning of chapter one.”

Books opened, pages flipped, and all the while I forced my eyes to stay away from him. I waited until the pages stopped turning, and then I looked out at the group of students in front of me, taking a deep breath.

“In order to fully grasp any concept or school of knowledge, we start at the beginning.” I began walking slowly around to the front of the desk, my eyes moving around the room as I did. “In this case, our text begins with the earliest philosophical thinkers, who were, by all accounts, unaware of the very path they were forging. They were simply asking questions, and questions, arguments, and debate are at the very core of this study.” I stopped and leaned against the desk, sitting on the hard edge of the old wooden desktop. “We will review many works by those now considered great philosophers—Plato’s Republic all the way through Simone de Beauvoir’s The Second Sex. We’ll cover all the main canonical writings associated with Western ideology.” I reached beside me, fumbling with a pen distractedly and lifting it in my hands with little thought to anything but the words coming from my mouth. “A canon is, by all accounts, nothing more than a representation of a thing.” My hands fidgeted with the pen even as I gesticulated. It was my bad habit, and I could easily talk with my hands at the same time as I fidgeted with something nervously. “It is prejudice, it is incomplete, and therefore, we will expand our study beyond what is considered canonical to some of the lesser studied works along the way. Don’t worry,” I smirked at the young roguish boy who’d winked at me the week prior. “I’ll not ask you to buy any additional books. God only knows what response I’d get to that.”

The class sniggered in response to my jeer, and the boy smirked back at me seductively. I ignored it.

“Chapter one begins with an overview of some of the earliest men now considered philosophers. Many see the Republic as the advent of philosophy, but to be sure many philosophical thinkers came before Plato.” I pushed off the desk, walking slowly in front of the class. “For instance his very mentor Socrates for one. But even hundreds of years prior to that, we know of others. Thames, Laozi, Pythagoras. The problem with these earliest thinkers is that very little is known of them.” My fingers kept picking and fidgeting at the pen in my hand as I continued to walk. “In some cases their writings have survived but little else about their actual identity—in other words, credit is difficult to assign. In other cases, we know the man, but their writings, if ever they truly existed, are long lost and little remains but theory.” I stopped for a moment, taking in the eyes still studying me. Many, if not most, looked engaged. That was a good sign.

“But that’s not to say all is lost. There is a particular progression within philosophy that exists in nearly all fields of study—mathematics, biology, astronomy, the sciences in general. And that progression exists within the field of philosophy as well. This does, for those of us who’ve devoted our lives to the study, lend a particular validity to the field of philosophy.” My hand moved again, twisting the cap of the pen back and forth. “The progression is this: at its earliest, philosophy started with the simplest of questions. That’s not to say the questions were themselves simple to answer. Only that they were broad, sweeping, wide scoped. For instance, take the difference between these two common philosophical concepts that largely relate to the same topic on many levels. Number one: What is it to exist? Number two: A black man’s destiny is white. Would anyone care to tell me which concept arose earliest in the evolution of philosophy and which came later?”

I waited for a hand to rise as I stared out at the people in front of me. I could see some biting nervously on a nail, others were staring at their desktops, some didn’t seem to have a clue what I was asking, and one, seductive smirk boy, was lounged back staring at the ceiling.

“Anyone?” I asked. “Don’t make me start calling on people,” I threatened with a smile.

Kane’s hand rose, and as I looked at him, he glanced at my hands. I inhaled deeply as I walked toward him, twisting the cap quickly, pulling it off and pushing it back on. I was nervous, and the poor pen was paying the price. I was nearly afraid to hear his voice—as though it might affect me in some way I wasn’t prepared for.

“Yes, Mr. Thorson.”

He studied the pen in my hand for a moment as I cranked against the cap.

“Both topics relate to being,” he responded. “Being on a core level that is. But the first relates to humanity in general. The second relates to a subset of humanity that impacts the existence of only some. The broader of the questions came first. The question of what it is to be.” His eyebrows shot up as he watched me.

“Yes,” I said.

But before the word was even fully out of my mouth, the pen dropped from my hand rolling toward the place where Kane’s feet were stretched out in front of his desk. Students around him craned their necks to see what had happened, and as I quickly took the couple steps toward him and leaned over to pick up the pen, he just as quickly stood and reached down for it too. He managed to pick it up first, and as I stood back up slowly, moving in tandem with his body, he reached for my hand, placing the pen on my palm.

“Your hands are covered in ink,” he said quietly even as his fingers ran gently over mine.

I looked down, and my fingertips were blue. Fuck. When I glanced back at his eyes, he was studying me calmly.

“Oh…” I breathed out as I glanced around for a moment. I walked back to the desk, setting the pen down and trying to ignore the blue. When I turned around, I finally continued. “You’re correct. The broader question came first.”

I paused for a moment, refusing to look at my hands again. “In some sense it’s similar to Maslow’s Hierarchy as you may have studied in your general psych and sociology courses. It’s the same concept if nothing else. You must satisfy the basic questions before moving onto the more detailed. And therein lies the importance of starting from the beginning, the ancient world, before we progress in time to the more contemporary arguments.”

I paused, again looking out at the students in front of me. They watched me, waiting for me to continue. And I did. For another forty minutes I lectured over the first chapter, and when I broke the class for a fifteen minute break, I had to pee, my throat was getting hoarse, and my heels were rubbing blisters into the sides of my feet—and let’s not forget the blue fingertips.

I walked from the room and down the hall to the small lounge area. I used the restroom, and when I was standing in front of the mirror vigorously scrubbing the blue from my hands, I stared at myself. I was wearing a tailored hip length black suit jacket, but I’d paired it with boot cut jeans and a worn gray V-neck T-shirt with a faded out University of Pennsylvania crest on the bust. It was likely wrong to wear my Alma matter’s logo at its rival’s campus, but given some of the ridiculous if not crude T-shirts I saw around this place, I’d decided I didn’t care. The T-shirt hung loosely and casually on my frame, peeking out from under the lower hem of my jacket by an inch or two. My heels had a pointy toe, and they hurt like hell, but I liked the look. Sadly it all left me feeling pathetic.

I’d felt like a shmuck the week before dressed in a full suit, my hair perfectly in place. Feeling like a shmuck because I was overdressed was not typical in the least for me. I was allowed to dress as I liked for an evening class, and since I’d started TAing a few years back, I’d always chosen to look professional because my age otherwise showed through. And yet, for the first time since teaching a class, I felt like a fucking dork.

It was him.

He’d always made casual look good, and he still did. For some reason that made me feel pathetic and immature. I wanted to look casual right along with him as though I could stay in control of myself if we were on the same level—even if that level was his. I ran my hands through my hair, gathering it at the back of my head and twisting it into a messy bun that I fixed in place with a hair tie from my pocket. A younger woman from the class walked in on me as I was staring blankly at myself.

“I like your jacket with the T-shirt underneath. Very cool,” she commented with a smile.

“Thanks.” I cleared my throat as I headed toward the door.

“You must be really smart,” the girl commented again.

I stopped, turning toward her.

“I mean … you can tell. Just the way you talk—”

“I worked very hard in school.”

The girl shrugged. “I should probably do more of that,” she said jokingly as she pulled the stall door open.

I nodded slowly. “I guess it’s all a matter of priorities.” I stared at her for a moment and then tried and failed at a smile. When I turned and walked out, it was with an awkward nod of my head.

I sucked back water from the water fountain in the hallway on my way back to the classroom, and as I angled my head to the side and slurped as quietly as I could, I gazed down the hall, my eyes catching on Kane. He was lounging easily against one of the wide window sills speaking with a blonde gal from the class. The girl couldn’t have been more than a sophomore at most, and while I could only see half of her face from the angle she was standing to me, it was clear she was flirting with Kane.

Kane smiled at the young woman, and it was just as flirtatious as the look that was returned to him. When his eyes moved past the woman and down the hall, his attention caught on me and he suddenly stood up straighter. I sucked in a gasp of air. Sadly the gasp came as water was still flowing into my mouth, and I instantly choked, sputtering water as I stood upright and tried to breathe.

Kane’s eyes never left me as my humiliation played out for him, and when I managed to recover myself enough, a quick glance in his direction proved he was still watching and the young woman was too. His composure looked tense, and as I looked around hastily for an embarrassment escape hatch to appear, he placed his hand on the woman’s arm and pulled her away toward the classroom, either not wanting to see me recover from this or simply wanting to give me privacy to do so.

“Shit,” I muttered under my breath as I looked up and down the hallway. I was alone now, two minutes after it would have benefited me most to have some privacy. I sighed, shook my head, and started toward the lecture hall. My heels clicked on the hard floor as I walked, and the blisters felt wet and burning hot—as though they’d broken open and the leather of my shoes was rubbing directly on fresh open skin. It was an oddly accurate metaphor for how it felt being around Kane again. He abraded my being in some way I was ill-equipped to handle.

I paused outside the door, inhaling slowly and then letting it out in one long sigh. When I walked back in, I cleared my throat and launched in to chapter two without ever looking up at the class. Of course I only managed to avoid Kane’s eyes for about ten minutes, and when I made the mistake of glancing at him, his elbow was rested casually on the sidearm of his desk, his hand to his mouth as his middle finger grazed back and forth over his lower lip. The way his head was cocked to the side made me think he felt bad for me, sad, embarrassed for me even.

I forced my attention to move away and continued my lecture until I’d covered everything there was to cover from Thales to Zeno, and when I pulled the stack of quizzes from my briefcase, the room erupted in groans. I unclipped the paperclip from the stack, and I walked along the front row, handing a portion out to each student there to pass back. When I handed a stack to Kane, he glanced up at me and took the stack, refusing to break eye contact until I’d moved on.

“You have until the end of the class period to complete this. It shouldn’t take you the full forty-five minutes, but you have it if you need it. There are three short answer and one long answer. Support your argument well, and you’ll get credit. Fail to support, and you won’t. You’re free to leave when finished.”

I sat in the desk chair, and I leaned back and waited. It was fifteen minutes later when the first student stood and walked up to my desk. He handed me the quiz, and as I glanced down it was to see that it was half blank. He was already walking away by the time I glanced back up. My money was on him dropping before the following week.

Quiz after quiz was turned in after that, and I collected them in my briefcase one after another. Bathroom girl who thought she needed to work harder at school turned her quiz in, her handwriting large and bubbly.

“Thank you,” I said as I accepted the pages. I glanced down, taking in her name and trying to be kinder than I’d managed in the restroom. “Abby.” I smiled.

Her natural smile widened instantly. “Thanks, Professor Hess.” And then she walked out.

There were only five students left at that point, and when hallway flirt girl finished, she turned her quiz in and then walked close to Kane’s desk, placing a small slip of paper on his desktop. He glanced up, glanced at the paper, and then glanced back up again. He watched the girl walk from the room, and when his focus shifted back it caught on me. He stared for a moment, but then he glanced back down to his desktop, pocketing the paper quickly.

My heart pounded, and a desperate ache in my chest clenched tight around it. Three more quizzes were turned in, and then it was just us. His pen had been still for many long minutes, and I knew he was waiting to be alone with me. He stood, walking toward the desk, and when he set the quiz down, his fingers paused still touching the paper.

“She’s a little young for you don’t you think?” The question from my own mouth reeked of jealousy, and I hated the tone of my voice. This was a man who’d left my life long ago of his own will and choosing. He didn’t deserve jealousy that in all truth confused me. Kane had never been my boyfriend. Friend, yes. Best friend, perhaps. And while he’d touched me and done things to me only a lover should, he’d not stuck around long enough afterward to help me sort any of it out. He sure as hell hadn’t stuck around long enough to be anything more than a long forgotten memory. Sadly, I had a very good memory.

“She apparently doesn’t think so.”

My focus snapped to his eyes, and his nostrils flared as his jaw tightened. He crossed his arms defensively, but he looked guilty.

“I don’t need your judgment. I’m not a kid anymore. And even if I was, you were never my girlfriend.” He stared at me, his expression tight and challenging. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking I’m the person I once was. You’ll only be disappointed when you realize I’m not.”

“That’s really unfortunate,” I said as I snapped the latch on my briefcase closed. “Because I really liked that boy. He was good, he was smart, he was caring, he was respectful.”

He finally scoffed. “No I wasn’t, remember?” he muttered.

“You were to me,” I responded, and then I grabbed my briefcase and walked out. My cheeks burned, but I forced my gate to remain steady and unhurried.

Chapter Seven

Kane

Eleven Years Ago

My jaw ached by the time he let Helene close her legs. I kept making the mistake of looking at her eyes while I was licking her. I needed to see her, but at the same time, it was torture seeing the terror in her eyes and knowing what I was doing to her.

She was a virgin for fuck sake. I knew she was. She’d confessed it after a few shots of vodka once, and I had no idea where this was going to end for her. To think I might be part of doing that to her… I wanted to kill this man. I was also terrified of him—as terrified as Helene, so when he said, “That’s enough fucking foreplay,” I was almost afraid to stop. I didn’t want to know what came next.

The stranger was walking around us, not close enough to touch us, but close enough. The gun in his hand was held casually as he strolled, and he occasionally picked up items from the old metal shelving units that lined the walls and created a couple of rows in the center of the room. I crawled up Helene’s body, settling beside her on the floor and wrapping my arms around her.

She instantly sank into my body, sobbing against my shirt and clutching at the fabric. Her sobs came out through gritted teeth, loud and nearly screamed out as she panicked. I’d never felt this level of fear before, and I knew exactly where her mind was at.

I closed my eyes, holding Helene’s body tight to me, and I whispered, “I’m sorry,” over and over again with my lips to her temple.

When I heard a zipper lower, I felt Helene’s body tense, and her fingers gripped tighter into my shirt. Her sobs loudened, and I cried silently at nothing more than the desperate sound of her fear. She wasn’t even looking at the man. Her face was buried against my shirt, and she was simply reacting to the sound.

“No, no, no, no…” she cried out quietly as her entire body squirmed against me. She was panicking.

“Get over here, bitch,” the man seethed.

Her squirming turned violent as she tried to sit up and crawl out of her skin at the same time. Her legs thrashed as she pulled her body back as far away from him as she could, but we were sitting against one of the shelving units, and there was simply nowhere for her to go.

“Leave her alone. You’ve done enough,” I said, holding my hands up.

Helene continued to squirm, and she was clutching my back as I let her wriggle her way behind me. I’d never seen this type of panic, this type of certain torture, and it was being directed at Helene. That wasn’t fair. I was the one who had been the asshole. I was always the one who was the asshole. She didn’t deserve this, and it was going to kill me if I had to watch her suffer for my mistakes.

When the man stalked toward us, aiming the gun at my head, I held my hands up again. But he reached behind me, dragging her out from her hiding place by the hair as she slid across the floor.

He held her up in front of him on her knees by the hair. He was hard and bulging against the front of his underwear that showed through the parted fly of his jeans. “You know what to do.”

She whimpered, but she reached for him. Her hands were still trembling as she fumbled with his underwear. When he held the muzzle of the gun directly to her temple, I sat up straighter, gasping and then panting as I watched. She whimpered, but the man’s focus shifted from its downward attention on her directly to me. He smirked.

“Oh, we’re gonna have some fun tonight, kiddos.”

And then he twisted his hand in her hair, tightening his grip and control of her head. And he thrust as a horrible gagging sound escaped Helene’s mouth.

Chapter Eight

Kane

“What the fuck, dude,” I snapped at the asshole that’d just bumped into me. “Tryin’ to fuckin’ throw darts, dick.”

Tia, the gal from Philosophy class, was hanging on my arm, and I shrugged it off as I squared off with the asshole.

The man sneered at me. “Then get outa my fucking way,” he snipped back, his shoulders tensing forward as though he were going to lunge. He was being cocky. Cocky didn’t fucking work on me.

I chuckled, dismissing his aggression as if it was nothing, and Tia giggled. “Hey, sweetie,” I said to her. “Get me another beer. This asswipe spilled mine all over the floor.” I handed her a five dollar bill, folding her fingers over the money as she batted her eyelashes and bit her lower lip. She nodded and bounced off toward the bar.

The man turned his back on me, and for whatever reason—reasons that never seemed to make sense even as they were happening in my mind—I tossed my half spilled beer on the back of his head and then threw the glass to the floor. It erupted in an explosion of glass that sent shards flying across the floor, but I had little time to listen to the sound as the man turned around and instantly took a swing at me.

I took a fist hard to my left cheek, and the searing heat that shot out from the point of contact to the rest of my head lit a fire in my gut. I threw the next punch, connecting squarely with his lower jaw. He staggered back, but when he regained his footing he lunged toward me, throwing me back against a bar top table. I fell, scraping my cheek on the side of the table where the cheap plastic veneer had chipped off leaving a jagged rough edge. When I landed on the floor, it was in a pool of beer and broken glass.

I pushed up, feeling the shards of glass slicing and grinding into my elbows and the backs of my upper arms. The sound of the bar was loud, people shouting, gasping, cheering, and yelling admonishments.

“Knock it the fuck off,” the bartender yelled over the crowd.

But that just wasn’t something I could do. I lunged next, throwing the man into the pool table. I came down on top of him, pinning his back to the worn green felt. I swung, connecting with his nose that time, and blood splattered across the table as his head snapped to the side.

“You piece of shit,” he yelled in a nasally wet voice even as his hands reached up for his face.

And then arms were wrapped around me, pulling me back as I fought against the restraint. “Let me go,” I raged.

But the arms were strong, and when the man sprawled across the pool table stood back up, there was nothing standing in the way of him and me. He stalked up to me, grabbed my shoulders, and then brought his knee straight up into my groin. My breath left my lungs as my restrained body tried desperately to double over. My skin flushed as the agony coursed through my guts and down to my balls. The nausea nearly left me vomiting on the floor, and my body slumped as my head pounded and I tried to pass out.

“I’m calling the fucking cops, you stupid fucking assholes,” the bartender shouted.

I stopped paying attention after that, let my head drop, and closed my eyes. I inhaled and exhaled deeply, exhaustion slowing my brain even as pain coursed through me. A strange relief came over me. It wasn’t a new relief. I knew this feeling even if I didn’t understand it. Hell, I was pretty sure I’d gone looking for it.

* * * *

She stared at me with her arms crossed on her chest when I stepped through the large security door. She looked furious.

“Hell,” I said, my voice rough and scratchy as I walked toward her. “Thanks for—”

“Go fuck yourself,” she muttered, and then she turned and stormed out of the police station.

I followed, shaking my head as I walked. Pain was pulsing through my brain, and my gate was lazy. I was quite sure I was still half fucking drunk. It was dark out now. The day had somehow gotten away from me. This wasn’t how I’d expected my Tuesday to go.

I’d not stopped thinking about her since class the previous Wednesday night, and it had started to consume me. I would zone out even as I rolled a paint brush over a wall or pounded a nail into something. It wasn’t a fun thing for me leaving things on a bad note with Helene. Any other person in the world, no problem. But her … it was like nothing in the world, not fighting, not drinking, not even fucking could give me an ounce of peace. So when Tia called just before lunchtime, saying her afternoon class had been canceled and suggesting I knock off for the day and join her for some fun, it was an easy decision.

I was in handcuffs praying my balls wouldn’t fall off by one-thirty. And now it was five-thirty, and apparently my charges were simple enough that an arraignment wasn’t necessary. Nothing at all about what I’d done that day was simple.

“How did you even get my cell phone number?” she asked as she yanked her car door open.

I stood on the passenger side, watching her over the roof of the car. “It was on your syllabus.”

She gaped at me. “And that somehow translated into an invitation to call me the first time you got arrested?” she asked rudely.

“Wasn’t the first time I got arrested,” I muttered as I pulled the car door open and climbed in. My balls felt like dangling bruises, and my cheek burned. My head was pounding, and while I couldn’t remember for sure what had happened to my elbows, they seared with the same hot heat I felt in my cheek. “Thanks for bailing me out,” I said even as I stretched my jaw and pressed on the joint with my thumb.

“Why didn’t you just call Shawn?” she asked. Her voice was cold and angry. “I’m guessing he’d be a little less shocked by all this than me.”

I glanced over at her as I stretched my neck, feeling my bones crack. “His wife doesn’t like me very much, and I doubt posting bail for me would be her idea of money well spent.” I tried to smirk, but the corner of my mouth split open, and I hissed.

“And you think it’s mine?” Her voice was shrill.

“I’ll pay you back, Hell.”

She started her car and pulled away from the curb, saying nothing else.

“Will you take me to your place?” I didn’t look at her when I asked the question. I knew she was mad enough at me to put her own fist through my face, so inviting myself over was likely the last thing in the world she wanted to hear.

She pulled up to a stop light, and I could feel her eyes boring holes into me as she glared some more. “You must be kidding—”

“Listen,” I finally snapped back at her. “I don’t have any water right now. They’re replacing part of the main, and I have no way to get this mess cleaned up.” I sighed loudly but it was as much frustration as anything else. “I’m sorry,” I tried again. “If it’s too much to ask, just drop me off at home, and I’ll deal with it. But my fucking head is killing me, and it would be great if you could just be pissed at me after my headache’s gone away.”

She pulled away from the stop light, and we were silent as she drove. Hazleton wasn’t a terribly large town, but it stayed plenty busy. And it didn’t take me long to figure out she wasn’t taking me to my house. I relaxed into the seat, staring out the window. I wasn’t above being humiliated by the situation, and I didn’t bother trying to talk to her or look at her as she drove.

She pulled up in the driveway of a small bungalow style home with a stone exterior. It was surrounded by old mature trees with branches that hung way too low. It was charming. It was also in serious need of a tree trimmer.

I climbed from the car, looking around. “I can trim these branches back,” I said as I turned right into one, smacking my face and sending shooting pain through my entire head.

“That’s not necessary,” she said as she turned and walked toward the house.

“My face begs to differ,” I muttered as I followed her. “Hell, it’s better to get them trimmed back now before winter hits. The last thing you need is heavy snow on these branches—”

“I said, it’s not necessary,” she snapped as she stopped and turned around to face me. She let out a frustrated huff. “It’s a rental property. It’s not my problem.”

“Until one of those branches snaps after a heavy snow, and you end up with a hole in your roof,” I said.

She stared at me for a moment, but then she turned and kept walking, ignoring my comment.

I followed her inside and closed the door behind us. Her home was clean, but there were stacks of books everywhere, stacks of printed papers, a laptop open on the coffee table, sitting off-kilter on top of an open book. It still looked like her, smelled like her, it just was her.

I picked up a picture from a sofa table that sat along a wall in the living room. It was a picture of her and her sister Hilde. I instantly smiled at nothing more than the smile on her face in the picture. I’d not seen that smile yet since re-inserting myself in her life, and I had this incredibly depressing notion it was because of me. I wanted her to smile—a real, spontaneous one, and not only that, I wanted it to be because of me—something I said, something I did, something that had anything at all to do with me and how I made her feel. She used to smile all the time when we were kids. I could always make her smile. Now I just seemed to have the opposite effect on her.

When I set the picture down, it was just so I could pick up the one next to it. It was Helene with two small children. A boy and a girl. They were clearly Hilde’s and Mark’s. Hilde and Mark were both a few years older than us, and they weren’t the type who would have been friends with someone like me. The little girl in the picture looked like Hilde, Helene too for that matter. The boy was the spitting image of Mark.

I glanced at Helene, and she was already watching me. “Hilde’s?”

She nodded, walking over to me and looking at the picture in my hands. She was close, and I could smell the subtle scent of her perfume. I caught myself leaning into it as though I could absorb part of her.

“Sienna and Brody. Sienna’s three and Brody is five.”

I nodded. “They’re beautiful.” A quiet laugh escaped my mouth. “You’re an aunt.” My brain wrapped around the notion, but it wasn’t just that notion. It was seeing a picture of her smiling with two children in her lap. It was the notion of her with her own children someday. I had no idea if that was something she ever thought about, but she deserved that kind of happiness if she wanted it. Me, I’d be a nightmare, but she could pull it off—knowing Hell, better than anyone else in the world.

“Can I shower?” I asked as I set the picture back down. I reeked of beer and whatever other filth was on the bar floor—not to mention the holding cell I’d been in.

She looked up at me for a moment, but she didn’t scoff, she didn’t glare. “Yeah,” she finally said, turning and walking away. “Leave your clothes outside the bathroom door, and I’ll toss them in the wash. I’ll get you a pair of sweatpants.”

I followed her down a short hallway, passing the bathroom along the way. When she walked into her bedroom, I stayed standing in the doorway. It wasn’t a large room—nothing of this house was large, but it was just another visual piece of who she was now. I soaked it in, letting my eyes delve. Her bed was made with a simple white quilt, the sheets peeking out from underneath were white and black floral, and there was a gray throw at the foot of the bad.

I stared at the bed, imagining what it would be like to fuck her brains out in that bed. I was half-drunk after all and fucking and drink seemed to go hand in hand for me. Fighting too for that matter.

Sex was generally a simple thing for me. It didn’t require commitment, it didn’t require a relationship of any kind. But fucking was complicated with Helene and me. It could never be simple. Simple ended a long time ago for us.

She caught me staring at the bed, and her eyes flit to the bed too before quickly moving back to me as she pulled the sweatpants from the drawer. She handed them to me as she passed me. She grabbed a towel from the linen closet in the hall, and set it on the bathroom counter, and I stepped into the small room standing behind her at the bathroom sink.

The suit she’d been wearing the first night of class was hanging on the back of the bathroom door, and as it caught my sight, I reached over and closed the bathroom door. I fingered the material as she turned and faced me.

“You looked beautiful in this—so smart, so confident, so mature and accomplished.”

Her focus settled on my chest, and her face slackened. “I don’t feel like I’m any of those things most days.” Her voice was distant and quiet.

I nodded. “You were so much stronger than me.” My voice sounded hoarse, and I had to clear my throat as it tightened around my vocal chords. “You coped—”

“Coped?” She sounded incredulous. “Coped?” Her face was pinched and angry, and her eyes were suddenly swimming in tears as if they’d been waiting for any excuse at all to fall. “This is all I have,” she said. “I … I don’t have friends, I don’t have a life. I have an education I can’t stop pursuing, regardless of how tired…” her voice broke as a tear ran down her cheek. “…how tired I am, because I can’t seem to handle what happens in my head when I stop thinking, studying, pursuing, working toward something, anything…”

I nodded. “Not so different from me.” I smiled, but it was humorless. “You’re coping mechanisms just have a better end result.”

“So this is you now? You like to fight, you … like to get drunk?” She paused. She wasn’t really waiting for an answer though. “Is there anything you like to do that’s worthwhile?”

I swallowed over a lump in my throat. “No,” I said quietly. “Sorry.”

The disappointment wasn’t something she could hide from me, and her lips pursed as her eyes avoided mine. She walked out then, closing the door behind her.

I stripped out of my clothes and left them, as she asked, just outside the door. By the time I’d showered, tossed on the sweatpants she’d left me, and made it back out to the living room, she’d made a bed up on the living room sofa for me, moved all her books and her laptop, and left a first aid kit on the coffee table.

I wandered down the hall toward the bedroom, and when I peeked in, she was sitting at the head of the bed with her laptop on the bed in front of her. She had a few books spread out beside her, and she’d changed into a pair of cotton shorts and a tank top. Her hair was up in a high pony tail, and she was wearing black rimmed reading glasses. She looked adorable; she looked young; she looked so fucking innocent. How the hell had she managed to keep hers and I hadn’t?

She glanced up at me, pushing the glasses up her nose, and she inhaled and exhaled deeply. “I’ll … uh … help you with the…” She pointed distractedly at her cheek.

She crawled from bed, and I walked back out toward the living room. I sat on the sofa, and she sat across from me on the coffee table. She opened a packet of antibiotic ointment, squeezing a small amount on her fingertip. I scooted forward, parting my knees around hers, and she glanced down nervously for a second.

She dabbed the ointment on the abrasion just below and outside of my eye socket. It instantly burned, and I flinched. She looked at me, pausing.

“Why fighting?” she asked as she reached for a Band-Aid.

“It feels good.”

She just stared at me for a moment. “This feels good?” She searched my eyes. I could tell she was trying to figure it out. She didn’t seem to know how to respond, and she shook her head in confusion. “I don’t understand you,” she finally said, her voice quiet. “Why—”

“Can we please not do this?” I asked.

Her eyes focused on mine for a second before slowly moving down from my face to my chest and then lower to my stomach. I was shirtless, and her attention zoned in on the scar on my abdomen.

“It’s just…” I continued. “…every time we talk things seem to disintegrate into a pool of tears or a twisted up mess of anger. I don’t want it to be that way.”

She inhaled sharply, and she nodded. When she reached for my arm, she lifted it, looking at my elbow. She did the same with the other, and when she was finished, she finally looked at my face again. “Anything else falling apart?” she asked, her lips tugging up in a small smile.

I nodded even as I chuckled. “Yeah, but I don’t think there’s anything in that first aid kit that can help my bruised testicles.”

She laughed quietly. And when she stood, it was too soon, and I wasn’t ready to let go of that small ounce of closeness.

“I have…” She cocked her thumb over her shoulder. “…a lot of work to do yet. If you’re hungry, help yourself to anything in the kitchen. You can watch T.V. too … if you’re bored.”

“Thanks, Hell. I appreciate it.”

“Why do you insist on calling me that?” Her smile was sweet though, and her tone was light.

“Because no one else in all the world would dare to think it was an appropriate nickname…”

She bit her lower lip as she studied me.

“So I guess it’s mine alone…” I continued. “…and it always will be. You’ll always be my Hell. And I like that.”

She nodded subtly.

“Good night,” I said quietly.

She didn’t move for a few seconds. She just stood there, staring at me. She finally gave me an awkward nod, turned, and walked away.

I didn’t bother with the T.V. or food, but I did get lost in a photo album she kept on the bottom shelf of the coffee table. It was her life from the moment of her birth to nearly this very day, and there were parts that intersected with my life too. The five or so childhood pictures that included me proved it. We were swinging on a tire swing in a couple, swimming in the creek that ran behind both my father’s house and her childhood home as well. And then there were a few from high school too. Pictures of us at the gas station, posing like idiots behind the counter.

We’d been playful with each other. We’d goofed around constantly. In a way it was just how we flirted. It was easier to flirt with her that way, because in truth it was always a far heavier thing with her than any other girl I’d dated, fucked around with, or just plain fucked. She was my friend first and foremost and had been since we were children, and that apparently meant something to even me.

By two in the morning, I was still wide awake, and I’d looked at the album so many times I had it memorized. She’d always had a far more blessed life than me, but I’d never resented her for it. Her baby pictures, or the fact they even existed, proved that much. I’d been tearing apart my father’s home for months now, and I’d yet to find a single picture of me, let alone any from my infancy. And a mother… that wasn’t something I’d had either after I was about a year old.

I finally gave up on the album, stood, and walked down the hall to the bathroom. I stared at myself in the mirror. The side of my lip was swollen and red. My cheek was bandaged, but the skin around the bandage was pink and puffy. I looked like hell.

Her bedroom light was still on when I walked back out of the bathroom, and I ignored it for a second, taking a step toward the living room, but I didn’t make it more than that one step before I turned and headed back toward her bedroom.

Her door was cracked, and when I peeked into the room, she was sound asleep, her glasses still on, her laptop still open, her lamp lit, and books spread out around her. I walked in and gathered the books and stacked them on a small chair that sat in the corner of the room. When I took the glasses from her face, she murmured and wiggled her nose. But she didn’t wake. I picked up the laptop, and when my thumb accidentally brushed over the mouse pad, the screen woke up. It was open to her email.

This email was certainly not meant for my eyes. It was from a man by the name of Brian Campbell, and the subject line said nothing more than, “I’m sorry.” Not reading it wasn’t an option after that. It was dated a little more than a month and a half prior.

Helene,

I’m sorry. Ending our relationship wasn’t how I saw our weekend going. You took the time to come visit me in the city, and I will always be the asshole who then broke up with you.

I knew a long distance relationship would be difficult. I did. But there’s more to it than that. You asked why. I’m going to tell you, and please understand I have an enormous amount of respect for you and nothing I say now is meant to hurt you. It is, in fact, this very respect that compels me to be honest with you.

I’ll say it again. I knew a long distance relationship would be difficult. What I never expected was for it to be so easy. It shouldn’t have been. I need intimacy. I need warmth. I need to be touched, and yes, I need sex. None of those things were ever high on your priority list, and I’m not going to lie, I felt unimportant to you as a result.

I don’t like the word frigid, because I don’t think it’s ever used in any constructive way, but I don’t know how else to describe you. You’re this beautiful, intelligent, insightful woman who just feels … cold. And so when you went away, I didn’t miss the intimacy or the warmth. Because it had never existed.

I hope you meet the man who can warm you some day, who can touch you, reach you, get close to you. And I’m very sorry I’m not that man.

Take care,

Brian

I stared at the words on the screen as I held the laptop in my hands. When I glanced over at Hell, she was still sound asleep. I finally closed the laptop, sighing as I set it on top of the books. And then I turned to walk out, but like the hallway before … I just didn’t quite make it. Instead, I turned the lamp off and crawled into bed next to her. She rolled toward my body, and she hummed as she snuggled up to me. I wrapped my arms around her, and I kissed her forehead.

Her body and the way she pulled herself close to me didn’t feel at all frigid. It felt warm. It felt intimate. I closed my eyes, and I was finally out.

Chapter Nine

Helene

Eleven Years Ago

By the time he left my mouth, I was gasping, slobber was hanging from my lips, and I wanted to die. I didn’t want to die in the proverbial sense. I truly just wanted to die. I wanted it over. I needed for it to be over, because this kind of agony was turning me insane, and I could feel something unraveling inside myself with every passing second.

I’d been able to see Kane out of the corner of my eyes, and seeing his pain was like suffering my own twice. It added to my terror, it magnified my torture, and it was just plain devastating to see. He was on his knees, pleading with the man to stop. His hands were clasped together, and he was sobbing. I’d never seen Kane cry, let along sob without control.

He’d alternate from watching what was happening to me, to pleading with the man, to covering his eyes as though he couldn’t bear the sight another second. He’d groan as he’d ball his fists at his sides, but the man kept the muzzle of the gun to my head the entire time, and the helplessness Kane felt was obvious in the desperate look on his face.

And all I could think of was how much I wanted to die in the most literal sense of the word.

When the man shoved me to the floor, I landed on my hands and knees, gasping in front of Kane.

“Now you,” the man said to Kane. “Take your clothes off.”

Kane’s eyes flashed to mine, and his brow furrowed. When the man pointed the gun at my head, my fingers clutched into my hair as though I could protect my brain from a bullet with nothing more than my hands. Did I care if he put a bullet in my head?

Kane tightened his hands into fists again, but he started pulling his clothes off moments later as he growled through gritted teeth. I looked down at the ground then, refusing to watch. I didn’t want to see this. I didn’t want to see him. Not like this, not in this place, not with this man. It wasn’t supposed to be like this.

I knew he was naked when Kane’s movements stopped, but I still refused to look over at him. He inched close to me, and he wrapped an arm around me, bowing his head to my shoulder as I hugged my knees.

“Don’t get too comfortable,” the man said.

I peeked up at the stranger, and he was staring at me.

“Don’t you know it’s rude not to return the favor?” he asked me. “He ate your pussy. You think his dick is gonna get hard on its own?”

When I didn’t move, he crouched down, smiling at me.

“If his dick’s not hard, he can’t fuck you? And if he can’t, that means I will. Are you catching on, sweetheart?”

His arousal was hard between his legs as he crouched in front of me, and my eyes glanced at it. I had to stifle the vomit that wanted to erupt from my throat, and I swallowed it down. My mind was trying to go places I didn’t want it to go. I didn’t want him inside me. That couldn’t happen, but even as I tried to force the horror of that thought from my brain, it would seep its way into my mind anyway.

“Please don’t do this to her?” Kane begged. “She’s a virgin. She’s not—”

“Even better,” the stranger cut Kane off.

Kane went silent, and when I finally looked over at him, he was just gaping at the monster in front of us, as though shocked the stranger had so little care for such things that Kane couldn’t even wrap his head around it. Kane let out a defeated sigh as his body slumped, and he shook his head sadly.

“I suggest you do your best to get your body to cooperate, because her virginity is not a concern of mine in any way and I’ll gladly take it from her if you’re not willing to play.” The monster stared straight at Kane as he spoke, and then he was quiet, letting his words sink in.

Kane nodded his head tensely, and I whimpered. Kane leaned over to my ear. “Look at me,” he whispered.

I turned to look at him, and my tears fell as I saw the hopelessness in his expression.

He reached for my cheek. “We’re going to do everything he says.” He nodded. “Do you understand?”

I nodded. When he leaned to my face, he kissed me gently on the forehead. Hadn’t I been daydreaming about what his lips would feel like on my skin just an hour or two before? Why did it feel like it was so long ago?

When Kane pulled back from me, he studied my eyes, swallowing harshly over a lump. “This isn’t your fault. I did this to us,” he whispered.

I shook my head, my mouth pulling back in a pained grimace as my lips trembled. When he released my cheek, he reached for my farthest hand, pulling my body toward him. “Come here,” he said.

I crawled between his legs, curling up against his chest for a moment.

The stranger laughed. “Get that dick in your mouth. I’m getting bored.”

I pulled back from Kane, finally glancing down between our bodies.

Chapter Ten

Helene

When I woke the next morning, the sun was shining into my bedroom, and when I glanced over at my alarm clock, I was met with the sight of Kane instead. He was laying on his stomach, his hands tucked under the pillow his head rested on. He was still sound asleep.

His scruffy facial hair was neither a beard nor a five o’clock shadow. It fell somewhere between, and he looked young when he slept—none of the tension showing. It was funny, because he’d clung onto this cool laid-back persona over the years, and yet, his stress was like this fiber woven through him that held his skin together. I could see it even when he smirked at me, even when his eyebrows shot up in amusement or challenge. It was a part of him now.

I watched him for a while, my body tense as I tried not to move and wake him. I couldn’t look at him like this, so intently and closely, were he awake. Awake he intimidated me in some way, because I didn’t fully understand him anymore, and yet, I knew him. Reconciling those things wasn’t going well for me, and it frightened me, because at any moment I might find out there was nothing left of the boy I knew so many years ago, and I wasn’t sure I could handle that realization.

I inched out of bed carefully, and when I was out of the room, I pulled his clean clothes from the dryer along with a sundress I’d tossed in with them. I hung the sundress on the bathroom doorknob, and I placed Kane’s clothes at the foot of the bed where he still soundly slept. I closed the door to nothing more than a crack, hopped in the shower, and then tossed the sundress over my head quickly before I twisted my damp hair back in a sloppy bun.

The bedroom door was still cracked when I left the bathroom, and when I passed through the living room, my eyes caught on my old photo album. It was open on the coffee table to a page that held a picture of Kane and me from high school. We were working at the gas station, and in the picture we were both behind my counter, leaned over with our elbows on the countertop and our chins held in our hands. We were laughing more than smiling. I couldn’t remember for the life of me who’d actually taken the picture, but I still remembered the day clearly. It was taken not long before our world fell apart.

I sat on the sofa, picking up the album and setting it on my lap, and then I stared. I didn’t bother turning the page, and it was many minutes later before I moved again. Kane walked in the room, fully dressed in his now clean clothes, and he stared at me as I held the album. I stood, setting it quickly on the coffee table, my heart pounding. He looked down at the album, and when he swallowed, it looked difficult.

“I was… I was going to make some coffee…” I stammered as I skirted around the sofa and walked toward the kitchen. “I have vanilla, or… or normal… I mean, regular… Just the…” I said over my shoulder. I couldn’t seem to spit the sentence out.

“Regular is fine,” he said.

I knew he was following me, but the sound of his voice was closer than I’d expected, and I spun to see him just behind me. His face was unreadable, and his eyes searched mine as he looked back at me.

“Okay,” I said quietly, turning back to the counter where the coffee maker was. I opened the cupboard door above the coffee maker, and I reached for a filter.

When his hand gently cupped my elbow, I stopped breathing and I froze. His body closed in behind me, and he placed his other hand on the counter beside me, boxing me in. When his lips touched my ear as he leaned down to the side of my face, I shuddered and a whimpering gasp escaped me.

“Can’t we just forget about the monsters,” he whispered, his lips touching and teasing my earlobe. “All I want is to remember us.”

When the hand he’d placed on the counter beside me slowly ran down my hip and then inched up under the skirt of my sundress, I turned to face him, pushing the skirt down and holding the hem in place. He stared at me, his eyes still flitting back and forth, searching my face for something. My chest was rising and falling, expanding and contracting as I struggled to breathe, and when his eyes slowly shifted down, they settled on a spot just in the middle of my chest.

He reached out, placing his palm flat on my breastbone, and he watched as it lifted and fell with the tempo of my laboring lungs. He looked back up to my eyes, and he stared for a moment. When he pushed his body hard to mine, pressing me into the counter, I gasped. It was a low purring groan I heard as he held his forehead to my temple and breathed against my cheek. I could feel each and every pant of breath as it hit my skin, and it sent a shudder through me.

“Let me make you feel good,” he whispered as his lips brushed my skin.

And then his lips met my cheek. It was a gentle kiss that lingered and sent prickles of warmth coursing through my veins. His mouth moved back toward my ear, and he nipped my earlobe before he kissed me again just below that spot on my neck. I was frozen, completely mesmerized by the sensation of his lips on my skin.

“Oh, God,” I managed to get out on a sigh as I tried desperately to think straight.

His hand found the lower hem of my sundress again, and his fingers toyed with the material for a moment. But then he moaned, and his mouth moved quickly and aggressively along the side of my throat as he nipped and sucked and licked. And that’s when his fingers pushed under the skirt of my dress once more.

I panicked as his hand moved quickly up my thigh, and I rose to the balls of my feet as I grabbed at his wrist. I dug my nails into his skin, and I pushed down even as his hand still tried to move up. His breath left him in a rush that I could feel just under my ear, and he panted quietly as he froze in place.

My focus shifted to the side just to see him staring at me. He was too close to see both of my eyes, but the intensity in which he focused on my visible one was intimidating. The stare went on for too long, and the only sound in the room was our heavy breathing.

“I can’t,” I finally whispered.

His eyelids fluttered and then widened as a breath left him in a huff. It was as though he was coming to consciousness again after blacking out for a moment, and as he did, the tension in his hand that was still high on my thigh lessened, and my downward force finally succeeded in pushing him away.

My lips trembled, and my eyes glossed over and warmed. I could tell the very moment he took in my quivering lips and building tears, because he stumbled back from me, his eyes wide in what looked like panic.

“Oh, fuck,” he gasped out, his voice cracking. He covered his mouth, and he stared at me, and when he finally pulled his hand back, his face was twisted in pain. “Hell, I’m sorry—”

My front door suddenly opened, and Kane’s voice dropped off into silence as I hastily smoothed the skirt of my dress down.

“Auntie Heen-Hee!” squealed Sienna from the front entryway, and then I could hear her little feet padding down the hall to my bedroom.

“Fuck,” Kane muttered as he raked his fingers through his hair, and then he crossed his arms, tucking his hands under them.

He’d always done that when he felt vulnerable—strange the things you never forgot about someone. For instance, I could so clearly remember seeing him standing outside the principal’s office in just that stance—hands tucked protectively under his arms as he was berated by Principal Metcalf. It was a regular occurrence for Kane, but regardless of how cocky he’d been when he was young and the smug look he’d carry on his face, that nonverbal cue was so easy for me to read.

Even now, it was nearly painful to see. His eyes darted around, failing to look at me. I just stared at him, knowing Hilde would be walking in any moment. He was trapped. There was nowhere for him to run, and he seemed to know he was going to have to deal with not only what he’d just done for a little while longer, but with my sister and my niece as well before he could make his escape. He bit his lower lip, and he finally met my eyes. He took a step toward me but froze the second he heard Hilde’s voice.

“Just dropped Brody off at school, and we decided to bring you a danish since you’re busy working on that little ol’ paper of yours. Hope you have coffee on—” Hilde’s voice dropped off abruptly as she rounded the corner into the kitchen where Kane and I were standing awkwardly facing each other.

Her eyes moved back and forth between us, and Kane ignored it for a moment. It looked forced when he finally looked at Hilde. He smiled, but it was tight and uncomfortable.

“Kane,” Hilde said tersely. “How are you?” She was eying the bandage on his cheek suspiciously.

He nodded first before bothering to answer. “I’m fine. I was just leaving.”

“Auntie Heen-Hee!” Sienna came running in. Her face was covered in my cranberry colored lipstick that I’d apparently made the mistake of leaving out.

“Oh, boy,” I said as I leaned down and scooped her up in my arms. She perched on my hip, and Hilde shook her head in exasperation.

“It’s never ending. I’ll go grab a washcloth.” Hilde left the room with a quick glance over her shoulder.

It was suddenly silent, and even Sienna, who normally babbled a mile a minute, was quiet as she poked my cheek over and over again. Kane watched us closely, his eyes studying us so intently as my skin flushed. I still hadn’t managed to say a word to him about what had just happened. Of course, he didn’t seem to have any intention of bringing it up either.

“You look beautiful holding a child,” he said, his lips pulling up even though his face remained confusingly slack. “Hell…” he started to say, but his voice dropped off.

“Bad word,” Sienna instantly chastised, pointing her pudgy finger at him.

He nodded. “Yes,” he said quietly. “I should…” He glanced over his shoulder. “I have to—”

“I can run you home,” I offered.

“No,” he said quickly. “No. I can walk.”

“It’s three miles at least.”

“I can handle three miles,” he said with a subtle smirk, but then his face dropped again, and his eyes did too. “Thanks for last night. I’ll see you tonight at class.”

I nodded, and as Kane sighed, he turned and ran right into Hilde. They sidestepped each other awkwardly before he walked away. I held my breath until I heard the front door close, and when Hilde took Sienna from my arms, I sank back to the counter behind me, exactly where I’d been with Kane’s hand up my skirt less than five minutes before.

“Did he just say he’d see you in class tonight?” Hilde asked as she sat Sienna on the counter next to the sink and started cleaning the lipstick from her cheeks.

“He’s in my philosophy class.”

Hilde studied me for a moment over her shoulder. “Odd you didn’t mention that sooner,” she said sarcastically. “You…” She glanced at Sienna. “…layin’ pipe with that man?” Her face twisted up as she tried to figure out the metaphor she’d just dropped on me.

I shook my head. “Hilde, you can only lay pipe, if you have a pipe.” I enunciated the last word.

“Oh … oh!” She finally got it. She glanced at me again. “So… Is he laying his pipe in your … tunnel?” Her face was still scrunched up.

I sighed. I wanted to laugh, and the humor of Hilde’s pathetic attempt at slang wasn’t lost on me, but I was too close to falling apart to react much.

I shook my head. “No. It’s not like that.”

“Well, good,” she commented. “That guy’s bad news you ask me, and it couldn’t have escaped your attention that he looks like he was in a fight,” she commented distractedly as she pointed to her cheek for a moment before returning her focus to Sienna’s cranberry streaked face.

“Stop,” I said adamantly and bluntly.

“What?” she asked, her forehead wrinkled in confusion.

I stared at her, and she intentionally let her eyes bulge as she waited. I sighed in exasperation. “You’re my older sister, and I adore you. I refuse to think you’re that type of person.”

Her lips pursed. “What type of person is that?”

“Too good to associate with someone like him. You’re not. I love you, but you’re not, nor am I, nor is anyone else.”

Hilde smirked. “I’m the person who witnessed your life fall apart after he up and left when you were in high school. You’ll have to excuse me if I don’t think he’s worth my sister’s time. But hey, you always were the one who liked to bring home strays,” she said coolly. She turned back to Sienna.

I sighed, turning to the coffee maker and finally managing to get a filter into the blasted thing. I watched the coffee drip entirely too slowly into the coffee pot. “Yeah,” I mumbled.

* * * *

He didn’t bother sitting in the front row that night. I lectured for an hour and a half straight over Confucius, Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle. I finished up the entire overview of The Ancient World without ever once making eye contact with Kane or taking a break.

I could tell the students were getting annoyed with me for not at least giving them a breather, but when I pulled a stack of papers out of my briefcase, people suddenly sat up straighter, assuming it was quiz time. Quiz time, consequently, meant time to go home. But it wasn’t quiz time.

“Take a quick five minute break. In lieu of a quiz, I’m handing out the study guide for next week’s test. We’ll review it quickly, and then you’ll be free to leave for the evening.”

I didn’t bother leaving the room as the students filed past me, and when I caught sight of Kane walking toward me down the center aisle, I intentionally looked down at the study guide in my hands, pretending I was intently reading the document—ridiculous, considering I’d written the damn thing.

I glanced up again, and he was still walking slowly toward me. He was watching me, and as he closed in on my desk, his gate slowed as though he were trying to be casual in his approach.

Suddenly the flirt from the week before popped up from nowhere and latched onto his arm. He instantly tensed as he looked at her. “Umm…” he started to say to her, but then his attention moved back to me. His eyes were wide though, and he looked nervous.

“Yesterday was insane,” she said in an excited rush.

He tried for a smile, but it was painful just seeing the effort, and the pathetic attempt fell from his lips quickly. “Can you excuse—” he started to say.

“Intense. You were kicking that guy’s ass.” She reached for his cheek where the scuff was still covered in a small bandage.

Kane pulled away from her touch. “Don’t,” he said curtly.

The young woman ignored his rebuff. “He was such a jerk. I can’t even believe you’re the one who got arrested.” Her voice was bubbly and obnoxious.

The realization of what I was hearing sunk in, and I could feel my face falling even as I desperately willed my reaction to stay cool and even. “Excuse me,” I muttered as I stood from my desk and walked out of the room.

I needed to be away from him. I needed to be so far away from him that none of this could hurt me. But my mind circled around it like a vulture unable to stop eyeing the carnage. He’d been at the bar with her. Her. And then he’d gotten arrested and called me. Me. Never mind what he’d done in my kitchen that morning less than twenty-hours after being out with another woman who he was without doubt trying to fuck.

How dare he?

I paced in the lounge, back and forth in front of the vending machine, and I gnawed on my thumbnail, chewing it down to nothing. When I finally walked back down the hall toward the classroom, I was fuming with rage.

I entered the room, and I started talking before all the students were even in their seats. My voice was clipped and short, and I forged on into the study guide simply wanting to get through it so I could march my ass out that door and be done with this. By the time I was finished, my voice was hoarse, and I’d not stopped talking once.

“Remember this test will cover the entirety of the Ancient World, and I will give you a hint now, there will be one rather long essay question related specifically to Plato’s Allegory of the Cave. Be prepared, because that one question alone will comprise 50 percent of the test points. If you have any questions related to the information on the study guide…” I said even as I snapped my briefcase closed quickly. “…send me an email or give me a call. Otherwise I’ll see you all next week.”

I picked up my briefcase, and I walked from the room.

Chapter Eleven

Kane

Eleven Years Ago

The man was stroking himself as he watched her, and I could barely look at him. Fuck, I could barely look at her either, and every time I did, her eyes would meet mine and tears would trickle down her cheeks, pooling around her lips that were distended by my dick. They would quickly trickle down to her chin, and then more would take their place. She looked humiliated. She looked terrified. She looked like there was no greater hell in this world.

She was right. There wasn’t.

I closed my eyes, trying to ignore everything but the feel of her. I needed the feel of her and nothing else in my head, because it needed to be me. I needed it to be me just as much as she needed it to be me too. But blocking out this nightmare was nearly impossible. When her mouth was suddenly torn from me, my eyes flew open to see her being yanked backward by the hair.

The man pulled so hard and violently that she was slammed into the hard floor behind her, ending up on her back, her legs open awkwardly.

“Do it,” the man said as he smirked at me. I stared at him for a moment, but then my eyes flit down to Helene, pausing on her face for a moment before moving farther down to that one spot between her legs I was going to destroy. I’d wanted everything I was about to do to her, and that was being turned into a nightmare. I gritted my teeth, letting fury drive the fear away.

I pushed off the ground, grunting as anger coursed through me, and I came down on top of her, hovering over her body. My face was pinched and angry. “Goddammit,” I muttered through gritted teeth.

The man just laughed as he crouched down by Helene’s head. “Get on with it.”

I glared at him, but he just kept laughing.

“Now.” His eyebrows shot up, and he winked at me. “You know you want it. That is a hell of a sweet looking pussy.”

When I looked back down to Helene, her expression was slack, and her eyes were staring at my neck. She wasn’t here anymore. She was gone, and I wanted to be wherever the hell she was, because this man was going to force me to torture her, and I didn’t know how to survive that without going insane.

I pushed gently against her, and her eyelids fluttered, and she whined. She shook her head back and forth, shutting her eyes. She was struggling to stay gone from this place in her mind, and feeling my body against hers was reminding her that she was in hell. I nudged again, and her eyes flew open.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered. “I’m so sorry.” And I pushed as a scream tore loose from her mouth.

Chapter Twelve

Kane

“What the hell do you mean you’re kicking him out?” I asked incredulously.

The social worker, head nurse, and center administrator were looking at me. Their faces were identically set to the same apologetic, understanding expression. Mine was not. I was glaring, staring back and forth from one to the other of them.

“No,” I said adamantly. “You can’t do this. The man had a stroke. He’s not able to take care of himself—”

“Actually, he’s faring well in terms of self-care skills. It’s just—”

“No,” I said again. “Just because the man can get a spoon to his mouth and shit on his own does not mean he can manage himself.”

“Mr. Thorson,” the administrator said. “We’re simply not equipped to handle his needs. Your father is very … difficult.”

I stared at the floor. Of course my father was difficult. He was naturally an asshole, and the stroke he’d had a few months before had exacerbated his assholiness. It didn’t mean he could manage himself¸ much less that I could handle the man. I couldn’t handle anything about the man.

“I would recommend you reach out to Medicare. You need to—”

“Have you ever dealt with Medicare?” I asked angrily.

“We can provide you with some resources—the disability application is a good place to start. That’s the first step in getting him on Medicaid, and you might have better luck getting him placed—”

“What am I supposed to do with him in the meantime?”

“You have thirty days to decide. We’re putting you on notice now. If Medicare will cover a psychiatric unit placement, that might be a good option.”

“Ah, Jesus Christ, lady,” I snapped. “Medicare’s not even covering his expenses now. He’s too high functioning to qualify, remember?”

“When we release him, if he’s being … unmanageable, you take him to the emergency room. That’s the best step to getting him placed appropriately in a psych ward or a care center that has a secure ward. But there is simply nothing we can do for you here. He’s too big of a liability to our staff. Your father is uncooperative, and furthermore, he’s violent. We understand this is likely related to the brain trauma of his recent stroke, and I—”

“No, it’s not,” I muttered as I stood up. I walked out of the room without saying anything further.

The women stared at me as I left. They thought I was as big of an asshole as my dad. I likely was. When I wandered down the hall to his room, I glanced in other rooms along the way. It was a depressing thing being in one of these places. It smelled disgusting and weird, and the odd occasional groan made me feel like I was walking through a fluorescently lit haunted house. I didn’t like this place.

My father’s room was the last room at the end of the corridor, and when I approached, my gate slowed. It was dread. I didn’t like seeing my father. That had never bothered me before, because my dad didn’t care to see me any more than I cared to see him. But now, I felt almost compelled to at least occasionally stop in.

“Hi, Dad,” I said as I walked in.

He slowly moved his head to watch me as I crossed the room. He moaned one of those ghostly wailing moans out of the side of his half paralyzed mouth, but his eyes were still cruel, and his expression was still hateful. I sat in the only chair in the room, and he turned his head away from me to stare out the window.

“I’ve been working on the house. It’s coming along slowly, but I think once I’m done, it’s going to really increase the sale value. That should help secure you financially.” I had no idea why I was talking to him as though he cared at all what I was saying.

I sat in silence for a while, and soon, his breathing slowed, and I could tell he’d fallen asleep.

“But then I think it’s going to be time for me to finally end this nightmare,” I whispered. The thought was painful—saying goodbye to Helene again. “Too many mistakes in my past,” I mumbled as I let my head drop to my hands.

My dad groaned quietly in his sleep, and I finally stood. I stared down at him. His skin hung on his bones like a sheet draped over hard sharp angles. He’d lost weight, and too many cigarettes had aged him beyond his years. The whiskers on his face were patchy and gray, and his hair was an unkempt mess. His mouth hung open as he slept, and his breathing was loud and gurgling.

It was almost hard to believe the man lying in this bed used to terrify me. He could beat the shit out of me faster than most people could change their shoes. Don’t get me wrong, I deserved it. I was a shit growing up, and my attitude was certainly challenging for even the most patient, but that man… He’d knocked the smart-ass out of me just for looking at him wrong.

I took my time wandering out to the parking lot, and when I climbed in dad’s old rusted out truck with a muffler as loud as a jet engine, I let my head drop to the steering wheel. It was Friday—two days after I fucked up with Hell. And that fuck up was a bad one. Touching her where I had no business touching probably wasn’t the best way to get back in her good graces after she bailed me out of jail. Licking, sucking, and kissing her neck without doubt made it worse. She was frigid after all—at least if her ex-boyfriend’s email was the least accurate. But then throwing the ever-bubbly and immature Tia in her face who outed what I’d been doing in a bar other than fighting total strangers… Well that deserved a disaster gold star.

When I pulled up in the driveway, the electrician was just walking out of the front door. The man blew out an exasperated sigh, and I rolled my eyes.

“What?” I said rather than greeting him.

He shrugged, shaking his head. “It ain’t pretty. To get this place up to code—”

“How about if I don’t care about code?” I asked, not letting him get any further.

The man chuckled. “You wanna sell this house? What do you think happens when you get a home inspector in here?”

“So what is it?” My jaw clenched tight as I waited for it.

“Your main isn’t grounded. That’s a problem. It was likely grounded through a metal plumbing pipe a long time ago, but it’s not now. Your panel is overwired. Some of your receptacles are backstabbed. And you’re underamped. I’m not going to lie…”

I walked into the house, ignoring him.

“…I’d tear this to shreds on a home inspection, Kane.” The man followed me into the house even as I refused to communicate with him.

I grabbed a beer from the fridge, and when the guy started talking again, I set the beer down, reaching for the Jameson on top of the fridge instead.

“Like I was saying…”

“How about you get to the bottom line.”

The man went silent for a moment.

“Five … maybe six.”

“Fuck,” I muttered. I threw back a shot of the whiskey, and the moment it singed my throat, I poured another and threw it back before the burn of the first shot died down. “Do it.” I walked away toward the small bedroom at the front of the house that had been mine since the day I was born.

The last I caught of the electrician was a nervous, “Yeah… Okay, yeah…” and then I closed the bedroom door and flopped down on the double mattress that sat on the floor, just as it always had. The paint was crackled on the walls, and it was a dingy blue color. I’d not bothered to do anything in this room yet, and I hated every inch of this space—the worn hardwoods on the floor, the old dresser that was missing half its knobs, the amber glass light fixture circa 1970.

When I pulled my cell phone from my pocket, I wasn’t quite sure what I was going to do with it—only that I needed to do something. I pulled up my text messages, and I stared at the one I’d typed out two nights prior without ever sending.

I’m sorry. Are you okay?

My thumb paused over the send button. I’d not managed to hit that damn button in the two days since I’d typed the message out to Hell. I once again closed my text messages, leaving the message unsent. I pulled up my call history instead, and I found another number.

“Well if it isn’t Kane himself,” Lisa said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

I smirked. “Just called to see what you were up to tonight.”

She chuckled this warm laugh. “Jake’s out of town. You must have read my mind. You know, I’ve been thinking about you,” she said seductively.

“Is that so? You missed my charms did you?”

She laughed again. “No, darlin’. I missed that nice big cock of yours.”

It was my turn to laugh, and I did, closing my eyes to the ugly world around me with its bad memories and stale smells. “You gonna let me fuck you with it tonight?”

“I want to go out first,” she said a bit childishly, like she might pout if I turned her down. “New seafood restaurant on Broad. You need to take me. We’ll eat the oysters. You know they’re an aphrodisiac.”

“I know they taste like something that belongs in someone’s nose. No thanks,” I said. “When have we ever needed an aphrodisiac? Isn’t that why you like me so much? How about you shove the oysters down your husband’s throat.”

She hummed. “I still want to go.” She was definitely pouting at that point.

I sighed. “Fine. I’ll meet you there in two hours.”

When I hung up, I pulled up the unsent message to Helene again, and I erased it. Everything I did hurt her in some way. That’s all I was capable of with her, and every compulsive need I had to reach out to her, touch her, smell her, taste her, hell, just be near her, brought me one second closer to inflicting more pain on her. And for what? Hazleton was not a permanent stop on my journey.

“I’m sorry, Helene,” I whispered, and then I closed my eyes and fell asleep.

Chapter Thirteen

Helene

Eleven Years Ago

My mind checked out for a while. I could hear Kane’s quiet grunts, and I could feel my back being scraped on the hard rough floor as he thrust into me. I could even feel the pain stabbing and stretching with each jolt, but it was all muffled through some cotton ball cloud in my brain.

I was glad it was Kane. I was also devastated it was. I felt his tears dropping to my cheeks, and he moaned this strangled agonized sound as he moved into me.

“I’m sorry,” he cried out the words quietly. “I’m sorry.” He kept repeating it over and over and over again.

When I opened my eyes to see him, he paused as he stared at me, clearly shocked I was looking at him.

“Close your eyes, baby,” he whispered. “Please don’t look at me.”

I nodded and did as he asked, closing them tight and waiting for it to be over. This had to end.

Kane’s hips sped from a moment, and he pushed farther in, singing my core with more pain. His body went still, and he groaned as he held himself deep inside me. When he pulled back, leaving my body, I cried and tried to clench my legs closed as pain bit into me. Kane kneeled back on his feet, covering his face with his hands and sobbing.

The stranger laughed loudly, clapping his hands. “Looks like someone enjoyed himself.”

Kane lunged toward the man as a strangled yell escaped his lips. But the man aimed the gun at his face, stopping Kane still.

“You fucking freak,” Kane hissed, spit flying from his lips as he struggled to control the rage.

I curled up on my side, hugging my knees as I cowered in the fetal position. Kane was now beside me on his knees, and his hands were balled at his sides. His groin was covered in blood, but he was oblivious to anything but the gun in his face.

“You’re gonna thank her for getting my cock so fucking wet for you in a minute,” the man said.

“Wha… What?” Kane asked. He sounded confused, and the anger he’d been struggling to keep in check moments before was suddenly gone. He sank back to sit on his feet.

My eyes flashed up to him. I didn’t understand what was happening. Kane was trembling from head to foot, and he sank farther to sit on the floor, his eyes moving around wildly in panic.

The stranger reached down to my face, gripping my jaw and squeezing tight as he craned my face awkwardly around to look up at him. “You can relax, sweetheart. Your job’s done.” He smiled this sickening, sadistic smile at me before he glanced over at Kane who was sitting in a stupor on the floor a foot away from me. When the man’s eyes stayed on Kane, he chuckled. “Time to show the smart ass what he gets for copping an attitude with the wrong man.”

And then I understood.

“Get on your hands and knees,” he snapped coldly at Kane, but Kane didn’t move. Instead, he shook his head slowly, closing his eyes. When the man put the muzzle of the gun to my head, I whimpered, and Kane’s eyes darted to me.

His breath hitched, and sobs shook his chest as he looked at me, and when he groaned, it was the most pained and horrified sound I’d ever heard. He nodded, pushing up to his knees again.

“Please don’t hurt him,” I begged the man even as he held the gun to my head. “Please … please.”

The man smirked at me as he pulled a condom from his pocket. “He did this to himself, sweetheart. He did it to you too for that matter.”

The man stood and stared down at Kane with an amused look on his face. When Kane reached down to the ground, planting his hands on the floor, he glanced at me and then hung his head in shame as he looked the other way.

The sudden whooshing sound as the stranger kicked Kane in the stomach startled me, and I screamed, pushing my body farther from them as I panicked. The kick threw Kane into the metal wall mounted shelving unit beside him. He came down hard on the corner of the metal, and his breath left him in a grunt.

He tried to push himself up from the place he was sprawled awkwardly over the lower shelf, but he groaned in pain, and his mouth pulled back in a grimace. I covered my mouth when I saw the damage. Blood was dripping from his side where he’d fallen on the corner of the shelf, and as Kane looked down at the side of his stomach, he clutched at it.

I covered my mouth, crying, and Kane looked at me in desperation. That’s when the stranger, towering above him, brought his fist down into the side of Kane’s face, knocking him hard over the shelf again. Kane lay across the shelf, gasping, but as his hands trembled and he clutched at the metal shelf to push himself up again, the stranger knelt behind him.

And Kane started screaming.

Chapter Fourteen

Helene

“We’ll take the check,” Mark said.

I leaned over to Brody who was sitting next to me at the table. “Hey,” I whispered. “Grab that last shrimp off your mama’s plate.”

Brody laughed, but he reached over, snatching the piece for me.

“Way to go, Brode-man. We make a good team.” I chomped through the shrimp, holding the tail between my fingers.

“So, Kane Thorson just so happens to be in Helene’s philosophy class. You remember him?” Hilde asked Mark even as she focused on me.

“Oh…” Mark said. “Yeah. I remember him. Saw him a number of months ago.” He looked between Hilde and me nervously for a second. “He asked about you,” Mark said to me. “I mentioned you were teaching at the college.”

Hilde’s eyes bulged. “You didn’t tell me that.”

He shrugged, turning his attention back to me. “You two worked at the gas station together until he…” Mark looked back and forth between the kids. “…unexpectedly departed Hazleton without anyone’s knowledge.”

“Yes,” said Hilde. “Right about the same time you quit the gas station job too if I recall correctly.”

“Yep.” I said, not offering to say more.

“How’s he doing?” asked Mark. “I haven’t seen him since I ran into him a couple of months ago. All I really remember of him from high school is that he was pretty good at getting into trouble. But I still always liked him.”

I shrugged. Acknowledging I’d bailed him out of jail three nights prior was not going to happen—not with my sister sitting there waiting for me to say the wrong thing.

“Why’s he even in town?” Hilde asked.

“His dad had a stroke,” Mark responded. “That’s how I ran into him. I was helping him line up the transfer from the hospital to the care facility.”

That was Mark’s job. He was a care coordinator at Community Memorial hospital. It was a hospital administrator social work type position that Mark was, frankly, perfect for. He was a good man, a caring man.

I nodded. “He’s getting his father’s home in order, so he can put it on the market.”

“And after that?” Hilde eyed me suspiciously.

I shrugged again. I hated Hilde’s inquisitions.

Hilde turned to Mark. “He was at Helene’s house at eight in the morning Wednesday when Sienna and I stopped by.”

“Is that so?” Mark asked as his focus shifted to me.

“He just stopped by,” I lied.

“And yet, he didn’t have a car there, and he left on foot.” Hilde stared at me for a moment. “Odd.”

“Not as odd as your interest in my personal life,” I muttered. “I need to go to the restroom.” I stood from the table, dropping my napkin on my plate, and it wasn’t until I was walking away that the quiet groan of irritation passed my lips.

The restaurant was in one of the old buildings that lined Broad Street, and it was a narrow deep layout. I walked around tables as I headed toward the back of the cavernous room where the restroom sign hung down from the tall ceiling above. When I made it nearly two-thirds of the way there, I had to sidestep a small table for two.

“Sorry,” I said as I skirted past the table.

I made the mistake of glancing down at the couple who I’d just apologized to, and the smile on my lips faded as I stared. Kane’s arm was laid across the table, and a woman’s hand was in his as his thumb slowly stroked over her knuckles. There was a rather garish looking diamond on her left ring finger.

I shook my head in shock at what I was seeing—shocked that he was there, shocked that he was apparently on a date with a woman little more than three days after he’d come onto me in my kitchen, shocked that it was yet another woman from the one he’d clearly been carrying on with earlier in the week, and shocked that the woman he chose to carry on with now appeared to be married. Just shocked.

I stepped back, bumping into the table behind me. “I’m sorry,” I said to the couple sitting there as they looked at me concernedly. “I’m…” My voice trailed off.

When I looked back at Kane, his eyes were wide and startled. He pulled his hand from the woman, and she looked back and forth between us, confusion etched on her pretty face. I walked away then, making a beeline toward the restrooms. The three-stall restroom was vacant, which was a damn good thing, because when I looked in the mirror, my face was red, and I looked furious enough to either yell or simply fall apart into tears.

I turned toward the nearest wall, and I pressed my fingers against it, letting my forehead drop to the ugly wallpaper. When the door was suddenly pushed open, I pulled back. Kane stood in the doorway, watching me, his face still a frozen mask of terror. I didn’t care. I was too angry to care.

“Get out,” I hissed at him.

“I have to talk to you.” He crossed his arms. “Please, talk to me.” He let the door shut behind him, closing us in the restroom together.

“Did you happen to notice she appears to be married?” I spat the question out angrily.

His brow furrowed, and he looked down at the ground between us. “I’m well aware she’s married,” he said, but he refused to look at me. I couldn’t tell if it was anger or shame. I wasn’t sure it should matter.

“So you’re adding home wrecker to your limited list of skills. That it? Along with cradle robber of course. At least this one’s closer to your own fucking age.”

His eyes suddenly flashed up to mine, and he looked furious. He closed the space between us in two strides, and when he pushed me back against the wall, I gasped. “Don’t forget I like to do the occasional cougar,” he retorted as he placed his hands on either side of my face, glaring at me. “I enjoy a good threesome too. And don’t get me started on how much fun it is to stick my cock up a woman’s ass. Can I add that to the list?” He glared at me. “What about virginity taker? Do I get to claim that one too?”

“Get away from me,” I snapped as I planted my hands on his chest and pushed. But he was strong, and he held his place, keeping me within the frame of his arms.

“Pretty much any woman who’s not too frigid,” he said cruelly. “Guess that means you’re safe now.” He focused on my face as he said it, his expression as cruel as his words.

“What did you say?” My lips trembled as I studied him, trying to figure out if it was an intentional jab or completely unintentional.

When he smirked, I knew. It was very much intentional.

“Saw the email from Brian,” he said. “Looks like someone has intimacy issues.”

He finally leaned away from me, dropping his hands as he stepped back. The look on his face was smug and mean, and before I knew what I was doing, I reached out and smacked him hard across the face as a whimper of pain erupted from my throat.

“At least I’m not a whore,” I spat out, and then I shoved past him toward the door.

As I was reaching for the handle, the door was pushed open, and married girlfriend was suddenly standing awkwardly in front of me.

“Your husband must be so proud,” I muttered as I skirted past her.

Kane followed me, calling my name as I hurried down the hallway that would take me back to the restaurant. “Hell, wait.” He called, but there was nothing, nothing at all, that would stop my brisk march straight the fuck out of there.

Eyes followed me through the restaurant, and I knew it was because I looked like a crazed maniac. I’d never felt so murderously angry in my life. He didn’t have the right to hurt me. I was giving him rights to my emotions he didn’t deserve to have, and my fury was as much for myself as anything.

Hilde glanced up at me casually as she stood from the table, but then her eyes bulged as she took in the sight of me. When a hand clamped down on the back of my arm, I froze.

“I need to talk to you,” Kane said quietly with his lips near my ear, but however quiet it was, I could tell he was speaking through gritted teeth even without looking at him.

I turned to him. “Stay away from me,” I hissed, trying to veil our interaction from everyone around us.

“Come on kids,” Mark said easily as he eyed us. “Let’s pull the car around. We’ll let Auntie Helene finish talking to her … friend.”

I looked at the children, and I forced myself to smile at them. Hilde glared at Kane over my shoulder, but she followed Mark and the kids from the table. When they were safely out of earshot, I turned back to Kane once more. “I’m done giving you even an ounce of my time. You are nothing more than a ghost of the boy I once knew. You are venomous. You are cruel. You are pathetic. And my sister was right. You are not … worth … my … time.” My vision was skewed from the tears that were ready to fall. I could seem to do nothing in front of this man that didn’t involve tears. There was just too much emotion buried in the chasm of ground between us.

He watched me for a moment, but then his eyes bounced around the room, and his lips trembled. “Yeah,” he finally said quietly as his focus shifted to the floor between us. He stepped back as he glanced at me, but then his eyes glossed over too, and he shook his head. He turned and walked away toward the back of the restaurant where he’d presumably left his married girlfriend somewhere along the way.

Chapter Fifteen

Kane

Eleven Years Ago

Helene crawled up behind me and curled her body around mine. Her skin felt warm, and her lips trembled against the back of my neck. She draped her arm over my body, clutching my hand tightly in hers.

“We’re going to be okay,” she whispered. “We’re going to be okay.” She kept repeating it, and I closed my eyes, waiting for it to end. It wasn’t going to be okay. It was fucking not going to be okay.

I could hear the man nearby. It was the sound of a zipper again, a belt buckle being latched. Helene’s entire body trembled, and I pulled her hand up to my mouth, breathing against her palm. It was cold. The floor was hard. And every part of me hurt and seared with burning pain.

The man nudged us with his foot and shoved the mop bucket that usually sat in the corner toward us. It sloshed brown water over our feet, and Helene scurried to sit up.

“Clean up this mess you made and get dressed. Make it fast.”

The man sat on a stool near the breakroom door, lounging back casually as he watched us. I crawled to my feet, and he threw Helene a bottle of bleach water and some paper towel. She crouched down, wiping the shelf that was covered in my blood. It was only then I remembered the gash in my side. But I ignored it and focused on the blood and cum I was smearing across the floor with the mop instead.

I diluted the mess over and over again, sponging it up until there was nothing left but a damp floor. In ten minutes time every visible trace of what had happened to us was gone as though it had never been.

“Get dressed.” The man threw our clothes at our feet, and he shoved the mop bucket back into the corner as Helene and I scrambled to dress. I glanced at her, and she was shaking violently, tears streaming down her cheeks. She was falling apart. Of course she was. Her body was doing everything mine needed to do.

I brushed a tear angrily from my cheek, fury burning through me at the sight of her. I could recall crying only one other time in my entire recollection. It was when my grandmother passed away and I was nine. Not even alone did I cry. I’d just never had any reason to—no reason compelling enough at least. But every damn second of this night was reason to, and I was.

When we were dressed, the man stared at us. He was holding Helene’s purse in his hand. “This yours, sweetheart?” He cocked his head to the side as he watched her.

She nodded her head rigidly.

“Well, how about you take it, and get lost.”

She shook her head. It was a spastic movement nearly like a twitch. “I’m not leaving him.”

The man smiled at her almost kindly, sympathetically. “I’m not asking you to.” He glanced at me. “Both of you. Get lost.”

We stood frozen for a moment. The gun was sitting rested in his lap. I had to tug on Helene’s hand to get her to follow me. Her eyes were glued to the gun. But she stumbled after me, and the thirty seconds it took us to walk out the back door, reach my truck, get in, and start it were the longest of my life. I waited for the gun to go off, knowing it would be too fast for my dead brain to even register, but I listened for it still.

But it didn’t come.

My bald tires spun out as I slammed on the gas, and the man stood casually in the back door, holding a hand up as though waving to us. I’d picked Helene up on my way to work that afternoon, and now, there were no other cars in the parking lot. I sped down the highway toward town, and when we reached the Sleepaway Inn a half a mile down the road, I slowed down, contemplating pulling in and asking for help. But it was deserted and quiet. There were no cars in the lot, the lights in the office were out, and only one room had a dimly lit light on inside, likely left on by the last occupant.

When she saw me looking toward the motel, she whined. “Please, Kane. I just wanna go home. Please… Please take me home. I don’t want to be here anymore.” She gasped, sucking in one breath after another as though she couldn’t get enough. “Please…”

I reached for her hand, and I kept on driving. She curled up next to me, and she was silent.

Chapter Sixteen

Kane

I could barely concentrate on the test in front of me. It was a mistake choosing to sit in the front row this week. I’d been bouncing back and forth between the front and the back based on how my interactions with Helene were going. They weren’t going well at the moment. That meant, I should be sitting in the back of the class like the flaky fucking student I was.

But I’d chosen to sit in the front.

When she ignored me and pretended I wasn’t even there even as she set a stack of tests on my desk to pass back, I was offended, which was laughable even to me given she had every right to be offended, and yet, I was the one who was.

And now, ten minutes had passed, and I’d yet to answer a single fucking question on the test. But it wasn’t because I’d not studied. I oddly liked this subject, and I’d read the book cover to cover already just for the sheer interest in it. I was prepared. I was also the piece of shit who couldn’t seem to contain my shit life and stop sharing it with Helene in ways that ultimately hurt her.

I wasn’t surprised it hurt her to see me with other women. Eleven years didn’t erase the intense past we had, and being forced to watch me whore myself time after time smacked of disrespect even now. It sure as hell would if the tables were turned.

The fact was … I was still just as attracted to Helene as I’d always been. The fact also remained that my attraction was the most absurd thing in the world. I had nothing to offer this woman. I had no future in this place, and hurting her was like slapping her in the face time after time. And what would happen at the end of that torture? I’d be gone, and she’d be picking up the pieces all over again. Walking away from her was the right thing to do.

But I’d never been very good at doing the right thing.

What happened eleven years before should have destroyed the intimacy between us. But it hadn’t. Not for me, and given how easily I could break her heart, it hadn’t for her either. And after so many years without that closeness, I didn’t know how to give it up. Even if I couldn’t keep it. That made me an asshole. It also made me the man who’d never figured out how to get over my addiction to her.

When forty-five minutes had passed, I’d only made it through one page of multiple choice questions. I glanced up at her, and she was sitting at her desk, leaning back casually, but her eyes were trained on me. Her expression was impossible to read. It was absolutely blank, but it was clear the way she studied me, looked down at the test on my desk, and then looked at me again as her brow furrowed slightly that she hadn’t missed my concentration problems.

I took a deep breath, forcing my eyes down to the papers and away from her. I definitely should not have sat in the front row.

“You have an hour left,” she warned the class once we were an hour and a half in.

I’d finally made a dent in this fucking thing, but I still had a long way to go. Hell liked her essay questions, and I had many pages of writing yet to get through. When I glanced up at her, she was reading a book. I recognized it. It was one of the books I’d picked up from her bed the night I’d stayed with her.

That night had been strangely perfect. Not the fight, the arrest, or even the awkwardness between Helene and me at her house. But curling up next to her in bed and feeling her body snuggle close to mine like she actually wanted to be close to me, that was damn near euphoric. But then like most things in life that had anything at all to do with a woman, I reduced her to nothing more than a pussy for me to play with the next morning.

I wasn’t sure even now that I could isolate why I’d touched her in the kitchen that morning—except to say it had something to do with seeing her study that fucking picture. She’d been looking at us—the us that died eleven years before. And she’d studied that picture just as intently as I had. The way she focused on that visual piece of our past almost convinced me it was just as important to her as it was to me. That apparently translated into an excuse to grope her.

I sighed in frustration as I tried yet again to focus on my test, and a few heads craned in my direction. I scribbled, biting my lower lip painfully hard to refocus my attention and get through this fucking thing. I forced myself to sit up straighter, and I started writing. I knew Plato’s Allegory of the Cave. I liked it even. And so I set my pen loose, finally freeing my mind of her for a while.

The cave is an analogy of an ignorant life. It’s a very visual representation of what it means to perceive things from only one point, missing the larger picture. In Plato’s Allegory, men are chained within a cave, forced to see nothing more than the shadows on the walls around them—never knowing a world exists beyond the cave, and never knowing the shadows are attached to so much more than their limited scope.

But it’s a curious analogy that relates, in my opinion, to even the chains we impose on ourselves. Take the man who spends his life living in one way, sheltered, of his own devices, from the real world around him. His chains are completely self-imposed to protect himself from the unseen and hidden nightmares of the world. But the outcome on his existence is the same.

Perhaps he makes vices like violence, drunkenness, and even promiscuity his reality—his shadows—blocking out everything else around him in an attempt to hide from the things in the world that can hurt him the most. By doing so, he sees nothing but the shadows on the walls—the telltale sign that a life greater than his own exists beyond the cave. But his cave is safe, and his perception of the world eventually becomes limited by the shadows, and his knowledge of what it once meant to live fully in this world dwindles to nothing. His shadows become his reality—his perception forever skewed.

What would happen to this man if he unshackled his life and finally broke the chains he’d placed on himself so long ago? Could he turn around and walk out of his cave, finally seeing the shadows for what they were—a pathetic coping mechanism. Could he realign his reality with truth, rather than the twisted notions of what he’d made his world out to be?

Plato’s Allegory relates to perception and reality. Plato saw philosophical enlightenment as breaking those chains that bind, freeing oneself of ignorance. But the concept applies broadly to all of humanity. People as a whole see a limited scope of the world, chained to their notions, often misguided notions, of what truth is. Seeking something more, I would argue, is the very act of unchaining oneself from the cave wall.

I reread my essay, and I finally set my pen down. It was a nice notion—breaking the chains. I had no real idea if I could ever be strong enough to do such a thing, but … it was a nice notion. My shadows were what separated me from Hell—not the bad hell, the good Hell. I wanted my Hell.

Students had already started turning their tests in and leaving, but I wasn’t the last, and nearly a quarter of the class remained. I pulled the envelope of money I’d stashed in my textbook from between the pages as I stood from the desk, and I walked my test and the envelope up to Helene. When I approached the desk, she marked her spot in the book she was reading, and she stood.

I set the test down, placing the envelope on top of it. She studied the envelope for a moment.

“It should be what I owe you … for the other night.” No amount of money in the world could come close to what I owed her.

She nodded as she fidgeted with the cover of the book she held in her hands.

“I need to speak with you,” she said quietly. She cocked her head toward the door. “Could we step out to the—”

“Professor Hess,” a student called from halfway back in the desks.

Helene didn’t look away from me for a moment, and when she did, I inhaled slowly to calm the race of my heart.

“I’ll be right there,” she responded to the student.

When her eyes returned to me, I nodded. “I’ll just wait.” I returned to my seat.

Helene walked by on her way back to speak with the student, and in the time it took her to clarify a completely clear as day question to the idiot, three more tests had been turned in. Only the idiot and one other slow test taker remained. I fidgeted with the cover of my book, and Helene didn’t bother opening the one she was reading when she returned to her desk.

She stacked up tests and put them in her briefcase along with her book and the envelope I’d given her. But her hand paused on my test that was still sitting at the edge of her desk. She glanced quickly to me but picked it up and leafed through it slowly even as I watched her. When she flipped to the last page, she stopped and started reading.

She barely looked up as the idiot set her test on the desk, and I fidgeted with the cover of my book so harshly I ended up tearing the top corner off. Her lips parted as she read, and her brow furrowed, but I couldn’t see her expression full on, so I had no idea what she was thinking.

She finally looked up, and she just stared at me. I looked back, barely managing to hold the eye contact. When the last student finally stood and walked his test up to Helene, I kept my eyes trained on her. She smiled at the boy kindly, but I could tell she was nervous. She tucked his test along with mine into her briefcase and snapped it shut as he walked out the door.

I waited for the click of the door, and I started to stand the moment I heard it, but her voice stopped me still, and I sank back to my seat.

“Do you feel responsible for what happened to us?” Her expression wasn’t accusatory in the least. It was calm.

I cleared my throat as it tried to constrict. “Yes, I do,” I said quietly. I didn’t know how to be more blunt than that. Of course I was responsible.

She nodded slowly. “You’re not responsible.” Her words were just as blunt, and she said them plainly. “I’ve never blamed you for what happened. I need you to understand that. You don’t have to feel guilty. You don’t have to hurt yourself. You don’t have to…” She glanced away for a moment, but then she sighed. “I just need you to know that.”

The constriction in my throat became tighter and tighter, and my eyes burned even as I stared at her. I coughed as I tried to fight it, and when she stood and grabbed her briefcase, I panicked.

“Good night, Kane,” she said quietly as she walked toward the door.

I stood, feeling the panic course through me like a rush of adrenaline. “I fight because it feels good to hurt. I drink because it feels good to go numb. And I fuck because it feels good to forget … how terrifying it can actually be.” I rattled the words out so fast I was almost shocked to hear them. I gasped as the panic escalated. She was walking away from me, and that couldn’t happen. It needed to happen, but I still couldn’t let it happen.

When she turned around her eyes were wide, full of tears, and her lips were parted and trembling. “What do you want from me?” Tears fell down her cheeks as she pleaded for an answer.

“I need to be close to you,” I admitted, feeling my lips tremble too. “Please let me be close to you.” I was twisting my fingers together, begging pathetically for something I didn’t deserve.

She brushed her cheeks. “What does that even mean to you? What are you asking me for?”

I could think of a thousand ways to answer that question, and I glanced away trying to figure out the simplest explanation. “I want to talk to you, and I want you to talk to me. I want to touch you, and I want you to touch me too. I want to hold you.” I gave up hiding the tears, and when I blinked they ran down my cheeks. “I won’t look for pain from another man’s fist to release me from what hurts so much in my head. I’ll tell you what hurts instead. I won’t use sex with other women to hide from my pain. But I’ll give it to you if it’s what you need from me.”

I walked up to her, and she just watched me. Her body looked rigid with tension, and I could see the tendons in her neck strained tight. I stood just in front of her, not willing to touch her until she gave me permission.

“I want all of you, regardless of the fact I deserve nothing from you. Things can’t go on this way with us. It’s tearing me apart. I put myself in your life, because I wanted to see who you were now.” I shook my head as I stared off beside us for a moment. “I didn’t realize it would be so … powerful. Powerful enough I want to give it the chance to rewrite the direction of my life.”

I stood there gasping in shock at the words I was saying, and more than that at what they ultimately meant for me.

Her eyes moved down to settle on my chest, but she didn’t respond.

“We deserve to go back and be us again. Not the us that came after that night. The us before. We were good for each other. I was good for you once—even if no one else in the world saw it or understood that.”

She took a deep breath, but she still stared at my chest.

“I need to be near you, and I don’t know what that looks like. But I do know I need it. Please give me another chance.”

Her eyes remained down, but they were swollen and pink, and her cheeks were streaked with tears. “Okay,” she whispered on an exhalation. When she inhaled again, the air rattled through her lungs as though that one word had sent a rush of something palpable through her.

“Thank you,” I whispered.

We stood there staring at one another’s chests. My brain swirled with that notion again—such a beautiful notion. Was I really going to unbind myself from the shadows? Could I do that for her?

We were silent as we walked out to the parking lot. We must look ridiculous, as though we’d just left a funeral rather than class, and when we’d pass someone in the hallways, we’d lower our heads in tandem to hide the puffy, bloodshot eyes. I didn’t touch her, and we kept a modest six inches between our bodies as we walked. But when we reached her car, she turned to me.

She looked exhausted, and I took her briefcase from her, opening the car door and setting it on her driver’s seat. I wanted to touch her, but I waited for her to make the first move. She eventually did. She stepped right up to me, gripped the sides of my waist with her hands, and let her forehead drop to my chest.

“We’re going to be okay,” I said as I wrapped my arms around her. I had no doubt she could be okay all on her own without my presence in her life. But I also had no doubt I never would be without her. “We’re going to be okay,” I repeated.

She’d said those words to me once. A monster had hurt me, and I’d given up for a while. But she hadn’t. She’d been in pain and scared, and she’d still curled herself around me and reassured me, letting me feel her warmth.

Chapter Seventeen

Helene

Eleven Years Ago

By the time we reached my house I was nearly asleep on the bench seat of Kane’s truck. My head was next to his thigh as he drove, and I stared at the old radio in the truck’s dashboard. We were usually laughing when we were in this truck together, talking, goofing around, just being us. I hated this truck at the moment.

Kane held my hand as we walked into my silent and dark house. My parents were out of town visiting Hilde. When we entered the house, I inhaled deeply and almost threw up. I knew the smell of this world, but for some reason, it made me want to vomit at the moment. The rhythmic tick of the mantel clock in the living room sounded ominous, and even the sight of the note my mom had written me and left on the kitchen island made me want to do nothing but cry. The sight of my life was just disturbing at the moment.

Kane followed me silently down the hall to the bathroom, and I sank down to sit on the toilet when we entered. I reached over and started the bath, and Kane’s eyes shifted around as though he were contemplating saying something. There was a part of me that knew I shouldn’t bathe, and I knew he was well aware of that fact too. But then there was a part of me that didn’t want another single living soul to ever know what had happened to us. That part of me really needed Kane to be okay with that, because the thought of not washing the past two hours of my life off my skin was horrifying. I needed this bath like I needed my next breath.

How could I even begin to explain what had happened to us? How could I even put into words what that man had done to us, done to Kane, forced Kane to do to me? I couldn’t.

“Hell, we have to—” he started to say quietly.

But I ignored him as I abruptly stripped my shirt off over my head. My bra that was torn across the front hung loosely from my shoulders, and when I shrugged, it fell from my arms to settle on the toilet seat behind me. Why had I even bothered putting it back on? Kane looked away, but my brain was too dull to worry or care about my nakedness or his resulting shyness.

“Hell…”

I pushed my jeans down my legs, letting them pool at my feet, and then I sank back to sit on the toilet seat. I had no idea where my underwear were. They’d been destroyed anyway.

“Hell…” he tried again.

But then his focus caught on my legs, and he stared. I looked down. My thighs were streaked with red. Kane sank back to sit against the wall behind him, and he let his head fall to his knees as he pulled them up to his body.

I stood and started to step into the bathtub, but he grabbed the back of my calf, looking up at me. We stared at one another for a moment, and the dullness finally lifted, and my eyes filled with tears.

“Please,” I begged as I started to fall apart. I knew it was wrong. I knew he knew it was wrong too, but he closed his eyes and let go of my leg as he nodded.

I sank down to sit in the water, and it burned as it touched me between my legs. I whimpered as the pain bit into me, and I could see Kane’s head dropping to stare at the floor out of my periphery. He was shaking his head as if he didn’t believe what was happening.

“I have to go see my dad,” he choked out, clearing his throat. “He’s gonna be pissed it’s so late. I’ll talk to him—” But that statement dropped off, and he took a deep breath, shaking his head again. I didn’t envy Kane having to go home to his father right now.

“You don’t have to go.” My voice sounded dead. “You can stay here.”

He actually smirked for a second. “That’ll just make it worse when I do go home.” He went silent again.

I pulled my knees up just the way Kane was sitting on the floor next to the bathtub and next to me. I hugged my knees and looked toward the wall, staring at it.

“Do you want me to come back after he’s asleep?”

I turned my head to look at him, resting my cheek to the top of my knees. I nodded. “Yes,” I whispered.

“I’ll come back, and we’ll figure it out. Okay? I’ll come back.”

I nodded again, but my eyes were swimming in tears, and I couldn’t seem to focus on anything.

“Hey,” he said when I looked away from him. “We’re going to be okay. Remember? We’re going to be okay.”

I nodded. I couldn’t seem to muster more of a response than that. I turned to face the wall again, and I listened to him sigh. I heard him rise, and then the bathroom door closed behind him as he left.

Chapter Eighteen

Helene

“Hi,” Kane said as he answered his door. His lips pulled up in a small sheepish smile. Mine did too.

“Hi,” I responded.

He stepped back from the door, and I stepped past him into the living room. The new prefinished hardwoods were partially laid at the end of the room near the fireplace, and I smiled. It was going to be beautiful. He did good work, and while I had no idea where he’d picked up his home-reno skills, I was still impressed.

His eyes followed mine down toward the fireplace, and he stuffed his hands in his pockets as he studied me. “Like it?” he asked.

I looked back at him. “Love it. Walnut?”

“Yeah. I like a darker hardwood with lighter trim.” He bit his lower lip. “So … what are you doing here?”

I was offended for a half a second, but then he smiled.

“I mean, please tell me you haven’t changed your mind? It’s only been two hours, and here you are on my doorstep at ten-thirty on a school night.”

I shrugged.

“Afraid you might find me with yet another woman?”

I stared at him for a moment. “It hurts seeing that.” It was also embarrassing admitting that weakness.

He smiled gently, and he reached for my chin, lifting it to look at my eyes. “That’s because once upon a time it was all about us. Sometimes it’s hard to let go of those … notions…” he said as he glanced away. But then he looked back. “Especially when they’re good notions.”

I nodded.

“It would be no less painful for me to see. I need you to know that.” He focused on my eyes for a moment, but then he took a deep breath. “While I think we drew a line in the sand earlier this evening and then stepped past it, God willing leaving what came before behind, I also need you to know I didn’t have sex with Tia. And I haven’t slept with Lisa recently either.” He rolled his eyes. “The student and the married woman.”

My insides ached, and I looked away from him. “You would have,” I said. It wasn’t a question.

He took a deep breath, but he nodded. “Thank God for Hazleton PD and happy coincidences in restaurants.”

I wasn’t amused, and I couldn’t seem to hide that as I stared at him, failing to react to his sarcasm.

His lips pursed. “You need to understand sex isn’t love to me, nor is it commitment or intimacy.” His expression was nervous, and he gnawed on his lower lip.

Maybe I shouldn’t have come here. I’d wanted to see him. I’d wanted more of the talking, the openness, just more of the decision to move forward. And when I’d jumped in my car after making it home and staring around my living room in a daze, I’d been excited to see him. I was starting to regret it already.

“Do you want to have sex with me?” I asked. It was a loaded question, and given the nervous look on his face, he knew that. If he said he didn’t, he ran the risk of hurting my feelings. If he said he did, he ran the risk of objectifying me as nothing more than a piece of ass—much like the many pieces that had come before me.

He pulled his lower lip into his mouth, and I watched him. When he nodded it was tight, and he was staring at my chin instead of my eyes.

I nodded. “I see,” I said as I looked around for a way to end this and make my escape.

“No you don’t,” he said. “You’re… You’re—”

“Let me guess. Special,” I said with a cruel sarcasm I just couldn’t help.

“Fuck yes you are,” he spat back at me, his face pinched in anger. “Listen,” he continued as he shook his head. “I didn’t ask for a truce so I could fuck you. You asked the question. I answered it honestly. I’m just…” He threw his hands up in the air in frustration. “…attracted to you. I always have been. It doesn’t mean I expect you to have sex with me. But don’t ask me a question unless you want the honest answer, because you’re going to get the truth, however ugly it is, upsetting it is, or shocking it is.”

I stared at his chest, but he lifted my chin again.

“Please look at me.” His fingers squeezed gently against my skin. “I know this has been hard on you. The past few weeks, you’ve been forced to deal with the mess I’ve made of myself. You saw my ugly, and I was defensive, because you’re life looks beautiful to me. And it made me feel pathetic.”

“My life doesn’t feel beautiful,” I said quietly.

He nodded. “I know. I’m sorry. But please take that step over the line. I need you too.”

I nodded, and he sighed as he wrapped his arms around me and pulled me into his body. I slid my right hand up under his T-shirt, knowing exactly where I’d find the scar, and I covered it with my palm. His muscles tensed under my touch, but then he relaxed into it, and he inhaled deeply against my hair.

We stood there for too long, and I listened to his heart beat, and I soaked in the warmth of him. This felt good again—being close to him. I needed it to stay that way.

When he walked toward the kitchen, I followed. There was a large garbage can in the center of the kitchen floor. It was the same one that had been in the middle of the living room floor a few weeks prior, but instead of being filled with just wood scraps and pieces of drywall, it was now littered with broken liquor bottles, and it reeked of alcohol.

I stared into the garbage can as Kane pulled a carton of whipped cream out of the fridge and started eating it with a spoon.

“You could have emptied the bottles first you know, rather than smashing them full in the garbage can.” I smirked.

“I know,” he said around the spoon in his mouth. “But they always smash them full in the movies. Sometimes in the sink, which… Why? Right?” he asked jokingly.

He scooped up another spoonful of whipped cream, and he handed it to me. I stared at it for a moment, but I took the spoon, popping it into my mouth.

“Who the hell wants to pick glass out of a sink?” he continued. “This is my ode to Hollywood cinematic ridiculousness. I suppose it’s visually powerful though.”

I chuckled quietly, pulling the spoon out of my mouth. “Are you an alcoholic?” I asked him bluntly.

“No.” His answer was simple and came without pause. “No. I do, however, tend to deflect pain by masking it with other things. I just decided I don’t want a bottle of the-easy-way-out sitting nearby when things get messed up in my head again.”

I nodded. He yawned, and the sight of his yawn made me yawn too.

“I should get going,” I said.

“You don’t have to.”

I smiled. “I have an early call with my dissertation director tomorrow morning.”

“I’ll wake you up early.” He bit his lower lip as he waited for me to say something.

I wasn’t sure what to say. I wasn’t sure what he was even asking. But as I stood there trying to figure it out, he yawned again and took my hand, pulling me toward the hallway. I followed him, my nerves prickling with something that fell between excitement and absolute terror.

He stripped out of his T-shirt when he walked into the same bedroom he’d always had, and I looked around. It wasn’t a mess, it was just a sad, old rundown room. I reached out to a broken knob on the dresser that I remembered, even now, from childhood. He stepped behind me, pushing his hands up under the back of my T-shirt. He undid my bra, and then he helped me pull the straps down from under the short sleeves of my shirt.

When his hands reached around and fumbled with the waist of my pants, I held my breath. He pushed them down to pool at the ground, leaving my underwear in place, and then I felt him undoing his own pants as he kept his body close to mine. His breath touched the back of my ear, and he leaned down kissing the top of my shoulder.

He took my hand, leading me to the side of the bed, and I crawled in as he followed me. The mattress sat on the floor, and there was nothing plush about it. But the sheets, blanket, and quilt smelled clean like his skin.

The bedside lamp was on behind him, and as I rolled toward him, he watched me. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t frowning. He just watched me, pulling me up close to him, his legs intertwined with mine. He brushed the hair off my forehead, and he trailed his finger down along my jaw.

“I’ve missed you so fucking much,” he said quietly. “Nothing has made sense in my life without you.” His thumb stroked over my chin.

“I missed you too.”

He studied me for a while, not closing his eyes, not saying a word, and it was odd and comfortable at the same time. It gave me a chance to study him too, and I did. He was aging well, and he still looked young and handsome—even if he carried a heavy past.

I reached for his chin, stroking the whiskers.

“What are you thinking?” I asked him.

He looked at my mouth. “That I’ve never kissed you. And that I want to. Very much.”

I bit my lower lip, and he smiled. When I leaned to his mouth, his eyes opened wider for a moment, but then they fluttered. After that, I was too close to see or care what his eyes were doing. I was also entirely too stunned by my own actions to think straight.

My lips met his, and I could feel his whiskers tickling my chin. He moaned this deep low sound from the pit of his chest, and I could feel the vibration of it. He sucked on my lower lip, tugging it gently and then releasing it so he could capture my top one between his. His hand met my cheek, his fingers curling behind my jawline and pulling my mouth harder to his, and the kisses came fast then—one after another.

My top leg was between his thighs, and the smacking sound of our lips left warmth in my groin as I rocked against his thigh.

“Oh, fuck,” he murmured between kisses. “You’re torture. Do you know that?” But he never stopped kissing.

He finally groaned through gritted teeth, forcing his kisses to move off my mouth to my cheek and then down the side of my throat to the crook of my neck that met my shoulder. He stopped kissing, breathing heavily against my skin. I could feel the hardness and the size of his erection against my top thigh that was sandwiched between his legs.

“There is nothing frigid going on between your legs right now, Hell. The heat coming off your pussy is intense,” he said with his lips to my skin.

Yes it was. I sighed as my hips stopped trying to screw his leg like a dog in heat. What the hell was going on inside me right now?

“Go to sleep, baby,” he whispered even as he still breathed heavily. “I don’t think either one of us are ready for this yet.”

I pulled back, trying to figure out if I was offended or not.

He smiled instantly. “Tell that analytical brain of yours to shut up. I didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

“How did you mean it?” I asked.

He yawned again, but his expression became intense and focused. “This is a complicated thing for us.” He glanced over my shoulder for a moment, but then he looked back at me. “I always kind of assumed it would be me,” he said simply. “Your first. And in some twisted way … I’m still glad I was.” The side of his lip pulled up, but it fell just as quickly.

I understood what he was saying, and I nodded.

“But God it was supposed to be so fucking different,” he said almost angrily, and he shook his head. He finally smiled again. “Go to sleep.” He leaned forward, kissing me in the middle of the forehead. He reached back and turned the lamp off, and I closed my eyes.

* * * *

I woke up when his arms tightened around me, and he hummed warmly against the back of my ear. “Do you want coffee?” he asked quietly, his voice hoarse with sleep.

I sat up, looking over Kane’s shoulder at the clock on the nightstand. It was six-thirty. “I better not,” I said as I stretched.

His hand slipped under the back of my shirt, and his palm ran over my skin, gently rubbing as it traveled up to the middle of my back. I sighed as I stretched my neck.

“When Dr. Briggs says she’s calling first thing in the morning, she means first thing in the morning. The woman once called me at seven-fifteen to review my grades. Talk about a rude awakening.” I chuckled as his hand continued to move and graze across my back. I glanced over my shoulder at him. I studied his face, and my cheeks flushed as goosebumps popped over my entire body. His eyebrows shot up as he felt it under his palm.

“What on earth are you thinking about?” he asked with a sly smile.

I didn’t say anything for a moment. “What would it be like if we decided to have a sexual relationship?”

His hand moved some more. “Emotionally or physically?”

My cheeks flushed again. “Physically.”

“I suppose…” he spoke slowly. “My mouth would likely be where my hand is right now. And if you wanted to ride my fucking thigh like you did last night, you wouldn’t feel the need to stop until you’d come all over my leg.” He sat up, still running his hand over my back. He rested his chin on my shoulder and I turned to face forward. “And I guess that kiss would have turned into full on fucking.”

The flush turned into warmth that radiated out through my limbs and then pulled back into my core to settle in my groin. “Emotionally?”

He kissed my shoulder again. “That’s more difficult,” he said.

I turned to look at him. His face was close to mine.

“In what way?” I asked.

He inhaled deeply. “It’s easy to make the physical things happen the way you want them to.”

“Sex, fighting, alcohol,” I said.

He nodded. “Good insight. Yeah. Those things have a very tangible feel to them. There’s a cause and effect. If you do this, you get that. It’s simple. It’s uncomplicated.”

“You’re saying the emotional side of all this is more complicated?”

“Do you see it any other way?” he asked.

I turned my body toward him then, and his hand slipped from underneath my shirt. “No, I don’t,” I said as I shook my head. My eyes drifted away as I contemplated that.

“Hey.” He pulled my face to look at him. When he opened his mouth to speak, he quickly closed it and sighed. But then he opened it again. “Complicated is okay.”

His eyes shifted down to my mouth. He looked vulnerable as though he were afraid of what I was thinking. Odd thing was I felt the same of him. He finally looked back at my eyes.

“If you want to know what it looks like… it’s open, it’s honest, we talk, we listen, we spend time together. The thing is, I told you I want to be close to you. That’s an emotional thing for us whether there’s sex involved or not.”

“Yeah,” I agreed.

He reached for my mouth, cupping my chin and running his thumb over my lower lip. “Don’t kiss me again…” he said quietly.

I gasped, and my eyes dropped to his chest.

“…unless that’s the direction we’re going.”

My pulse spiked, and I had to force myself to make eye contact. I was holding my breath when I did.

“Because I liked it too much. I need to know you’re not going to take that away from me if it happens again.”

My breath left me in a rush, but I nodded. He smiled gently, even seductively, but it was reassuring nonetheless.

I glanced at the clock again. “I really have to go. I’m sorry.”

He stood and pulled me up to my feet, and then he snatched my jeans from the floor. Once I’d put them on quickly, he stuffed my bra into the pocket, smirking down at me. He walked me to the door, and I ran out to my car as he watched from the porch.

I was home within ten minutes—just in time to answer my ringing phone as I ran through the front door. It was finally fall, and I was shivering by the time I got inside.

“Helene, dear, so good to talk with you,” came Dr. Briggs voice.

“Hi, Dr. Briggs. I’m happy to be talking to you too.”

I’d sent her a significant amount of new material after pulling an audible and venturing down the justice in politics road. I had no idea why I’d chosen politics, except that I simply couldn’t seem to choose anything else.

“Well, I’m not going to waste your time, Helene.” She always said that, and it always made me wonder if perhaps she didn’t think I was wasting her time. “Why politics? I’m not going to lie, it doesn’t really ring true to the Helene I know.”

“Well…” I paused. “I don’t know. It seemed relevant. I’m not terribly political minded.” When Dr. Briggs didn’t interrupt me, I continued. “Of course I have opinions, yes. But they seem to fall all over the place. I really just thought justice in the political arena was a valid topic in today’s culture. You can go—”

“Let me stop you right there,” she finally interrupted. “The topic is only valid if it’s valid to you. This is your dissertation, and you’re acting as if it’s a survey of pop culture. If it doesn’t matter to you, I promise you’ll never convince a strict philosophy dissertation committee of the validity of it. What is valid to you? What means something to you?”

“I … I…” I was stuttering.

“Helene, why did you even choose this field of study? Philosophy? The thing is, you double majored in psychology and philosophy in your undergraduate studies, but then you chose to pursue your doctorate in philosophy rather than psychology. There’s a reason for that.”

“Because, I like…” I scratched my head as I let myself drop back into the sofa cushions, and then I sighed. “I like that nothing is black and white. I like that I can let my mind go and explore even the most basic of concepts as though my thoughts and feelings are as important as… as… Schopenhauer and Hume. I don’t have to accept that there’s a right and wrong answer. I can believe and feel that there are so many more shades of truth.” It was an oddly passionate speech for seven-fifteen.

“And why is that important to you?” Dr. Briggs asked quietly, and for the first time in perhaps forever, I felt as though I had her undivided attention.

I thought about it, refusing to be rushed—even by Dr. Briggs. “Because it makes me feel … valid … normal … okay with my place in this existence.”

Dr. Briggs was silent for an uncomfortably long time, and I gnawed on my nail.

And then she finally responded. “There is a world inside your head, Helene. I have no doubt it is teeming with ideas, thoughts, questions, concerns, and even nightmares. Use what’s in there to figure this out. And stop using what you think the rest of the world perceives as important or appropriate.”

I sat there stunned. “O… Okay.” I was disappointed. I was also flattered in some way. And I was also screwed as all fuck. “So… back to square one.” It wasn’t really a question.

“You’re doing fine. This is the gateway to the rest of your life. Do it right.”

“Thank you, Dr.—”

“I must go, dear. We’ll talk soon.” Click.

“Fuck,” I said to my living room. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.”

* * * *

By three-thirty that afternoon, I’d been timed off LexisNexis about twenty times, I had books strewn across my living room and into my bedroom, I’d drank about a pot and a half of coffee, and I’d ignored a call from my mother, just to turn around and answer it when she immediately called me back—consequently getting roped into a rather invasive inquisition about my personal life that was no doubt sparked by a Hilde-Mom gossip session. Oh yeah, and I hadn’t come even close to settling on a dissertation topic.

I started typing an email to Dr. Briggs, throwing out a few ideas, but just before I hit the send button, I cringed and deleted the email.

I kept hearing sounds outside. Branches rustling, dropping, and even something being dragged on the ground. But I was too deep in my search databases to actually stand up and see what the hell it was. That was until I realized I’d been so enthralled in my research I’d not taken a pee break since that morning. I was, at this point, sitting on my foot, rocking back and forth like a five year old. Odd the things you could miss when you weren’t paying attention.

I scurried to the bathroom and then scurried back out toward the living room, but as I was sliding across my wood floors, my eyes caught on movement outside in my front yard. My sock covered feet came skidding to a stop. I peeked out through the front window, and I grinned.

When I opened the front door, Kane peered up from the pile of branches he’d stacked by the driveway. He smiled. I loved that smile. It was casual, and it reminded me so much of an easier life we’d shared long ago.

He walked toward me and up the steps, and he leaned down and pecked the top of my head. “I was wondering when you’d notice I was here.” He pulled me into the house, shutting the door behind him.

“I’ve been busy—”

“Decorating with books?” he added sarcastically as he looked around the living room.

“My call didn’t go well,” I said.

He walked to the sofa and sank down to sit. I sat too and pulled my leg up so we were facing each other, and he rested his arm easily on the sofa back. “Why not?”

I shrugged as I pursed my lips. “She thinks I can do better. Narrow it down to a concept that is valid to me, personal to me.” I shrugged again. “I’m at a loss right now.”

He tugged on a strand of my hair that was brushing his hand, and I looked at him. “You’ll figure it out.” He studied me. “She’s right, though. This is your life. This is everything you’ve worked for. It should mean something important to you.”

I nodded.

“These things get published sometimes, right? I mean, that should tell you something.”

“I know,” I said, still nodding my head.

“You love this field for a reason, Hell, so there’s something in there that means a lot to you. Why justice?” He reached over to my neck, letting his thumb run down the side of it.

“I’ve always liked the concepts surrounding justice. I always have.”

“Tell me why.”

I glanced away, my brow furrowing. “It’s one of those topics that … at first blush it seems so simple, straight forward, black and white.”

I caught myself talking with my hands, and as his eyes glanced to my gesticulations, he smiled.

“And yet,” I continued. “You delve into it, and the whole thing unravels on you. That’s justice,” I said with a nod.

“It’s a matter of finding the right angle,” he said.

“Yeah,” I said on an exasperated smile.

He looked around the living room, eyeing the carnage, and when his eyes settled on the coffee table, he smirked. “Seeing as you literally brought the entire coffee pot into the living room with you, I’m going to guess you didn’t take a lunch break.”

I shook my head.

“I’ll be back with lunch. You keep obsessing, smarty-pants.” He tugged on my hair one last time, and then he walked out.

Chapter Nineteen

Kane

Eleven Years Ago

I had to pass through the same stretch of highway we’d fled the gas station on to get home. It was remote, and it winded darkly through the forested hills outside of town. My heart pounded as I drove, and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out if it was dread to be going home or dread that I would be passing by the old gas station. I didn’t ever want to see that place again.

As I neared the Sleepaway motel, I glanced toward it. The same room that had been lit by the dim lamp less than forty-five minutes before was still illuminated. But the curtains were pulled farther closed … or maybe they weren’t… I couldn’t recall. But a light was still on somewhere inside the room. Oddly, though, there were still no cars parked in the lot, and I gawked as I drove past.

Where had the stranger come from? He’d not driven to the gas station, so he’d walked from somewhere. It could have been Sleepaway. But if it was, that would mean the man was without a car at all. It was a couple miles to the nearest heavily traveled interstate. He could have easily just walked from there—from one of the truck stops maybe.

I shivered as I drove by the strip of motel rooms, and seconds later as I passed the dark and deserted gas station, I avoided looking at all. I felt sick to my stomach, and my head was pounding. The second I pulled off the highway to the smaller country road that would take me home, I pulled over and threw up as I leaned out the door.

“Fuck,” I muttered. But then I looked around at the dark woods surrounding me, and a chill ran up my spine. I closed the door quickly, throwing my truck back in drive. I wasn’t prone to the willies, or the heebie-jeebies. I didn’t spook easily at all, but I was scared fucking shitless at the moment. I sped the rest of the way home, slowing down only when I pulled into our driveway that led a short ways into the woods before ending at my front porch.

The lights were on. Shit.

I stood at the base of the porch steps, staring at the house for a moment. The man inside had no idea what had happened to his son on this night, and I doubted he’d understand if I told him, much less care. How could I tell him this? Helene, whose family loved her the way a family should, hadn’t made any move to reach her parents. She’d washed away the evidence of what I’d done to her. She’d washed me off of and out of her body. She’d been desperate too. I could see it in her expression, and the moment her eyes begged me to let her, begged me to be okay with it, I put away the idea that we’d ever share this secret with anyone.

And I’d been relieved.

“Where the fuck you been?” my dad asked the second I stepped through the door.

I glanced down at the floor. “I had to take Helene home. Something… I had to help—”

“It’s after midnight!” he yelled. “And what the hell is that?” He was staring at my shirt.

I looked down, panicking as I saw the blood that had seeped through the cotton. There was a lot of blood. Why the fuck hadn’t I thought to clean up at Helene’s house?

“Dad, I—”

“You been fighting again?”

I gaped at him. The irony was, I hadn’t fought back at all. I hadn’t even considered it. “No, Dad, it’s not—”

“Goddamn motherfucker!” he yelled as he stood up. He knocked his beer over that had been sitting on the end table next to him, and he marched toward me.

I stumbled back, tripping over a shoe he’d left at the entryway, but I managed to stay upright. I held my hands up. “Dad!” I shouted. “You don’t understand!”

“You have been fighting, you little fucker! You think I need this shit? Kid who can’t fucking figure out how to behave.”

He grabbed my shirt sleeve, shoving me toward the door. I fell into it, but he reached around in front of me, yanking it open.

“Fuck!” I yelled.

But he didn’t give a shit. He shoved me out the front door, kicking my ass with the sole of his shoe as I stumbled and fell to the ground.

“Get out of my fucking house, you little bitch. I don’t need the Goddamn social workers showing up again.”

I rolled to my side, looking back at him as he glared down at me. On any other night I wouldn’t care that my dad had kicked me out. He’d certainly done it plenty. Hell, on any other night I’d see it as permission to go sneak Helene out of her house and get drunk in the park. But this wasn’t any other night. This was the worst night of my entire life.

I pushed myself off the porch floor, anger and hurt coursing through me and blocking out the pain in my side. I could barely see through the tears as I stared back at him, my lips pulled back in a deranged snarl. “I hate you,” I spit out venomously as a tear ran down my cheek.

He scoffed. It was a cruel, heartless look on his face. “Fucking cry baby,” he said as he laughed, and then he slammed the door in my face.

I stared at the door in front of me, my fists clenched tight at my sides. My body was a knot of muscles that didn’t seem to know how to release the tension, and my jaw tensed so hard my teeth hurt. I climbed back in my truck, and my tires squealed as I backed out. I was speeding again, and when I passed the gas station on my way back to town, I wasn’t afraid to look. I looked, glaring in fury at the place.

“Fuck,” I screamed as I punched the dashboard.

And then I neared the Sleepaway, and I slowed down.

Chapter Twenty

Kane

Over the next week, I managed to lay all the hardwoods in the living room, demoed the kitchen cupboards, and stripped the linoleum. I also learned, quite effectively I might add, to use a paint roller while talking on my cell phone at the same time.

Helene filled my evenings with her voice, even if not with her physical presence, and I smiled the entire time I was painting over the dingy blue wall in my old bedroom with a lighter gray color. There was no way in hell this woman was going to sleep in this bedroom again that hadn’t been painted since before I was born. She didn’t care. I knew she didn’t care. But I cared.

I’d grown up being accustomed to how much prettier her world looked, how much cleaner it smelled, how much brighter the light was in her space. I’d never been jealous. Not of her. She didn’t inspire jealousy. But one thing I’d learned in this life was that you could look at a thing and want it without despising the person who had it. It was all a matter of who it was you envied.

I could easily envy Helene without resenting her. I envied her in an odd … reverence sort of way. Pathetic maybe, but I did. I always had, because she’d always envied me in the same way, and that was somehow understood between us. She was who she was, and however different that was from who I was, she still genuinely accepted me.

I’d not seen her since the Thursday before, and by the time I was jogging into the lecture hall for class, I was nearly late and more than nearly ready to be around her again. When I walked in, I was clearly the last to arrive, and the room turned in unison to look at me.

I held my hand up in an awkward wave aimed at the sea of gawkers. “Howdy,” I said to the silent room.

Helene was leaning against her desk, casually lounging with her textbook in her hand, and when she glanced at me, she instantly pushed her reading glasses up to the top of her head.

Her smile was professional and kind. “Have a seat, Mr. Thorson.”

I barely managed to keep the smirk from touching my lips. “Of course, Professor Hess.”

I looked at the front row, seeing Tia sitting right near the center and, consequently, right near the seat I’d been in the week prior. What a lucky coincidence for me. But rather than sit by her, I let my eyes glance casually past her, and I took the desk two down from her. It did not go unnoticed. Tia looked at me, and when I glanced at her, I smiled quickly and looked at Helene.

Helene was wearing a dark orange corduroy button up dress that was belted at the waist. She looked adorable. The skirt hit a few inches above her knees, and she’d rolled the long sleeves casually up just shy of her elbows. The top couple buttons were undone, and the light brown knee high riding boots she wore were the perfect laid-back look for her. She’d been so professional looking the first night of class, but she’d not once worn a stiff suit since then.

I liked the way she looked regardless of what she wore, but this outfit reminded me of something she might have worn in high school. Of course, she’d have chosen Mary Janes over riding boots in those days, but still… Her hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, but strands of loose hair and her long bangs wisped around her face. And then there were the black rimmed reading glasses. All I could think about was touching her.

Helene spent the next hour and a half lecturing, and I struggled to pay attention not because the content was boring, but because her voice seemed to send me to another place. By the time she finished, students were getting antsy. When she lifted the stack of tests from her desk, she stood up. Students were suddenly on high alert, and they sat up straighter as Helene started wandering with the stack in her hand.

“I was impressed with the tests,” Helene said as she passed the tests back.

As she walked, my eyes followed her, and when she stopped in front of my desk, I peered up at her. She set my test in front of me. Ninety-five percent. Not bad for the smart-ass who never gave a shit about school when I was young. But that didn’t mean I was a stupid person—never had been. I just lacked the same drive and discipline Hell had.

Until now.

I liked this. Pursuing something. Pursuing her—in whatever capacity that might mean. I was doing something worthwhile when I was with her—even if it was only talking. I’d more of less promised to be open with her when I asked her to give me a second chance, and I intended to as much as that terrified me. I wanted Helene to like me, love me, revere me, and there was a very good chance being open with her would destroy that before the end. But I couldn’t walk away, not when she’d agreed to let me stay close to her. I hadn’t even defined what a second chance meant when I’d begged her for one—only that I needed one and it involved being a part of her life in some way.

When she was finished handing out the tests, she leaned against the desk again, crossing her ankles.

“So now that we’ve discovered Plato’s Republic, we’re going to look more closely at one of my favorite topics within philosophy. Justice. What it is. What it is not. What it should be.”

“You just want us to help you write your dissertation, don’t you?” I asked loud enough for the class to hear.

She smiled and chuckled, and laughter erupted around me when she shrugged.

“Maybe,” she responded as she smiled at me again. “Justice is a foundational question in philosophy, starting with Plato’s Crito, and rehashed time and again ad nauseam through the course of philosophical history. Who can tell me what justice is. Define it for me in your own terms. Don’t look it up in your glossary.”

A number of hands rose around the room, and she chose a young man sitting a few rows behind me.

“Well, like equality for all people. Fairness.”

She nodded. “Does everyone agree with that?” She looked around the room, and I did too. It was a sea of nodding heads. “Any dissension? If you disagree, raise your hand.” She gave the room time to respond, and when nobody did she said, “So, we’re in agreement. Justice is based on equality. Who else can tell me what justice is?”

Another student was called on. “Laws, legal systems?”

Helene nodded again. “Okay. What laws? What legal system? Remember back to your days in Western Civ. for those who’ve already suffered the inhumanity of the humanities,” she said with a sly smile.

More laughter followed that comment.

“Are we talking Hammurabi’s code or Hebrew law?” she continued. “Laws based on man or based on religion?” She paused waiting for input but none came. “My point is, justice is a broader topic than simply policing people, because justice itself is all very much dependent on how and who has authority to mete out that justice.” She was silent for a moment. “Who else can tell me what justice is?”

Another hand rose, and another student was called on.

“What about politics?” the student asked.

“Sure.” She nodded. “How about human rights? How about theology? What does religion have to say about justice?”

A middle aged woman rose her hand, and Helene called on her.

“Well doesn’t it depend on whether you’re referring to the Old Testament or the New?”

“Ah,” Helene commented. “Very good. Furthermore, does it not depend on what religion in general you’re referring to?”

Heads nodded around the room.

“But for the sake of our discussion, let’s focus on Christianity since it’s part and parcel of western culture and most heavily influences our society. Does our society follow the teachings of the Old Testament? An eye for an eye? Or the New Testament? Turning the other cheek?”

“An eye for an eye,” someone hollered from the back of the class.

Some heads nodded, some shook. I remained still, watching Helene.

She shrugged. “Sometimes. Depends on the crime. Depends on the state. Depends on the government, politics, etc. of that state. Yes?”

More heads nodded.

“So, the death penalty is just?” she asked as she crossed her arms?

“Of course it’s just. You kill. You get killed,” a middle aged man said plainly.

“You can kill the pedophiles too while you’re at it,” a young man added.

Helene glanced down at the floor, but however casual the move was meant to be, I could see the tension in her throat as she tried to swallow. When she glanced back up, her expression was calm, but her eyes flit to me, pausing for just a moment.

She cleared her throat. “So a man who sexually molests a child in general should be put to death. He’s not killed a person or even the child necessarily, but that particular crime is heinous enough to warrant death?”

It wasn’t one or two students who agreed with that statement. The yeahs, hell yesses, and nodding heads resonated around the room.

“Could you make that decision?” she asked the young man.

“Yes,” he said simply.

“Then you’ve made one person’s life more valuable than another’s. And bear in mind thereby doing so means you’ve just rocked the equilibrium of mankind. If we’re all equal and all things also being equal, are you not saying this criminal’s life is worth less?” She stared at him for a moment. “If justice is based on equality, how then can you say your actions are just?” The room was silent. “Now, are you prepared to make that decision?”

“Fuck, yes, I could,” the boy stated more emphatically.

“Fuck, yes, you could?” I asked as I craned my neck around to see him.

My voice bordered on incredulous, and my heart was pounding. I regretted the eruption instantly. I didn’t want to get into this discussion, but my hackles were raised. I stared at the kid who couldn’t have been more than twenty at the most, and I hated him for his naiveté, and his ignorance made me want to yell. He stared right back, his chin jutting up in defiance.

When the kid’s eyes flit away from mine to Helene beyond my shoulder, I turned back to face her. She was already looking at me.

“How about we stow the F-bombs, gentleman,” she said easily, but her eyes lingered on mine. She inhaled deeply. “Clearly you have an opinion on the matter,” she said to me, holding the eye contact as the rest of the room stared at us.

“Not really.” My words were casual, but my chest was tight. It wasn’t the room, it wasn’t the other students, it was her. She was looking directly at me and asking me to define my opinion on something that touched my life so much closer than even she understood. My opinion was also not something I could wrap my head around, and this was not the time or the place to try to work it out.

She said nothing for a moment, but then she cocked her head challengingly to the side. “So, yes to an eye for an eye?”

“I don’t know.” I stared right back at her.

“Yes to the death penalty?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, to the extermination of pedophiles?”

“I… Don’t… Know…”

Her eyes never left mine, and it seemed to go on too long.

“Your position then, Mr. Thorson…?” She waited patiently for an answer.

“Is that it’s complicated.”

Her lip twitched, nearly a smirk that never quite made it. “It is… Yes,” she agreed. And then she finally looked away.

And I breathed again.

“How can you fight injustice with injustice?” Helene stood and started walking. “Goes against the very nature of what justice means. Does it not? One of the oldest arguments within the study of this particular topic.” She paused, looking around. “Who deserves justice? Do we all deserve justice on equal grounds?” She shrugged.

The room was silent, and she let it drag on for many long seconds.

“And with that, we embark on the medieval world. No quiz tonight, folks. Instead, I want a five hundred word essay on St. Augustine. You’ll find everything you need to know about the man in the assigned reading for next week.”

The room groaned.

“Give me a break, people,” Helene scoffed. “I’m letting you out an hour early with nothing more than a writing assignment that will take you at most thirty minutes if you do your reading. You’re welcome.”

Students stood, jackets were tossed over shoulders, books were slammed shut, and feet shuffled from the room. And I … took as much time as I could closing my book and tucking my pen behind my ear. Once those three seconds had lapsed, I stared at my test on my desk as though deep in thought about something.

Tia eyed me wearily. “Hi,” she said as she slowly passed my desk.

I glanced up. “Hi,” I said quickly, but then I looked back down at my test, ignoring her.

Helene was smiling at students, saying goodbye to others, and occasionally letting her eyes wander to me too. When the door latched behind the last student, I stood up and walked toward her. But as I reached her desk, she turned and walked toward the door. I leaned against the side of her desk, watching her, and when she reached the door, she clicked the lock into place and flipped the light switch off, leaving us in nothing more than the faint hallway light that filtered in through the narrow window on the door. But I could still see her in the dimness, and she was walking back to me.

When she stepped up to me, I parted my legs, waiting to see if she’d step closer. She did. She stepped between my thighs, and I gripped the side of her desk with my hands to stifle my need to touch her. I’d not touched her since the Thursday morning before, and I wanted it. I didn’t care what kind of touch. Just touch, her touch.

“Were you chastising me, Professor Hess?” I asked when she was fully between my thighs and close to me.

“Were you using foul language in my classroom, Mr. Thorson?” she asked right back, and I could see the corner of her lip pulling up.

I leaned forward, letting my forehead touch hers, and her breath tickled my lips.

“I fucking well was,” I responded.

She pulled back and looked at me for a moment. I couldn’t see enough of her expression to know what she was thinking, but I could see the shimmer in the whites of her eyes that picked up the dim light around us, and she was watching me just as closely as I watched her.

And then she kissed me. Again.

Her lips pressed against mine, and I moaned as every nerve in my body came alive. I’d wanted this from the very second it had ended the week before. I returned the kiss harshly, my mouth pushing her head back with the force, but she groaned too, and her body met mine as she sank against me.

Kissing had always been little more than a way to tell a woman I wanted to fuck her—just a step in the progression of sex. But kissing Helene was an entirely different thing, and it took on a life of its own. I wanted sex to follow, of course. I wanted a whole lot of things to follow. But kissing was its own thing with her, and it didn’t need to lead anywhere to be important. Even the sound of our lips smacking was enough to satisfy me, and the taste of her mouth was such an incredible payoff that it required nothing more.

But fuck my body wanted more.

I gripped her cheek, holding her mouth tight to mine as I pulled on one lip and then the other, sucking and then releasing. I was hard, rigid, and straining against the front of my jeans, and the closer her body pressed to mine, the more painful that pressure became. I ran my hand down to her throat as my mouth kissed and sucked and nipped at her lips, and then my hand kept going, needing to touch more of her. I paused, though, when I reached the top of her chest, and as I groaned, I slid my hand back up to grip gently into the sides of her neck.

But I couldn’t seem to control what my hands wanted to do, and I ran them down her sides as she clutched at my face, and then I slipped them past the lower hem of her dress, grazing my palms up the backs of her thighs. Her breath caught in her lungs.

“Oh, God,” she whispered against my mouth.

It was the only thing that stopped me from going farther, and I cursed as I once again pulled my hands away from her skin. I stopped kissing her then, worried what my hands would think they had permission to do if I didn’t. She brought her forehead to mine again, resting it there as we panted against one another’s lips. We stayed that way, breathing heavily, not moving, not even kissing, just cooling down slowly.

“Baby, you know we can’t do this here,” I finally said.

I felt her nod, but she remained quiet.

“Ask me to come home with you,” I whispered.

She leaned back, staring at me in the near darkness. I reached out, brushing her bangs off her forehead.

“Nothing has to happen you’re not ready for. I have no expectations. I just want to be with you.”

But that wasn’t entirely true. There were expectations, because she’d kissed me again. She’d made a decision. She wanted to move forward, and she wanted to do that in a decidedly sexual way. This was going to get complicated.

I was okay with complicated.

Chapter Twenty-One

Helene

Eleven Years Ago

I knew even as I took one of my mom’s Xanax that I shouldn’t. I knew I was doing a whole lot of things I shouldn’t. And yet, I did them anyway. I didn’t care about much at the moment. I couldn’t care. My head was fuzzy, my brain strangely dull, and the only feeling I could seem to grab hold of was the physical ache in my body.

This hadn’t happened. It couldn’t have.

I stood in front of the bathroom mirror, staring at myself. My hair was stringy and wet, stuck to the sides of my face. But I looked so normal. Not a scratch, not even a pimple. How was it possible I looked normal?

I didn’t give myself time to second guess the Xanax. I washed it down with water from the bathroom tap and then stumbled down the hall to my bedroom, dressing quickly in a pair of sweatpants and T-shirt before I crawled into bed and pulled the covers over me.

I heard the shower sometime later, but I was far away. The sound of it ran through the background of some dream that was floating through my mind, and as I became more conscious with every passing minute of the sound, it occurred to me that maybe I’d managed to sleep through the three days my parents were going to be gone. Maybe they were home and it was Tuesday morning, time to go to school. Had I slept through school on Monday?

But as my eyelids fluttered, what visions I did catch were still dark. Calling my parents flit through my mind, but then it flit away just as quickly. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t tell them. I wouldn’t do it. The words I would have to say to them simply couldn’t exist in their world.

When a body wrapped around mine, I recognized the sound of Kane’s exhalation against my neck. He smelled like my shampoo, and I actually smiled for a moment. This had just been a nightmare. It was only a nightmare. Maybe Kane and I had just gotten drunk, and my dreams had gotten drunk too. That’s all it was.

“How many pills did you take?” he asked.

The question and the serious tone of his voice brought me back to reality. My heart sank. It wasn’t just some nightmarish dream at all.

He shook me when I failed to answer. “Tell me, Hell.”

“One,” I murmured as I rolled toward him and snuggled up to his chest.

My hand found his side, and I felt the gauze bandage he’d placed over the gash. He sighed heavily. I started drifting off to sleep again, and he kissed my forehead. His lips were warm as they met my skin. I hated this day, this night, this pain, and the terror that had led to it. But I loved how good Kane was at holding me. We’d never touched each other this way, and I wasn’t sure we should. But it was literally the only thing in the world that felt good at the moment.

“I did something…” he said quietly, and then his chest hitched and shuddered against mine.

I murmured, but I couldn’t even understand my own words, and I had no idea what words I meant to say.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered as his voice broke and he started to sob.

His sobs were nearly silent, but I could feel them in the movement of his body against mine, and his tears touched my face. I managed a hum that time, and even that was incoherent. I wanted to make him feel better. I wanted to tell him it was okay. What I managed to do was snuggle up closer to him and tighten my hold on him. He buried his head against my neck, and his body shook as he cried.

And then I was asleep.

And he was gone.

Forever.

Part II: A Today Undefined

Chapter Twenty-Two

Helene

Kane pulled up behind me in the driveway in his dad’s old rusted out pickup truck that I could swear was the same one he’d had since we were children. And when we walked toward the house, he took my hand.

My fingers trembled within his, and as I reached for the door to unlock it, he leaned to my ear.

“Don’t be nervous.” His voice was quiet, and his breath tickled my earlobe as my keys rattled against the lock.

I nodded the most unconvincing nod ever delivered, and as I pushed open the front door, I inhaled deeply. He closed the door behind us as I tossed my keys into the small bowl on the sofa table, and when I turned toward him, he was watching me solemnly.

My entire body felt rigid like the lightest touch or the softest sound would make me jump out of my skin, and I couldn’t get the trembling under control.

“Do you want to make love to me tonight?” He asked the question so simply as though it weren’t one of the most loaded and heavy decisions in the world. Maybe it wasn’t to him. But that wasn’t true. I knew that wasn’t true. But his eyes watched me calmly as I fought to stay composed.

“I don’t know,” I whispered, shaking my head rigidly. It was the truth. Want was a difficult thing when it came to sex for me. I could want and dread something in the same breath. That couldn’t possibly be normal. But it was. For me.

“That’s a no to me, baby.” His expression softened. “That’s okay. We’ll take it nice and slow.” His voice was soothing and warm, and the way his eyes didn’t waver from mine sent a hot tingle through my skin.

I nodded, and he took my hand, pulling me gently down the hall toward my bedroom. When I entered, I wandered around aimlessly for a moment. I finally sank into the occasional chair that sat in the corner, and I watched him as I clutched the small throw pillow that had been on the seat tightly in my lap.

He turned the bedside lamp on, and as he rounded the bed toward me, he flipped the overhead light off, leaving us in a warmer, dimmer space. I sighed as he walked toward me. When he reached me, he stared down at me, his nostrils flaring as he breathed.

“I don’t know how this is supposed to go,” I said as I peered up at him. I was still clenching the pillow tight in my hands, and I knew if I let it go, my fingers would be trembling again.

“Sure you do,” he whispered as he leaned over, planting his hands on the narrow arms of the chair and bringing his face close to mine. “Don’t you remember how we did this when we were kids?”

I shook my head, confused. “We didn’t. Not like this…” I didn’t want to finish that sentence, and I glanced down at my lap, focusing on my white knuckled grip on the pillow.

He reached for my chin, pulling my face back up to look at him. “I’m not talking about that night. I’m talking about everything that came before it.” His voice was so gentle. “I’m talking about the flirting.” He bit his lip. “Come on… You know how this goes,” he coaxed as he angled his head down closer to mine, his lips nearly brushing my cheek. “We’ve done it before—so many times.” He pulled back just enough to study my eyes. “I’d stand a little too close,” he continued. “And you’d let me. I’d touch you when I had no reason to, and you’d never pull back. I’d look at you until you’d blush scarlet, and then I’d keep on looking.”

I could feel his breath touching my skin, and my chest was rising and falling. The desperate desire coupled with the equally desperate fear was causing a sort of elated panic to rush through me. It finally left in a shuddering breath. He took the pillow from my hands, and I had to force myself to let it go. Why was I so nervous? Kane, of all the men in the world, could never hurt me. And yet … I was terrified.

“How have you not lost this?” My voice was too quiet when I asked the question, and I was worried he wouldn’t understand what I meant.

But he looked back at me calmly, and there wasn’t an ounce of confusion in his eyes. “May I touch you?” he asked softly.

I paused, but then I nodded.

He kept one hand on the arm of the chair, but his other reached for my knee. I inadvertently clenched my legs closed for a moment when I felt his touch, but he cocked his head to the side. I released the tension, and his hand trailed slowly up between my legs under the skirt of my dress. I started panting, but I parted my legs more the farther his hand reached, until he was right there.

He swept his hand under the leg opening of my underwear, and I whimpered when his finger slipped easily and wetly past the lips of my sex. He stroked gently for a moment, watching me as his lips dropped open. A breath caught in his throat as he exhaled, forcing the quietest faintest rush of air from his mouth.

“Oh, God,” he whispered, and his eyelids fluttered as he tried to focus on me.

The sound of his arousal alone intensified mine, and when he pulled his hand back slowly, I gasped and held my breath. His nostrils flared as he exhaled a deep slow breath, and his eyes seared hotly into mine.

“Your pussy’s wet, baby. What in God’s name makes you think you’ve lost this?” he asked, finally letting the skirt of my dress settle back over my lap.

He sank to the floor at my feet, unzipping and removing my boots and socks before he pushed my knees apart and rose up to kneel between my legs. He gripped my hips in his broad and strong hands, and he tugged me insistently forward, bringing my groin close to his. It left me lounged back in the chair, and I reached for the hair along his hairline, brushing it back as I watched him.

He undid the buttons starting at the top of my dress and stopping at my waist, and then he slipped his hand hastily past the open fabric, pushing my bra up above my breasts and not bothering to remove it. He stared at me for a moment, focusing on my chest, and when he ran his palm slowly over the mound of one breast and then the other, his fingers trembled. His touch was light—not pressing against my skin but skimming it. The teasing, toying contact caused my nipples to harden even more than they already were, and goosebumps prickled my skin.

I didn’t have large breasts. I’d also never really cared. But I oddly did right now. I had no idea what his preferences were. I simply had no idea what anything he saw actually meant to him. But after watching his hands glide and taunt my skin, he ran his palm up my neck to my cheek, cupping it gently as he leaned to my mouth. He stopped short of kissing me, though, studying my eyes instead.

“You are so beautiful.” His voice caught in his throat, and I watched his subtly protruding Adam’s apple bob as he fought his own tension. “I want something I haven’t had before.”

“What?”

“Something he couldn’t force out of you. Something he never got to touch. Something that can be just for me.” His voice was whisper quiet.

I bit my lip, waiting for him to explain.

“I want to watch you come. I want to make you come.”

My breath left in a rush, but I nodded. “Okay.”

He leaned to my mouth, and he whispered, “Okay,” against my lips.

He kissed down the side of my neck and then over to my nipple. He sucked hard as I arched my back, pressing my breast to his mouth. He moaned, and he licked around the peak of my tit as I breathed out one quiet moan after another. I was writhing, my hips wriggling against his chest that weighed me down to the chair.

I’d never wanted to move so much in my life, and a certain freeness came over me as he pulled, tugged, licked and sucked at me. My body wanted, regardless of any fears or worries or embarrassments, and the movement coming from deep within me was driven by a place inside I so rarely felt.

He moaned against my skin, and I clutched at his hair, running my fingers down the back of his head and holding his mouth tight to me. I listened with my eyes closed to the wet sound his lips made against my skin, and then with a final frustrated grunt, he pulled back and started tugging desperately at the belt tied around my waist.

His eyes focused on his fingers. He undid the knot, yanking at the belt, and then he hastily fumbled with the buttons of my dress. His movements were erratic and quick, and his expression was needy as his fingers worked. He leaned to my stomach, kissing and breathing against my skin as he continued to work on the buttons, and he didn’t pull back until he had my dress completely open.

He breathed heavily as he stared at me, and he reached for my waist, gripping it for a moment before he gently ran his hands over my belly just as he had my breasts. He watched everything he did, focusing so closely on where and how he touched. My stomach muscles clenched tight when he grazed over my lower belly, and he glanced to my eyes.

He leaned down and kissed my stomach, and then his fingers slipped under the top of my underwear, and he tugged them down as I lifted my bottom from the chair. He sat back, letting me close my legs so he could strip the skimpy satiny fabric past my feet.

When he pushed my knees apart again, I let him without hesitation. He studied that place between my thighs, and he struggled to swallow for a moment. He seemed to be lost as he stared at me, and I reached for his face, cupping his cheek gently. He leaned into it, letting his eyes close, and when he opened them again, he looked at my face. He nodded subtly, and I had this strange idea he was reassuring himself that it was okay to see me and touch me. Actually, it wasn’t so much an idea as an intrinsic understanding. He was absolutely reassuring himself.

When he finally did touch me, it was to use his index finger and middle finger to part my lips, and his fingers were trembling again. The air was cool against that wet warm skin, and he hummed as he focused on the sight.

“I love how wet you are,” he whispered. “You can be nervous, fragile, tense, unsure, confused, frigid. But you can’t hide this.”

I shuddered, and when he reached his other hand out to me, I held my breath. He ran the pad of his thumb over my clit, and my thighs tried to close—not because I wanted them to but because of the intensity of that touch. And moments after the shockwave of pleasure passed, he pressed his middle finger into me, slowly sliding in deep. His knuckles grinded against the inside of my lips as he twisted his finger back and forth, and my head dropped back.

He pulled out slowly, and then he sank two fingers in just as deep. He twisted again, wiggling his fingers as he did, and I looked down to see his knuckles glistening with my wetness. When he pulled out again, it was brief, and he started thrusting in and out, the sound sloppy, wet, and lewd as he fucked me with his fingers.

I wanted this. I wanted this more than I would have imagined I could, and when he circled my clit with his thumb once more, I cried out loudly. My back was arched again, and I was writhing in agonized pleasure as he pumped hard and fast into my sex. I pushed against the floor with the balls of my feet, lifting my bottom from the seat as I neared my release.

Every muscle was strained tight when I finally came, and as I did, he pushed hard into me with his fingers, holding them there as my body tried to turn inside out. I twitched as my bottom sank back down to the seat, my shoulders rolled forward, trying to wrap around my core, and I whimpered as I gripped the arms of the chair.

He still held his fingers deep, pushing on my clit with his thumb but not stroking, and it wasn’t until I was sprawled across the chair, my muscles too spent to work, that he slowly withdrew them.

He chuckled as he watched me, and it turned into a warm humming sound when he leaned over me, lowering his body to collapse on mine. He rested his cheek to my chest, and his hands held my waist as he nestled against me. I ran my fingers through his hair, and he sighed as I stroked.

“Well that answers that question.” His voice was quiet.

“What question is that?” I tucked my chin down, so I could see him.

He lifted his head, planting his chin on my breastbone. He smiled. “If you’re as fucking stunning as I always assumed you’d be in the throes of orgasm.” He winked as he shoved his tongue into his cheek playfully. “I used to wonder all the time if you got wet for me.” He leaned down, kissing my skin before he lifted his head again. “How old were you … when you had sex again for the first time?” His face was no longer playful.

I glanced away for a moment. “Twenty-two. His name was Mikkel, and he was an English major. We dated for … four months.”

“What went wrong?”

I actually laughed at that, but there was nothing at all funny about it. “Me,” I said with a shrug.

“How many other men have you been with?” His fingers tickled the sides of my ribcage for a moment.

But I shook my head in embarrassment.

“It’s okay,” he coaxed gently.

“Two.”

He nodded.

“I ended it with the second man, because I knew he was cheating on me.”

“Fucker,” he muttered as his fingers tightened on me.

“No,” I said quietly. “He was just lonely.” My eyes warmed and filled with tears, but I didn’t cry. I brushed a tear away, and I smiled at him. “I didn’t even tell him I knew. I just … set him free.”

“And then there was Brian?” he asked.

I nodded. “I tried to be what I was supposed to be with him.” I shrugged. “It wasn’t enough.”

“They just didn’t know how to touch you the right way.” His fingers pinched gently.

My body twitched. “Is that all it is?”

He nodded. “Mm-hmm. And a little bit of patience.” He sat up straighter, planting his elbows on the seat beside my thighs. “Did you love any of them?”

“I thought I could love Brian, but… I don’t know. Did you? The women you’ve…”

He shook his head without hesitation. “Nope.” His eyes were distant as he stared over my shoulder. “I didn’t even want to. Too complicated. Too … exposing. You have a hard time warming up to people physically. I get it. I have a hard time warming up to people emotionally.”

“You don’t seem emotionally cold to me.”

He smiled. “You don’t seem physically cold to me.” He smirked, but it was interrupted by a yawn. “Can I stay with you tonight, or would you rather be alone?”

I reached for his chin, pinching his whiskers softly. “I like it when you’re here.” I studied him for a moment. “And I like sleeping next to you.”

“It is nice, isn’t it?” He pushed up from his knees, reaching his hand down to me and then pulling me up to my feet. I let my dress slip off my arms and fall to the chair, and I reached back, unclasping my bra and shrugging out of it as well. He pulled me toward the bed, and I crawled in, curling up on my side to watch him. He undid his pants, pushing them down and stepping out of them. He tossed them to the chair on top of my forgotten dress, and when he turned back around to face me, I tried not to stare.

He was wearing boxer briefs again, and they were a crisp clean white, so damn white there was little at all hiding what was underneath. He was hard, thick, and long, and his erection was pressed to his lower abdomen, running off to the side toward his hipbone and held snug in place by the fitted fabric. It was an intimidating thing to see him like this.

I remembered his body from eleven years ago, but it was more the pain I felt than the visual image of him. The visual images must exist somewhere in my mind, but I struggled to even recall what the stranger looked like now. I remember thinking he smelled and he was ugly, but yet … it was all nondescript in my head. Maybe I’d just closed my eyes too tight, refused to see what was happening. Or maybe I just didn’t want to remember.

But this sight didn’t scare me. It was my own arousal that did. That was fucked up.

“Should we just get this out of the way?” He ran his thumb under the waistband of his underwear, casually letting it trail under the material as he studied me. “Seeing doesn’t mean touching. It doesn’t mean sucking or fucking.” His voice was so calm, so warm. It was what I remembered from our childhood—the cool laid-back kid without a care in the world.

I nodded.

“Do you remember what I look like?” His thumb still toyed with his waistband, but his voice had lost that playful edge.

“Not really. Kind of, but…” My brow furrowed as I thought about it, and I finally sighed. “Not really,” I finally settled on the response.

When he pulled his underwear down, I sat up on the side of the bed, and when his erection sprang free as the fabric was pushed lower, I gasped, my lips trembled, and my focus shifted to his face. He pushed his underwear to the ground then, stepping out of them quickly as he walked toward me.

I glanced down again, but he reached swiftly for my cheeks, angling my face up to look at him as he leaned over to me. He held me there, staring at my eyes and refusing to let me look down again. “It’s just a part of me,” he whispered. “Not me, not who I am.”

I nodded rigidly, and I reached for his hips, clasping them tightly as I focused on his face.

“Please don’t make me a bad memory. Let me be a good one.”

My eyes were tearing again. “Okay.”

His thumbs brushed under my eyes, and as they swept the sides of my cheeks, he released his hold on me. I stared up at his face for a moment longer, but then I slowly glanced down along his body—my attention trailing over his tight, well-muscled chest to his abdomen. My fingers dug into his hips harder the lower I looked, and when my focus finally lit on the head of his cock that was jutting up high on his belly, my nails sank into his skin as he hissed.

I stared. I panted. I remembered the feel of him inside me. And as a momentary rush of panic coursed through my veins, I closed my eyes and I exhaled deeply. When I opened my eyes again, he was staring at me, studying my face. He leaned down again as my hands slipped from his hips, and he kissed me.

I heard the click of the lamp’s switch as he turned it off, and when he pulled back from my lips, it was dark. He crawled over my body, and then he pulled me into his arms. I could feel the length of him against my thigh as I slipped my leg between his. He groaned, and his head dropped to my shoulder.

“I don’t want to lose you again,” I whispered. “You asked me what I remember… I remember waking up alone.”

His body tensed for a moment, but then his arms tightened around me. “Good night, sweet Hell. I’ll see you when you wake.”

Chapter Twenty-Three

Kane

When I woke the next morning I was practically humping her. Actually, it was safer to say I was absolutely humping her. She was also grinding her pussy against my thigh again, and the quiet mewling sound she was making against my neck coupled with the slick wet feel of her cum on my leg had me stirred the fuck up. My breath caught in my throat as my cock pressed against her lower belly.

“Fuck, you’re so wet, baby.” My lips were to her ear, and my arms were clasped tight around her.

I could feel her pebble hard nipples against my chest. When she slipped her leg from between mine, it was to drape it over my hip. It put her pussy right on my cock, and it forced a deep groan from my chest. My hips rocked against her, sliding my dick against the wet slit of her sex. My desperation to get inside her became nearly overwhelming when the head of my cock slipped between her lips, and her fingers dug into my shoulders as she felt it.

I gripped her hip, holding her in place as the head of my dick toyed with her opening. “Can you feel how close we are? I’m one thrust away from filling you with my cock. Tell me you want me inside you.” My mouth stayed at her ear as I spoke, and her body trembled in my arms.

“Oh, God,” she whimpered quietly against my neck. “Oh, G—”

At just that moment, the sound of her front door being thrown open echoed back to us, and then it was the sound of an excited squealing little girl. Helene squealed too and threw the blankets over our heads just as the bedroom door opened.

“Auntie Heen-Hee!”

“Oh, God. Oh, God,” Helene said in a panic. Her eyes searched mine quickly under the tent of blankets.

I grimaced. “You can’t hide, baby,” I whispered.

Her face fell, and she rolled her eyes just before she pulled the blanket back and peeked out. She did not, however, let me out, and she pinned the blankets down in front of my face.

“Hi, sweet girl. How about you let Auntie Helene get up and get dressed, okay? I’ll be right out. Close the door when you leave.”

I pinched Helene’s ass, and she let out a yelp. When Sienna went scurrying back out of the room, closing the door behind her, Hell rolled back over toward me, finally uncovering my head. She still looked panicked, and I threw the blanket back, so I could get dressed. But before I had a chance to stand, her door was thrown open yet again, and I was left scrambling to re-cover my naked lap and ridiculously poorly timed erection as Hilde entered.

Helene yelped again, pulling the blankets up to her chest.

“Oh!” Hilde shrieked.

The amount of shrieking that had happened in the past minute alone was astounding.

“Good morning, Hilde.” I gave her a quick nod, before letting my body fall back to the bed and pulling the blankets over my own head that time.

“Maybe… Maybe give us a few minutes, Hil?” Helene’s voice was nervous.

“Uh… Yeah… Okay.” And the door finally closed again.

When Helene peeked under the blankets at me, I turned to her and smiled.

“Good morning.” I reached for her cheek, pulling her mouth to mine. “That is what I call a very rude awakening,” I said between kisses.

“That is Hilde. It’s a sibling thing. Lack of boundaries has always been her style.” She kissed me, and then she sighed heavily. “This should be good,” she muttered as she sat up and threw the blankets back. “Be prepared to have your skull cracked open and your brains explored. Her boundaries won’t apply to you any more than me.”

I chuckled as I stood up and slipped into my underwear quickly. I pulled my jeans on as she was riffling through her drawers, and I was fully clothed by the time she’d pulled out a pair of yoga pants and T-shirt. I sat on the chair and watched her cute naked ass stumble around. My eyes on her seemed to make her forget how to put clothes on, and more than once she realized she was getting ready to put something on backward.

When she finally managed it, I stood and sauntered toward her.

“You’re distracting,” she said quietly as I approached her.

I wrapped my arms around her. “You want to know what’s distracting?”

She peered up at me.

“Knowing your cum is covering my cock right now and that my dick should be inside you at this point.” I winked at her, and then I turned and walked out, tugging Helene along behind me.

I was actually quite nervous about this, but seeing as I couldn’t undo the fact Hilde had caught me in bed with her sister, there was really nothing to be done but face the music—or the skull delving as Hell had put it.

Sienna leapt into Helene’s arms the moment we walked into the kitchen. I smiled as I watched Sienna wrap her pudgy legs around Helene’s waist. That is until I glanced at Hilde. Hilde was standing at the coffee maker, pulling mugs down from the shelf above it, but even as her hands worked, her eyes studied me.

“Coffee?” she asked with narrowed eyes as though my very response to that simple question might mean something earth shatteringly important to her.

“Sure.” I glanced away for a moment, and I didn’t look back until Hilde was holding the coffee cup out to me. “Thanks.”

Helene let Sienna down to the ground, and the little girl scurried out of the room.

“See your landlord finally got around to cutting those branches back,” Hilde commented as she held a coffee cup out to Helene.

“Kane took care of it.”

Hilde eyed me suspiciously. “Huh… So, how’s your father doing Kane?”

“He’s… I’m looking for a new care facility for him at the moment.”

“Oh, really?” Hilde cocked her head to the side. “I thought Shady Oaks was supposed to be a pretty decent place.”

Helene was suddenly watching me closely.

“Yeah. I’m sure it is. My father’s … being difficult for them to handle, and they’re discharging him in a couple weeks, so I have to find a new place for him that’s better equipped to deal with his … poor attitude.”

Helene’s brow furrowed. “You didn’t tell me that.”

I glanced at her, and I shrugged. “He broke a nurse’s nose … among other things.” I stared at the ground.

“So, Helene mentioned you were taking her philosophy class.”

I glanced at Hilde. “Yeah. It’s interesting—”

“I didn’t realize you’d even finished high school.”

“Hilde!” Helene snapped loudly, setting her coffee mug on the counter with a loud bang that sloshed liquid all over the side of her hand. Helene winced as the coffee burned her, and she shook her hand as she glared at her sister.

Hilde held her hands up in placation, taking a deep breath. “I’m sorry,” she said to Helene, and then she turned to me. “I’m sorry,” she said again.

The room was utterly silent, and I stared at the floor wanting to disappear.

“I should… I should go.” I looked up at Helene, and her face fell. “It’s okay,” I reassured her. “I actually have to be in Allentown in a couple of hours to meet with a few different care facilities down there.” I glanced away for a moment.

When I looked back at Helene, her lips were parted and she just watched me. She shook her head as her focus dropped to the floor. I set my coffee on the counter, and when I turned to face Hilde, her focus was on her coffee cup in her hands.

“You’re worried about your sister. I understand.”

Hilde looked at me, staring blankly for a moment, but she finally nodded.

“I got my GED years ago, by the way,” I commented as I turned away from her.

“I’ll walk you out.” Helene took my hand as I passed her, and as we walked out of the kitchen we were passed by Sienna who had an armful of towels.

“Mommy, let’s play beauty salon. I wash your hair,” she said excitedly.

The last I heard of Hilde was as she took a deep breath and then sighed heavily. Helene walked outside to her front porch with me, and when I took the first step down, she tugged on my hand, and I turned to her. It put me face to face with her, and I focused on her eyes.

“I’m sorry.” Her expression was all concern.

I shook my head. “Don’t be.” I kissed her before she could say anything more.

I pushed my tongue past her lips, tasting the subtle vanilla of her coffee, and I touched that smooth soft skin inside her mouth. I’d never wanted the way I did with her. I’d wanted her when we were nothing more than teenagers, and I wanted her even more now. I wanted it all so fucking much—so much I was derailing me life. I hadn’t yet veered off course, but when I’d moved back to Hazleton, I knew there was an end to my time and that it would coincide with selling my father’s house. That sale was still approaching, but … I no longer knew for sure if my end here was.

She hummed quietly around my tongue, and she sucked on it slowly, erotically. My cock got hard as I listened to our lips smack and I felt the warmth of her mouth. Her body pressed against mine, and she clutched at my shoulders. I pushed my forehead against hers to stop the kiss, and it was only after many long moments of panting against one another’s lips that it was safe for me to pull back without the risk of attacking her mouth again.

“Do you want me to go with you?” She studied my eyes.

It was such a simple thing, but that one question was a very powerful reminder of the friendship I’d walked away from when I left Hazleton. Helene knew how to be giving of her time and of herself. She always had, and I remembered that so clearly about her. Some people were good at giving when it required no real sacrifice, but she’d been one of those rare people who was willing to sacrifice—really sacrifice. And that had always impressed the hell out of me about her.

I lifted her hand, focusing on the skin her coffee had burned. It was pink between her thumb and her index finger, and I pulled her hand to my mouth, sucking on that U-shaped stretch of skin that spanned the space. Her lips parted as she watched, and when I pulled back, I blew on the glistening skin and her breath left her in a quiet rush.

“That’s okay,” I finally responded. “I’m sure you have work to do. I can handle this.” I smiled at her, and I kissed her. It was supposed to be one last quick kiss, but … it was a few minutes later by the time I gave her lips back to her. “I need to see you tonight,” I murmured against her mouth.

“What do you want to do?” Her face was sweet as she looked at me.

“Whatever I need to do to get your fingers wrapped around my cock.” I smirked, and then I ran down the steps to my dad’s truck before she could respond. I waved as I climbed in, and then I backed out.

I didn’t bother going home to shower and change—not for nursing home hunting. Besides, there was something exceptionally hot about the fact her cum was on my skin, and I wanted to keep it there for a while. Instead, I stopped and grabbed breakfast on my way out of town and headed to Allentown early.

I picked up my phone, dialing quickly once I was on the road.

“This is Ross Bernstein.”

“It’s Kane.”

“Hey, Kane. Haven’t talked to you for a while. I’m glad you called. I was going to reach out to you soon, just to see how everything was going with your father’s house and your … plans.”

“Well, that’s just it…” I didn’t say anything more. I wasn’t really sure how to continue.

“Change of heart?” Ross asked sympathetically.

I sighed. “I don’t know.”

“Listen, it’s my job to support you however you want to go about this. It’s certainly not a decision I would try to make for you.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled.

“You don’t have to make any decisions right away. It’s not like there’s a timeline that has to be set in stone with this thing.”

“I know. I just … wanted to check in.”

“Okay. You take your time and don’t rush this.”

“Okay, thanks. I’ll talk to you soon.”

I disconnected, and I tossed the phone to the side.

The next many hours of my life were spent trying not to sneer at nursing home administrators. My father had made a name for himself at Shady Oaks, and because I couldn’t conceal the fact he was being discharged for being an asshole, I couldn’t seem to paint a very rosy picture of what it would mean for a new care facility to take him in.

The first place smelled nice, and there were birds. Not like birds flying around randomly in the hallways and shitting on residents, but they had a large aviary. It was stunning actually. And then I imagined my father trying to rip a head off a gold finch and exactly what that phone call would be like. Could they ethically discharge him for killing a bird? No matter, Ingrid, the head nurse, quickly reviewed the paperwork I’d brought with me, and then she smiled curtly, her lips barely pulling up more than a tight rigid line.

“I’m afraid we’re just not equipped for your father’s … special needs.”

“You have an Alzheimer’s wing. I thought that was exactly the type of—”

“I’m sorry,” she’d cut me off.

I stood, looking around for a moment. “It’s probably better for all birds involved.” I shrugged and walked out.

The next two places were no better. One didn’t outright reject my dad, but I suspected the paperwork wouldn’t pass muster once I was out the door.

The other just flat out said, “No, Mr. Thorson. No.” And then she’d smiled sweetly. “If you’re going to be in town for the night, though, perhaps you’d like to—”

“No, Ms. Care Facility Administrator. No,” I’d replied as I stood and walked away.

When I climbed back in the truck, I sat there and let my head fall back as I gripped the steering wheel. It was nearly evening and the sun was already starting to drop. At this rate it would be long past dark by the time I made it back to Hazleton. But I couldn’t say I minded. I was oddly and quite uncharacteristically happy.

* * * *

“So, where are you taking me?” Helene smiled at me as she slid into Dad’s truck.

I smirked. “Home improvement store.” I eyed her knee that was peeking out from underneath the charcoal gray skirt she wore. She liked to look nice, and she was damn good at it. This particular skirt was wool and it pleated out from the very fitted waist. She’d tucked a lighter gray long sleeve knit shirt in that hugged her small tits perfectly, and she was wearing a simple pair of patent leather red ballet flats.

She laughed. “Well, okay then. The home improvement store it is,” she responded as she fastened her seatbelt. “And what is at this store that you think will hasten getting my … fingers … around…” she seemed to be losing the nerve to repeat my rather crude statement from that morning with every word out of her mouth.

I reached over and took her hand. “Kitchen flooring, trim, and pulls for the kitchen cabinets. And if you’re lucky, a few light fixtures as well.”

“I always knew you were a romantic,” she commented with a sheepish smile.

But before my mouth had the chance to say something gentlemanly, the over-sexed, orgasm deprived part of my brain kicked in, and I slammed on the brakes before I was even out of the driveway, and I threw the truck into park.

Her driveway was lined on the perimeter side by thick tangles of overgrown trees, and it was dark out at this point. But I could still see her wide startled eyes as she stared at me from the passenger side. Her lips were parted, and her hand was braced on the door from the sudden jolt of the car stopping.

I undid my seatbelt even as I leaned toward her, and as soon as I was out of mine, I undid hers with one hand as my other snaked between her legs and pulled her nearest leg toward me. She was panting as she watched me, and when I clasped my hand on the back of her knee and tugged her across the seat, she gasped.

Her skirt rode up as she slid, and I hunched over her, using one hand to pull the fabric of her underwear aside and the other to spread the lips of her pussy. And then I lapped wetly over her clit as she moaned. She was lounged back awkwardly against the door, and I focused on the shadowed sight of her face as she watched me lick her pussy.

She wedged one foot against the dashboard, and the other she lifted to rest on the back of the bench seat.

“That’s it, baby. Spread your legs wide,” I murmured against her skin, and then I sank my tongue into her pussy, flicking that sensitive skin with the tip of it.

Her hips moved, humping and pushing against my mouth, and her thighs trembled as her ass left the seat. She was close. She’d responded quickly and effortlessly, and she’d clearly forgotten all about whatever part of herself she thought was missing.

Nothing was missing from her. She was warm, she was delicious, her scent was incredible, and she needed to be fucked desperately … even if she wasn’t quite ready for it yet. She was perfect. And she came hard as her back arched and her head fell back. The sound of her release sent pulses of tingling warmth through my body, and as she came down, twitching and trembling as she fought to relax, I let my tongue roll gently over her skin.

When she was finally relaxed back into the seat and running her fingers through my hair, I dropped my forehead to her belly, inhaling deeply and soaking in the scent of her arousal. I could get high on it, and there was little doubt I was.

“I remember your taste.” I let my lips move against her belly as I rested my forehead there. Her fingers paused. That had brought her up short. It didn’t surprise me that it would. Mixing what happened then with what we were doing now was like mixing vinegar and bleach. It was a toxic combination. But I didn’t mean for it to be, and I wasn’t going to be dissuaded from making my point.

I lifted my head, resting my chin to her stomach. “I remember,” I repeated. “Have you ever seen those yellow flowers early in spring? They bloom even through the snow sometimes.”

She nodded.

“Your taste, your scent, the warmth of your body… It was like this beautiful thing that didn’t belong there in the cold, but it was there, and it was still just as beautiful as it could be.”

Her fingers stroked again, and it wasn’t until I sat up a minute later that they stopped and slipped from me. She righted her posture, pushing her skirt down and smoothing it over her lap demurely, and the side of my lip pulled up as I glanced at her.

Perfect.

Chapter Twenty-Four

Helene

He held my hand as we walked through the large cavernous store, and when we stopped in the long aisle of flooring and tile, he rested his hand on the back of my neck, his middle finger stroking forward and backward as he looked. All I could think about was sex—sex with him. Me thinking about sex… Yeah, that was new.

“Do you like this?”

“Yes,” I breathed the response out quietly before I realized he was referring to a neutral colored travertine tile in front of us and not what his fingers were doing to my neck.

He leaned over and kissed the side of my neck as he chuckled. “Yes to the tile, or yes you’re ready to wrap those delicate little fingers around my cock?”

I shivered for a moment, and then I forced my eyes to focus. I turned to him. “It’s a beautiful tile.”

He pulled me down the aisle as he laughed. “Always such a brat,” he commented over his shoulder.

I randomly flipped through a large display mounted book of carpet samples as he placed the order for the tile, and when he was finished there, we moved on to the trim. It took little time for him to pick out a wide white trim with a simple straight edge, and we breezed through the kitchen section so he could show me what cabinetry he’d already ordered a few weeks prior. It wasn’t until we were standing in front of a wall of cabinetry pulls that we slowed down again.

He pointed to an atrocious chrome pull that would be disastrous with the kitchen he’d picked out, and I snorted. He had to be kidding.

“What?” I asked incredulously. “Really? No.”

He smiled as he shrugged. “Have at it, dear.”

I touched the display knobs as he watched, and when I stopped at an antique looking crystal knob that would be perfect for the distressed off-white cabinets he’d ordered, I picked up one still in the plastic wrapping. Kane stepped up behind me, and he clutched my waist in his hands as he pulled my bottom back to his groin.

He was aroused and hard. I was starting to think it was his natural state. Or maybe he just wasn’t getting what he needed from me. He definitely wasn’t. His breath tickled the back of my ear as he leaned over my shoulder.

“It’s beautiful. Good choice. You can’t imagine how desperate I am to be inside you. Now tell me, is your pussy still wet from being licked?”

I glanced up and down the aisle. It was deserted, and I nodded.

“I can still taste you,” he whispered. “How about you kiss me, so I can show you just how delicious your cum is.”

I angled my head toward him, bringing my mouth close to his as he still leaned over my shoulder. “I’d rather touch you,” I whispered.

He exhaled deeply, and it trailed off in a warm hum as his fingers tightened on my waist and he pulled my bottom back to his body even harder.

“Well, if it isn’t Helene Hess herself,” came a friendly male voice. “And … Kane Thorson,” the voice continued with a hint of confusion.

We both looked up, taking a step away from each other.

“Fuck,” Kane muttered under his breath.

I glanced quickly at Kane before I looked down the aisle. I laughed. “Jake Rigby,” I said as I walked toward the man. “Or is it Reverend Rigby these days,” I said with a smile. “Hilde and Mark mentioned you were the head pastor at their church.”

Jake and I had been friends in high school. In fact, Jake was friends with just about anyone looking for a friend. When I found out he’d finished seminary and settled back down in Hazleton, I wasn’t the least surprised to hear it was as a pastor in the local Methodist church.

“Yes. Hilde and Mark have such lovely children. You must be a very proud aunt.”

I nodded as I glanced at Kane just over my shoulder. He was hanging back, shuffling his feet and looking around nervously. I scoffed for a moment, confused why he would act so odd around a man who could possibly mean him no harm. Jake didn’t inspire enemies, and Kane and he had been friends in high school too, largely because Jake hadn’t cared any more than I had how many times Kane had been expelled.

But when I turned back and took another step toward Jake, my eyes caught on a woman rounding the endcap with a package of light bulbs in her hands, and I figured it out.

“Honey, are these the ones you’re looking for?” The married girlfriend from the restaurant asked Jake, and he turned to answer her.

I spun to face Kane who was still nervously shuffling about, and when he glanced at me, he looked away quickly, and his eyelids fluttered and closed. Forcing myself to turn back to Jake was painful. Looking at his wife was this incredible combination of pain, humiliation, and complete jealousy.

“Helene… Helene.” Jake fumbled with his wife’s arm for a moment as he spoke to me. “I want you to meet my wife. This is Lisa,” he said proudly as he pulled the woman up beside him. Jake’s grin was so wide it broke my heart.

I closed the space between us, and when Lisa looked at me, the broad smile that had been on her mouth moments before fell. She cleared her throat. She glanced past me to see Kane, and then her face turned red and pinched in anger before she could stow it. She turned, taking a step away from her husband for a moment, and when she rounded, she clutched her hand to her stomach, shaking her head. She looked furious, but then she looked past me at Kane again, and her eyes pooled with tears. Maybe it was heartbroken.

“It’s good to see you, Jake.” I had to force the words from my mouth.

He pulled me into a hug, oblivious to his wife’s behavior behind him. “Ah, you as well, Helene. I’d heard you were back in town, teaching at the college as you work through your dissertation. Quite the accomplishment, Helene. I can’t say I’m surprised, though. I always knew you were headed somewhere.” His eyes glanced over my shoulder, and his brow flinched. It was confusion again. But Jake pursed his lips, smiling awkwardly. “How are you Kane? You remember my wife Lisa, right? I introduced you two at the Fourth of July parade.”

Kane stepped up beside me, clearing his throat. “Yeah… Yeah. Hi Lisa,” he said tightly.

Lisa plastered her smile back on her mouth. “Hi,” she said curtly. And then she turned her attention to me, her lips tightening into a straight line. “You are again? I’m afraid I didn’t catch the name.”

I held my hand out, forcing it to stay rigid and not tremble. “Helene. I graduated with Jake … and Kane.”

“Lisa.” She instantly turned her attention to her husband. “We should…” She cocked her thumb over her shoulder. “…get going.”

“Oh… Yeah. Sure, dear.” Jake returned his attention to me. “It was so good to see you, Helene. I’m really glad you’re back in town.” He held his hand out to Kane. “Kane, very good to see you, too.”

“You, too.” But Kane’s eyes glanced away.

Jake smiled awkwardly at Kane again, clearly thrown off by his nervous behavior. But then he took Lisa’s hand, and they headed back the way they came. Lisa glanced over her shoulder, tucking her hair behind her ear as she did to hide the move from her husband. I stood staring after them, trying to wrap my head around what had just happened. I was angry. I also didn’t think I had any right to be. But I’ll be damned if I wasn’t furious.

Kane said nothing as he stood beside me frozen in place.

“I’d like to go home,” I finally said quietly, and I walked away.

He followed me silently from the store, the cabinetry pulls forgotten, and when I climbed in the truck, I didn’t bother looking at him. I wanted to cry, and I didn’t know why. I wanted to yell, and again, I couldn’t quite rationalize it. I suppose it had something to do with the fact that we both knew Jake, always had, and there wasn’t a single person on this planet who wanted to hurt Jake. And yet, Kane had hurt him—even if Jake didn’t know it. That was a hard pill to swallow, and it made me angry.

It also terrified me. Because there were simply no limits for him—none I could see at any rate, and that could hurt me—just like it did Jake. And perhaps just like Jake, I would never know.

We were silent on the way to my house, and when he pulled in, he left his hands on the steering wheel, still refusing or too afraid to look at me. I sat there for a moment, contemplating saying nothing and simply climbing out. I reached for the door and pulled the handle.

“Please don’t go,” he whispered.

My chest tightened, and it hurt. I stared at the dashboard, but I could see Kane’s hand out of my periphery, gripping tight on the steering wheel, twisting against it.

“Am I just another…?” I contemplated finishing that sentence but then decided it required nothing more.

He turned to me, but I refused to look at him, staring straight ahead at his dashboard.

“Another what?” he asked.

I did look at him then. “Another anything. Another fight, another fuck, another coping mechanism.” My lips trembled.

“What?” he looked furious for a moment, but then his face fell, and he looked away shaking his head. “Is that what you think?”

I looked at him. “Am I wrong? I mean, that is what we’re doing here, right? You want to fuck me.”

He shook his head. “Not fuck. The only thing in the world I want is to be close to you.”

I finally pushed the car door open, tears flooding my eyes. “That doesn’t require sticking your dick in me—”

“Yes, it does!” he snapped loudly. “It’s not fucking… I need… I need…” he stuttered. But he couldn’t seem to figure out what he wanted to say.

I climbed out, pausing with my hand on the door as I brushed a tear away. “What you need could hurt me.”

He stared straight ahead, and when he closed his eyes a tear ran down his cheek. I closed the door and walked away.

The second I entered the house, I sank against the door behind me and let my body slide down it until I was sitting in a heap on the floor. I reached up, clicking the deadbolt into place.

“Fuck,” I spat out as I gripped my forehead in my hands.

Chapter Twenty-Five

Kane

I laid on the floor of the living room staring at the ceiling above me. The room was empty, but the floors were finished. I stared up, focusing on the old popcorn texture.

“Fuck,” I muttered. Why the hell hadn’t I scraped it? I’d noticed the fucking ceilings, but at the time, I’d not wanted to deal with it, so I’d ignored it. Now the room was nearly finished, and it looked nice… All that is except for the motherfucking ceiling. “Fuck,” I muttered again.

I took a shower when I finally tired of staring at the ceiling. My phone was ringing when I stepped out, and I answered it quickly, assuming or maybe just hoping it was Hell. It wasn’t.

“I could come over,” Lisa said in way of greeting. “Jake had to go see a parishioner about some … spiritual crisis or something… I just…” She sighed. “That woman seems a little stiff for—”

“Shut up,” I snapped at her. “You don’t know her.”

“So that’s it then. You’ve been fucking me for months, and now… You’re just done?”

“Yeah.” I shut up then, giving her no reason to think this conversation was going anywhere.

“What do you think my husband would say if I told him?” Her voice had this pathetic juvenile threatening tone to it.

“Tell him,” I said. “He’s your husband. Your infidelity is your problem. I’m sorry I played any part in it, but I can’t fix your marriage for you.”

She scoffed angrily. “How dare you—”

“Don’t call me again.” I hung up on her. She didn’t deserve my anger, but giving her my sympathy would be too ambiguous, and I needed to make this final in her mind.

I stumbled to my bedroom, threw on a pair of jogging pants, flopped down on my bed, and stared at the motherfucking popcorn on that ceiling too.

It was the middle of the night by the time I fell asleep, and when I woke the next morning it was after only a few hours’ sleep. I powered my way through the day, busying myself scraping the fucking popcorn, and I worked at a ridiculous and exhausting pace, giving myself no time to think. But when there was a knock on the door, I practically sprinted to get it. It needed to be Helene. It wasn’t.

Instead it was the city inspector. “Problem is,” he said as I followed him around the side of the house. “The three-season porch was built without a permit. It was clearly a patio at one point in time, and apparently your father decided to close it in without getting the proper permits to do so,” the man said smugly.

“I’m so shocked my father would do such a thing,” I retorted sarcastically. “So, what does that mean?”

“Well, you’re going to need to get a permit in order to—”

“How about I just knock the fucking thing down? Will that make you happy?”

The man looked at me as though he was horrified I’d just spoken to him in that way. “I suppose, but—”

“Great. Now I’ve got a lot of work to do, so maybe you can let me get back to it.”

The man glared at me, and he didn’t say another word to me as he stalked away around the side of the house where we’d come from. I walked into the house through the soon to be obsolete three-season porch, and I stopped in front of the fridge. I glanced to the top of it where, until a week before, there’d been a collection of liquor—enough to numb my brain to a puddle of mush.

I wanted a numb brain right now. I needed to stop feeling, because all I could seem to feel was panic.

“Fuck!” I spat out angrily as I rammed the heel of my palm into the front of the fridge. The old thing rattled before settling back into place, and I gripped the top of it, letting my chin drop to my chest.

I finally returned my attention to the ceiling, working to the point that my back ached. I tried to zone out and let the monotony of the work do what I usually used alcohol to do. It wasn’t effective, and I eventually fished my phone from my pocket.

I stared at the screen, finally dialing quickly before I could stop myself. When I heard Helene’s voicemail pick up, I hung up. When I pocketed my phone again, my fingers touched my keys, and I pulled them from my pocket. I stared at them, knowing I could take myself somewhere else—to her place, to the liquor store, to a bar, anywhere but trapped in this pit of bad memories where I was alone and freaking the fuck out.

I paced around in circles for a moment, and then I took a step toward the door. But I stopped as my hands balled into fists, and I hurled my keys across the room. I finally laid on the hardwood floor again, letting the popcorn that covered my new wood floors stick to my sweaty skin.

I didn’t move until later that evening, and when I did, it was to crawl my sore ass off the floor, stumble to the shower, and then back to my bedroom. I pulled jogging pants on again, and I collapsed into bed, hoping my brain would let me sleep. I fell asleep quickly that time, my body too exhausted not to, and I stayed asleep … until my phone rang. I stared at Helene’s number on the screen as I rubbed my eyes. It was two-fifteen in the morning.

“Hi.” The desperate sound of my voice was pathetic.

She was silent, and I rolled over onto my side, wedging my phone between my shoulder and my ear.

“I’m terrified of you,” she whispered.

I closed my eyes, shaking my head subtly but saying nothing. It was not a good feeling being told by someone you would die for that they were terrified of you. In fact, it was a hellish sort of feeling that made every decent decision I’d ever made feel worthless.

“Jake was always a friend to you,” she continued.

I bit my lip hard, letting the pain build for a moment. “I know.”

“If you could do that to someone like Jake…”

She didn’t need to finish that sentence. I understood her point perfectly well, and there was very little I could say to refute it.

“I don’t know how to trust you, Kane.”

“What do you want me to say?” Defeat seeped around my words. I didn’t know how to assure her she could trust me and not sound like a fucking chump. I hadn’t earned her trust. I’d never once done what she needed to earn anything but disappointment from her.

“You could tell me why,” she pleaded. “Why…? How could you…? Does it feel good to hurt people?”

“No.” It was a struggle to get even that one word out through my throat that was quickly trying to strangle me.

“Do you want to hurt me? Is that it? Do you resent me on some subconscious level?”

“Jesus Christ, Hell. No!” I managed to be emphatic that time.

“Then—”

“It feels good to hurt me!” I snapped at her.

She was silent, and the quiet drew out between us for a long time. “I don’t understand why we’re doing this.” She sniffed her nose. She was falling apart. “Am I just another way for you to cause yourself pain?” Her voice broke, and she didn’t bother saying more.

I stared into the darkness, praying I wouldn’t fuck this up. “I didn’t know it would be like this,” I finally said quietly. “To see you again. I … didn’t know I would love it.” My voice broke that time, and I cleared my throat. “I didn’t know it would feel so good. I didn’t know how desperate I would become to hold on to it. I didn’t know how much I was still able to feel something with you.”

The sharp and sudden inhale of her breath sent a rush of panic through me.

“I’m not using you to hurt myself. I’m using you to feel again. But if you’re expecting me to paint you some pretty picture of what came before this, I can’t do that. You’re going to look at my life and hate the things you see.” My voice wavered as I fought the tears. “You will absolutely be disappointed in my decisions. You won’t like the man I was. And you will despise the things I was willing to do. I promise you will. And I’ll want to hide it all from you, because I’ll want you to see the good in me the way you always did when we were young, but I’m going to make it so … fucking … hard on you.” I sucked in a shaky breath, barely holding it together.

“I don’t know how to deal with this.” Her words were cried out desperately.

I gritted my teeth, shaking my head. “You don’t have to,” I finally conceded. “You shouldn’t have to.”

“That’s all you have to say?” The anguish in her voice was painful to hear.

“We can’t… We can’t keep yo-yoing around with each other, Hell.” I shook my head. “I’ve made too many mistakes. I could spend the rest of my life doing nothing but saying I’m sorry to you, and I will. If that’s what you want, what you need, I will.” I was silent for a moment. “But it won’t make you happy.”

I listened to her cry, and tears ran down my cheeks too. I held the phone away from my head for a moment as I gave up stifling the emotion, and I covered my eyes, gripping my temples with my fingers as my chest shook.

When I held the phone to my ear again, I paused, saying nothing as I focused on keeping my voice level. “I am always going to love you, Hell. And you will always have a place in my world if you want one. But your disappointment in me hurts. It’s completely valid, but it fucking hurts. And that’s not going to end. There are things in my past I can’t expect you to cope with. I can’t…” I didn’t know how to finish that sentence. Actually, I did. It was an ultimatum I didn’t want to give her, because she didn’t deserve it.

She didn’t trust me, and she wasn’t a woman who could survive life with a man she didn’t trust. She’d said it plainly enough, but I didn’t need her to tell me to understand that about her, because I knew her. And I couldn’t give her what she needed. And it was going to be worse the more she learned about me. I’d given myself a deadline on this life for a reason. What the fuck had made me think I had any business going back on that?

I finally hung up on her when the emotion became too much to bear, and I pulled my pillow over my head as I groaned out this half scream half grunt.

“Fuck,” I roared loudly as I hurled the alarm clock across the room. It exploded in pieces off the closet door, falling to the floor, and I lay gasping for air as every muscle in my body tensed for a moment and then finally relaxed again. “Goddammit,” I breathed out, and then I stared into the dark, my breathing slowing and my heart rate returning to normal.

I fantasized about a world where Helene and I made sense. It was a beautiful world where she trusted me and I deserved her trust. It didn’t take long for me to drift away; the exhaustion was just too much to fight against. That didn’t mean my sleep was easy, and I tossed and turned for hours. I must have slept, but whatever it was, it sure as fuck didn’t feel like sleep. It felt like hell.

I’d lost her. Hadn’t I? Had I been the one to end this? I had. I’d ended it because I knew she eventually would when she learned all my secrets. I’d done this. Me. It was all … my … fault.

The thoughts swirled, kicking up a gut wrenching cloud of panic as they ebbed, swelled, and circulated through my brain. My eyes would fill with tears as the notion of giving her up again set in, and then I fought it tooth and nail, clenching my hands into tight fists and then pounding them on the mattress beside me as my body went rigid with tension. And then I’d fall into an exhausted stupor again.

There surely must have been sleep in there. But then I’d come to and remember how hard my life made it for her to love me. No part of my life deserved to be loved by her. And the cycle of hell, or Hell as the case was, would start all over again.

But then something happened. I’d felt myself drifting away, knowing I’d wake again to the panic of losing her, the anguish of hurting her, and the fury of failing her. But this time I woke to something else. Arms wrapped around me, and I felt the warmth of skin against my chest. For a moment I panicked, thinking it could be Lisa, but then Helene sniffed her nose, and her arms tightened on me. Her body pressed to mine, and I buried my face against her neck. I breathed deeply as my fingertips dug into the backs of her shoulders. I held her tight, too tight, clutching her possessively and desperately to me, and I never once pulled my face from her neck as I used her closeness to finally release the panic that had been building for two days now.

Her quiet shushing and gentle touch as she ran her fingers through my hair sent warmth through my veins again, and I ran my hand down her back and over her naked bottom. Her leg was between mine; it had fast become my favorite way to hold her—close, entangled, fucking without actually fucking.

I couldn’t let this go.

“I don’t want to make you feel bad,” she whispered. Her hands clutched at my cheeks, pulling my face from her neck, and she kissed my mouth.

I nodded even as she kissed me.

“I can handle this,” she said between kisses.

I pulled back. “There’s so much to handle—”

But her lips cut me off again, and she kissed hard as her body pressed closer to mine. I moaned as I thrust my tongue into her mouth, and I pushed myself against her just as hard as she was holding herself to me. It was desperate, it was terrifying, it was also intense relief. Even after the kiss ended, our lips remained touching as we panted, and it was minutes later before I finally took a deep breath, leaned back, and turned the lamp on.

The room lit up in a warm glow thanks to the dim bulb, and when I turned back to see her, she was watching me. Her eyes were puffy. She’d been crying. Of course she’d been crying. I ran my finger down the center of her forehead, trailing it over her nose.

“I can’t ask you to be okay with my life, my decisions, my mistakes. And there are so many.” I wanted her to ignore every last warning I gave her.

And she did. “I want to be a part of your world.”

I wrapped my arms around her again and buried my face against her neck once more. I couldn’t seem to give her body any space. “You’re the brightest, warmest star in my universe,” I whispered. “You will never be less than everything to me.” I pulled back, studying her eyes. “You’re my Hell.” The irony of my oldest nickname in the world for her wasn’t lost on me—her either for that matter. She could be attached to the most painful, agonizing memories in my mind, but she also filled my most favorite memories too.

She took a shaky breath as a tear ran down her cheek. I understood her. She was terrified of me. She was terrified of what I might do to her. And more than even that, she was terrified of what I’d do to myself. I didn’t have to hurt her to hurt her, because she cared enough to be destroyed by what I could do to myself.

And I was very capable of destroying myself.

“We’re going to be okay.” I focused on her puffy beautiful eyes that looked as exhausted as I felt. I loved those words. They were so old for us, but so new now. Once upon a time those words spoken from her mouth had allowed me to glimpse the tiniest hint of the flower peeking through the snow. She’d warmed me in the cold, she’d comforted me in the pain, she’d loved me in the nightmare.

She reached for my cheeks, still nodding slightly as she studied my face. And she pulled my mouth to hers again, kissing me gently and sweetly. I could taste her tears on her lips, but she kissed again, pressing her mouth hard to mine and moaning quietly. The intensity built as her body moved against mine, and when she pushed the back of my sweatpants down, it was to clutch harshly into my butt cheeks. She gripped and held me close to her, pulling my groin to hers.

I pulled away from her lips for a moment, focusing on her face. She watched me, saying nothing, but when she pushed my sweatpants farther down as she studied my eyes, I nodded and kissed her again. I shoved my pants quickly down the rest of the way, and my mouth never left hers as I used my feet to kick them from my legs. I’d been in nearly this exact position forty-eight hours prior, but there was no nosy toddler or meddling sister to interrupt us now, and the panting, desperate sound of Helene’s mewling drove my need harder and faster.

When her fingers closed around my cock, my mouth dropped open in a silent groan that was trapped somewhere in the pit of my stomach. My eyes opened wide as her fingers tightened, and her body stilled as she studied my face. I glanced down to see, and my groan finally made it from my mouth at the sight of her delicate slim fingers trying to close around me. But her fingers couldn’t encircle the breadth, and the stricture on my erection as she tried was intense.

She stroked, and I let my body fall back to the bed as she pushed up to her elbow—her other hand still gripping and pulling against my cock. My back arched and writhed against the bed. Her fingers tightened and pulled, and she moved up and down my shaft as my heels dug into the mattress. I grunted as she jacked me off, and my hands were fisted at my sides.

She was moaning, groaning, and whimpering in this desperate, erotic way, and her body couldn’t seem to stop moving against mine—her pussy grinding against the side of my leg, her hips rocking. When her hand sped, I nearly lost it.

“Baby,” I breathed out. “Baby, please,” I begged. “We’ve got to talk about this.” I didn’t want to talk about anything. I wanted to shove my cock so hard and deep into her she was too speechless to talk, but this wasn’t something we could regret later and survive.

She panted as her grip on my dick loosened, and when she sighed it was tinged with frustration. She collapsed to the bed beside me, and I rolled toward her, propping myself up to look down on her. Her eyes searched mine, and I watched her for a moment before I reached back and pulled the nightstand drawer open. When I pulled my hand back, she looked and bit her lower lip.

I didn’t say anything as I held the condom between my index finger and middle finger, and I studied her as she studied it. This had put a pause in her desperation. I couldn’t get a handle on what she was feeling, though. She just stared.

“This can’t be some impetuous, careless decision. We don’t have that luxury, baby.”

She inhaled deeply, and then she swallowed harshly.

“Nothing will ever be simple with us,” I continued.

She glanced down at my lower stomach where my cock still lay rigid and waiting.

“That doesn’t mean this can’t be incredible. That it can’t feel good, safe, perfect.”

I fought to hide my desperation, needing to know her decision about this was solely her decision. When she leaned to my mouth, she kissed me gently, and I felt her fingers fumbling with mine as she took the condom from me. I sighed against her mouth, and when she leaned back she bit into her lower lip again. It wasn’t a seductive move, though. She was concentrating, thinking, deciding. And when she she tore into the packet, it was with the shyest look on her face I’d ever seen. I leaned back, resting against the pillows so I could watch her.

My posture was casual, and the easy way my finger stroked over my lower lip as I focused on her was deceptively calm and thoughtless. I was actually freaking the fuck out. This woman had the ability to make me bounce between my desire to throw my life away as I knew it, and fight tooth and nail to keep it. And this was definitely a heavy thing for us.

She pulled the condom from the packet, and I watched as she reached for my dick and slipped it over the head. My breath left me in a rush as I felt her feather light touch. She rolled the condom tightly down my length, and her fingers trembled the entire time.

I rolled toward her, reaching to the inside of her thigh and lifting her leg to rest on my hip. She was shaking in nervousness, but she didn’t pull back. When I reached to her bottom and tugged her closer to my body, her breath caught in her throat.

“This is how I want it,” I whispered against her ear.

I had no intention of telling her just how terrified I was to be on top of her. I’d had too many nightmares in this lifetime of raping her and forcing my way into her body as she cried underneath me, and knowing those nightmares were rooted in reality made it even worse. I simply couldn’t physically put myself in that position with her. Not yet.

I squeezed her bottom, and her hips pushed against mine. And then I delved between her legs, trailing my fingers gently across the lips of her sex. She was wet and warm regardless of how nervous I knew she was.

“I want to be inside your pussy,” I whispered against her ear, and then I leaned back to see her face. “But I need you to do this part. Put it in.”

She didn’t move immediately, and when she finally did, her fingers grazed lightly across my skin as they brushed their way down between our bodies. She pushed the head of my cock between her legs, and her fingers fumbled with mine as I held her lips parted. I nudged, and the head slipped past her opening as she gasped. I paused.

“Keep your eyes open, baby. Watch me.”

When I rolled my hips under, it was slow. It was the slowest penetration of my life, and I focused on her eyes as I felt her warmth giving way.

“Oh, God, Kane,” she whimpered out, and her eyes opened wider with every inch of my invasion.

She was tight—as tight as I recalled her feeling the last time I’d been inside her, but her wetness was real this time, and when her muscles constricted on me and her hips pushed down against the upward drive of my cock, it was clear her desire was just as real. She watched my eyes, just as I’d asked her to, and I paused when I was fully seated within her.

My hand was still wrapped around behind her and between her legs, and I caressed around her taut skin that was distended and stretched by my cock. It was incredible feeling her wet soft skin alongside my own, and I took my time tracing along the place our bodies were joined.

“You feel so tight, baby,” I whispered against her ear. “Touch it.”

Her cheeks flushed pink, but she reached back, and I could feel her index finger and middle finger parting around my cock and her opening. I placed my fingers just on top of hers, holding them in place.

“Just like that,” I grunted as I rocked my hips. “Feel it.”

She moaned, and she kept her fingers in place, feeling every slow penetration. She ground her pelvis against mine as I sank deep into her. She felt incredible—the heat, the wet, the tight, the need, the touch of her fingers as she felt what I was doing to her. There was no hesitance in how she moved, and as her hips rolled and her moans loudened, I relaxed and let my body move too.

I pushed and pulled my way in and out of her over and over again as her hips rolled seductively against me, and our fingers stayed in place, touching all of it. It was the right rhythm—this perfectly timed dance of thrusting and humping, and when her head fell back, I kissed that place at the base of her throat she’d just exposed for me. It hollowed in as she arched her back, and I snapped my hips harder up between her legs as my arousal intensified.

But before I could let my need to come get away from me, I groaned and rolled onto my back, pulling her with me and leaving her sitting squarely on my dick. She paused, her lips dropping open as she stared at me. I reached up, guiding her face down to mine, but I held her just far enough away to see me.

“It will never be fucking for us, but I’m still going to say it. Do you understand?”

I waited for her to nod, and she did.

“Now fuck me,” I whispered as I released her cheeks, and I watched, waiting to see if she would.

She pushed up on her knees, and her thighs trembled. It was all nerves, and I could see the worry as she stared back at me. I gripped her hips, and I slowly lifted her from my lap and pulled her pussy back down over my cock. I watched it disappear into her body. I reached for her pussy, parting her lips with my fingers so I could see the place our fingers had been exploring moments before. When she lifted again on her own, the glistening wet shaft of my erection appeared. I studied that spot as she fucked me, and after a few tentative penetrations, she reached back and clasped my thighs and her movements sped.

Her small tits bounced ever so slightly as she lifted and dropped her hips to my lap, and when I pushed myself up to sit, it was with no other thought in my mind but to get my hands on them. I gripped into her flesh as I hunched over, and I sucked a nipple into my mouth, pulling and tugging on it as she whimpered. When I released my hold on one of her breasts, it was to reach down and toy with her clit.

Her hips slowed and rolled on my lap back and forth, pulling my cock with her body, and my thumb stroked over those tight nerves as she panted. When she came, her stomach muscles tightened, and she pulled forward, wrapping her arms around my neck as she whimpered her way through it. I fell back to the bed, taking her with me and pinning her chest to mine. And then it was my hips moving, thrusting hard into her as I held her still and in place on top of me.

My hips snapped, and I grunted with each forceful penetration into her pussy. She breathed one sharp breath after another against my ear, and it drove me closer to my edge. I held her face back from my neck with my hands on her cheeks, and I studied her eyes as I fucked her. They were wide and frenzied as I pistoned into her, piercing and retracting harshly over and over again until on one final vicious thrust I stilled deep within her and came.

My eyes never left hers as my muscles tensed and strained, and my cum filled the condom as the tension and need drained from my body. She dropped her forehead to mine, and I gasped against her lips. My body trembled and lurched, and when my muscles finally started to relax again, I rolled her to my side, slipping from her pussy as she hissed. Her leg instantly snaked between mine again, and I held her in my arms. God, I loved holding her like this—so close, so perfectly wound up in her.

“That was the release I’ve been searching for,” I breathed out as I brushed her hair back, looking at her. “I’m not good at much in this world.”

Her brow furrowed. She didn’t like hearing me say that. She’d never liked it when I knocked myself down.

“But I’m good at loving you,” I whispered.

She snuggled up to my chest. She sniffed her nose, and I felt a tear drop to my chest, but she wasn’t crying. I wasn’t either when a tear ran down my cheek.

Chapter Twenty-Six

Helene

We were once again interrupted by Hilde, but this time it was at least by phone. The sound of my cell phone ringing jolted me out of sleep, and I glanced over Kane’s body to his alarm clock. It wasn’t there, though, and when I reached for my cell phone, the clock on the screen said it was nearly ten.

“Yes, sister bear,” I answered sleepily as I sat up and stretched.

Kane’s hand ran down my back, and then his warm lips met my spine just above my waist.

“Where are you?” Hilde’s voice was curt and clipped. “I’m at your house, and you’re not here.”

“Does it ever occur to you to call before you just show up unannounced?”

“No,” she said incredulously as though I’d lost my mind. Hilde sighed. “Mark is upset with me. When I told him about the other morning, he said I was a B-I-T-C-H to Kane.”

“You were.” I glanced over my shoulder, and Kane was just pulling away from my back.

Hilde sighed again. “We want you both to come over for dinner tomorrow.”

I stared at Kane, and he watched me calmly, clueless as to what my deranged sister was proposing.

“I’ll have to check with Kane.”

Kane’s eyebrows shot up.

“Well, I assumed you were with him,” Hilde said smartly.

I rolled my eyes. “Hold on.” I covered what I assumed was the microphone on the bottom of my phone, and I looked at Kane for a moment.

He cocked his head to the side as he grinned at me. “Yes…” He drew out the word.

“Hilde and Mark want us to come to dinner tomorrow at their place.”

It was one long nod as Kane’s chin raised and slowly sank, and the entire time his brow was furrowed in a line of worry.

“You can say no,” I said.

“No he can’t,” Hilde muttered in my ear.

Clearly I had no idea where the microphone was.

“I’m guessing Hilde’s not accustomed to people saying no to her,” Kane commented wryly.

“I heard that,” Hilde all but yelled in my ear.

“How about I say yes?” Kane smirked.

“Okay.”

He took a deep breath. “Then yes it is.” He leaned to my side, and he licked slowly along the side of my ribcage before he kissed the trail he’d made with his tongue.

I shivered, and my skin prickled with goosebumps. “Yes,” I said breathlessly into the phone.

“Good. Mark is smoking ribs. You guys could come to church with us tomorrow morning if you’d like.”

“Uh…” There was no way in hell that was going to happen. “…no thanks.”

“You sure. I bet Jake would love to see you.”

I sighed. “I actually saw Jake a couple nights ago. He seems … well,” I said.

Kane leaned back from my body once again, gnawing on the inside of his lip as he watched me.

“Okay. Then try to be here about one.”

“We’ll be there.”

I hung up moments later, and Kane watched me warily. He laid down with his head toward the foot of the bed and studied me.

“It’s almost ten.” I smiled at him, but my cheeks were warming thanks to the sudden silence.

His eyes were slowly moving over my body, studying, staring, and invading me. He nodded as his eyes kept roving. “How did you get in my house, out of curiosity?”

“There’s still a key hidden behind the downspout.”

He smiled. “I’d forgotten all about that.”

He pulled my nearest leg over his body, and I instantly reached between my legs and covered my crotch. He shook his head as he pulled my hand away. He stroked a finger between the lips of my sex as my thighs tremored. The lightest touch ran over my clit, and it sent a jolt of need through my body. He parted my lips with his fingers, studying me.

“Lean back,” he whispered.

I lounged back on my elbows so I could see him, and his fingers grazed gently over my skin. He moved closer, resting his cheek on the inside of my farthest thigh as my other leg stayed over his body. His fingers continued to gently spread me open and lightly stroke my skin. It was such a strangely intimate and casual way to be with him.

“You’re very pink this morning,” he said as he glanced up at me. “Was I too rough?”

“No.”

He looked at my eyes for a moment. “Are you sore?” His focus returned to studying and touching me.

“Yes.” The ache was deep and far more painful than I’d expected. But there was also something very pleasant about his ache.

Kane pushed himself up to sit, and he pulled my legs over his until we were tangled together, sitting close to one another—so close my hard, jutting nipples nearly brushed his chest. He reached for my chin, stroking his thumb across my lower lip, and then he kissed me, letting his lips linger against mine. “Are you okay?” he asked. “You’re being a little quiet.”

I was being quiet all of a sudden—as though I wasn’t quite sure what to say to him now that I didn’t have the distraction of Hilde.

“I’m fine,” I said just as quietly as he’d accused me of being.

He held my face close to his, so close I could look into his eyes but still feel the warmth of his breath on my lips.

“Are you being quiet because my cock was inside you last night? Does that make you shy?”

A very visible shudder ran through my body, and I bit my lip as I nodded.

“It’s just me, baby.” He kissed the corner of my mouth.

If he only knew just how shy his very words were making me. It was an absolutely incredible shyness though, and all I wanted was for him to keep talking.

“Did you like looking in my eyes as I fucked you? Knowing what we were doing? Is that why those cheeks are so pink right now?”

“Yes.”

“Did you like touching our skin as my cock slid into your pussy?”

“Yes.”

“Did you like the way it felt? How tight I fit inside you?”

God, he was killing me with that warm seductive voice that was far too calm for the subject matter.

“Yes.”

“Good. Then your shyness is forgiven.” He smiled at me. “Tell me I can have you again…” He kissed my cheek. “…and again…” He kissed my other cheek. “…and again.” He kissed the tip of my nose. “Because I definitely need to see more of this blush and this adorable shyness that is all about those very private things we did together.”

I nodded.

He pulled back, and his thumb kept caressing across my chin. “You were the stuff my wet dreams were made of in high school, and I can’t tell you how many masturbatory orgasms you’ve been responsible for.” He smirked. “Now I’m going to take a quick shower, run to the store and buy those damn cupboard pulls you like, and bring lunch back for us. Will you stay right here, in bed, waiting for me?”

“Okay.”

He pushed up from the bed, and I watched him walk naked from the room.

He was incredibly fit and toned. His buttocks, his back, his legs—strong and tight with muscles. He’d always been fit, but there was a hardness to his body I didn’t recall from when we were younger. I remembered a firmness to his body that I didn’t have, and I remembered the lines of muscles that ran under his skin. But now it was as if this layer of himself had dissolved, and the muscle now ran shallow and more visible than it had back then.

His skin was smooth, tanned and unblemished, but it covered steel and strength in this exceptionally arousing way. The entire time he’d made love to me, I’d soaked in the feel of his muscles working, contracting, and tightening under my palms. It had been rough, but not too rough—not at all. But touching those tense muscles and feeling them work was like touching something that was ready to explode in an eruption of power. He could be too rough with me, and it was likely a very fine line—one he’d flirted with perfectly last night. He could physically damage me. And the tension I’d touched made it clear he was holding back—perfectly restrained.

I listened to the shower run for a few minutes, and I looked around the room. He’d painted. The walls looked clean and smooth, and he’d used a very subtle gray with just enough brown in it to feel warm rather than stark and cold. I pulled the blanket up to my face, inhaling the scent. It smelled like him. Like soap and deodorant—clean and fresh but soft and used.

I sat up to the side of the bed, running my fingers through my hair and looking out at the woods beyond his window. My attention caught on pieces of scattered broken plastic on the floor by the closet, and when I walked over to the mess, I crouched down, flipping over the face plate of the alarm clock that had been sitting on the nightstand the last time I’d been in here. He’d clearly been in about the same mood I’d been in for the past couple days. I’d paced, I’d cried, I’d panicked, and I’d finally broken down and come over here when I couldn’t stand it anymore.

When I returned to bed again, I glanced down into the still open nightstand drawer, and I inhaled sharply as I sank to sit on the mattress. I reached into the drawer, pulling a strand of balls out. They varied in size from as small as a pea on one end to damn near the size of a golf ball on the other. The balls were made of clear pink silicone, and they were connected one after another from small to large with a ring on the end with the largest ball. I set the strand aside, swallowing harshly over a sudden lump in my throat.

When I reached in again, it was to pull out something that looked like a metal bullet. But it was too large to be a real bullet. The ends were rounded, and the metal was smooth aside from a line that ran around the center of it. When I turned the thing along the line, it whirred to life and vibrated quietly between my fingers.

“Oh, fuck,” I whispered as I tried to turn the damn thing back off, and as my fingers fumbled with it, I heard the bathroom door open and the sound of footsteps coming down the hall. “Fuck,” I hissed under my breath.

“Where do you want me—”

I dropped the metal thing on the floor the moment I heard his voice, and it rolled away from me still vibrating. I spun around to see Kane standing naked at the foot of the bed still holding his towel in his hand. He was staring at the floor at the place the thing had finally stopped rolling, and his voice had gone quiet.

When he suddenly stalked toward me, I actually jumped. He reached down grabbing the bullet like thing off the floor, and as he was standing back up, he looked toward me and caught sight of the strand of balls sitting beside me on the bed. He grabbed that as well, turned the vibrating bullet off, and chucked both into the small garbage can that sat beside the nightstand. He slammed the nightstand drawer in, and when he righted his posture, he glared down at me.

But he crossed his arms, tucking his hands under them.

“What are those things?” My voice was too quiet.

His brow flinched, and he looked away. “They belonged to a woman I was seeing.”

“Lisa?” I hated that I felt jealous of a married woman who’d been having an extramarital affair on a man I respected with the man I was sleeping with. There was something horribly fucked up about that.

“No,” he whispered. “Another…” But he trailed off as he looked away again.

It was silent as I sat rigidly on the side of the bed, and he towered above me. But he wasn’t angry. The cross of his arms said it clearly enough to me. It was vulnerability. He was afraid.

“You didn’t answer me.” I forced myself to look up at him, but he couldn’t seem to hold the eye contact.

“Anal beads and a vibrator,” he finally responded, and when my focus hit the floor between us as that bit of information sank in, he dropped to his knees in front of me. “I don’t need that from you.”

I glanced at him. He was searching my eyes, but as I stared back unable to figure out how to respond, his focus started shifting around the room in a panic. His eyes searched the space around us, and his jaw was tight. I tried to lock onto what exactly I was feeling. I almost hated that he’d said he didn’t need that from me. I also knew he’d said it for my benefit to reassure me, and feeling pathetic as a result wasn’t the right response. So why did I feel so fucking pathetic and naive all of a sudden?

I reached for his hand, refusing to let my thoughts get away from me. His eyes darted back to me, finally holding the eye contact.

“Why don’t I go with you?” I stared at him. I was desperate to move on from this. I didn’t want to go back to the two days prior and try to wrap my head around who he was before this. “We can just go to my house until we have to go to Hilde’s tomorrow,” I suggested. “I mean, unless you’re working here today.”

He finally smiled. “Seeing as I slept through half the day, I’m writing this one off.” He nodded. “Do you just want to take your car?”

“Yeah.”

We dressed, and I watched him tuck some clean clothes into a small worn rucksack, and before we left the room, he grabbed the small garbage can, carrying it with him. He dumped it into the larger one in the kitchen, and then pulled the overly-large nearly full garbage bag from the barrel. I followed him out, taking the rucksack from him as he tossed the garbage bag into the tow away dumpster that was sitting off to the side of the house, and when he returned to me, he pushed me up against the driver’s door, kissing me as he fumbled with my hand and took the keys from me.

I smiled against his lips, laughing even as he still kissed me. He drove us toward town. The route, as it always had, took us down that same stretch of highway past the place the old gas station used to be. It was nothing but an empty gravel lot now, cut into the side of the road and surrounded by tall mature trees, but it didn’t take much imagination to remember exactly how the run down building used to look.

I hated driving by that place still, and as my eyes drifted off to the lot, Kane reached for my hand, taking it and enfolding my fingers within his. I glanced at him, and I tried to smile, but I couldn’t manage it any more than he seemed able to.

The now defunct Sleepaway was another half a mile farther down, and it was an eerie deserted old place now, overgrown with bushes, most of the windows boarded over, and the sign a worn and weathered nearly illegible thing. I looked over at the place, catching Kane’s own attention already glued to the same spot. He exhaled deeply, and I tightened my hand on his. Soon we were back in town, and he dropped me off at my place first, before running out to pick up the cupboard pulls and lunch.

I showered while he was gone, and when he returned, we ate while we watched T.V. I spent a while working on my dissertation with my laptop on my lap and my legs stretched out on the couch. Kane read the entire time, sitting at the opposite end of the couch with his legs tangled up with mine.

“How is it coming along?” he asked when I closed my laptop to take a break and pushed my reading glasses up to the top of my head.

I sighed, shaking my head. “I don’t know. I’m missing the mark. I know that much.”

He scowled for a second. “What makes you think that?”

“Because … I’m writing a damn good research paper, but that’s all I’m doing. It’s research, it’s rehashing someone else’s ideas, theories. There’s nothing original about it.”

“What do you think is missing?” He smirked. “Aside from originality.”

I smiled, letting my head rest back on the pillow behind me. “I don’t know.” I glanced away. “It’s not that I thought I’d be breaking new ground or writing something earth shatteringly profound. I just…” I looked back at him. “…thought I’d have something important to say. Instead, I’m relying on everything that’s already been written. I always kind of thought my dissertation would include … real research, new research—even if it was just interviews with common people about their common problems. Just something that can’t be Googled.” I laughed.

“So maybe that’s what’s missing. Maybe you need to get your head out of the books and start seeing this as a real life study. I mean, you were amazing in class the other night. You brought the relevance of the subject front and center, and you captivated the students. You captivated me.”

“I argued with you,” I corrected him.

He smiled. “You challenged me.” He studied me. “You made it feel real, relevant, and people understood that.”

“You never really did share your opinions on the subject. In fact, you refused to discuss the topic altogether if I recall.”

“I didn’t refuse anything. I said it’s complicated, and it is.” He crawled across the sofa and between my legs, taking my laptop from my hands and setting it on the floor as he laid on my body, propping his chin up in the middle of my stomach. “‘It’s complicated’ is a perfectly relevant answer.”

I sighed as I looked at him, and I reached for his lower lip, running my thumb across it. When he suddenly lunged for my finger, I shrieked. His lips closed around my thumb, and he sucked on it, his tongue circling and swirling around it as my mouth hung open. He let my thumb out of his mouth slowly, clamping his teeth gently onto the tip for a moment.

“I promise we’ll talk about this someday. But at the risk of ruining a perfectly good Saturday, can we maybe shelve this conversation for the time being?”

I nodded. He pushed off my body, stood, and walked toward the hallway, and I heard the bathroom door close moments later. When he returned, he was holding my packet of birth control pills in his hand. He walked to the couch, sinking down at the end and pulling his legs up casually. He studied me for a moment as he turned the package over in his hands.

“Can we talk about something?” He actually looked a little nervous when he asked the question.

“Yes.”

“Why do you take these? I mean … I was under the impression you weren’t too fond of fucking your boyfriends.”

“That’s an understatement,” I muttered. “Well I did have a boyfriend that I … had sex with on occasion until a couple months ago.” I rolled my eyes. “But really I’m just taking them now to stop my periods and to keep me sane, too. Bad PMS.”

He nodded as he studied my eyes, but he was quiet for a while. “I’ve exhibited some … self-destructive tendencies in the past. Yes?”

“I would say that’s likely true,” I responded.

“I need you to understand I’m not self-destructive with other people. My damage is limited to me.”

I glanced away, and I scoffed quietly. “That’s not true.” I looked back at him. “I’m sorry, but it’s just not. Ask Jake how he feels about you sleeping with his wife. The damage you do to yourself always affects the people around you. That’s just life.”

He stared at me blankly for a moment, but then his eyes shifted to look at the sofa between us. My heart pounded. I’d just taken the same damn argument we’d spent the past two days recovering from and thrown it right back in his face.

“I’m not trying to make you feel guilty, Kane. I’m really not, but please don’t say that to me. It hurts me to see you hurt yourself.”

When he finally looked up at me, he nodded subtly. “I know,” he said quietly. He said nothing else, and the packet in his hand suddenly seemed forgotten.

I crawled across the sofa to him this time, pushing his legs apart and curling up against his body. I took the packet from him, and I kissed up the side of his neck to his ear. I nipped his earlobe, and his breath caught in his throat, and then he hummed as he wrapped his arms around me. He pulled me up to my knees then, wrapping my legs around his waist as he leaned back against the end of the couch.

He took the packet back from me and held it up between us. He took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I’m not self-destructive with other people’s health. I would never jeopardize someone’s wellbeing for a fuck.”

I just stared at him.

“And above even those limits, I would never gamble with your health. Not you. Not ever. I’m careful. I always use protection, and I still get tested just to be sure. Twice in the last year, and I’ve not had sex without protection for years. If you want me to get tested again, I will.” He glanced away. “Did you always use protection with the three men you dated?”

I rolled my eyes. “When you say it like that you make me sound pathetic. I’m a little too old to have only had three lovers, but thank you for pointing it out.” I was trying to lighten his mood.

“Four lovers,” he corrected, finally smiling a little. He sat up straighter, bringing his face close to mine. “That’s not pathetic to me anymore than the fact you were still a virgin at seventeen was. I always loved your innocence. You still have it, and I still love it. I’ve always envied it. But I need you to answer the question.”

“Yes. Always. And birth control on top of that, because that’s how us nerds roll.”

“Of course you did.” He smirked. “I want to come inside you,” he said bluntly.

I gaped at him for a moment, but a shiver ran over my skin.

He kissed my chin. “And I absolutely think you understand the intimacy of that and why I would want that with you.”

I nodded.

“Tell me you’re okay with this.”

“I am.”

“Tell me you want to feel my cum inside you,” he whispered against my ear.

“Right now?” I asked.

He chuckled. “Yes. Right… Fucking… Now…”

He stood and carried me back to the bedroom as I clung to his neck. I smiled with my lips to his skin, and I closed my eyes knowing what was to come was going to feel incredible. He felt incredible. This was a nice life. I’m not sure I’d ever thought that before—or not for a long time at any rate, but it was. A good life. A life I wanted to keep.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Kane

“I’m nervous.” I glanced at Helene beside me in her car as she drove me toward certain death at the hands of Hilde. The only good thing I could say was that Helene and Hilde’s parents had apparently moved away to Chicago a few years before when their father’s job was transferred, so at least Hilde was the only family member I had to contend with.

Helene smiled as though this weren’t the end of the world. “It’s going to be fine. I promise.”

“Sure it is¸” I muttered.

Within moments we were pulling up in front of Mark and Hilde’s house. It was a large two story colonial type house with a deep perfectly manicured front lawn. The house was white with black shutters, and it was just … Hilde. Perfection written all over it.

Until we entered.

I cocked my head to the side as I stared at what looked like an upside down penis drawn on the wall by the stairs—or perhaps it was just a flaccid cock.

I pointed at the drawing as we walked past it. “That’s—” I stopped still, and Helene stopped too.

“A flower,” Helene finished. She nodded, but her lips were pursed. “See…” She pointed to it. “This is the flower pot…” Cockhead. “These are the stems of two flowers going up…” Shaft of the cock. “And these are the flowers…” Testicles.

“Is that what you see?” I asked.

She nodded. “Mm-hmm. Yep.” But she was full of shit. “Sienna is quite the artist and maven of mayhem.”

I glanced around seeing more evidence of the mayhem every direction I turned. “Is that a banana peel sticking out of the DVD player?”

Helene glanced in the direction of the T.V. “Oh, well, yes, it apparently is.” She didn’t sound surprised.

I just nodded as I followed her through the house.

When we entered the kitchen, I clasped Helene’s hand, and she squeezed mine in return. Hilde was at the stove, and there was a little boy sitting at the table, drawing on a large notepad. Hilde glanced at us as her hand stirred something in a pot. She smiled at Helene, and when her attention shifted to me, her smile froze as though she were forcing it to stay put.

“Hilde,” I said. “How are you?”

“I’m fine. Nice to see you with your clothes on.”

I stared at her for a moment, not sure how to respond to that one.

“Yes, Hilde. It’s great that we’re all wearing our clothes today,” Helene stepped in. “Brode-man, come give me a hug and meet a friend of mine.”

The little boy smiled at Helene and ran to her, clutching at her hip. When Helene crouched down to his level, a shiver ran up my spine. She didn’t once let go of my hand, and there was something odd and wonderful about being touched by her at the same time as I watched her wrap her free arm around her nephew.

“Brody, this is my friend Kane. Can you say hello to him?”

The little boy looked up at me, and he held his hand out for me to shake like a perfect little miniature gentleman. I crouched, finally releasing Helene’s hand. I took Brody’s, giving it a good yet gentle shake.

“It’s very nice to meet you, Brody.”

“You too.” He smiled shyly, rocking on the outside of his loafers.

I glanced to Helene just to see her already watching me. She was smiling, and she reached out, running her palm down the back of my arm and squeezing gently.

We stood as Brody scurried back to his seat at the table and picked up his ridiculously fat crayons and started coloring again.

“Where’s Sienna?” Helene slipped her hand around my waist as she spoke to Hilde.

Hilde glanced at us, her eyes catching on the closeness of our bodies. She glanced to my eyes and then dismissively back to what she was stirring. “She just went down for a nap. She’s coming down with a cold, and she’s not feeling very well.” She glanced back to us again. “Mark’s outside, Kane. He’s looking forward to talking barbeque with you.” Hilde rolled her eyes.

I kissed Helene on the temple and left the safety of her side. The slider from the eat-in kitchen opened out onto a patio that extended to the detached garage. Mark and his smoker were set up by the side of the garage. Mark was wearing a ridiculous apron that no man with testicles should ever be caught dead in. But then, Mark had always been a bit of a dweeb. Hilde too for that matter. And Helene also if I were being honest.

“Hey, Kane,” Mark said with a broad smile on his face the moment I stepped out to the patio. “Glad to see you.” He waved with his tongs.

“Good to see you too.” I walked over.

Mark pulled his right hand from his equally emasculating oven mitt and held his hand out. I shook his hand and then stuffed mine in my pockets. It was cool out, and it was overcast. If it didn’t rain before the end of the day, I’d be surprised.

“There’s beer in the garage fridge if you want one.”

“No, I’m fine. Thanks anyway.”

We were silent for a moment as Mark studied his ribs, turned them over, brushed something on them, and grabbed the large serving platter sitting on the nearby table. “The key to smoking a good rib is using a mop sauce rather than barbeque sauce. And applying it every forty-five minutes, of course.” He smiled at me.

“Of course.” I took the platter from him, and he stacked one rack after another onto the plate.

“Naturally, that meant I couldn’t go to church this morning.” He winked at me. “Ignore the passive aggressive Hilde comments on that subject.”

And now I liked the man.

I laughed as he closed the smoker and took the platter back from me. I pulled the slider open for Mark, and he stepped in before me. Hilde and Helene were setting the table, talking about some random thing to do with Kindergarten education. Brody was sitting at the table already, and when the table was set, Helene sat down next to the little boy, and I took the spot across from her. Hilde and Mark sat at the ends of the table, and the booster seat next to me remained empty of the little maven of mayhem.

I watched Helene tear off a rib from her rack, and she held it up to Brody who clinked it with his own. He instantly giggled, and she nudged him in the side.

“Do you want children, Kane?” Hilde asked before I’d even touched my food. I glanced at her, startled for a second.

“Good heavens, wife. Don’t you know how to ease into anything?” Mark asked her as he rolled his eyes.

She smirked, but then she looked directly at me, waiting for an answer I wasn’t sure how to give her.

“I… I guess I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it that much.”

Helene watched me for a moment, but she glanced down at her plate, saying nothing. I watched her eat her ribs, ignoring the way Hilde studied me suspiciously and Mark berated her with his eyes.

Helene ended up with barbeque sauce in the corner of her mouth, and I watched her try to lick it away. It didn’t work, and she ended up pushing it just a bit farther from her lips. I stared, refusing to tell her and enjoying the sight of my ridiculous little nerd immensely.

Until Hilde got her second wind.

“So what have you been doing all these years, Kane?”

I looked at Helene for a moment, and then I turned my attention to Hilde. “I’ve just been moving around here and there. Worked on some construction crews. South during the winter where it was easier to find work, and then up north again during the summer where working outside was more tolerable. Just … around.” I glanced away.

“Helene said you’re doing work on your dad’s house. I wasn’t aware you were so skilled, but she says it looks amazing.”

And that was a classic underhanded Hilde compliment. I had no idea if I should thank her for saying my work was amazing or be offended she assumed I was unskilled. Instead, I ignored the comment altogether. “I started out framing and roofing years ago, but since then, I’ve spent a lot of time doing finish work too. I like the detail of finish work, so renovating my dad’s place is right up my alley.”

“Well, perhaps when you’re finished on your dad’s place, we can hire you to do some work around here.” Mark smiled kindly at me. “As you may have noticed, our youngest tends to be…”

“Artistic—?” I started to offer.

“Destructive,” Mark cut me off, chuckling. “You couldn’t have missed the P-E-N-I-S in the entryway,” Mark continued.

“I was told it was a flower.”

The table laughed at that—even Hilde.

“Dad, I know you’re spelling penis,” Brody commented.

Mark scowled at Hilde. “Why are they teaching our child how to spell penis in kindergarten?”

Hilde shrugged. “He’s an advanced reader.”

Mark looked at me then. “Do you like the barbeque sauce? It’s a family recipe.”

I glanced at Helene who was smiling sweetly at me, still with barbeque sauce in the corner of her mouth. All I could think about was licking it off and just how delicious Mark’s family recipe would taste on my tongue. And when my brain went there, my cock did too, and I ended up with a hard-on.

“Yes, it’s very good.” I commented.

I survived the rest of the meal without any more verbal assaults from Hilde, and when I stood to carry my plate to the sink, Helene followed me. Hilde nudged us both out of the way as she started rinsing dishes.

“Can you show me where the restroom is so I can wash my hands?” I eyed Helene’s lips even as I asked her the question.

“Sure.”

I followed her down a short hallway to a small half bath, and when she held her hand out toward the cramped little room, I grabbed it, pulled her in with me, and closed the door behind us.

“Look at those sweet little lips of yours,” I whispered in her ear as I turned her to face the mirror above the sink. I reached around her shoulder, clutching her lower jaw in my hand. She was far too busy studying my eyes to see the barbeque sauce. But when I stroked my thumb down the side of her jaw, it pulled her attention to the spot. Her eyes bulged as she took in the red sauce stuck in the corner of her mouth, and her cheeks turned pink.

“Lick it,” I whispered in her ear, and then I angled her face toward mine.

Her tongue ran to the corner of her mouth, and I leaned to her lips, holding my eyes open and on hers as I did. I licked the tip of her tongue as she shoved it into that crook of skin, and she hummed. But when she stopped licking, I didn’t. The laving soon turned into a kiss, and when my tongue slipped past her lips, she whimpered.

I turned her to face me, pushing her against the bathroom counter and never breaking from her mouth. My fingers ran through her hair, and my moan was laced with a sigh, breathy and heated. “Fuck, I need you,” I growled against her lips.

She shook her head, but her refusal was barely more than an idea, and clearly not one with much backbone to it. She kissed me harder, and it was a good minute of juvenile groping later before she finally made a real attempt at stopping this, and when she pushed me away with her forehead, I sighed.

I growled with my mouth to her neck. “Being hated by Hilde really makes me want to fuck her little sister in the bathroom of her own home.”

Helene laughed quietly. “Pinnacle of maturity you are.”

I laughed then, finally stepping back from her body. I stroked my bottom lip with my finger. “I have to say, Mark does make exceptional barbeque sauce.”

She ran her thumb over the corner of her mouth as she shook her head. I walked out, and she followed, and within moments, we were back in the kitchen—Hilde none the wiser, which was almost a shame in my opinion.

“Mark went outside,” she said to me. “Storm’s coming in, and he wanted to get the smoker in the garage. He’ll probably move my car out so it can be downpoured on just so he can protect that thing.” She actually smiled as she glanced over her shoulder.

“I’ll go see if he needs help.”

Helene smiled at me as I walked back out the slider to the patio.

The clouds were darker, and thunder was rumbling ominously in the distance. It was colder yet than it had been an hour earlier, and leaves whipped across the ground. It was the first week of October, almost eleven years to the day since I left this town. Hell and I had been in the second month of our senior year of high school, and it was two weeks before homecoming when the world came crashing down around us.

I’d been contemplating asking her to go. Actually, I’d been working up the nerve. I knew I was going to ask, but nothing with Helene was ever as simple as it was with other people. I knew if I asked it would change things for us. And I was terrified of that. In the end, it hadn’t mattered. Homecoming was the stuff normal life was made of—not our lives. Our lives had been ruined by then.

I sighed as I looked up at the sky, and then I ducked into the garage.

“Hey,” I said to Mark.

He peered over his shoulder at me, smiling broadly. “Hi. I was afraid you’d get roped into dishes.”

“I escaped just in time.”

Mark was pushing the smoker back into a corner, and when he turned around he brushed his hands off. “Afraid that’s probably the last time I’ll use the smoker until spring.” He ran his hand over it as though it was a coveted thing.

The man definitely had a hard-on for his smoker.

“Lunch was wonderful. Thanks for including me.”

Mark nodded. “Of course.” He smiled again, but he glanced away and cleared his throat. When he looked back, he seemed uncomfortable. “I’m sorry about Hilde’s … behavior the other day.” Mark studied me for a moment, clearly gauging my reaction. “She told me… It’s just, Hilde’s pretty protective of Helene. And you…” He trailed off, staring at me again. “Well, Helene went through a really tough time when you left. And I think Hilde is just worried about her. I hope you won’t take it personal.”

I contemplated saying nothing, but morbid curiosity got the better of me. “What was she like after I left?”

Mark’s eyebrows shot up, but he was staring at the floor in some long lost memory. “You sure you want to talk about this?” He leaned back against the nearby workbench, crossing his ankles and clearly willing to entertain my curiosity.

I nodded.

He shrugged. “She fell apart. It was … confusing. I mean, of course she missed you. You were her best friend, but… I don’t know… There was more to it than that. At least I’ve always thought so. She quit her job at the gas station—just up and refused to go. Stopped eating, was having nightmares. There were days her parents couldn’t even get her out of bed to go to school. They were calling us at college almost daily, panicking about her. She lost a lot of weight, stopped taking care of herself.” He shook his head, looking at the ground again. “It was bad.”

I tried to swallow, but it stuck in my throat like a wad of dry shame that just wouldn’t go down.

“When Hilde and I came home for Christmas break, I honestly didn’t know if Hilde would come back to school with me. She was devastated when she saw how bad Helene had gotten. I don’t know…” He glanced away. “Her parents dragged her to one shrink after another, put her on antidepressants, begged her to talk, but…” He shrugged again.

I nodded, trying to act normal, but inside my body was groaning, and I felt like I needed to double over in pain. Why the fuck had I asked about this?

Mark looked up at me, and his face fell. “I’m sorry, Kane. You can’t blame yourself. There was more going on than just you leaving. I’m certain of it.”

I took a deep breath. “I left her when she needed me. I wasn’t here for her. And I can absolutely blame myself for that.”

Mark shook his head. “You were just a kid yourself. You can’t make yourself responsible for her. Whatever this thing was with her, you can’t blame yourself for that.”

I scoffed, but there wasn’t an ounce of humor to it. The man had no idea how responsible I was for this. “Yeah.” I wasn’t agreeing with him. I simply wasn’t willing to delve into the inevitable conversation that would ensue if I disagreed. “How long was she like that?”

He smirked. “Should we be having this conversation?”

I crossed my arms, nodding as I looked away.

“Why haven’t you talked to her about this?”

“I guess there are some things I’m not ready to bring up yet. A lot of things actually,” I muttered. A whole fucking lot of things. “I don’t think she would tell me the truth anyway.”

“Wouldn’t you like to get to the point where she can talk to you about this?”

I nodded. “It’s a difficult subject.”

“And yet, you’re both here.” He tossed a tarp over the smoker, and when he turned around, he smiled again. “She came out of it eventually. Can’t say she’s ever been the same Helene I knew before this … spell. She was always a good student, as you well know, but by the time she came out of this … thing her grades had started slipping. She became obsessive about her studies then. Driven to the point of absurdity in my opinion. Of course, her parents and even Hilde saw it as a great sign that she was getting better, but … I don’t know. It seemed to replace everything else—friends, activities, even family. She just wasn’t the same.”

We were silent for a moment.

She was no more the same Helene than I was the same Kane. I missed us. Both of us. But I also loved this Helene as much as the old. I loved seeing how she coped, how she fought her way through it. She likely wouldn’t appreciate that. Her life didn’t feel pretty to her after all, but I was still amazed by it.

It didn’t mean a single second of this conversation wasn’t painful.

“Something more happened, didn’t it?” Mark wasn’t asking the question. He was asking for confirmation of what he already believed, and his face was stone serious as he studied me.

I nodded before I realized my head was moving.

Mark’s lips pursed. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “Whatever it was, it clearly affected you too.”

“Daddy,” a little voice came from the open garage door.

I turned to see Brody standing there.

“Will you come read with me?”

Mark walked to the little boy, scooping him up in his arms. “Of course, buddy.” Mark glanced at me over his shoulder, and he smiled.

I followed them back in the house.

“Where’s Helene?” Mark asked Hilde as he set Brody down.

Hilde was still working in the kitchen. “Sienna woke up too early from her nap. Helene went upstairs to try to get her back down.”

Mark took Brody’s hand and led him into the living room. I hung back for a moment, but decided I’d prefer to watch Mark read to his child than try to make small talk with Hilde any day of the week. Brody sat on Mark’s lap, and Mark would read a sentence or two, pointing out words here and there for Brody to sound out. I watched them for a few minutes, waiting for Helene to come downstairs, and when she didn’t, I snuck off to find her, passing the penis drawing on my way upstairs.

I could hear her voice, and I followed it down the hall to a very pink bedroom. I stayed at the door, watching her silently. She was singing quietly to the little girl in her arms. Her hips swayed back and forth, and she stood in front of the window, looking out at the rain that was now coming down.

I could see the little girl’s fingers twisting in Helene’s hair, and I sank against the frame, listening to Helene’s voice. I didn’t know the song, but it sounded like a lullaby, given its mention of conversations with the moon, but I did know Helene’s voice. I’d forgotten how beautiful it was. How had I forgotten that?

There was one particular line in the song that sent a shiver through my body. It was about the light the moon had bestowed on a child illuminating the dark in a room. All I could think about was the yellow flower in the snow, and how much warmth this woman had the power to give me.

I caught myself digging my fingers into the frame of the door as I clung to it, and by the time she finished singing, Sienna’s fingers had stilled in Helene’s hair.

“I love you, peanut,” she whispered.

She carefully laid Sienna in her small bed, and she pulled the blankets over her. When she turned toward me, she started for a second, clutching her hand to her chest, but then she smiled. Her eyes were glossy even though her lips were pulling up—as though the song she’d been singing or the fact she’d been singing it to her niece had affected her emotionally in some way. She walked past me out the door, pulling the door closed behind her.

“Hi,” she said quietly.

“Hi.”

We stared at one another for a moment saying nothing more. All I could see was her wasting away in pain. I never should have asked Mark to talk about that time in Helene’s life. I cleared my throat as I looked away, and when I looked back, her brow was furrowed.

“What was that song you were singing?” I asked her. I wanted to know, but I also just really needed to move on from the thoughts circling in my head.

“The Sweetest Gift. Sade.” Her brow still hadn’t unfurrowed.

“I like it.”

“Are you okay?” She reached for my waist, slipping her hands underneath my shirt as she stepped closer.

I nodded, leaning down and letting my lips touch the top of her head. But it was lie. I wasn’t okay.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Helene

Kane took the keys from me when we left, and we ran quickly out to the car, getting soaked on the way. His longer hair hung in his face, and he pushed it back off his forehead. He was silent as we drove, but he reached over, taking my hand.

When he headed toward his own house instead of mine, I didn’t say a word. When he sat in silence beside me after pulling into his driveway without asking me to come in, I didn’t react. And when he reached for my hand, I bit my lower lip.

He leaned over and kissed me. “I need to get some work done. I’ll call you later.” His voice was too quiet, his eyes too hesitant. I didn’t like this.

I nodded, trying to figure out his mood. But I couldn’t, and when he opened the door and climbed out, I did too. I ran around the car quickly as the rain poured down on me. I said nothing as I pulled the door open, but he stopped walking, and I paused, still standing in the rain.

He turned to face me and closed the space between us, placing his hands on top of mine as I clutched the top of the door. “I know you don’t think your life is beautiful,” he said quietly. “And I know it hasn’t always been. But, Hell, your life is so … fucking … beautiful.” His mouth pulled up in an odd smile, but his lips trembled.

I nodded, not even sure what I was nodding at. I was confused. I was also afraid. I wanted more than anything to understand what was happening in his head right now, but I didn’t.

“I’ll call you later.” And he turned and walked away.

I stared after him, the downpour of rain washing more and more hair into my face and eyes the longer I stood there, and when I finally shook my head, I used both hands to push it back.

I climbed in my car, sitting my wet ass on my wet seat, and I cranked the heat up. I drove home, shivering the entire way, and when I ran into the house, the frigid rain pelted me and I cursed. I stripped out of my wet clothes leaving them on the bathroom floor, and then I stood in a hot shower, not bathing, not washing anything at all—just letting the water warm my skin.

He didn’t call me that evening, and by the time ten o’clock rolled around, I was on edge, confused, and hurt. I picked up my phone multiple times, staring at it and contemplating dialing him. I could—of course I could, but he’d said he would, and there was something that smacked my pride about that.

Rather than dial the phone, I curled up on my bed with a book and pulled a throw over my legs. Concentrating on the book proved impossible, and I tossed it aside, choosing to stare at my ceiling instead. The wind howled outside, and I listened to the rain hitting the window panes. I’d not shaken the cold from my bones since getting home, and I finally crawled under the quilt and sheets when I caught myself tucking my hands between my legs and shivering.

It wasn’t until after ten that night that something pulled my focus from the place my eyes had been staring on the ceiling. The knock on the front door startled me for a half a second. It must be him. I wanted it to be, and when I walked toward the door my feet moved quickly.

“Hi,” he said when I pulled the door open. He stood there shivering and wet, soaked to the skin through his clothes and his hair a saturated mop that hung in his face and dripped.

I glanced past him to the driveway, but his dad’s truck wasn’t there.

“Kane, how did you get here?”

He crossed his arms. “I just… I walked.” He glanced at me, but then he looked down to the ground between us.

“Why? I could have come to get you. Why didn’t you just call me?”

He shook his head. He seemed a bit lost, and I was still just as clueless as I’d been when I’d dropped him off at his home hours earlier.

“I needed to walk. I needed to think.”

I bit my lower lip. “And your walk brought you all the way here in the freezing rain?”

He actually smiled a little at that. “Of course my walk brought me here. Everything in my life seems to bring me to you.”

I stepped back from the door, and he paused for a moment, looking down at his clothes. He eventually took the step though. He stood dripping on the tile entryway floor, and I stripped his shirt over his head, dropping it to the floor. He watched me, and when I undid the button of his pants, he reached for my face and gripped my cheeks. He didn’t smile, he just held my face as my fingers worked, and when I was pushing his pants and underwear down his hips, he pulled my mouth to his.

“How can it feel so good … and so terrifying at the same time?” he whispered just before his mouth touched mine. It was a sweet kiss, a gentle one, and when he pulled back, he licked his lower lip.

I reached for his chest, running my palms over his hard muscles. His skin popped with goosebumps as my hands moved. I stopped short of his waist, though, taking his hand in mine instead, and I pulled him down the hall. I grabbed a towel from the linen closet on the way back to my bedroom, and he took it from me, drying his hair and his body as I leaned back against my dresser, watching him. He sat on the edge of the bed, the towel in his hand.

“What’s going on with you?” I crossed my arms. It was oddly reminiscent of Kane—the way he crossed his when he was vulnerable. Vulnerable was definitely how I felt.

His eyes moved around for a moment as though he wasn’t sure how to respond.

“Kane, please—”

“I’m afraid to be on top of you when we make love.” He stared at my chest as he said the words, and it was only the briefest glance to my eyes that I got when he went silent.

The comment was so misplaced I just stared at him, my mouth hanging open. “What?”

He took a deep breath, and it looked forced when he finally shifted his focus up to my face. “Terrified,” he said. “Terrified of seeing you under me. Terrified of seeing you looking up at me the way you did… Terrified you’ll look the same. Terrified you’ll feel the same.” He shook his head, and when he opened his mouth to say something more, he ended up closing it and looking down again. When he finally looked back at me, he shrugged. “How fucking twisted is that?” He truly seemed confused by what he was saying. “That making love to you would remind me of raping you.”

I stared at him, remembering the afternoon before when he’d taken me to bed. I’d tried to pull him on top of me when he’d been laying facing me, but he’d resisted it. I hadn’t thought anything of it. He’d ended up behind me, pinning me to the bed and thrusting against my bottom as he invaded my pussy. Regardless of the position I’d been in, he’d still been the one in control. It didn’t make any sense that he should fear this.

“I’m not terrified of you,” I said gently. My heart raced even as I tried to reassure him, and my nerves were standing on end.

He sighed, letting his head fall back for a moment as he inhaled deeply. When he looked back at me, he was silent for a moment. “Mark told me what it was like for you after I left town.”

My eyes widened as I stood there.

“I asked him. I thought I wanted to know. I thought I needed to hear what he was going to say,” he whispered. “I did. I did need to hear it. But … I wasn’t prepared.” His eyes searched mine. “How can you want me? How can you not want a life apart from me, with marriage, a family, a real home, and real … problems—like whose going to take the garbage out, who’s going to fix the drawing on the wall, pull the banana peel from the DVD player, get the baby up from her nap.” He shrugged, looking down at the towel in his lap. “And it’s not just our past and what happened. It’s… It’s your life. It’s always been your life. Everything that happened today is so normal for you. And yet … it feels so strange to me.” He finally looked back to my eyes. “I don’t know how to give you that life.”

“I didn’t ask for that life.” My hands were clammy as I hid them under my crossed arms. The race of my heart was sending a flush of uncomfortable panic through my body. I really didn’t like this.

He just stared at me.

“Why do I feel like you’re breaking up with me?” I finally asked. The question alone intensified the panic I was feeling.

“Breaking up?” he scoffed as he ran his hand through his hair, pushing the damp strands back from his face. “From what? What is this? Is this a relationship to you? Is that what we’re doing?” His eyes continued to shift back and forth across mine. “Because it feels like a relationship to me, and … if that’s the case, then where does this go? You want to be in a relationship with a man who can’t even stand the idea of being between your legs because it disturbs him so much, and yet, who’s addicted to making love to you.” He scoffed again—this weird almost-laugh, and when he clutched at his forehead he just shook his head.

“You didn’t answer the question.” I glared at him, but in truth, it was still all panic. “Are you breaking up with me?”

He let out an exasperated huff. “No!” he snapped, glaring just as harshly back at me. “I’m just trying to figure out how to deserve you, Helene.”

I let out a gasp of air at that comment.

He stared at me, breathing heavily. “And when you figure out I don’t, I’m not sure what that’s going to do to me, and that … scares the shit out of me.” He shrugged.

“Don’t say that.” I stepped up to him, kneeling at his feet and clutching the backs of his calves. “Please don’t say that.” I focused on him for a moment. “Why is it so hard for you to believe you deserve to be happy?”

He smirked, but the expression didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Because you’re not always around to reassure me. And you’re the only person in the world I would believe.”

I kneeled up, pushing his thighs apart so I could get closer to him. I pulled the towel from his lap, dropping it to the floor. I clutched at his cheeks with my hands, my fingers curling behind his jawline. “I know you deserve to be happy,” I whispered.

He dropped his forehead to mine. “What happens when you find out you’re wrong?” His voice was just as quiet.

I pulled back, watching him, unable to say anything at all. The stare went on for a long time, and his expression was frozen as he held the eye contact. But then his lips twitched into an almost-smile, and he shook his head. “I just needed to fall apart a little today. I’m sorry.”

He pulled me up to stand and then into bed with him. He reached to the bedside lamp, turning it off, and then he pulled my T-shirt off and inched my yoga pants down past my hips. He stripped them off my legs along with my underwear, and then he wrapped his arms around me. He made no move to touch me beyond that, and I snuggled up to his neck and listened to his breathing. It slowed until I knew he was sleeping, and then I fell asleep, too.

* * * *

I had no idea what time it was when I was startled out of sleep. Kane was thrashing beside me and gasping for air. I reached for his arm, but at my touch, the thrashing became worse, and I pulled away. He sat up, sucking in a deep breath as though he’d been suffocating, and then he groaned out, “Oh, fuck. Goddammit.” He panted.

“Kane.” I reached for his arm again, but he pulled away from my touch.

I listened to the bedding move, and I felt the mattress shift as he sat up. He flipped the bedside lamp on, and I glanced over at him. His back was to me as he sat on the side of the bed.

“Fuck,” he muttered again as he ran his hands through his hair. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, but he didn’t bother looking at me when he said it.

He stood and walked from the room. I stared after him, wondering if I wasn’t perhaps losing my handle on this—though I wasn’t sure I’d ever had a handle on it to begin with. I heard the bathroom door close and then the shower start moments later. I sighed as I curled up on my side. I definitely didn’t have a handle on this man.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Kane

I closed my eyes as the water scoured my skin. Steam filled the air around me, and I inhaled and exhaled deep slow breaths. The ironic thing was, I couldn’t remember a damn thing about the nightmare that had terrified me so much, and yet, I was having a hard time letting the terror go regardless. The feel of it had simply imprinted itself on me.

I picked up Helene’s shampoo, smelling it. It smelled like her hair—of course it did, but it still made my lips pull up. By the time I climbed out of her shower five minutes later, I was clean as a whistle, smelled like Helene from head to foot, and I’d used a loofa for the first time in my entire life. I was also finally calm.

Until I stepped out.

She was sitting naked on the bathroom counter, her legs dangling in front of the vanity. Her palms were planted on the countertop as she lounged there waiting for me, and my heart sped as prickles of warmth settled in my groin. She didn’t have large breasts, but they were so perfectly perky, and her nipples were hard and protruding. I’d always thought large tits were my preference, but it was funny how much you could love something simply because it was part of something else you loved.

She watched me, her face calm. I stepped in front of her, and her eyes moved over my body.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she asked me quietly.

I looked down at her lap, and when I reached for her knees, I glanced at her eyes. I shook my head, and I pulled her legs apart. Her chest rose as she took a deep breath.

“These are very pretty,” I whispered as I ran the back of my fingers over her nipple.

She gasped as her chest shrank back and her nipples hardened even more.

“So is this,” I said just as quietly when I ran my other hand between her legs. I let my fingers graze gently between her lips, and her thighs trembled.

She watched my eyes when she reached down and pulled my hand away from her body. She closed her legs, never once breaking eye contact with me.

“You’ve been distant since we left my sister’s house earlier today. Then you show up on my doorstep soaked to the bone after walking three miles in the freezing cold rain. You woke me having a nightmare. Moments ago I asked you if you wanted to talk about it, which you politely declined and then rather ineffectively tried to change the subject to sex. And now you want to fuck?” Her behavior was odd as was her expression. She didn’t look the least upset with me. In fact, her expression was serene and calm, almost humored, but there was still a coolness there.

I bit my lip. “Well, when you put it that way, you make me sound unhinged.”

She cocked her head to the side, saying nothing.

“I want to be close to you.” I pushed her knees apart once more, stepping between them so she couldn’t close me out again.

She looked down. “You are close to me.”

I leaned forward, letting my lips nearly touch her ear. “I want to be a part of you,” I whispered.

“You are a part of me,” she whispered back. “You always have been.”

She tilted her head ever so slightly to the side, letting her temple touch mine. An electric shudder of warmth pulsed through me.

“I want to be inside you.” I finally pulled back so I could see her eyes.

She studied me silently, saying nothing at all, and that cool, calm expression of hers continued to toy with me.

I ran my palms up the tops of her thighs, starting at her knees and moving slowly. “Tell me how gentle you want it. Tell me how hard you want it. Do you want it to hurt a little? Tell me you want me to bite your nipples, lick your asshole, stick my finger up it.” I leaned to her ear, whispering, “I will.” And when I pulled back again, her eyes were wide. “Or do you need the control? Do you want to hurt me? Do you need to bite me? Do you want to stick your finger up my ass?” I leaned to her ear again. “I’ll let you,” I said quietly as my lips touched her earlobe. “Just tell me how you want me to give it to you.”

I could feel her thighs shaking under my palms as I pulled back again, and her chest rose and fell deeply. When she swallowed it was a struggle, but she answered regardless of her nervousness. “I want to be under you.”

I stared at her, and when she reached down touching my erection, I moaned softly and closed my eyes for a moment. Her other hand gripped the side of my waist, and she pulled me closer. She scooted her bottom to the edge of the counter, and she forced my cockhead between the lips of her pussy. She was wet, and I slipped easily back and forth as she guided me. She held my dick as my fingers dug into the tops of her thighs, and she glanced down between us. When she pressed the head to her entry and then paused, my jaw clenched tight in desperation. I wanted her to pull my hips forward, so I could impale her. That’s all I needed. One forward tug of my body would drive my cock into her.

But she didn’t.

“How is this any different than being on top of me?” She glanced down between us again. “You’re between my legs. You’re even standing taller than me.”

I looked over her shoulder at her back in the mirror. “Because there isn’t a floor behind you, and you can get away from me,” I said quietly.

Her brow furrowed. “I don’t want to get away from you.”

I wanted to give her what she was asking for. The very notion of putting my weight on her was intoxicating. I couldn’t deny that. And were she any other woman in the world, I could give her what she wanted. But she wasn’t any other woman in the world.

She was my nightmare.

I stepped back from her, and her fingers slipped from their hold on me. She closed her legs again, and her focus shifted to the ground. She looked rejected, and I felt like an asshole. When she slid from the countertop, she turned to walk out. I grabbed her wrist, pulling her back, and her eyes popped open wide. I turned her toward the sink, and I reached for the back of her neck, gripping it as I bent her over. I held her there, stooped over the counter, and her eyes watched me in the mirror.

The irony was, the two times I’d made love to her, she was well and fully under my control. I’d pinned her in place on top of me the first time, and I’d pinned her down to the bed while she was on her stomach the second time. But it wasn’t about the control I had over her. It was the image. It was the sight that had been burned in my mind that had scarred me. It was that and nothing else.

I used my other hand to guide my cock between her legs, and then I tormented her the way she’d been tormenting me. I slid the head up and down along the wet seam of her pussy. “Tell me this is enough for now,” I said as I nudged slightly—just enough to pop the head of my cock past that tight skin at her opening.

A rush of breath left her along with a quiet groan. She nodded.

I pushed then, slow and steady, and her eyes widened even farther as I penetrated her body. It was a torturously slow progression, and I refused to take my eyes off hers the entire time. Her sheath gave way under the insistent pressure, and I felt the warmth of her body hugging my cock the more I pushed. She felt so tight, so wet, and so fucking hot, that when I settled balls deep inside her, I didn’t want to pull back out.

But I did—just as slowly as I’d penetrated her, I left her. I let go of my hold on her neck, and I moved my hands to her hips, using my thumbs to pull her butt cheeks apart. I could see her anus, puckered and tight, and knowing Helene, completely untouched. Fuck, I wanted to touch. Instead, I fucked her, keeping her cheeks open so I could watch. My focus shifted between her ass and her face, moving back and forth as I thrust into her over and over again.

I bounced her body forward into the vanity with every thrust, and she grunted as I’d smack hard into her bottom, pushing in deep. When she reached down between her legs and started toying with her pussy, I was almost shocked my frigid girlfriend had the nerve. How could she be frigid and feel so fucking hot? I leaned over her, bringing my mouth to her shoulder as my hips continued to rock.

I bit the back of her shoulder, and she groaned, and when my hips sped as I got closer and closer, she gasped and whimpered. She cried out when she came, and her head dropped to the counter top. I reached up, twisting my fingers into the hair at the back of her head, and I pulled, forcing her face up to watch mine.

I fucked her fast and hard, holding her head back and forcing her to watch until I hit my limit, slammed into her, and then held still as my muscles went rigid. I emptied myself inside her, biting into her skin again as she cried out, and then I pushed harder, forcing myself to go deeper as she winced.

I collapsed against her back, letting go of her hair, and I dropped my forehead between her shoulder blades, breathing heavily against her skin. I stayed there, catching my breath for a minute, and her back rose and fell as she did the same. I kissed my way down her back, pulling my cock from her body as I moved, and I kissed over the cheeks of her bottom as her muscles flinched.

When I dropped to my knees behind her, I was still kissing her bottom. I ran my hands up the insides of her thighs, and I parted the lips of her sex with my thumbs. She was wet with my cum, and I stared at it, touched it, and finally played with it as I thrust two fingers into her. She groaned as I slid my fingers in and out, and when I abruptly stood, spun her to face me, threw her over my shoulder and walked out, she squealed. I chuckled as I reached up, gripped her ass, and squeezed a cheek hard with my hand. I dropped her on her bed, coming down on top of her, and I kissed her.

“Do you forgive me for being distant because I was trying to process what your life is and how I can deserve a place in it?” I asked her when I pulled back from her lips. But I didn’t give her a chance to respond. “Do you forgive me for walking all the way here in the rain because I desperately needed to see you, but I needed time to compose my thoughts? How about my desire to make love to you rather than rehash a nightmare I can’t remember anyway—am I forgiven for that?” I leaned to her ear then. “Do you forgive me for fucking you hard without your permission? For staring at that tight little asshole of yours and fantasizing about doing all sorts of naughty things to it while I was fucking the hell out of your pussy? Tell me I’m forgiven for that,” I whispered. “What about coming inside you? Making a mess of that sweet pussy and playing with my cum because there’s nothing quite as sweet as knowing I’m inside you even when I’m not inside you.” I finally pulled back from her ear, studying her wide eyes. “Can you ever find it in your heart to forgive me for that?”

I watched her throat struggle to swallow and the tendons strain against the tension as she watched me, but she nodded this tight little movement as a breath escaped her and touched my lips.

“Thank God.” I smirked, and I winked. It wasn’t the only thing in the world I needed her forgiveness for, but it was sure as shit the only thing I was willing to deal with at the moment.

I moved off to her side, collapsing onto the bed beside her and rolling toward her. She did the same, and I lifted my top leg as she snuggled up close and slipped her leg between mine. I ran my palm down her cheek, kissed her gently, and then wrapped my arms around her. I rested my chin to the top of her head as she snuggled up close.

“Can you forgive me for not being ready to make love to you the way you want because it terrifies me to remember the sight of you like that?” I whispered.

Her fingers ran down my back, stroking gently and soothingly. “Yes.”

She was silent for a while, and I reached back turning the lamp off. I closed my eyes, and I listened to her breathe as she relaxed.

“Can I ask you something?” she asked a few minutes later.

I’d actually thought she’d fallen asleep. “Of course.”

“How do you have sex with other women?”

I froze, not knowing how she expected me to respond to that. “Hell, what are you—”

“I just mean … is it like this? Or…” The hesitance in her voice was almost painful to hear. “I don’t know,” she finally said, clearly giving up what she was asking.

I reached back and turned the lamp on again. I was almost afraid to face her, because I still wasn’t sure what she was asking me, and I wasn’t sure if this was something I could talk to her about. But when I faced her, she looked even more terrified than me.

“Helene—”

“Please forget I asked,” she said quietly as she looked down.

“I don’t want to forget. I want to understand what you’re asking.”

She sighed, but it was troubled. “Are you gentler with me, because you’re afraid of—”

“I wasn’t gentle a little while ago.” I tried to smile, but her face was too serious, and my smile faded.

“But you use … things … with other women.” Her eyes glanced to mine so fast I nearly missed it.

“Things,” I repeated. “I don’t need things.”

“But … maybe you want things even if you don’t need them. I mean, if it were completely up to you, my feelings aside entirely, how would you choose to have sex with me?” She bit her lower lip. “Is it somehow different—”

“Of course it’s different. Shouldn’t it be?” I wasn’t entirely sure I wasn’t offended.

She stared at me, biting her lip again.

“Helene, what are you trying to say?”

“It makes me feel inadequate.” The words rushed out, and then she took a deep breath. “You’ve been with other women in ways you don’t want to be with me.”

“Yes,” I said adamantly. “There are absolutely things I’ve done with other women that I don’t want to do with you.” I sounded nearly angry, and I forced myself to take a deep breath.

Her cheeks flushed pink. “Like what?” Her voice was too quiet.

I’d hurt her feelings.

She watched me for a moment, waiting for an answer, and when I failed to deliver, she scoffed angrily. “I can’t stand knowing there are answers in your mind you’re not willing to say to me. Images, memories that you think I can’t handle or think will hurt my feelings. Imagine what that feels like. Please don’t overprotect me, because it makes me feel … pathetic.” She stared at me for a second. Her eyes were begging me to understand what she was saying.

“I need to move on from what came before this. I need you to let me.”

“But I’m not talking about that.” She pushed herself up to her elbow.

I rolled to my back looking up at her. I reached for her long bangs that were hanging in her face, and I tucked them behind her ear. “If this is what you want to talk about, then I’m not sure we can avoid going there, baby,” I said gently.

When she sighed it was heavy. She was frustrated.

“Okay,” I finally said. “I don’t want another woman in bed with us. I don’t want to watch another woman eat your pussy while I fuck her ass, and I sure as hell don’t want to watch another man fuck you while you suck my dick. Is that what you want to hear?” I gave her a second to respond, but she just gaped at me. Yeah, I’d shocked her with that one—exactly what I didn’t want to do. I reached for her cheek, brushing my thumb along her skin as I cupped it and tried pathetically to reassure her after that bout of brutal honesty. “I don’t want to treat you like a body, a thing, a sex toy to me. I don’t want to value you for what you can give me physically. Those are the things I’ve done that I’m not willing to do with you?” I focused on her eyes, my heart pounding. “I promise you don’t want me to be that man with you, because … he fucking sucks, and he’s pathetic. Think better of me, please. Let me be more for you.” My jaw clenched tight as I waited for her to react.

When she finally nodded, I sighed.

“I’ll ask you to fuck me,” I continued. “I’ll beg you to fuck me. I’ll tell you how much I want to fuck you. But I will absolutely never truly fuck you. It will never be as shallow and pointless as that. It couldn’t be.” That last sentence came out on a whisper as I failed to keep my voice steady. “Outside of that, if there’s something you want, tell me. If you want me to buy you some sex toys, I will. If you want me to touch, lick or fuck some other hole than your pussy then you need only ask. I’ve told you already, I’ll give you what you need. But…” I shook my head as I looked away. “Don’t ask me to push you. I can’t do that to you. I have to know it’s coming from you and not what I want, and not what you think I want. Don’t you understand that? Don’t you understand why I need it to be that way?”

She didn’t nod. She didn’t agree. She just stared over my shoulder. When she finally did look at me, she was expressionless. “I don’t want to be shared, and I don’t want to be objectified, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want you to push me,” she said quietly, and then she bit her lip. She was being shy again even if her words weren’t. “And I need you to trust that I’ll tell you if I’m uncomfortable with something you ask for? I need you to be as open with me as you expect me to be with you? I’m a big girl, Kane. I don’t need you to handle me like I’m fragile.” She hadn’t smiled once while speaking.

When I didn’t respond, much less agree, she rolled away from me.

“Fuck,” I muttered under my breath before I reached back and turned the light off again, and then I stared into the dark as she laid out of reach. I let it go on that way for what had to have been five minutes before I moved closer to her and pulled myself up to her back.

“It isn’t just you,” I said quietly as my lips touched the back of her ear. “It’s us. Everything about us is fragile—our relationship, the way we communicate, the way we fuck. I always feel like I’m two seconds away from letting you slip through my fingers. It’s all so very fucking fragile.”

“That scares me,” she whispered.

I didn’t say a word. It scared me too.

* * * *

Monday I rose when it was still dark out. I had an eight o’clock meeting with a care facility in Scranton, which meant I needed to be on the road no later than seven in case I got lost or ran into traffic. I wrote Helene a quick note and left it on her nightstand under her cell phone explaining my early departure, and then I hoofed it the three miles back to my place on foot and in clothes that were still damp. I froze my ass off the entire time, and when I entered my dad’s house, I immediately stripped out of my clothes and hopped in a hot shower.

Scranton was a bust. Of course it was. No one wanted a curmudgeonly old man with a track record of being physically violent. I was running out of time. I was also running out of money. My dad had squirreled away enough cash to keep his expenses paid for a period, but not an indefinite period. His accounts were dwindling, and the personal money I’d saved from working over the years and keeping my living expenses low was earmarked for the illustrious Ross Bernstein—though justifying his expense was becoming more difficult by the day. I wasn’t going to see my money tied up in my father’s house, because his stroke and his mess of a life were his problem and not mine. I had my own to worry about, and if that made me a shitty son, so be it. Perhaps if he’d not been a shitty father, I might care.

It was all a balancing act when it came to this house. I was smart with renovations and real estate. I needed to spend just enough to maximize the return when I sold the place. The faster I could work, the more profit. My father’s mortgage payment was not an investment, which meant it was nothing more than a carrying cost that was effectively going down the toilet every month until I could unload this property. If I’d sold the property as-is, the return would have been pathetic, but if I could pull this renovation off on a good budget and in a decent timeframe, then the return would far outweigh the investment.

Now I just needed to figure out how to focus my attention on this fucking house when finding my father a place to live kept trying to interfere—never mind the woman I was infatuated with. My focus on anything at all went out the window the very moment I let myself think about her.

Much as it had on my drive to Scranton.

I’d spent the entire drive forcing myself into her mind. I put myself in her place and made her perspective my own—and not the perspective I wanted her to have or assumed she’d have, the one she simply did have because it was her mind to operate in the way it was programmed to. She didn’t appreciate my need to let her call the shots in our physical relationship. My brain was offended by this, because my thought process said she should appreciate that for obvious reasons. Her brain was offended because she knew that taking all the control meant she would never fully know or understand what my needs were. And apparently that didn’t sit well with her.

Chivalry was clearly dead in this relationship, and by the time I’d reached Scranton, I finally understood why it needed to be. Our dynamic was simply too unique to survive the niceties of politeness. She needed to see all of me—my desires and wants especially. And I needed to trust that she understood my desires were firmly rooted in something more than mere sex with her. They were. Of course they were. I didn’t question that. I just needed to stop questioning that Helene understood that—which was a difficult thing for me to do, knowing just what she’d seen of my debaucherous, pathetic past. And now as I pulled out of the old folk home parking lot, I hadn’t forgotten that bit of crucial knowledge.

I pulled into the parking lot of the store I’d spotted on my way into town before I had the chance to talk myself out of it. I sat in the parking lot dreading this. This wasn’t how such … things … should be purchased in my opinion. The advent of online shopping had removed the humiliation of such occasional needs. But I was worried even Amazon’s two day free shipping wouldn’t get these items into my hands as quickly as I wanted them.

I dialed her as I sat there in my dad’s old pickup truck.

“Hi,” she said a bit hesitantly.

“My sweet Hell.” I stretched and yawned before I could stop myself. There was something very relaxing about nothing more than her voice. “What are you doing?”

She sighed. “I just got off the phone with my dissertation director. It didn’t go well. I’m ready to give up.”

“You have until spring. This is a work in progress. Give yourself time.”

“Or a coronary,” she muttered. “Are you still in Scranton?”

“I am. I have a couple questions for you. I need you to answer them honestly, and if you have questions for me, I’ll answer them honestly too.”

She was silent for a moment, but she eventually said, “Okay.” The word was drawn out as though she weren’t entirely sure she was okay with saying okay at all.

“Are you okay with me touching your asshole?”

“What?” She nearly cut me off.

“Answer the question.”

She took a deep breath. “Yes.”

“Licking it?”

She paused again, taking another deep breath. “Yes.”

“Penetrating it?”

“Yes.”

“Fucking it?”

“Yes.”

“Do you like having your nipples sucked?”

“Yes.”

“Pinched?”

She went silent for a second. “I don’t know.”

“But you’ll let me?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Do you want to ask me anything?”

“What do you want from me that I haven’t given you?”

I smirked. “Talk about your broad sweeping questions.” I chuckled. “I want to stick my cock down your throat. I want you to suck it until I come, and then I want you to swallow my cum.”

“Where can I touch—”

“Anywhere I’m allowed to touch you. There’s nothing you should be afraid to try with me.” I was getting a hard-on just sitting in the fucking parking lot. Of course, my hard-on couldn’t possibly be the first for this property. “Anything else?”

“No,” she said quietly.

“Are you as turned on as I am right now?” I smiled even as I spoke.

She finally laughed, showing some lightness to her mood. “Yes.”

“It’s going to have to wait until another day, baby. The cabinets are being delivered first thing tomorrow morning, and I have more work than I can reasonably get done before then. Shawn is coming over to help me this afternoon and tomorrow. It’s going to be a long couple days.”

“Will you be in class Wednesday night?”

“Yes, Professor. I promise.”

“Good.”

“I better let you go. I have some shopping to do before I return to Hazleton.” My lips pulled up, and I shook my head. God, I did not want to go in this place.

“Okay. I’ll talk to you later.”

When I climbed out of the truck, I cleared my throat.

Quiver: An Adult Bookstore.

Why the fuck did they call these places bookstores? Did they even sell books?

“Fuck me,” I muttered as I walked toward the entrance.

Chapter Thirty

Helene

“So as you can see, this handout reviews pretty much everything you need to know about your term paper. This paper should be a minimum of five-thousand words. To put this in perspective, you should expect it to be around twenty double spaced pages, give or take.”

And then there were groans.

I ignored it, looking back out to the class and continuing. “The topic is simple. I want you to relate a philosophical concept to real life, preferably your real life, but if you’re uncomfortable sharing personal details, you can use public events, issues, crimes, etcetera. This is an opinion paper, folks, that means I want your perspective. I don’t want a synopsis of what others have said. I do, however, want you to support your opinion with research. Ten sources minimum—” More groans. “—and five must be scholarly. If you need help using the databases for research, contact the library. They’ll gladly assist you.”

I looked around the room to a sea of downtrodden, depressed students—all that is but Kane who was sitting in the center of the front row with the cap of his pen to his mouth, studying me. It wasn’t depression on his face, though, it was … something else.

When I made eye contact with him, his eyebrows shot up. I looked away quickly in hopes of keeping the blush from touching my cheeks. It didn’t work, and I could feel the heat creeping up. When I glanced back at him, his lip was pulled up in a seductive smirk.

I’d not seen him since Sunday night—the middle of the night technically considered Monday morning, I suppose, but still. It had been days. I didn’t like going days without seeing him. Odd, considering I’d not seen him for years until a month and a half ago, and I’d thought I was doing just fine without him. Now, I couldn’t stand the idea of being away from him.

I cleared my throat. “Any questions before we move on?”

Eyes glared back at me, clearly still hating me for the term paper.

“Okay, then. Paper is due the week prior to our final class. If you want to chat about your topic or bounce some ideas off me, just send me an email, and we’ll set up a time to meet. I’ll also be setting aside some class time to discuss topics and let you work on your papers.”

I lectured for the next hour and a half, doing my level best to keep my eyes from stalling on Kane. It was difficult. He’d actually arrived a few minutes early, his hair damp from a shower but his work boots still covered in a thin layer of sawdust or drywall dust. When the flirt had walked in a minute later, he’d glanced toward the door and then ignored her. It did not, however, stop her from taking the seat right next to his.

Now, she was practically draped over the side of her desk toward him, her lanky leg crossed over her knee, and her heeled foot dangling flirtatiously in the narrow, too narrow, aisle that separated them. Kane continued to ignore it as I lectured. I talked through the philosophers of the medieval world before embarking on the renaissance all the way up to Descartes. When eyelids drooped, eyes wandered, and even Kane glanced to the clock, I gave up on it.

“So,” I said as I rounded the desk and leaned against the front edge. “seeing as not a single one of you appears interested in discussing what Descartes meant when he said, ‘I think, therefore I am,’ I’m going to assume you’re bored, therefore you’ve lost interest.”

There were a few snickers at my play on words, and Kane bit his lower lip, shaking his head subtly.

“I was planning this discussion, whatever it may prove to be, next week. But in the interest of keeping your attention for at least a little while longer, I’m going to adjust my lesson plan and bump up next week’s discussion to tonight. The discussion being … open forum. You find the topic, related to philosophy of course, and we’ll open the floor to discussion. So start googling on your phones or flipping through your books. One topic will be discussed, and then we’ll dismiss for the evening.”

Most eyes stared at me for a moment, either thinking I was kidding or simply too zoned out to react quickly. But eventually, a few laptops opened, phones were pulled out, and students started flipping through the book.

“Sexuality,” Kane said loudly enough for the room to hear without ever cracking his book open.

A few people laughed, one younger guy hollered, “I second that,” and the flirt beside him leaned even farther over, pushing her cleavage up as she pressed her chest to the side arm of her desk.

“A revisitation of Nietzsche’s untimely and nefarious demise, Mr. Thorson?”

Kane smirked. “No. I was thinking more along the lines of Kant’s fear of sex, or Siddhartha’s fascination with it—not to mention his proclivity for breastfeeding.”

The room erupted in laughter then; the snorts and chuckles overtook the shocked gasps of the few, and I choked, clearing my throat for a moment before I could respond.

I forced a smile to my mouth. “Kant wasn’t fearful of sex, he simply thought sex led to the objectification of another being and was thus something to be avoided. Siddhartha… Well, Siddhartha certainly had his interests in sex … among many other things.”

Kane shrugged, smiling as he did. “See all this discussion we could be having on the subject?”

I stared back at him for a moment, and he smiled sweetly.

“Very well. The philosophy of sexuality it is.”

More whoops and hollers followed that announcement.

“Let’s turn forward a chapter, since Mr. Thorson has clearly been reading ahead, to page one hundred eighty-seven to Immanuel Kant. We’ve already reviewed Siddhartha early on in the semester, and St. Augustine in the near past, but Kant is a new one for us.”

I glanced to Kane as pages started to turn. He winked at me, and then his eyes moved down along my body. I’d dressed up on this day, wearing a fitted charcoal gray wool pencil skirt that fell to just below my knees. I’d paired it with a satiny baby pink and white pinstripe button up dress shirt and black heels that buckled around my ankle. By the time Kane’s eyes finished moving and studying my body from top to bottom, the pages had stopped flipping.

“Okay, so in the corner of the sex haters, we have Kant—he’s a big one. We also have St. Augustine. The general consensus among these men is that sex turns people into objects. More than that, it turns parts of one’s body into nothing more than an object to provide sexual gratification. Essentially, a woman stops being a person and becomes a vagina. And a man becomes nothing more than a penis. Degradation at its finest,” I summarized.

“Is that what men are to you, Professor Hess? Nothing more than a penis?” Kane smirked at me.

I smirked back. “I suppose it depends on the worth of the man it happens to be attached to.” Pretty much every woman in the room laughed at that one, and I pushed off the desk, crossing my arms on my chest as I casually walked back and forth. “Further, sex is seen as almost always violent and violating because it is driven nearly completely by impulse. Loss of sexual control, which is seen as inherent in the act, puts one partner always at risk. Essentially, rape is an unavoidable thing, because sexual desire can compel people, largely men as they understood it, to violate women against their will and outside of the man’s control.”

“That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Kane muttered.

My eyes snapped to him. “It’s your topic choice, Mr. Thorson. Care to disagree with Mr. Kant?”

He scoffed. “What you’re saying is rape is tantamount to nothing more than basal instinct—uncontrollable, and thus unavoidable. That’s bullshit.”

“I’m saying nothing of the sort,” I corrected him. “But you bring up a good point. Anyone else care to weigh in on the subject?”

The young man who failed to bring his book to class on the first night but still managed to always wink at me as he was leaving chimed in next. “I get what Kant is saying. I mean … sexual drive can be intense.” He looked around with an almost seductive smile on his face.

This idiot was either trying to play devil’s advocate or really was an idiot.

“Sometimes hormones just take over, you know?” he continued.

He was definitely an idiot. But I nodded. I wasn’t agreeing. “So we have a supporter of Kant? You’re willing to be celibate for the rest of your life to remove such temptations and possible uncontrollable urges to violate another? At the very least would you be willing to engage in sexual intercourse for the sole purpose of procreation and not outside of that purpose?”

More students laughed, and the kid took it in stride. If nothing else, he was laid-back and didn’t mind the attention. Actually, I was starting to think he liked it very much. Kane craned his neck around to see the kid.

“I wouldn’t go that far.” The kid smiled at me as he shoved his tongue in his cheek playfully. “I like sex a bit too much.” He winked at me.

“Then how about you do us all a favor and get yourself castrated since you clearly can’t be trusted with your cock.” Kane’s tone was cool, but there was a bitterness there too. Kane had been staring at the kid as he’d tried to flirt with me after all.

The kid scoffed. “I didn’t say I couldn’t control myself—only that I understood the point Kant was making.”

“So,” I said loudly, pulling the attention of the class back to me before things got heated and Kane used the word cock again. “Is it fair to say you understand the premise of Kant’s argument—sexual drive can reduce a person’s capacity to think and behave rationally—but you wouldn’t go so far as to say that it removes a person’s responsibility to act appropriately?”

Kane stared at me, but he was expressionless as I waited for the kid to respond.

“Yeah,” the kid finally agreed.

Kane rolled his eyes.

“Would you care to elaborate on your position, Mr. Thorson?”

I turned my focus to Kane.

He studied me for a moment. “It’s complicated.”

I laughed as did a few others who clearly remembered his refusal to delve into justice a few weeks before. “It’s also your topic.”

He rolled his eyes again, but it was playful this time. “Fine. I think people are well and truly able to think of their partner as much as themselves during sex. The fear of violating another as though we’re all nothing more than animals is absurd. If that were the case, then every woman in the world would be a victim by now.”

“Many have been,” I said quietly, forcing myself to look at him.

“I know.” His voice was just as quiet. “I’m not trying to diminish that. But we’re not animals. This notion that sex reduces us to something inhuman is ridiculous to me. I feel very human when I… I’m not focusing on a piece of you—I mean … not you you… I’m not focusing on a piece of a woman when I… Just in general, I’m saying.” He rolled his eyes as he shook his head.

My cheeks burned, but nearly all eyes were on Kane, and the flirt next to him was practically drooling.

He was silent for a moment. “I get it,” he said as his lips pursed and his brow furrowed. “Some relationships are based on the physicality of the act and nothing more. I … get that.” He glanced at me, but then he looked back down. “But some are rooted in something more, and there is no chance of objectifying your partner in that situation. Not for me.” He looked back up at me, and he didn’t look away.

I couldn’t hear the collective female sigh, but the rise and fall of shoulders, predominantly female, though a few males as well, was like a nonverbal reaction that implied the sighs were simply being stifled. I was stifling mine too.

“I know,” I whispered before I could stop myself. I cleared my throat as my cheeks burned. “I mean … yes … err… I understand. I understand your point.” Shit.

Kane bit his lip even as he smirked. “And Kant’s a fucking idiot if he didn’t figure that out,” he added.

And the dreamy eyes all bulged, and then students snickered.

I cleared my throat again. “That reminds me of an interesting paper I read once on this very subject. Essentially, you have all these different sexual behaviors—deviant and otherwise—and they’re all a part of the study of sexual ethics. So, you have everything from procreation to prostitution to pedophilia all lumped into one category of study. This particular article broke down very simply what is morally acceptable versus morally not acceptable. The rationale was that in order for the behavior to pass the litmus test of morality there had to exist within it a reciprocation. And the reciprocation had to be mutually beneficial. If so, then no further question existed as to the moral acceptableness of the behavior. Thoughts on that?”

I leaned against the desk again, clasping the edge of the desktop.

“How about we hear from some of the women,” I suggested.

A middle aged woman sitting in the front row at the very end, raised her hand.

“Yes,” I said.

“Well, I’m certainly no expert on the matter, but I have been married for twenty-five years…” She smiled sweetly.

“I’d say that makes you as much of an expert as anyone.” I smiled back at her.

“But if we agree that equality is a core value within ethics and philosophy, then does it not stand to reason sexuality should reside on the same premise.” She shrugged.

I nodded. Sure as shit made sense to me.

“Don’t get me wrong, men can be men and women can be women. I much prefer my husband do the heavy lifting while I do the … heavy spending.” She chuckled. “But there can be equality even in differences.”

I nodded some more. “Very good,” I responded. “This understanding of equality through reciprocation tends to be very common among the non-sex-hating philosophical minds.” I smirked. “But to be sure, it is a broad topic that studies everything from ethics, morality, persuasion, and crimes again women and children. And like everything else in this field, the answers aren’t simple.” I looked around the room. “I think that’s it for tonight, guys.”

I stayed against the desk nodding and smiling to students as they left. The flirt had stopped Kane as he’d stood, and he was saying something to her. I tried not to watch, and I forced myself to continue smiling at students as they filed out. But I clearly caught the look of anger on the girl’s face when Kane said something to her, and then she stalked straight out of the room. Kane shook his head as he picked his book up from his desk, but then he looked at me and caught me watching him.

His eyebrows shot up as he walked out of the room. “Good night, Professor Hess,” he said.

“Good night, Mr. Thorson.”

* * * *

When I pulled up in my driveway twenty minutes later, Kane was sitting on my steps waiting for me. As I walked up the sidewalk toward him, he smiled up at me with his elbows planted on his knees.

“Siddhartha, huh?” I cocked my head to the side.

“I have to say, you’re quite impressive at the front of a classroom. Very confident, very professional. And this fucking skirt…” He reached for me, pulling my hips toward him. “…was torture.” He undid the two buttons of my dress shirt just above the waist of my skirt, and then he pulled the fabric apart, creating an opening to my skin. He leaned to it, kissing my stomach. His mouth was warm, and it sent a shudder through my body.

I ran my fingers through his hair, and he looked up at me even as his mouth still sucked on my stomach. When he finally pulled back, he smiled.

“If that shithead winks at you one more time I’m going to punch him. I wink at you, not him.”

I laughed loudly at that. “I’ll have to kick you out of my class if you hurt one of my students.”

“You could kick him out for being a douche bag,” he suggested as he stood from the steps.

“You know, when you’re not verbally bitch-slapping the guys in the class or swooning the women, you’re actually a very good student. You’re incredibly smart?”

“Not as smart as you,” he said sweetly as he leaned to my lips.

I pulled back before he could kiss me. “You were the one chosen to be in the Talented and Gifted Program in fifth grade, not me.”

“You’re still bitter about that aren’t you?” He smiled. “As it turns out, it didn’t really matter. My father didn’t find value in such things.”

I nodded. “I know. I’m sorry.” I reached for him, stepping close to his body and looking up at him. “Did it ever occur to you maybe that laid-back, cool kid, troublemaker persona you had was just your way of deflecting the disappointment of all the things you couldn’t have but deserved?”

“No, baby,” he said sarcastically. “That never occurred to my genius fucking self.” He smirked.

He reached down, grabbing a small black gift bag with pink tissue paper from the steps that I’d not even noticed before. I eyed it curiously for a moment.

“Take me to bed,” he said as he leaned down and finally kissed my lips. “And we’ll talk all about what’s in the bag.”

I cocked my head to the side, but then I passed him and walked up the steps to the front door. “Did you get the cupboards installed?”

“I did. I barely survived so many hours with Shawn, but … it’s done.”

“What’s left to do?”

“Aside from a shitload of painting, the bathroom still needs a lot of work, I still have to extend the hardwoods into the hallway and bedrooms, trim work throughout, new doors, new light fixtures, which I still have to pick out, and then … nothing.”

I pushed the door open. “Sounds like you’re getting close, though.”

He closed the door behind us. “The bathroom will take a bit of time. New vanity, new floor, new wall tile around the clawfoot tub, but hopefully within a few weeks, it’ll be ready to go on the market.”

He took my hand and led me down the hall to my bedroom, and when we entered, he walked straight to the bed and patted the mattress. I sat down, and he sank to his knees at my feet.

“I’ll push you,” he said quietly. “As long as you trust I could never objectify you.”

I nodded.

“I’ve objectified plenty of women in my life, but I’m not capable of doing that to you.”

“I know that.” And I did.

He studied my eyes for a moment before he lifted one foot with his hand to the back of my heel. He undid the buckle on the ankle strap. “These were killing me tonight, too.” He slipped my high heel from my foot, tossing it aside, and then he took off the other one.

When he stood he reached his hand down to me, and he pulled me up to my feet.

“Turn around.” He winked at me.

I turned, and when I felt his fingers lowering the zipper that ran over my bottom, I sucked in a quick breath of air. He pulled my skirt down my hips, catching my underwear as he did, and once they were both pooled at my feet, he wrapped his arms around me and started undoing the buttons of my shirt.

I reached back and fumbled with the zipper and button of his jeans, and he took a break from my shirt just long enough to strip his T-shirt over his head and toss it aside. When I had his pants undone, I pushed them down his hips along with his underwear, and then I ran my hand along his erection.

He groaned and cursed. “Fuck, baby,” he whispered against my ear. “Not so fast.”

I pulled my hands away, and he finished with the buttons of my shirt, pulling it off my shoulders and letting it drop to the floor between us. He unclasped my bra as I pulled my hair over my shoulder, and it slipped from my arms.

“Get on the bed.” His hand touched my back, urging my gently forward.

I climbed on, turning toward him and laying on my side so I could face him. I propped myself up on my elbow and watched as he pushed his pants and underwear the rest of the way to the ground, stepped out of them, and grabbed the gift bag from the floor. He lay down facing me in the exact same position I was in, and he placed the bag between us.

“Choose one.”

I smirked. “Only one?”

He laughed. “Only one tonight.”

“So there’s clearly more than one thing in here?”

He nodded.

“Is this grab bag style, or can I see and choose?”

“Lord, woman, you make even this difficult.” He smiled. “You may see all three things and choose one.”

I turned the bag over, dumping out the contents along with the tissue paper, and he snatched the tissue paper back, tossing it over his shoulder to drop to the floor and leaving only the three items.

I reached for the first thing that caught my eye, but he caught my hand before I could touch it. “I thought a lot about what you said. And I get it. I want you to feel like you understand me and are close to me. And keeping you out of my head in some attempt to … protect you, isn’t the way to do it. But I also need you to understand I didn’t get these things for me.” He studied me for a moment. “I got them for you. I want you to feel safe enough to try things with me—if for no other reason than to just put your curiosity away and learn that, regardless of all this, it’s still … just … us. I know you feel inept with me because I’ve experienced things you haven’t. And I don’t want you wondering or fearing how it’s been with me and other women. I want you focused on us and only us, because nothing else in the world that I’ve experienced has ever touched the importance of us to me. You have to understand the importance of that. None of this is necessary for me to be satisfied with you. None of it,” he said adamantly.

I nodded.

“But…” He bit his lower lip. “…I will absolutely enjoy playing with you. Just promise you’ll tell me if something makes you uncomfortable. I need to know you’ll be open about what you’re feeling.”

“I promise.”

He released my hand, and I finally picked up the shiny silver chain that had caught my eye. It wasn’t thick, and it wasn’t at all heavy, but it was more substantial than a necklace. There were very slim and small tong or tweezer shaped metal appendages dangling from the two ends of the chain, and when I looked more closely at the ends of the tweezers, they were covered in a clear silicone tip.

I took a deep breath as I set the chain aside and picked up the next item. It was phallic, and it was clear pink glass. It was nubbed and ridged along the shaft and it flared out at the head just like a penis. It was smaller than Kane, but the nubs and ridges were intimidating all the same. I had no idea how something that inflexible and hard, nubbed and ridged would feel inside of me, but that’s clearly exactly where it was meant to go.

And then I picked up the last item. It was heavier, and it was shaped kind of like a bullet, but it was far too large to be a bullet. The metal shined, and the tip was rounded but narrow, flaring out at the center before tapering to a flat end about the size of a fifty-cent piece. I studied it, turning it over in my hand and feeling the weight of it in my palm.

I set it down, reaching again for the metal chain. “What is this?”

“Tweezer clamps. They go on your nipples. They’ll be a little uncomfortable at first, but they’re adjustable too, so the tension can be lowered. I can tug on the chain to increase the pressure.”

He picked up the pink phallus. “This I can fuck you with, or you can fuck yourself with it while I watch.” He set it aside, finally picking up the metal bullet shaped thing. “This is an anal plug. It’s a fairly slim one. I want you to let me put it in your bottom and then I want to fuck your pussy while it’s in.” His voice was so exceptionally calm as he explained it all to me, and his eyes focused on me carefully.

I shuddered, and the quietest whimper escaped me.

He dropped the plug, reaching instantly for my cheek and angling my face to look at him. “It’s still just us, and you can say no to anything here. I won’t be upset or disappointed in you.”

I nodded. “I know.” I reached for the chain, picking it up again. “This.” I said. “It’s the least terrifying.”

He chuckled. “Do you want to reject the other two outright?”

I shook my head. “No. Just not tonight.”

“When you’re ready.”

I nodded. “When I’m ready.”

Chapter Thirty-One

Kane

I couldn’t in all honesty say she looked like she was ready for much of anything. Her eyes were wide and nervous, and I quickly picked up the pink nubby cock and the anal plug and reached back, tucking them into her nightstand drawer. When I rolled back toward her, she was on her back, staring up at the ceiling. Her eyes were still wide saucers, and her chest rose and fell deeply over and over again.

I laughed quietly as I leaned over her, staring down at her as I placed the chained clamps on her stomach. “Relax,” I whispered. I ran my palm up her stomach to the subtle mounds of her breasts. Her nipples were jutting up hard from her small tits. Fucking hell I loved her small tits. I touched the peak of one breast, letting my index finger and middle finger part around the nub. I squeezed, and she arched her back as she sighed and closed her eyes.

When I leaned to the base of her neck as she arched back, I kissed that hollowed out place. I pinched her nipple harder as I kissed up her throat and over her chin to her mouth. I groped her breast as I kissed, squeezing her flesh and grazing my thumb over the tip of her nipple as she let out a shaky gasp against my mouth.

“I want to watch you ride my cock, baby.” I held my lips against hers as I spoke. “And I want to pull on that chain as you’re coming. Then I want you to suck my cock until I come in your mouth. You’re going to taste your pussy on my dick, and then you’re going to taste me running down the back of your throat.”

She started panting against my mouth before I was even done speaking, but I could feel her head nodding, and my lips pulled up in a smile.

“Do any of those wants scare you?” I asked as I leaned back from her mouth.

She shook her head for a moment, but then she glanced away and nodded. “Maybe a little.” And then her nose scrunched up as she smiled this cute little smile. “But the good scare. The kind that feels more like you’re inching up the incline of a rollercoaster, waiting for the rush.” She bit her lip when she looked at me.

“I’ll make sure you feel the rush. I promise.”

I picked up the clamps from her stomach, and then I blew on her nipple, watching it constrict even harder. She watched when I pinched that tight little nub and pulled it up, slipping the end of the clamp on either side of her skin. I adjusted the ring around the tweezer clamp, pushing it closer to the tonged ends as it tightened. I watched her face closely the entire time.

She let me tighten it more than I’d expected, and I didn’t stop until she flinched and hissed. I repeated the process with her other nipple, and when I was done, the tonged ends of the tweezers were pointing up as the apices pointed down. The chain connected the two clamps loosely across her upper belly. I kissed down her breastbone to her stomach, and I kept going. By the time I was sliding my tongue between the lips of her sex, she was squirming, writhing, and arching her back. She was also fucking wet as hell.

I lapped at her cum, letting it cover my chin and lips as I flicked her clit with the tip of my tongue. She moaned, and she ran her fingers through my hair as I brought her just to the brink and then pulled back.

“Oh, God,” she gasped out.

I crawled up beside her and pulled her on top of me before she could kill me for leaving her hanging like that, and before she’d barely taken a breath, I reached around to her bottom and then between her legs. I guided my cock to her pussy, and then I rolled my hips, penetrating in one smooth thrust as her head dropped back and her mouth fell open.

“Sit up.” I took her hands once I was fully seated inside her, and as she sat up straight on my lap, I held them. I laced our fingers together, palm to palm, and I let her brace herself as she lifted her hips and then sank back down to my lap. I cursed as I stared at that spot our bodies were joined between her legs. She’d taken all of me deep inside her, but she winced when she let her weight settle on me.

She lifted and sank, pushing against my palms as she did, and I stared at my cock, watching her body take all of it over and over again. I was not a small man, and when she would lower her pussy onto me, her brow would furrow and flinch at the pain. But she kept pushing, letting her weight sink me deeper into her.

Once she found her rhythm and her balance, she let go of one hand, and I watched her fingers toy with her clit as her hips kept moving. I hummed as I pressed my palm to her stomach and inched it up along her body. Her nipples were protruding between the clamps, and they were swollen. I let just my index finger loop over the top of the chain, and as her hips humped against me and her own finger toyed with her clit, I tugged gently.

She cried out, and I watched the clamps pull her nipples down just slightly. Her breasts were so perky and stood straight off her chest without the slightest lilt or dip. Gravity didn’t have shit on these tits.

“Does that feel good?” I watched her face, still tugging gently as she moved. My palm remained against her abdomen, feeling her torso rise and fall.

“Yes,” she whimpered out, and I tugged again as the response caught in her throat and she cried out once more.

But her fingers never stopped toying, and her hips never stopped moving. I clutched at her other hand, squeezing tight, and I watched her face closely. I wanted to watch her pussy take me, but I needed to see her reaction, and I focused on her responses. She whimpered as she came close to her end, and her eyes closed. I tugged, pulling her nipples down as the clamps gripped into her protruding skin. I didn’t let up then, and I increased the pull fractionally with every passing second.

She cried out again, but it tapered off in a curse, and her hips rocked violently against my lap. Her sheath was tightening on me like a vise, and she was fucking me frantically and desperately. And when she slammed down on me sinking me deep as her head fell back, I pulled the chain harder than I had before. I didn’t let up on the tension, and her nipples distended as she practically shrieked out her orgasm.

She let go of my hand, reaching back and digging her nails into my leg, and I sat up and hunched over to her breast, licking the protruding tip of one nipple as my fingers loosened the clamp on the other. The moment that clamp fell from her, I moved my mouth to that tit, sucking her now free nipple into my mouth and laving it.

She was still coming, her body lurching and spasming, and I removed the other clamp, pressing my palm over that breast as my mouth still soothed her other nipple. Blood was rushing into the peaks of her tits, and I knew from experience it could be both painful and exhilarating depending upon what else was happening inside her body.

“Oh, God, oh, God, oh, God, oh, God.” She kept repeating it as her body tried to relax.

I sucked her other nipple into my mouth, finally paying attention to it for a while. I licked, letting my tongue curl around the hardened nub, and my palms squeezed her flesh. She took her time coming down from the release, and I placed my palm over her heart, feeling it pound against my hand.

She sat up straighter once she’d finally regained her composure, but she was breathing heavily. When I pulled back from her tits and sat up straight too, she immediately covered her breasts with her palms and pressed on them.

“Wow,” she said under her breath as she still panted quietly.

“Are you okay?” I reached for her cheek, running my thumb down the side of her face.

She nodded, the side of her lip pulling up. “Oh, yeah,” she breathed out.

I pulled her hands away from her chest. “Let me see.”

Her nipples were an angry red color, and they were swollen. I ran my fingers lightly over one, and her pussy instantly tightened on my cock. I was still hard and fully within her. My breath left me in a rush, and she smiled shyly.

I bit my lip as I studied her. “You ready to find out what your pussy tastes like?”

Her cheeks blushed pink.

“I assure you, it’s delicious.”

She nodded, but the movement was rigid and nervous. “Okay.”

I clasped her hips in my hands and lifted them from my lap. “Kneel between my legs.”

She moved first one leg then the other between mine, and I bent my knees out as I rested back on the pillow behind me. My cock was hard and glistening on my stomach, and she stared for a moment. I watched her reach out and trail her finger lightly over the seam of my testicles, and my sac tightened at her touch. I was so far beyond ready to explode I had to grit my teeth at nothing more than her light touch.

Her finger traced a vein on its way up my erection, and my cock twitched as I hissed. But when she finally leaned down, I nearly lost it. She didn’t open her mouth immediately. She just let the tip of my cock touch the warmth of her lips, and she held my dick up straight from my body, so I could watch every torturously seductive thing she did.

She breathed with her lips barely parted, and I felt the heat of it move across the head. When her tongue dipped into the slit, I grunted. Her seduction was tentative, not bold, but fucking hell it was effective—more effective than any woman I’d ever been with. Her lips finally parted, and she slowly pulled me into her mouth as she bobbed down along the length of my dick.

She closed her eyes as she moved up and down, and she sucked hard, pulling against me and swelling my erection even more.

“Open your eyes. Look at me,” I whispered.

Her bright wide eyes opened and found mine, and she held them on me as she continued to suck.

“It turns me the fuck on knowing my cock was just inside your body, stretching your sweet pussy the way it’s stretching those pretty little lips of yours.”

She sucked harder in response to that bit of filth, and I grunted, letting it trail off in a deep sigh. I twisted the sheets at my hips, and my heels dug into the bedding. My hips wanted to thrust, needed to move, but I stifled it, focusing on the sight of her bobbing up and down on my cock.

“Fuck, Hell,” I whispered. “You’re so fucking beautiful. Keep those eyes open. I want you watching me when I come in your mouth.”

And she sucked harder again, inhaling deeply through her nose as she held her focus on me. I was close. This wasn’t going to last long, and as my stomach muscles clenched and I grunted involuntarily, her mouth moved faster, up and down, over and over. I slammed my fists hard into the mattress at my hips when I came so close I could nearly grasp it, and her eyes popped open wide.

I watched her torment my body, but I didn’t intercede, speak, touch, force, move, or fuck. And it felt very much like bondage as I restrained myself. I kept my ass on the bed, wanting to thrust myself against her face. I kept my hands to myself, wanting to grip them on the back of her head. And I kept my mouth shut, wanting to beg for my release. Instead, I watched and gave her every last ounce of control over how and when my release would happen.

It was exquisite, completely self-imposed, invisible bondage.

And then she hummed warmly as she sank down along my length, and that was it for me. It ended in an eruption that surged into the back of her throat. Her eyes widened as she watched me, and every muscle in my body clenched tight as I came inside her mouth.

“Oh, God, Hell,” I grunted through gritted teeth even as I fell apart.

Her fingers grazed gently and tauntingly up the insides of my thighs as she slowly pulled back. My legs trembled under her touch, and as she sat up and finally let my cock pop from her tight lips, she swallowed. Her fingers reached that sensitive place where my thighs met my groin just as she sat fully upright on her heels, and she gripped my balls in one hand, her other encircling my cock and stroking the wet over-sensitized skin of my shaft.

I hissed and then groaned as I watched more cum dribble from my slit, and her eyes watched it too as she pulled her bottom lip into her mouth. I finally let my head fall back, and I closed my eyes as my chest rose and fell. She crawled up beside me, and I wrapped my arms around her.

I started to fall asleep, and when I did, I was imagining the very thing we were doing. I was holding her, but there was something more permanent about the feel of my dream than my reality. In my dream, this was my life; it wasn’t just what I wanted my life to be.

And when I’d been all but absorbed into that dream, tethered to the real world by just a thread, I opened my mouth, saying what my mind knew to be true. “I need your forgiveness,” I said softly against her ear, the sound of my voice pulling me closer to the real world for a moment.

“You have it.” Her voice was quiet, and her fingers pressed into my back. She without doubt assumed I was talking about eleven years before when I left her. But that wasn’t the half of it.

“It’ll be enough,” I whispered, letting myself sink deeper and closer to sleep.

“For what?”

I hummed, but I didn’t answer that question. She had no idea what I was talking about, but as the dream fully absorbed me and sucked me in, I pretended she did. And I pretended it was enough—enough to keep me here with her for a lifetime.

I heard her sigh, and then I was gone, holding her in another place just as I was holding her in this place. It was such a beautiful world with her in it.

* * * *

I woke her up when I stuck my tongue up her ass. Actually, she’d been trying to wake up and resisting it the entire time as I’d kissed my way down her back. Her furthest leg was pulled up, opening her cheeks and exposing that tight little ring of muscles and the puckered little hole. Unfortunately for her overly modest self, this meant I couldn’t keep my tongue to myself.

I spread her cheeks farther apart and gave her no chance to react as I leaned to her and put my mouth on that private place and pushed my tongue against the opening. She instantly squirmed and gasped as she pushed up to her elbows and craned her neck back to see me. I pulled back, smirking at her.

“Don’t stop me,” I said as I watched her. “You wanted to be pushed, so let me push.”

She stared back at me, her eyes wide and horrified. When I licked my lips, her brow flinched, and then her eyes widened even farther.

“Please don’t fucking stop me, baby,” I whispered. I looked back down to where my mouth had just been. I could feel the tension in her ass cheeks as she tried to shut me out, but I was holding her open, waiting.

She nodded, still looking mortified.

“Just relax. Put your head down, close your eyes, and just feel.”

She nodded again, and when she looked away, she did as I asked. Her forehead dropped to the mattress as she pushed her pillow away, and I watched as she clutched the fitted sheet in her hands at her shoulders. I couldn’t say she was relaxed, but it was a start.

I licked again, and her cheeks flinched once before they relaxed their tension. When I pressed the tip of my tongue to that tight ring of muscles, it gave way slowly but surely. I pushed in, and she groaned against the bedding. I thrust for a moment before pulling back and licking over and around her anus.

I bit her butt cheek moments before I crawled up next to her and collapsed on my side. I trailed the palm of my hand up the back of her thigh, and when she turned her face to look at me, I smiled.

“I’m not done yet.”

She gasped when I pushed my finger slowly in, and she dropped her forehead to the mattress again as I chuckled. My penetration was ridiculously slow, and I watched the side of her face as she panted with her lips nearly touching the mattress. When her long bangs fell down along her temple, blocking my view of her face, I reached my free hand over, tucking her hair behind her ear. Her fists were still balled in the sheets just above and outside her shoulders.

“How does that feel?” I was still pressing slowly in with my middle finger, and her muscles were tightly clenching around me.

“Strange,” she whispered.

“Good strange or bad strange?”

She turned her face to look at me. “Good.”

I smiled at her. “Do you want to know what I feel?”

“Yes.” Her voice was breathless, and when I started thrusting in and out slowly and gently, her mouth dropped open and she closed her eyes.

“You feel incredibly tight and incredibly soft. You can’t imagine how soft the skin is.”

She visibly shuddered, and when I abruptly sat up and slowly pulled my finger from her, her eyes flew open, and she panted. It was disappointment.

I smirked at her as I pushed off the bed. I crouched down beside the bed at her eye level. “Will I see you tonight?”

She groaned this exasperated and disappointed sound. “No. I have a faculty dinner tonight that I’m dreading. I’d take you, but…”

“But you’re not really allowed to date your students much less let them lick your asshole for a good grade?”

She smiled shyly. “Something like that.”

“If you need me to drop out of your class because things get … complicated for you, will you tell me?”

“I don’t want you to drop out. I like having you in my class.”

I nodded. “I like being there, too. But I’d rather be here doing this, than sitting in your classroom any time.”

“It’s fine.”

“Okay. Maybe I’ll see you tomorrow then. I have a tile delivery coming in an hour, and I’m going to jump in your shower before I leave, seeing as my bathroom is torn to pieces right now.” I bit my lip and winked at her, and as I walked out, she sighed.

Chapter Thirty-Two

Helene

“So, Helene, how is the dissertation coming along?”

I’d barely taken my coat off after entering the same damn seafood restaurant I’d run into Kane and his married girlfriend at weeks before, and here was Dr. Melbourne, head of the liberal arts department at Penn State Hazleton, grilling me on the bane of my very existence.

I laughed nervously for a moment as I handed my coat to the hostess. “It’s … uh … going.” I smiled.

He chuckled. “Come on, Helene. I think they’ve got the entire back half of the restaurant cordoned off for this dinner.”

As we walked, Dr. Melbourne leaned toward me. “Have you thought any more about Penn State’s post-doctoral fellowship program, Helene? I know you weren’t sure you intended to stay in Hazleton permanently after the completion of your doctorate, but Penn State allows you to work through the program even from our smaller satellite campuses… And I have to say, I absolutely love the idea of a local coming home after such an accomplishment. I just hope you’ll consider Penn State a more permanent home—”

“I have … actually.” I glanced at Dr. Melbourne. “And … I’m interested. I’m very interested. Things have…” I bobbled my head from side to side for a moment. “…changed for me, and I want to consider planting more permanent roots here.”

Dr. Melbourne’s smile broadened. “That’s wonderful news, Helene. The post-doc program is three years, and I could see you becoming tenured quickly at Penn State, what with your long history and good standing in the community.”

I nodded. “Well if it’s all the same to you, I’ll focus my energies on my dissertation for the time being, but … I really do want to talk about this further when the time is right.”

“I look forward to it.” He held his hand out as we reached the large back section of the restaurant where rows of tables were set up.

I ended up sitting with Dr. Melbourne, largely because I knew very few people there. I was, after all, only an assistant professor and on a very limited schedule at that. The dinner was delicious, the conversation was stuffy, and the man sitting across from me and a few seats down seemed intent on making eye contact with me every chance he got.

He was handsome. He was also clearly intelligent, given the way he thoroughly seemed to enjoy debating politics with a professor of political science. Come to find out he was in the mathematics department.

“Professor Dale came from the University of Pennsylvania too, Helene,” Dr. Melbourne announced loud enough for the good Professor Dale to hear. “Youngest tenured professor at Penn State, and I have to say we love stealing talent from the University of Pennsylvania.”

The table, including me, laughed at that one.

“How young were you again when you graduated high school, Preston?” Dr. Melbourne asked him.

Professor Dale glanced at me, smiling politely. “Uh… sixteen.” He cringed. “Trust me, the achievement made me the world’s biggest nerd,” he said as he winked at me.

“Helene’s on task to finish her dissertation this spring from the University of Pennsylvania.” Apparently Dr. Melbourne was just in the announcing sort of mood.

“Is that so?” Professor Dale asked.

“God willing.” I tried to smile, but I glanced away quickly.

“Philosophy is it?”

I glanced back up to Professor Dale as I took a drink of my water. “Yes.”

“Well, I hope to see you around on a more permanent basis.” He lifted his wine glass and nodded his head.

“Well, yes, I certainly hope to see that, too,” Dr. Melbourne concurred.

I just nodded stupidly, wondering how the hell I was going to pull a dissertation out of my ass that would actually garner myself the doctorate these men apparently seemed to think was in the bag. Nothing much felt in the bag to me at the moment.

I excused myself as soon after the meal as was politely possible, and I nodded my goodnights and lifted my hand as I said goodbye. Dr. Melbourne stood and gave me a hug. He was a kind, older man, and the idea of working for him one day wasn’t at all an unpleasant thought.

As I stood at the front greeting station waiting for the hostess to return with my coat, Preston Dale approached me. I smiled at him as he leaned against the tall table.

“I wonder if you’d like to go out for dinner sometime.” He cocked his head to the side in a very assured and casual manner.

I glanced at him. “Oh… I’m flattered. Thank you, but I’m actually seeing someone.”

He nodded slowly, shrugging his shoulders good naturedly. “Well if that changes in the future, I hope you’ll let me know.” He smiled. “You know where to find me.” He was silent for a moment. “It really was very good to meet you, Helene.” He held his hand out, and I shook it just as the woman returned with my coat.

I really was flattered in all truth, but the whole evening had done nothing but made me miss the other part of my life. The other part, also known as Kane, would likely spend a meal like that rolling his eyes now just as much as he would have when we were younger. He’d never cared for formality, pomp and circumstance, or the airs people put on. In fact, he detested it. Odd, I often exhibited those very traits, and yet, he seemed very fond of me.

Yes, I missed Kane by the time Preston was helping me into my coat. I smiled at Preston one last time as I walked out, and I was pulling into my driveway ten minutes later. When I made it inside, I wandered to my bedroom. My nightstand drawer was still slightly ajar, and when I sank down to the side of the bed, I looked into it.

I picked up the anal plug, and then I dropped back to lay across the bed, holding the thing in front of my face. At its widest it was thicker than Kane’s finger. It had to hurt. Didn’t it? Kane’s finger hadn’t hurt, but it had felt … strange. Not at all a bad strange, just … new. But this…?

“Well that can’t possibly feel good,” I said to absolutely no one at all. But the flush that ran over my skin challenged my assertion. I hummed in contemplation as I continued to turn the plug over in my hand.

The surface was smooth and shiny and I could damn near see my reflection in it. After staring at it for a few minutes and listening to the silence that surrounded me, I sat up.

“Okay, then…” I again said to no one.

I stood, marched out to the entryway, shrugged back into my coat, and pocketed the thing as I grabbed my keys.

By the time I pulled into Kane’s dad’s driveway, I finally knew exactly what the phrase “hot and bothered” actually meant. I was definitely hot. I was definitely bothered. The good kind of bothered. My skin was still prickling, and my mind was giving me very vivid images of how this might play out.

I held the plug out in front of me in the palm of my hand as I knocked on the door with my free hand. I was intending to be cheeky—this was a rare thing for me. But my heart was pounding, and my palm was sweating even as the cool air touched it. I was also wet as hell.

When the door was pulled open, my heart stopped. “Whoa! Oh, shit…” I said as I closed my fingers over the plug.

Shawn looked down, narrowly missing a glimpse of what I held in my hand. “What are you doing here?” Shawn asked as his eyes returned to my face and he scowled.

Kane walked up behind him, smiling when he saw me. I was too busy panicking and trying desperately to find the pocket on my coat so I could hide what I was doing there. Kane’s eyes traveled down to my hands as I fought with my coat, and he cocked his head to the side in question.

“Uh… Just… Nothing…” I said as I shook my head, finally finding the opening of my pocket and dropping the plug inside.

“I ain’t happy you made him stop drinking. Just so’s you know.”

“Hey,” Kane snapped at Shawn as he stepped past him. “I made that choice on my own.” He glared at Shawn over his shoulder for a second. When he looked down at me, he smiled. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I said sheepishly.

He cocked his head to the side as his brow furrowed. When his hand fished for the same pocket opening I’d been fighting with, his eyes narrowed suspiciously. “We were just getting ready to lay the floor tile in the bath—”

And then his hand stopped moving. He’d clearly found the plug. I grimaced, glancing up at him and shaking my head. He stared down at me, and his nostrils flared as he exhaled, the tendons in his neck suddenly tight.

“Hey, can we get back—”

“Get out,” Kane cut Shawn off, his voice blunt.

“What? We have to—”

“Nope,” Kane said quickly. “Get out. Now. We’re done for the night.”

“What the fuck, asshole.” Shawn barked at him, his face scrunched up in anger.

“I need you to leave now. Helene and I have to … do something … important.”

“Ah, fuck! Can’t believe you’re ditching me for her now just like you did in high school. You ever gonna grow some balls, you pussy whipped bitch?” Shawn threw his hands up in the air.

I remembered this about Shawn. He had a foul mouth, and not in the good way like Kane. He was also not above calling a man he considered his friend things like, “Asshole” or “Pussy whipped bitch.” I did not like this man.

When Kane reached back and tried to tug Shawn out the door, Shawn shook it off.

“My truck’s out back, dick,” he muttered. He turned his scowl on me then, before stalking back through the house and hollering over his shoulder, “I just opened my fucking beer.”

The back door slammed shut, and Kane pulled me inside, shut the door, and pushed me up against it. His hands clutched at my cheeks desperately, and his lips were on mine as his groin pressed against me. He was moaning against my lips, and my skin was on fire.

“I don’t have a bed,” he said between kisses. “The room’s cleared out so I can start on flooring in that…” He kissed me again. “…part of the house.” His voice was breathless. “I have…” His eyes moved around the room, looking behind him as he searched. “…a table.” He kissed some more. “Fuck, you look beautiful.”

I was still wearing the fitted black dress I’d been in all evening. It skimmed my curves as it dropped to just above my knees, and I was wearing the same black heels with the ankle straps I’d had on the night before. Kane’s hands were inside my coat, running over my hips to my bottom, and as his lips met mine again, he squeezed my ass and groaned. He reached in the pocket of the coat again, pulling the anal plug out, and the moment his hand was free, he pushed the coat off my shoulders, letting it drop to the floor behind me.

He pulled me toward the kitchen, tugging me along behind him, and when we entered, I looked around. The cupboards were in. They looked amazing, even though the countertops were missing. He caught me looking, and he smirked.

“Stay here.” He disappeared out of the room, and it was less than thirty seconds later when he reappeared with a small bottle in his hand.

“The cupboards look amazing,” I said nervously as I looked around. I was fidgeting, twisting my fingers together anxiously.

“You look amazing.” His eyes moved over me. “And those fucking shoes again.” He smirked. “Turn toward the table.”

I took a deep breath as I moved. The table was littered with supplies—paint rollers, paint pans, scrapers, paint cans, masking tape. When Kane stepped beside me he set the small bottle of lubricant on the table next to me as well as the plug, setting it on the flattened end. My legs trembled as his fingers toyed with the bottom hem of my dress, inching it slowly up my thighs. His body crowded mine, and his breath touched the back of my ear. The skirt was tight, and by the time he got it to my waist, it was bunched up constrictively around my midsection. Kane’s hands gripped my bottom for a moment before he slid my skimpy satiny underwear down, letting them drop around my ankles.

“Are you going to let me fuck you once this is in?”

I craned my head over my shoulder to look at him. “Yes. I think so.”

He smiled gently, and he leaned to my cheek, kissing me. “Bend over, close your eyes, and relax.”

That last part was almost laughable if my throat were actually loose enough to laugh. As it was, I could barely swallow. I rested my forearms to the dusty surface, covering my black dress with a skim of chalky grit. I closed my eyes, and I let my forehead fall to my hands that were clasped tightly together.

When I heard the cap of the lubricant pop open, I tensed, and when I felt his fingers pressing between my cheeks, I cried out quietly. He stroked over that place with his finger, pressing the tip in just slightly. And when the tip of his finger was replaced with the cold hard tip of the plug, I cried out even louder. It wasn’t pain, though. I was just wired and ready to snap.

He thrust, moving marginally deeper with every shallow penetration, and when the flange shaped plug widened to what had to be larger than his finger, I groaned. It ached, it stretched … it also felt cool and soothing. He pushed slowly, letting the diameter of it stretch me more, and for a moment I thought about chickening out, but then the widest part passed beyond my tightness, and it was comfortable again. I could feel a fullness, but the stretching was gone.

“Such a pretty sight. You have the most incredible ass. Even Shawn says so.”

I groaned as I craned my neck around to see him. “Please don’t say that name right now.”

He chuckled even as I watched him undo the button of his jeans and lower the zipper. His eyes were heady as they focused on my face, and when he pushed the waist of his underwear down just enough to free his cock, it was large and hard, standing erect from his body. He tucked the waist of his underwear under his balls. He then picked up a clean white rag from the table near me, wiping the rest of the glistening lubricant from his fingers, and then he stroked over the length of his cock as he smirked.

“Spread your legs a little farther.” He moved behind me, and I stepped my feet out as much as I could with my ankles still wound up in my underwear. When he crouched behind me, he gripped the fronts of my shins. And then I felt his tongue, his whiskers, his lips, his chin all pressing hard against the slit of my sex. He moaned as he slurped against my skin, and his hands on my shins started moving up.

I wanted to come. I needed to come, but much like the night before, he pulled back when my legs shook and my body got close. He stood up, and then I felt him press the head of his cock between the wet lips of my sex. It felt different as he pushed, more restricted and tighter, but he nudged insistently until he slid in. I could feel the plug moving, and it tickled and ached at the same time as it innervated that other sheath.

“Oh, fuck,” he groaned as he pushed slowly in, and then he pulled all the way out. “That feels so fucking good.” He breathed out the words, and then he was nudging again, passing tightly within me as the metal tickled once more. He thrust, slow at first, but with every cycle of the push and pull, faster, deeper, harder.

His breathing sped as his hips did too, and when he leaned over my body, he came down on his elbow beside me, his lips at my ear.

“How does it feel?” He asked as a rush of breath touched my ear. He was panting quietly as his hips worked and his cock plunged.

“Strange… Weird…” My voice was breathed out too.

He laughed, but it caught in his throat. “You keep saying things like ‘strange’ and ‘weird’ and … I’m not altogether sure that’s … a good response.” His voice kept lurching as he fucked me.

“It’s good. It’s just…”

He laughed again. “Strange?”

“Yeah…” I reached down, stroking my finger over my clit and letting the forward jolt of my body as he thrust push me harder into my touch. I groaned and tightened, and it sent an ache through my bottom that bordered on pain.

“Oh, fuck, that feels so tight. Tell me how it feels now?”

I closed my eyes, forcing my muscles to loosen around the plug. “I feel it moving.”

He groaned again. “So do I…” he whispered.

His jolts became more pronounced, and his hand crept up my back to my neck, pulling my zipper down moments before I felt his lips on my spine. He kissed as his hips rocked, and he pushed his hand through my hair at the nape of my neck. His fingers tangled as he pinned my head down to the hard surface of the table. His breaths were coming fast, ragged, and desperate against my back, and his hips were slamming into me.

I felt full, too full, perfectly full and aching, and I kept my eyes closed, listening to his quiet breaths and feeling them along my back as he tried to kiss and grunt at the same time. Every jolt of his hips grinded my pussy against my fingers, and I gasped and grunted just like him until one deep penetration pushed my clit so hard into my fingers that I came, crying out loudly. It wasn’t two more thrusts before he stilled within me, his fingers tightening on my hair as he held me down. His sound was low and growling, and I could feel his stomach muscles clenching and releasing against my back as he orgasmed.

He stood up straight, finally releasing my hair, and I felt him pressing on the flat end of the plug even as he still remained inside me. He hummed when he turned it gently, and he pulled on it slowly. At first my muscles flinched and tried to hold onto it, but then he tugged again, and I groaned as that entry dilated just enough to release it. I cried out quietly, and he cursed.

He set the plug on the tabletop before his finger stroked gently over my anus, not penetrating, just grazing and massaging. His hips moved as he touched, and he rocked in and out of me gently as his finger still rubbed and soothed. He finally pulled slowly from me, and he collapsed onto the nearby folding chair. I stood up, stretching the kinks out of my back, and he chuckled. I leaned down, slipping the underwear past my high heels, and then I walked to him. He pulled me down to straddle him, and he clutched my hips in his hands.

I took a deep breath as I studied his eyes. “Not for nothing, but you did have me pretty good and pinned down there, ya know?” I smirked at him. “Miraculously, I survived. Hell, I even liked it very much.” I winked at him.

“Yeah? Well not for nothing, but I didn’t have to look down and see your eyes staring up at me.”

I froze, and his face fell instantly. He opened his mouth as though he were going to speak, but nothing came out.

“You don’t like—”

“Don’t say that,” he said quickly, finally finding his voice. “I didn’t mean it that way. I love seeing your face, your eyes, your expression … all of it. That position … it’s just a memory I’ve never been able to shake—looking down at you … the concrete behind your back … the fear on your face … the tears in your eyes… It’s not what I want to think about when we’re making love… I know it’s illogical to be afraid to make love to you in the most boring position known to mankind.” He shook his head as he watched me “Just let me be a little crazy about this. Okay?”

I nodded. “Okay.”

He watched me silently, gnawing on his lower lip. “The more I’m with you in the now, the more I want to stay in this place, this time, this existence. I want to leave that other world behind. But that takes time… I’d given up thinking there was a now for us.” He looked away, his brow flinching. “My life was … on a very specific path that had a very specific end…” When he looked back at me, he took a deep breath. “That path is … not set in stone anymore, and—”

“Where did it end?”

He studied me, his brow furrowing. When he swallowed it was strained, and he glanced down at my chest. “Somewhere far less beautiful than this.” His eyes teared, and he swallowed over a lump as he looked away again.

I put my hand on his cheek. “Hey—”

“Please don’t ask me to think about it right now?” His eyes flashed to mine, and his expression was pleading. “Please. I’m … happy. Just let me stay in the beautiful place with you.” He ran his palms down my arms, and then he lifted them, running them down the sides of my face to my shoulders and down my arms again. He leaned to my shoulder, nestling against my neck as he wrapped his arms around me. “I can do this,” he whispered. “I can stay in this place with you.”

His voice was distant, and I couldn’t say I wasn’t confused by his words. He held me for a long time, and I rested my cheek on his shoulder, letting my lips touch the side of his neck. I closed my eyes, and my body tried to relax. I was tired. I wanted more than anything to be curled up somewhere warm with him. But cool air was tickling my naked butt, and goosebumps were popping up on my skin—never mind the ache in my hips and my lower back.

“Do you want to come home with me?” I sat up straight on his lap.

He sighed heavily. “Not tonight. I’m going to call Shawn, force myself to apologize, and beg him to come back and help me finish the floor in the bathroom.”

“Doesn’t the man work?” Did I care?

He chuckled. “He’s laid off at the moment. And he’ll pretty much take any excuse to get out of the house and away from his wife. You remember Leslie Tipton?”

I gasped. “That’s who he married?”

Kane nodded.

“Do you remember she tried to beat me up once on the playground in elementary school?” I asked.

“Oh, yes, I do remember. I threw pea gravel at her to make her stop. I ended up getting in trouble and being sent to the principal’s office.”

I smiled. “So chivalrous.”

He chuckled. “Do you have an extra house key?”

I nodded. “Under the planter that sits by the garage.”

“The one with that big dead bush growing out of it?”

“That thing had no will to survive. That’s not my fault.”

He laughed, squeezing the cheeks of my butt in his hands. “I’d like to come over after I finish up. It will be late—morning even.”

“Okay.” I started to stand, but he clutched my hip, holding me in place. I watched him. His eyes were distant again as he stared at my mouth.

“I was going to ask you to homecoming.” He glanced up at my eyes. “Back then. You should know that.” He nodded, looking back at my mouth again.

“I would have said yes. You should know that.”

He looked at my eyes again, biting his lower lip. When he smacked my butt, I jumped and squealed.

“You better get going.” He kissed me, and that time when I stood, he let me. He inched my skirt down my legs back to my knees, and he walked me to the door.

* * * *

I woke up the next morning to Kane sleeping soundly beside me. His hair was slightly damp, and it smelled like my shampoo. I crept from bed, pulling the door closed behind me. When I entered the kitchen, there was a piece of paper propped up in front of the coffeemaker. I picked sleep from the corners of my eyes and yawned as I walked toward it, and when I snatched up the piece of paper, I saw something very closely resembling the flower Sienna had drawn on the wall of Hilde and Mark’s house—that is to say, it looked like a large flaccid cock.

There were words printed on the page. A short paragraph at the top, and a short paragraph written at the bottom. The bottom paragraph was written upside down. I shook my head as I laughed quietly. And then I read.

This is a flower. It is not unlike the flower I’d have given you at homecoming. Turn the page upside down, Hell, and get your mind out of the gutter.

I giggled as I turned the sheet upside down, so the bottom paragraph was now at the top and the words were right side up. The … flower … was now rigid, erect, and pointing straight up.

This is also a cock. A very large one. A very hard one. It is not unlike the cock I’d have fucked your brains out with after homecoming.

Good morning, my sweet Hell.

I bit my lip, feeling heat burn through my cheeks.

I spent the morning scouring LexisNexis’s philosophy databases, reviewing articles and journal publications. The books and research weren’t the problem. That was in the bag. I could research like a motherfucker. What I was failing to do was crawl out of my shell and bring this thing to life in any valid, applicable manner that impacted the real world.

I finally gave up on the philosophy databases, and on a whim, I moved to some of my favorite psychology databases that I’d used back in my undergrad years. I immersed myself in a few journals, using “justice” and “crime” as my search terms.

Kane walked out just as I was pulling up a journal article titled, Injustice and Victimology. He was wearing nothing but his underwear, and he stretched, his muscles tightening as he did. He walked toward the kitchen, winking at me as he moved, and I watched him as he poured himself a coffee and returned to the sofa, sitting at the opposite end from me. When he picked up a book and started leafing through it as he blew on his coffee, I finally turned my attention to the article and scanned.

The ramifications of a crime left unresolved can be devastating to a victim.

That one passage alone stopped me still, and I stared at the words for a moment before shifting my attention to Kane. He looked up at me, smiling gently. He had no idea I was reading words that deconstructed an issue that impacted him just as greatly as they touched me. And I let the sight of him sink into me and the memories course through my veins for a moment before I returned my focus to the article.

Justice is this thing that can give a victim salvation. It’s also something that can eat away at a victim like a cancer when they don’t have it. It’s the difference between acceptance and peace or denial and tumult.

I could barely swallow as I read the words, and when I glanced up to Kane again, my vision was skewed with glossiness. My throat was tight, and Kane sat up, scooting forward until he was between my legs. He rested his hands on my stomach—his expression all concern and confusion.

The glossiness turned to real tears then, and I covered my eyes with my hand as my lips trembled. I felt the weight of Kane’s body as he leaned into me, and when he pulled my hand away from my eyes, I smiled this weird quivering smile as I let out an equally strange laugh.

He brushed the tears from my cheeks, biting his lower lip.

“I think I found my direction,” I said as another deranged laugh escaped me.

He smiled gently. “I’d say so.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

Kane

By Saturday at lunch time I had Helene on her hands and knees in my bedroom, her cute little ass in the air. She’d curse, growl, beat the floor with a mallet, and then curse some more. I heard, “This is bullshit,” every time she couldn’t get the interlocking pre-finished hardwoods to pop into place easily.

I was following her with the power nailer, and it was a damn good thing the nailer made noise, because it helped drown out the sound of my laughing at her. She was sweating even after stripping out of her sweatshirt and wearing only her tank top with her yoga pants. I couldn’t seem to take my eyes off her nipples that were showing through the thin fabric.

When my phone rang in my pocket, I contemplated ignoring it. We still had half the room to go before we were done. But I pulled it out, setting the nail gun beside me.

I glanced at the number, but I didn’t recognize it. “This is Kane Thorson.”

“Mr. Thorson, this is Bob Kendrick at Home Depot. Just thought I’d give you a call to tell you the sink we special ordered for you has finally come in.”

“Oh. That’s great. Timing’s perfect. I’ll head that way soon.”

I hung up moments later, and I collapsed onto my back next to Helene. She smiled down at me.

“Want me to grab lunch while I’m out?” I lifted her hand, letting my fingers twine through hers.

“No. Remember? Hilde said she was bringing us lunch today.”

“Oh, yeah.” I scowled. “She’s going to try to poison me isn’t she?”

Helene shrugged. “Maybe. I really couldn’t say.”

I pinched her in the side, and she instantly doubled over as she laughed. When I reached for her cheek, I pulled her mouth to mine, kissing her gently. She crawled on top of me, straddling my hips and looking down at me. I reached for her waist, running my palms up under her tank top, but she stopped me quickly, pulling my hands back. She leaned over me, pinning my hands above my head, and then she kissed me again.

She pressed her tongue between my lips, but she teased, pulling back when I tried to suck on it. My mouth chased after hers, but she dodged my lips at every turn.

“Come on, baby,” I whispered. “Put that tongue back in my mouth. Let me suck on it. I know how much you like that.”

Her cheeks turned rosy, and she finally lowered her mouth to mine, keeping her eyes open and on mine. She licked slowly along my lower lip, and I sighed, and when she slipped her tongue back between my lips, I moaned as she filled my mouth. I sucked, just as I promised I would, and she was the one who moaned then.

When she pulled back again, she kept her weight pressed down on my hands that were still above my head.

“For a woman who’s supposedly cold, you sure do warm up nicely. Now how about you lean over a little farther and let me warm up those nipples.” I stared up at her, waiting to see if she would.

“You have an errand to run. My nipples will be here when you get back.” She smirked as she pushed off me.

I groaned dramatically. “Yeah? Well, Hilde will be here too.”

She smiled sweetly as I crawled up from the floor.

I wrapped my arms around her, leaning to her ear. “Careful little tease. I’m not afraid to make you lay flooring naked with an anal plug in your ass. In fact, I’d like it very much.” I smacked her butt and walked out of the room, speaking over my shoulder. “I must go pick up a sink now. Make Hilde take a bite of my food, so I know she’s not trying to kill me.”

Helene laughed as she followed me from the room.

I pulled out of the driveway a few minutes later, and I passed Hilde on my way into town. I gave her the appropriate wave, and she ignored me completely. I wandered the aisles once I’d made it into the oversized store. I was contemplating buying the light fixtures I still needed, but as I strolled, I kept worrying Helene wouldn’t like them. It wasn’t my house, it also wasn’t my intention to live in the house any longer than I absolutely had to, and yet, I couldn’t help but want that space to feel like us.

The whole process ended up inspiring a very pleasant daydream of Helene—one that included a home of our own, a life of our own. I could imagine relaxing on a couch with her and watching a movie, laughing with her at the dinner table, making love to her in a bed that belonged to both of us, sleeping in late, taking walks, owning a dog for fuck sake. It was all so … domestic, strangely and intriguingly domestic. It also felt very foreign to me, as though that life was a page in a magazine—stunning, glossy, perfectly composed, but it was just a picture of something beautiful. It wasn’t the thing itself. The thing itself existed in some place so far off and outside my realm of understanding that I couldn’t really accept it truly existed.

But, God … what if it could?

When my brain returned from fantasy land, I was staring blankly at a display of ceiling fans, seeing nothing, just staring like an idiot.

I looked around, making sure no one had caught me drooling over my daydreams, and then I moved on to the kitchen section. It didn’t take them long to bring the large farmhouse sink up to the loading area. It was going to look perfect with the antiqued cupboards. My dad’s house was rustic to begin with. That had always translated into run down, cheap, outdated, smelly, and just plain disgusting. But now … the rusticity was going to be charming, fresh, and frankly, damn enviable. It was exactly what a quiet, out of the way home buried in the woods was supposed to be. It was the type of home that belonged on the pages of that glossy magazine spread I was enthralled with.

My phone rang as I was pulling out of the parking lot, and I snatched it up.

“Mr. Thorson, this is Sadie from Shady Oaks.” Her voice was clipped. I didn’t think Sadie liked me very much.

I sighed. “What’s he done now?”

Sadie was silent for a moment. “No. It… I just wanted you to know we’ll be calling Dr. Cameron to have your father seen early this next week. It’s nothing we feel warrants emergency attention. He’s exhibited some behaviors that could be concerning but could also be nothing. We just want to be thorough.”

I pulled the truck over in a parking lot. “All of his behaviors, past and present, are concerning to me,” I muttered. “What kind of concerning behaviors are you talking about?”

“He seems confused, disoriented, placid.”

“And you consider this somehow different from how he’s been behaving since having a stroke?” I scoffed. “Sounds pretty typical to me.”

“Well, that’s the problem with stroke victims. It makes it far more difficult to assess their symptoms when their neurological function is already compromised. He just doesn’t seem … himself.”

“Meaning he hasn’t broken anyone’s nose recently?”

“Meaning, I think it’s important to further assess his current state,” Sadie said with a decidedly annoyed tone to her voice. “You know, Mr. Thorson, he is your father. And I understand that his behavior now may be off-putting, but you can’t—”

“First of all, Sadie,” I cut her off quickly. “You don’t know my father. And what you call off-putting, I happen to know as his normal state of being. He is no more an asshole now than he’s ever been, and if I choose to hate him for that, that’s my business, not yours.” I took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “I appreciate you calling. Keep me posted on any new developments.” And then I hung up.

I chucked my phone onto the seat next to me. “Fuck,” I muttered as my fingers gripped tight on the steering wheel.

It seemed unnatural to hate a parent. It was. I knew it was. But hate was only one thing I felt for the man, and it was the simplest of what I felt, so I tended to let it supersede the rest. Because in addition to hating my dad, I also just really, really wanted to love him. I wanted what I was supposed to have. I wanted the idea of what that relationship was supposed to look like. But I’d given up thinking I would ever have those things a long time ago. I’d been short changed. There was no doubt. And yes, I was absolutely capable of feeling sorry for myself because of it at times.

I finally pulled out of the parking lot again and headed home. I was ready to be in that beautiful place again. I needed the glossy image of that pretty life with Helene. And I knew the moment I saw her, I’d feel it—the possibility of it.

Chapter Thirty-Four

Helene

“Well… I must say…” Hilde walked around, studying her surroundings as she moved. “…I like it. I remember being in here once when we were kids, and this… Well, this is a change for the better for sure.” Hilde opened the fridge, placing the Tupperware of chicken salad on the shelf and then placing the bag of croissants on top of the fridge. Her eyes continued to rove the entire time.

“He does good work—really good work,” I agreed as I watched her. The idea of Hilde and Kane getting along was a bit of a secret fantasy of mine, and seeing Hilde genuinely impressed with him almost made me giddy.

“These cupboards are amazing,” Hilde said as she ran her hand along the edge of a drawer front. “What are the countertops going to be?”

“A charcoal gray soapstone. It’s supposed to be delivered on Monday. He really is close to having this wrapped up.”

Hilde turned to look at me, and then she did it. She destroyed the giddy. “And then what?”

I stared at her. “And then what what?”

“He moves in with you after he sells the place?”

I stared at her, trying to hide the excitement I’d felt only moments before and feeling completely dejected. I finally shrugged. “I don’t know.”

Hilde nodded slowly. “Huh.”

“Huh?”

“Just, huh.” She turned away, wandering toward the living room. “So … how do you see this playing out between you two?”

The excitement was officially gone, and I gaped at her for a moment before following her into the living room. “Hilde … how could I possibly know that?”

“I just mean, do you see yourself with someone like Kane for the rest of your life?”

“Gee, Hil, could you be more judgmental? Someone like Kane? Does the emphasis on his name mean something in particular?” My voice was getting louder by the second.

“You’re a doctoral student, Helene. He’s a … a high school dropout without a job. As your sister and someone who loves you dearly, I want to know how this works for the two of you. I watched this man nearly destroy you once already.” Hilde’s voice was now as loud as mine, and when I glanced to her eyes, it was to see tears in them, but her expression remained angry. “And then he just shows up, and … and all is forgotten?” Her voice was shrill.

“No!” I snapped back. “Nothing, and I mean nothing, is forgotten with us. We live in our past every day.” A tear trickled down my cheek, and I brushed it angrily away.

“Not usually a very good place to dwell.”

I glared at her until she finally looked down, sighed, and shook her head.

“You don’t have any idea what it was like,” she continued, her voice far quieter. “Every day I worried mom and dad were going to call, and that was going to be it. I thought … she’s going to kill herself. Every time the phone rang, I knew it was going to be about you.” She shrugged. “I don’t know how to forgive him for that.” Hilde shook her head, brushing away her own tears that had finally fallen. “If he hurts you again…” She trailed off as her eyes wandered, but her head was still shaking.

“Hilde… You need to understand something. Kane’s leaving played an exceptionally small part in what I went through at that time. It isn’t fair to blame him for what happened to me. He wasn’t the reason. He just wasn’t.”

Hilde’s eyes shifted back and forth between mine, searching for some hidden truth I wasn’t willing to divulge.

“What does that mean?” She practically whispered out the question.

I looked away, refusing to speak.

“Why won’t you talk about this?”

My eyes were already warm, and when Hilde’s glossed over again, mine did too. “It was a long time ago.”

“Yeah,” Hilde said with a touch of sarcasm. “In a past you’re living out in your present.” Her eyebrows shot up, but then she looked away.

“I love him,” I said quietly, not bothering to look at Hilde as I spoke. Hell, I was a little shocked I’d said it out loud. “I don’t know what a life looks like with him.” I finally looked at her. “But I know I want that life anyway. And you’re going to have to deal with that.”

Hilde took a deep breath.

“He’s not going to hurt me. He’s not going to leave me. I know him. He knows how hard it was on me when he left the first time. He wouldn’t do that again. I trust that.” Nothing I said to her was a question. But my tone was pleading nevertheless.

“You truly believe that?”

I nodded.

There was suddenly a knock on the door, and I gave Hilde only a moment of eye contact before I looked away and walked toward the door.

The man standing in front of me looked familiar, but for the life of me I couldn’t place him.

“Well, hi Sam,” Hilde said as she stepped up beside me. “How are you?”

“Hilde, good to see you.”

And then I remembered him. He’d graduated in Hilde’s class. Sam Clausen.

“Helene, right? Hilde’s younger sister. I remember you.”

I held my hand out to him. “That’s me. The obnoxious little sister.”

He chuckled as he shook my hand, but then his brow furrowed in what appeared to be confusion. “Can’t say I expected to see either of you here. Is Kane around?”

“No. He had to run to town. I was just helping him out with a few things this weekend. Hilde stopped by to bring us some lunch.”

“I see. Glad to see you two are still friends. You two were thick as thieves if I recall.”

I smiled, backing away from the door so Sam could enter. He had a folder in his hand, and as he stepped by me, he commented. “I’m going to be the listing agent on the house. If you’re curious why I’m here.” He laughed. “Mind if I look around. I’d like to take some notes, so I can start researching comps. Haven’t been here since just before he started renovations, so I’d like to see the changes.”

“Of course.”

“Hey, Sam, it was great to see you,” Hilde chimed in. “I’m heading out, but I’m sure I’ll run into you soon enough.” She patted Sam on the back.

“Tell Mark I said hi. Sue and I would love to have you both over for dinner sometime. Mention it to him, will you?”

“I’ll do that. Sounds wonderful.”

Hilde gave me a small hesitant smile, and she squeezed my elbow. The smile I returned likely wasn’t very convincing, and once she was out the door, I sighed. I hung back in the living room as Sam showed himself around, and it wasn’t more than five minutes before he found me again.

“Wow.” His eyebrows shot up. “I’m impressed. He’s made smart decisions in where he chose to put his dad’s money. This is going to significantly increase the sale value.” He was still looking around, and when he finally looked back at me, he smiled. “Oh,” he said as he glanced down to the file folder in his hands. “Almost forgot. These are the absent seller agreement docs he started filling out.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“Well, you know, when the seller isn’t expected to be present or easily reachable during the listing period, showing, negotiating and sales process, these documents give me a few additional negotiating rights, so I don’t have to worry about constantly being in contact with the seller.”

I nodded. “Oh, sure. Because his father is in skilled care.”

“Oh, no, Helene. Kane’s the power of attorney. He doesn’t need his father’s permission to sell the home. I mean because Kane isn’t going to be present.”

My heart stopped.

I stared at Sam’s chest blankly for a moment. My pulse was racing, and my stomach seemed to be trying to stuff itself up my esophagus all of a sudden. I was panicking.

“Right,” I feigned understanding, hiding the absolute confusion I was really feeling.

“Has he mentioned to you yet where he’s going? When I spoke to him a couple of weeks ago, he knew he wouldn’t be around, but … he couldn’t seem to nail down where he was going to be or how I would be able to reach him. I just thought perhaps he had some additional information on that.”

I stared at Sam, trying to get a response to form on my tongue, but I couldn’t. My brain was simply shutting down. I finally settled on, “A couple of weeks ago? That’s when you spoke to him last about this?”

A couple of weeks. Not a few months ago. Not even one month ago. Only two weeks ago?

“Yeah. Listen, the only reason I ask is that section five specifically requires at least the location of where the seller is going to be and a contact number of someone who can get a message to the seller. I don’t know if he’s going to be somewhere remote or if he simply hasn’t decided where he’s going to be, but given how quickly the renovations are coming together, I’m going to need something soon.” He smiled at me.

“Right.” Hadn’t I already said that?

“But I don’t want him to worry. I feel confident this house is going to show well, and once we get this property on the market, I don’t expect it to stay on the market long. Can’t imagine why he wouldn’t want to keep this place,” he said incredulously as he looked around again. “Though…” He looked back at me once more. “…if his heart is set on leaving us here in Hazleton again, I suppose he’s prepared to part with it and everything else our lovely town has to offer. Right?”

I looked down at the floor, staring at the spot between us. “Yes. I suppose that’s right.” I held my hand out finally. “I’ll see to it he gets the documents.”

I took the folder from Sam, and then I followed him to the door.

“Really is great to see you again, Helene. Tell Kane I’m sorry I missed him, but he’s doing a wonderful job on the renovations. I look forward to speaking with him soon.”

I nodded. “I’ll tell him.”

I forced a very pathetic smile to my lips, and Sam’s brow flinched when he saw it. He dismissed it quickly though. “Have a great afternoon, Helene.”

“You too.”

And then I shut the door. I had no idea how long I stood there staring at the floor, but I eventually stumbled over to a canvas folding chair that was sitting by the fireplace. I sank into the seat, and I held the folder on my lap.

When I opened the folder, I found a stapled bunch of papers. They were partially completed in Kane’s handwriting, and they were dated a little less than two weeks prior. I reviewed each page, looking for some clue, any clue, as to why he’d filled them out. My heart raced as I flipped the pages one at a time. On one particular page the applicant had to write in the reason for completing the absent seller forms. He’d written in, “I won’t be living in Hazleton when the property is listed, nor will I be residing within close proximity to Hazleton. I will also not be easily reached by phone.”

On section five, the section Sam had referred to, Kane had put a sticky note on the page. “I won’t be in town, but I don’t yet know where my physical location will be. I’ll complete this section at a later date. I also don’t know what phone number can be used to get a message to me as of yet.”

Sam had written a response. “Please complete this section and return to me as soon as you’re able—not later than when we list the house.”

I finally closed the document placing it back in the folder, and then I stared some more. I contemplated leaving. I contemplated calling him. But I didn’t. Instead, I sat there in a stupor contemplating everything there was to contemplate over and over and over again.

My life with Kane was slipping away again, and no matter how hard I tried to keep the panic from taking over, and no matter how hard I tried to rationalize what I was seeing and tell myself something had changed for Kane since he’d filled this out, I couldn’t get those thoughts to stick.

He’d filled out the document less than two weeks before.

When I heard his dad’s truck pull up, I was still staring at nothing and my brain was still spinning. It was as if every ounce of energy I possessed was being directed to the anxiety coursing through my body, and the rest of me could barely move as a result. I was paralyzed by it.

I stared at the door, waiting for it to open, and as it did, I held my breath. Kane looked at me as he stepped in, and he smiled. That smile fell two seconds later.

“Hell? Are you—”

“Sam Clausen stopped by,” I said as I stood. My voice sounded oddly flat given just how much I was screaming inside my head.

“Yeah. He’s going to list the house—”

“He’d really like you to finish the absent seller documents. He needs to know where you’re going to be moving for the paperwork and what phone number can best be used to get a message to you. Seeing as I clearly have no idea, I really wasn’t able to help him.”

Kane’s lips parted subtly, and a quiet huff of breath escaped his lips. He stared at me, his eyes wide, and when he tried to swallow, it seemed to stick—the lump never fully going down.

“I can’t…” I shook my head, and my lips tried to form words, opening and closing like a dying fish over and over as I stood there. “Are you leaving?” I finally spit the words out in a rush.

He only stared at me, and I knew… He was leaving.

“Oh, God,” I gasped out before he even had a chance to respond. My fingers clutched at my stomach as bile rose up in the back of my throat.

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “I don’t want to…”

He didn’t say the word that was supposed to follow that sentence, so I did for him. “But,” I bit out angrily.

His eyes glossed over, and he looked at me for a moment before his focus shifted to the ground. “But I don’t think I can survive this life if I don’t.” He was still whispering, and his lips trembled.

“Oh, God,” I gasped out again. I stumbled to the kitchen table where I’d left my keys, and I shook my head the entire time.

I was getting ready to walk away from him, very likely forever. I could see myself doing it, and I fully understood I needed to, and yet, I knew this was going to hurt as bad as anything in my life ever had—that was saying a lot for me. I knew I was going to do this, even though every cell in my body wanted to resist it. The anxiety that accompanied that notion was agonizing. It felt like a taut rubber band stretching through my body that was ready to snap, and when I turned back around to face him … it did.

“How dare you!” I screamed at him. I barely recognized the sound of my voice as it erupted from my throat. My palms burned as my nails dug viciously into them. “What right did you have?” My screams turned to sobs as tears streamed down my face, and when I tried to breathe, it came out as strangled gasps.

Kane was staring at my chest, the tendons in his neck strained, tears running down his cheeks too. He was making no sound at all, and it didn’t even look like he was breathing.

“I don’t want to leave you,” he gasped out when he finally took a breath. “I just… I don’t know how to… Please…” He was stammering, and when his voice broke, the words turned to quiet sobs.

It was painful seeing him this way. I’d seen tears of anguish like this from him only one other time in this life. I’d watched him cry, sob, and breakdown, and this was oddly almost as painful as that time.

I marched toward the door, and when I passed him, he grabbed my arm, yanking me back.

“No!” he yelled. “No. Please don’t go. Please don’t leave. I can’t…” He pushed me up to the wall beside the front door as I stumbled backward. His hands clutched at my cheeks, stilling my head, and he used his body to pin mine in place. He kissed me.

He kissed me!

“Stay, stay, stay.” He kept repeating the words against my mouth.

I wanted to sink into it. I wanted what his mouth was doing. I wanted more than even his mouth could do. I wanted it all, and I wanted to keep it forever.

And the very second I realized I couldn’t … I hit him.

His lips were torn from mine as my palm slammed hard into his cheek.

“Stay? You’re asking me to stay?” I glared at him. “How dare you. You have no right to touch me. You never had the right to.”

His hand clutched at his cheek, and he gaped at me for a moment until his eyelids finally fluttered, and he staggered back from me.

“You fucking bastard,” I spat out. But then the rage turned to anguish, and my lips twitched and trembled as more tears fell. “I fell in love with you,” I sobbed out the words.

He covered his eyes, his chest heaving and hitching as he cried.

And I walked out.

Part III: A Tomorrow Gone

Chapter Thirty-Five

Kane

The first night I actually thought might kill me. I’m pretty sure it nearly had. I wanted to die. It wasn’t the first time in this life I could say that, but there was something especially cruel about the desire this time. I’d had something amazing, and the entire time I’d had it, I’d refused to acknowledge what was lurking in the back of mind—I was always going to lose her. She was going to decide I wasn’t enough for her. She was going to decide she hated me. I was going to lose control of myself and hurt her in some deeply scarring emotional way that only I could inflict on her. Or … I was going to hit the end of this project and walk away from this life. But I was always, always going to lose her.

Why couldn’t I have just stayed away?

I called Shawn early the morning after. It was Sunday, and there was little chance the man would be gracing any pews or saying any prayers. I knew I needed to stay busy before I backslid into who knows what atrocious behavior. I tended to lose control quickly when the wheels fell off my life. I wasn’t a stupid man. I was also plenty self-aware. But for all the awareness I had, when I was ready to kick my own ass, I was exceptionally good at it.

Helene had been right about the lengths I’d go to hurt myself, and at the moment … I didn’t trust myself not to destroy her emotionally to do it, and I knew exactly what it would take. A married woman, one of her students, hell, a random bar skank. I craved pain. I needed to hurt. But I was also desperate to avoid sharing my pain with her or making her a part of my ugly cycle of self-destruction.

So instead of committing an emotional murder/suicide at the hands of some pussy I had no interest or desire for, I worked. And I worked. The pace was pure insanity, and Shawn spent the whole of Sunday actually wishing he was home with his wife for the first time in years. He glared at me as we knocked out the rest of the hardwoods, and when I instantly stood after laying the last piece of flooring, grabbed my tape measure, and started taking my first measurements for trim, he groaned.

“I’m paying you, aren’t I?” I barked at him, and then I worked halfway through the night, ignoring Shawn when he stumbled exhaustedly out the front door at midnight. Instead, I focused my attention on the miter saw in front of me and kept on working straight into the night.

When I collapsed on the floor at three-thirty in the morning, I fell asleep. My body didn’t seem to care that the hardwoods were as hard as their name implied. But then, I’d worked myself ragged, not leaving enough strength for my limbs to do anything about it anyway. I fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. It was so dreamless, that when I woke a few hours later, I stared around the room, wondering where the hell I was, what day it was, and why the hell I was sprawled out on the floor.

And then I remembered how much I hated my life, despised myself, and had convinced the only woman I’d ever loved to despise me too. I spent the next hour patching the hole my fist put in the wall at that realization, and when Shawn came in looking haggard and old, he stared at the patch I was putting the second coat of drywall mud on.

“Someone have a rough morning?” he grunted.

I ignored him, and by lunchtime the kitchen counters were being installed, and I was able to shut my brain off for a while. The second the counter installers left, I started in on the light fixtures I’d purchased just that morning, and Shawn sighed. He followed me around, sighing again and again and again, and by the time ten o’clock rolled around that night, the house had all new light fixtures, the bathroom sink faucet was installed, I’d completely hidden the drywall patch with my mad impressive mudding skills and paint job, and Shawn was fishing his keys from his pocket as he prepared to leave.

Shawn was like that friend you simply always had. He was neither the best friend you’d had nor the worse. He was just there. Shawn tended to push my buttons, largely because he’d only ever seen me as a troublemaking asshole—he’d only ever wanted to see me that way. In high school that had been fine. Now? Now it just annoyed the shit out of me. But I owed him. I owed him a lot, even if he didn’t understand what for and even if I had no intention of confiding in him. I was surviving by staying busy and by staying accompanied. Alone, unoccupied—I had no idea what I might do.

“Thanks for all your help Shawn. I really do appreciate it.”

Shawn instantly glanced at me, scoffed uncomfortably at my show of kindness, and muttered, “Whatever.”

My lips actually tried to pull up for the first time in days. But then he left, and the barely-there smile I’d had for a moment was gone. I wasn’t tired enough to pass out the way I had the night before, and I paced around the living room, fighting the urge to think about her, because I knew when I did, it would be a downward spiral that would spit me out somewhere I didn’t want to be.

But fighting the urge wasn’t enough, and after pacing for nearly forty minutes, the need to see her face, hear her voice, and remember her touch overpowered me. I sank to the floor, and I closed my eyes, letting my imagination give me the sight, the sound, the feel that I was so desperate for. It wasn’t enough, and before I had time to stop myself, I walked out the front door, slamming it behind me.

I headed toward town, and I barely let my brain function as I drove. I was afraid to admit what I was doing. I was also afraid I might talk myself out of it. So I ran on autopilot, seeing but not seeing the roads, turning here and there but not knowing why, and pulling to a stop without really registering why I was there.

Big Dog’s Billiards. The neon sign on the roof blinked as it tried to stay lit, and I sat there staring at it. Two months ago, I’d have walked in, drank until whatever loose inhibitions I had were gone, and then spent the rest of the night fucking. I was usually looking for a fight or a fuck and since the latter tended to keep me out of cuffs, it was nearly always my preference.

Now all I could seem to do was think about the repercussions, the consequences, the hurt, pain, and suffering my every action could bring to another—one particular other who didn’t want anything to do with me because she’d made the mistake of falling in love with a man she later discovered didn’t deserve her love. Hadn’t I said that would happen once—that she’d find out before the end just how much I didn’t deserve her? I’m sure I had.

My fingers tightened on the steering wheel as I stared, and I imagined what it would feel like to drown in a bottle until I couldn’t feel anything anymore. That’s what I was after. Escape, relief from this pain. But at the end of that bottle were too many possibilities, and none of them were pretty. Pussy, a fight, a drunk driving accident, who knew.

I finally managed to get the key back in the ignition, start the truck, and drive away. This time I ended up in the parking lot of Shady Oaks. There were only a few cars there—likely the ones belonging to the night staff. I couldn’t go in. I knew that. Not until normal visiting hours at eight o’clock, but I wasn’t certain why I was there anyway, so I’m not sure it really mattered.

Instead, I stared at the building, imagining my old man tucked into a hospital bed, his brain a mis-wired mess of synapsis. It sure would have been nice if this stroke had miraculously turned him kind. Maybe that’s all it was really. A wire threaded into the wrong nerve center. It was nothing more than a birth defect. Maybe somewhere in there was a father who knew how to love his son, wanted to love his son even.

When I looked at the dashboard clock again, it was nearly two in the morning. I grabbed my cell phone, dialed Helene, and hit send. She would either not answer because she was sound asleep and I’d leave what would likely prove to be a very poorly advised message, or she would answer and I would do… What would I do? I started to panic.

But then it was too late.

“What do you want?” Her words sounded slurred, but it wasn’t sleep. She was intoxicated.

“Are you drunk?” I knew she was. I remembered drunk-Helene-voice from high school. She didn’t sound stupid drunk, but there was no mistaking it.

“You needn’t worry about my drinking habits. They don’t concern you.” She stumbled through her words. “What do you want?” she repeated.

“I just need to tell you something.” But then I couldn’t figure out what to say. My heart continued to pound.

“That you’re a selfish prick who thought more about fucking me than you did the emotional fallout? Is that what it was? Huh? You just needed to fuck me on your own terms? Get it out of your system before you moved on? Huh?” Her voice was angry and loud.

“No,” I mumbled.

“Then what?” She practically yelled the question.

“I needed to fall in love with you!” I snapped back just as loudly. “I…” But then the words were gone again. “I don’t want to hurt you, Helene.”

She laughed, but it was all cruelty and anger. “This isn’t about hurting me. Remember? It’s about hurting you. And I’m your best weapon, aren’t I? Our past, our present, my feelings, your own even, it all makes for one hell of a Molotov cocktail, doesn’t it—flirting with disaster as the fuse burns down.” Her voice was oddly calm as she slurred slowly through her words—all of them just as poignant as if she were sober. Her brain could do amazing things even intoxicated. “You’re contemplating it now aren’t you? How to hurt yourself with me. What you can do to feel the most pain, the most disappointment, the most shame.” She was silent for a moment. “I wanted to be enough for you.” And then her voice cracked, and the pain the alcohol had likely been masking quite effectively showed through.

“You are everything to me,” I said emphatically.

“Sometimes nothing is enough—not even everything.”

It was silent for a while, neither of us saying anything.

“Were you going to tell me? Or were you just going to sneak off in the middle of the night like last time?”

My lips trembled, and I pressed on the middle of my forehead. “I…” I sighed. “I was still trying to decide if I could stay here. I wanted to—”

“Right,” she muttered angrily. “Let me guess. It was my job to talk you out of leaving again.”

“No,” I said quietly.

“Why am I not enough?” Her voice broke again. She was falling apart. “I wasn’t eleven years ago, and I’m not now. What does it take to be enough for you?”

“This isn’t about you,” I shook my head. “I mean…” I sighed. “It isn’t about wanting to leave you. I never wanted to. I never will want to. It’s about…” My lips felt tight, and they kept trembling as I tried to get the words to form.

But I couldn’t.

I didn’t know how to say this out loud. I didn’t know how to explain it. She was the one person in the world who deserved to know, and here I was, eleven years later, sitting in the cab of my dad’s shitty old truck in a deserted nursing home parking lot, and I still couldn’t tell her my darkest secret.

I finally sighed. “I need you to listen to me, baby, because this is important.” I nodded, giving myself a moment to regroup. “I love you, Helene. I want you to know that. You’re the only person I have ever and will ever love in this lifetime. I’m so good at loving you. It’s the one thing I can safely say I will never falter at. It doesn’t mean I’ll make the right decisions, do the right things, or say the right things. And it sure as hell doesn’t mean I can make you happy. But my heart will always be in the right place with you.” Tears filled my eyes and then ran down my cheeks. My throat tightened like a vise around my words. “But this place is killing me,” my voice lurched out. I forced myself to continue. “Not because of you, not even because of our past, but … because of a mistake I made a long time ago. If I stay, I will end up hurting you. I don’t know how or what it will be, and I’ll fight against that need to destroy myself as long as I can to protect you. But … something will happen. Something will spark that unresolved nightmare in me. It will happen, and I can’t let it. I love you too much to allow my life to destroy yours. There is nothing else in the world you need to understand about me than that.”

She was nearly silent, but I could hear her crying quietly—the hitch of her breath, the shuddering sobs, the sniffing of her nose. And then she hung up. I covered my eyes, pressing on them as color erupted like fireworks, and I sat there in a stupor until the sun came up hours later.

* * * *

“Never have liked her,” Shawn said as he finished screwing in a light switch plate. “That bitch is too—”

“Don’t call her that,” I snapped quickly as I pulled myself out from under the kitchen sink, still holding the jar of joint compound in my hand. “You don’t know her.” I glared up at Shawn.

“She dumped your ass like three days ago, and you don’t want me to talk shit about her?” He rolled his eyes. “Whatever.” He went back to his light switch plate. “I at least thought with all this time you been spending nailing her, she might actually convince you to stick around and stay in Hazleton,” he muttered.

I pushed up from the floor, standing at the new kitchen counter and running my hand along the smooth surface for a moment. “I wanted to be convinced by her,” I said quietly. “At times I thought I was.”

“And yet, you’re still moving on just as soon as this place is on the market, huh?”

I rested my elbows to the counter, letting my head drop to my hands. “It’s kind of complicated.” I didn’t offer anything further. In truth, it was more than complicated. My time back in Hazleton was always supposed to be a temporary thing. The timeline had nearly run its course, and it was supposed to end very soon. It was supposed to end, because I needed it to end. I needed an end to everything that had come before it.

The problem was … I’d made the mistake of venturing into Hell, touching the heat, making that warmth my home. And now I wasn’t sure I had the strength to leave and do what I knew I needed to do—what I had to do.

“She deserves better than me.” I made the comment more to myself than Shawn.

He snorted. “She tell you that?” He was sneering.

I shook my head, but I didn’t want to say anything more. It was now Tuesday mid-evening, and the why behind our breakup was still hidden from Shawn, just as it would remain, because it simply wasn’t something Shawn had any business knowing. But this conversation could easily push me into madness—a place I’d been flirting with for three days now.

I stared around the kitchen, and then I walked to the living room, looking around that room as well. It was beautiful. It was also done—aside from a few last minute items like having the dumpster towed away, cleaning up the yard and the scraps on the porch, and dusting the place down from top to bottom. Done.

Shawn walked into the living room, looking around too. “Let’s knock off. Go get a drink.”

I didn’t answer for a minute. I walked away, ignoring him, and I entered the hallway. My bedroom finally and for the first time looked like a real bedroom. The walls were smooth, the trim clean and fresh. The light fixture updated. The floors gleamed, and I followed that gleam down the hallway, peeking into the spare bedroom, the completely updated and new bathroom, and then finally down the hall into the larger master bedroom. I’d kept the paint color neutral, but not too light. It was a warm grayish tan, and the color popped against the wide white trim throughout.

I pulled my phone from my pocket as I looked out the master bedroom window toward the trees beyond. When Ross answered after the third ring, I gnawed on my thumbnail rather than speaking.

“Kane?” he finally asked.

I cleared my throat. “Yeah… I just wanted to touch base.” I took a deep breath. “I’m back on task.”

Ross was silent for a moment. “Okay,” he said, almost sounding disappointed. “You say the word, and I’ll be there.”

“I’ll call you soon.” And I hung up.

By the time I made it back out to the living room, I’d made up my mind.

“Yeah, let’s go get a drink. At least something in my life has to be worth celebrating.”

Within an hour and a half, I was nearly drunk. Apparently not drinking for weeks lowers one’s threshold. But within two hours, Shawn was as drunk as me, and so was his mouth.

“What was it like fucking your professor? Her pussy somehow special because she happens to be smart? No way that chick is good in bed.” He laughed.

I glared at him. “I don’t want to talk about Helene.”

Shawn switched subjects quickly. Sadly the subject didn’t stay switched for long.

“You know, you and professor lady woulda never worked. She’s too stuck-up. Now that gal over there who can’t keep her fucking eyes off you…” He let those words trail off.

I glanced over, seeing the woman sitting at the bar with another gal. She kept looking over her friend’s shoulder at me, and when I made eye contact, she smiled. I looked back at Shawn, refusing to return her smile.

“That’s all you really need—to get laid.”

“Stop,” I warned him. “That’s not ever what I need when I’m sitting in a fucking bar.”

Shawn snorted. “And yet, you seem to get laid more than any man I know.” He laughed.

“Can we go,” I said as I stood up.

“What?” Shawn said incredulously.

“Yeah. I—”

“No way, asshole.”

“I’m leaving,” I muttered as I turned away toward the door.

Shawn grabbed my arm. “You so hung up on that bitch—”

I yanked my arm away. “Don’t ever call her that again,” I seethed as I glared at him.

But Shawn was a little too drunk to care. “She’s … a … fucking … bitch,” he spat out.

And that was it.

Chapter Thirty-Six

Helene

“We’re going to do things a little different tonight. I’ve scheduled this night as a work night for your term papers. I’d like each of you to come up and meet with me individually, so we can review your topic, your sources, any questions you have. If you’re not meeting with me, then you can be working on your paper. I wrote the Wi-Fi password on the board, so you’d all have access from your laptops. You can access LexisNexis through the library’s website, as well as other databases. If you have questions on what a scholarly source is and how to search specifically on those resources, please let me know. You will not get full points on your paper unless you have the right number of sources considered scholarly. Failing to understand what that means is not a mistake you want to make.”

I hadn’t seen Kane yet, and in all truth I actually had no idea if he was there or not. I’d not let my eyes wander around the room when I entered a few minutes late, and the most I could say conclusively was that Kane was clearly not sitting in the front row. I’d actually contemplated canceling class tonight. It was, after all, a work night, and adult students shouldn’t really need me to tell them how to write a term paper at this point, but… I’d found that handholding was as much a part of collegiate education as it was primary school.

I sat at the desk, waiting for the first student to come up, and while I waited, I pulled out my own laptop, doing my own research for my very own paper. I was still a student myself after all. I hadn’t managed much over the past half week—hell, I’d barely managed to get out of bed on some days, and eating was something I had to physically and quite painfully force myself to do. But I had set up a meeting with a counselor from Victim Services in Philadelphia as well as a psychiatrist from Trident Correctional Facility. Both had agreed to meet with me, and I knew I should be excited about it. But I wasn’t really sure I cared anymore.

I’d been ecstatic, stupidly, profoundly ecstatic about the new direction of my dissertation—so ecstatic, in fact, I’d not bothered to reach out to Dr. Briggs, because frankly, I didn’t want to run the risk of finding out she didn’t like my choice. Blending a bit of victimology with philosophy was a good choice; it was the right choice for me, and I wasn’t going to be dissuaded. Too bad I wasn’t feeling it. I wasn’t feeling much of anything anymore. Just numb, just dead.

When the first student pulled up a nearby chair and sat by the side of the desk, I forced a smile to my mouth. I tried to act enthusiastic about what the guy was saying, but I couldn’t honestly say I cared. Cyborg theories weren’t really my topic of interest.

“It’s going to be awesome,” he said. “I mean, this book I found is all about aug… aug—”

“Augmentation,” I finished for him.

“Yeah. That.”

“So are you honing in your study on the analysis of restorative versus enhancements, or are you thinking of delving into what does and does not fall under the definition of augmentation?”

The kid stared at me blankly. “Huh?”

“For instance, some in the field of study would say vaccinations qualify as augmentation, others limit the scope.”

“Oh… I guess … not that. I’m thinking about human enhancements,” he said excitedly.

We’d not even covered this particular topic, and it wasn’t considered part of pretty much any general philosophy course anywhere, but … he’d clearly been Googling his way into a rather obscure topic in the field, and I supposed I had to give him props for that.

“So how do you relate this topic to your own life?”

He looked around mischievously, and when he looked back, he smirked. “Well, I have some … interesting piercings I’d consider enhancements.” His eyebrows shot up as he spoke quietly to me. “If you know what I mean.”

My mouth dropped open before I could stop it, and I had to clear my throat. “Right,” I finally said. “Um… I’m sure it’ll be great.”

He nodded, smiling broadly. “Yeah it will.” He stood. “Thanks, Pro Hess.”

“Pro… Okay. You’re welcome,” I said awkwardly. Piercings?

I made it through one meeting after another, some impressive, some laughably off-base were I capable of laughing. It was halfway through the class period when I gave everyone a fifteen minute break that I found out conclusively Kane was, in fact, in class. He’d been sitting in the last row in the corner closest to the interior wall. He stood, skirting by the other desks with his head down, and he walked straight out of the room without ever looking up at me.

The room emptied out, and I sat there staring at my lap, inhaling and exhaling slowly. When the door was pulled open by the first returning student a few minutes later, my eyes glanced that way. It was him. He paused in the doorway, staring at me but not entering. And that’s when I saw it. He had a black eye and a scuff on his cheek. He stood there frozen until the next student behind him plowed into the back of him because she was too busy staring at her smart phone and not paying attention to what she was doing. He stumbled forward, and then he went back to staring at me for a moment.

He took a deep breath and finally turned toward the back of the classroom. Within ten minutes all of the students had returned. I stood, circling around to the front of the desk.

“How many of you have yet to meet with me?”

Only six hands rose, not including Kane’s because he clearly had no intention of meeting with me given his eyes were glued downward to his book.

“Okay. We should get through this pretty quick. Once everyone has met with me, I’ll do a quick Q and A for any questions you might have and we’ll be done for the evening. You can pick up the study guide for next week’s test on your way out.”

I sat back down, and the next student came up. I made it through four of the remaining students within fifteen minutes, and when the fifth approached, I glanced up. It was winky boy with lazy book buying tendencies.

“Have a seat,” I said.

And he winked at me. Good to see this was off to a fairly predictable start. But what I didn’t predict was Kane suddenly standing from the back of the classroom and walking up front. He stood awkwardly at the side of the front row, clearly lost for a moment as to what he was supposed to do now. I took the rather juvenile opportunity to verbally kick him in the balls.

“Mr. Thorson, why don’t you have a seat and wait your turn.” I stared at him, feeling heat burn through my cheeks but ignoring it and my racing heart.

He stared back, his lips pursed as he watched me. When his eyes shifted to winky boy, his jaw instantly clenched tight, and he shook his head. He sank into the nearby desk chair on the edge of the front row, and I returned my attention to the man, if one could call him that, sitting in the chair next to my desk.

“Hey, I’m James.”

“Hi,” I said curtly.

“Sex.” That’s all he said, and he nodded his head as though I was supposed to be impressed.

“Care to elaborate?”

A few nearby students laughed, clearly having overheard James’s comment, and when I glanced toward them, my attention stopped on Kane. He was glaring at the side of James’s face.

“The philosophy of sex, sexuality, all that good stuff,” James said. “You know, like the discussion we had in class. It was interesting.” His voice was too seductive, and as he spoke, he leaned in, resting his closest elbow to my desktop. “The power of sexual attraction.”

More giggles could be heard nearby.

I cleared my throat. “Yep. Sounds good. Next please,” I said as I glanced toward Kane, but then my eyes bulged.

Kane’s teeth were gritted, and his lips were twisted in a snarl as he continued to glare at James.

“So, can I call you to discuss it more if I have questions? Bet you have some good insight into the topic.”

“What?” My eyes returned to James, having heard nothing of what he’d just asked me. “What did you ask?”

He smiled, biting his lower lip. “If I could call you. You know, to discuss my paper.”

I shook my head. “Just send me an email if you have questions.”

He leaned back casually and shrugged. “Okay. If you say so.” His tone implied it was my loss if I didn’t want to entertain his little crush by phone.

Kane stood, not waiting for another invitation, and as he walked toward me, James stood, nearly careening into him. Kane stopped, refusing to step out of James’s way, and his eyebrows rose smugly as he waited for James to step around him. James held his hands up laughing casually when he finally stepped to the side. But when Kane stepped by him, James couldn’t seem to keep his mouth shut.

“Stole your topic, dick,” he muttered quietly.

Kane paused and turned to look at James beside him. “You can have the topic. I don’t need to learn how to fuck. You, on the other hand, clearly do.” He nodded in my direction, a reminder he’d just been denied by me.

“Gentlemen,” I said in warning.

Both of them looked at me. James smiled and winked before walking away, and Kane stared for a moment before taking a deep breath and another two steps toward me. He sat in the chair, which put his back toward the class, and he rested his elbow on the desktop with his hand to his mouth. He was gnawing nervously on the tip of his thumbnail.

“Your topic.” My voice was clipped and cold.

He studied me for a moment. “The moral issues of vigilantism.”

I nodded slowly. “Why that topic?”

“Did you ask your other students?” His voice was defensive, but he shook his head as though he regretted his tone. “I think I’ve earned the right to be interested in the field of justice just as much as you, wouldn’t you say?” His voice was quiet, and it wasn’t carrying beyond the desk and the space between us.

“Very well,” I responded.

He made no move to stand, and I looked down at the desktop between us. When I looked back up, he was still watching me.

I cleared my throat. “Nice to see you playing well with others.”

He reached up, touching the scuff along his cheekbone just under and outside of his eye. “Shawn called you a fucking bitch. Sorry I didn’t handle the situation up to your standards,” he muttered quietly. He stood abruptly and walked away.

I forced my mouth to stay closed and stifle the gape as he walked away from me, and I cleared my throat as the final student approached. She ate up only about thirty seconds of my time, and when I stood again, I pulled the study guides for the test from my briefcase. I rounded the desk, setting the stack of guides beside me as I crossed my ankles and my arms.

“Questions.”

I was hoping there would be none. I did not get my wish. It was a good fifteen minutes before I was able to dismiss class. Kane didn’t hang back. I was disappointed and relieved at the same time. He walked out with the rest of the students, his eyes lingering on mine for a moment before he passed through the door. By the time I made it to the parking lot we both usually parked in, his dad’s truck was gone.

I stood in the middle of the nearly vacant parking lot, listening to the leaves rustle along the ground as a breeze passed through. It was going to be Halloween soon, Thanksgiving after that, and then Christmas. All those things were now going to happen without Kane in my life, just as they had eleven years before. Knowing this was going to happen didn’t soften the blow—not in any way.

I climbed into my car, and I started it, putting it into drive. But just as quickly, I popped it back into park, and I let my head drop to my steering wheel. I cried, loud, sobbing tears that fell pathetically. I wanted to regret the past two months. I wanted to hate him for reaching out to me. But then I imagined erasing him from the past two months of my life, and I couldn’t hate him at all. All I could seem to do was love him for giving me more time with him. Somehow I needed to figure out a way to let the hurt go for long enough to tell him that.

He’d had things he’d needed to say to me—that he loved me, that he didn’t want to hurt me, that he knew he would, and he couldn’t allow that to happen. Well, this was what I needed to say to him.

Thank you.

But how do you thank someone while they’re breaking your heart?

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Kane

I listened to the sounds of Community Memorial Hospital as I sat in the waiting room. It was a few more long and painful days since I’d last seen Helene. And now I had a new disaster to deal with.

Another stroke.

It was Monday, late morning, and Sadie from Shady Oaks had called about an hour prior to let me know. I’d still been in bed when my phone had buzzed across the nightstand. I was trying to sleep through as much of my existence as I could. That was pretty much what my life had been reduced to over the past week—that and writing a term paper I wouldn’t be present to turn in anyway but which I was still going to fucking write.

The only piece of furniture I’d kept in the house was my mattress, a few sheets, and an old quilt I was pretty sure my long dead grandmother had made. Every other piece of dingy, old furniture had gone into the dumpster on Saturday morning when waste management had shown up to tow it away.

I hadn’t called Sam Clausen yet to tell him I was done with the renovations. I was dragging my feet, because in truth, the next step in my life plan scared the shit out of me, and I wasn’t ready yet. There was a truth I owed Helene before I went away. She deserved to hear it from me, and before I embarked on the next chapter, she was going to. This had, consequently, always been part of the plan too from the moment I’d found out she was in Hazleton and I’d decided I was going to see her. But I’d never imagined it would be so hard to hand over this secret. Conceptually I’d understood that baring my soul to Helene would be difficult, but I’d never realized just how difficult. I’d been in her life for a couple months now and hadn’t managed it yet if that said anything.

But now this. Another hiccup. Another speedbump. Another fucking stroke.

“Well, hey, Kane. What are you doing here?” came a voice I recognized.

I looked up to see Mark approaching me. He was wearing a suit and had a file folder in his hand. He was a care and resources coordinator for patients at Community Memorial, and in fact, he was the one who initially helped arrange my father’s transfer to Shady Oaks. He was also the one who mentioned to me those many months ago that Helene would be coming home to Hazleton to teach at Penn State Hazleton during her final year at the University of Pennsylvania while she worked on her dissertation.

“Hi.” I stood, holding my hand out to him. “My father had another stroke. They transferred him from Shady Oaks a couple of hours ago. I’m just waiting for an update.”

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Mark sat in the chair next to mine as I sat back down.

I didn’t know why it was so hard hearing sympathy for my father’s condition from people, but I’d learned over the past seven or so months that I hated it. It left me feeling guilty because I was never nearly so sorry as they were. I also hated it because I knew I should be. And I supposed I hated it because I wanted to be normal enough to actually understand what that sympathy was supposed to mean to me.

“Thanks,” I said quietly. I contemplated saying nothing more and waiting for Mark to get the hint and move on, but I liked Mark, and I wasn’t sure I wanted to sit here alone any longer. “How’s Helene?” I glanced at him.

He smiled, but it was a sad one. “I tend to be a pretty honest man, Kane,” he said hesitantly.

If the way he’d answered my previous inquiry on barbeque day was any indication, he was indeed an honest man—and a blunt one too.

“I know.” I looked down at my lap.

“She’s sad, angry, hurt … really confused,” he finally added.

I looked at him for a moment, nodding even as I struggled to swallow.

“And … uh… If you happen to see Hilde around town before your upcoming departure, I would recommend running the other way.” Mark chuckled quietly. “Sorry. I’d hoped she’d warm up to you, but … I don’t imagine that will be happening any time soon. Homicide might, though…” He chuckled again, but it tapered off. “I’ve loved Hilde since we were in high school.”

I assumed he was getting ready to defend his wife’s hatred of me, but then he shocked me.

“I could never leave her. I’m just curious how you could love Helene as much as that and stand to be apart from her—voluntarily no less.”

I looked at him again, trying to mount a defense, but there was nothing to defend against. His expression wasn’t angry, not mean, not resentful in the least. He just studied me almost concernedly.

“I know you have your reasons, and they must be compelling. I’m not judging. I just can’t imagine what it is that would drive you apart from her again.”

I took a deep breath. “I—”

“Mr. Thorson?”

I looked up to see a middle aged man in a lab coat approaching me. “Yes,” I said as I stood.

Mark stood as well, excusing himself with a polite nod to the doctor.

“I’m Dr. Kimpson. I’m afraid I have some bad news.”

I stood there numbly, kind of listening, kind of tuning the man out. Seizures, severe brain damage, recurring stroke, loss of brain function, oxygenation, heart failure, death.

There it was. The only word that really mattered. Death.

“I’m so sorry.”

I nodded. Not another fucking apology.

“We can call the funeral home for you. Do you know—”

“Carrington’s please.”

Dr. Kimpson nodded. “Would you like to see him? You can stay with him until the funeral home arrives.”

“Him?” I asked before I could stop the word from coming out. “He’s…” I shook my head as I collapsed into the chair behind me. “He’s not a him anymore.”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Thorson,” Dr. Kimpson said kindly.

“I don’t want to see … him.”

“Okay. We have your contact information on hand from Shady Oaks, and we’ll make sure Carrington’s Funeral Home is given that information as well.”

“Thank you.”

And then it was over. Just like that. A life ended. A life I’d always wanted to love. A life I’d always wanted to love me. Over. There was something oddly relieving about it—as though I could give up whatever remnant I still clung to of the juvenile fantasy that one day the man would realize he gave a shit about me. I guess I didn’t have to wonder if that was possible anymore. It wasn’t.

I didn’t bother waiting for Carrington’s to call. I ran straight home, grabbed my file that contained all my father’s legal documents including his life insurance policy, and then I drove to Carrington’s. I completed what paperwork they needed, scheduled a burial for Wednesday morning that would likely be attended by no one, and chose a casket that was neither the cheapest nor the most expensive. It was gray, it shined, there was nothing more to say than that.

When I left, I stopped by the grocery store and bought a frozen pizza and a bottle of wine—something red. Surely my father’s death was cause to drink something. By the time I got home, it was early evening. I shoved the pizza into the freezer, deciding it wasn’t worth the effort. And when I picked up the bottle of wine, I stared at the label for a moment.

And then I threw the bottle straight down into the new pristine white farmhouse sink, shattering it as the shards of glass mixed with the dark magenta liquid. I dropped my elbows to the sink’s rim, propping my head up with my palms to my forehead, and I stared down at the mess, watching the wine run and trickle around the glass to the white porcelain and then down into the drain.

“Fuck,” I muttered.

And then I went to bed.

* * * *

The undertakers went to a lot of work for me to stand there by myself and watch them lower the coffin into the ground. It was a little ridiculous really, but they’d covered the mound of unearthed dirt with fake green grass, hiding it respectfully as though the dirt that would eventually cover the casket was offensive in some way. The sides of the hole were straight, impressively so, and they lowered the coffin into a larger box… I hadn’t realized they would do that. I’d simply assumed the shiny silver coffin would be put into the dirt and covered over. It seemed strange.

When one of the undertakers glanced up and his focus paused on something just beyond and to the side of me, I turned to see, and I sucked in a quick shocked breath. Helene stood there, ten feet away from me. She was wearing a gray dress with a wide black belt and black flats. Her wool coat was black too. I stared at her, and she pulled her attention from the casket to my eyes for a brief moment. Her chest rose as she inhaled deeply, and then she looked back at the undertakers as they continued to slowly lower the casket. I looked forward again too.

And I finally felt something again. Pain.

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Helene

Kane had always looked powerful to me, felt powerful to me. But it wasn’t just his strength. It was the self-assured way he’d always been able to move back and forth so easily between his popular bad boy persona and the boy I’d known him to be who could never put stock in anything so trivial as popularity. It was the way he’d never cared who was looking when he was sitting across from me at lunch, even when his group of friends had saved him a seat at their always full table and I was sitting alone. It was the casual way he carried himself as though life could never touch him unless he gave it permission to. He was so powerful in my eyes that even the tears I’d seen him shed didn’t touch the masculinity that coursed through him to me—and frankly it was all about me when it came to those tears, because I was likely the only one who’d ever seen them.

But he wasn’t powerful right now. His shoulders were slumped, and his eyes stared at the hole in the ground, watching the coffin disappear more and more and more with every turn of the hand-crank. And when the undertakers were finished lowering the coffin, they stood there patiently, waiting for some direction.

“Is there anything we can do for you?” One of the young men asked Kane.

Kane didn’t respond; he was still staring at the hole in front of us.

“Could we just have a little time?” I asked.

“Of course, ma’am. Take all the time you need.” The men excused themselves.

Kane and I stood there silently, separated by a good many feet. My fingers were cold. It was an overcast foggy Wednesday morning. It was a strange fog that seemed intent to linger rather than burning off as the sun rose. It wasn’t misting; it was more like the fog was thick enough you could feel it on your skin, and everywhere I looked, brown, red and yellow leaves littered the ground. Frankly, it was my favorite kind of day. The kind that made me want to curl up in bed with a warm blanket and take a nap. The kind of day that deserved something hot in a mug held between one’s hands to keep them warm.

It was also an exceptionally confusing day, and I had no idea what to expect from it. I was angry. I was hurt. And it was the most confusing thing in the world feeling those things while I was heartbroken for Kane and his loss. Loss was a weird thing in this instance. His father was not a good man. I’m guessing he’d always been flawed in some way. Perhaps Kane’s mother had gotten to the point where she couldn’t handle the man anymore. I couldn’t fault a woman for that. I could, however, fault her for leaving Kane behind when she ran. All I really knew for sure was that she was gone before Kane was even a year old—and the reasons and why they might matter left town with her.

I watched him, but he wasn’t moving, and he remained silent. I wanted to touch him, hold him, be close to him. I was also terrified to, because I wasn’t sure I’d be able to let go again. And I needed to.

“Why did he have to hate me?” he asked, his voice barely loud enough for me to hear.

Not going to him wasn’t really an option after those words. I walked to him, clutching the sides of his waist from behind his body and resting my cheek between his shoulder blades. “I don’t know,” I said quietly in return.

He reached for my hands, pulling them to wrap around his waist. “We deserved a better life than this.”

I hated how quiet his voice was. It was a whisper, and it was choked. But he was so right, and I nodded, never pulling my cheek from his back. “Yeah, we did.”

We were silent for a while, and I listened to his heart beat. I could feel his inhalations shudder through his chest on occasion as though the emotion was coursing through him in waves that would rise and fall.

“I need you to go somewhere with me. It’s important.” He turned toward me, resting his palms on my shoulders for a moment, and then he let them run down my arms to my hands. “And I need you to do something for me.”

I stared at him, but I could feel my brow furrowing.

He tried to smile reassuringly at me, but it fell, and he looked away. He took his time looking back, and when he did, he didn’t even attempt to smile. “Just … just love me for a little while longer… That’s all I’m asking. A fraction of the rest of your life where you can … love me unconditionally and forgive me no matter what…” He nodded, but his expression was questioning, and his nod was nothing more than his desperate need to see me do the same. His eyes glossed over. “I’m begging you for that. Just for right now. You can take it back later. I promise, I’ll let you. I won’t even try to talk you out of it.”

I did nod then. “Okay.”

His lips pulled up slightly, and they didn’t fall this time, but his eyes were still glossy. “This isn’t going to be easy.” He took my hand and pulled me toward the nearby parking area, not giving me a chance to ask what that meant. I’m not sure I’d have had the nerve to ask anyway.

As we neared, I took my keys out of my coat pocket. He reached for my hand, taking them from me.

“Do you mind if I drive?”

I shook my head, and he opened my door for me before rounding the car to the driver’s door. The undertakers were standing nearby, politely waiting for us to leave. Kane lifted a hand in their direction, and they both nodded.

We headed toward his house once we were on the road, and I thought perhaps that’s where we were going. My mind instantly went to the way things had been up until a week and a half ago. I thought about making love to him, and I wondered if he initiated such a thing would I stop him, would I be able to say no to him. But that couldn’t be what he wanted from me. He’d said this would be difficult. Making love to him was all sorts of things for me. Difficult was not one of them. It was exceptionally easy in a way sex had never been for me before.

He passed by the side road that would lead to his house, and he continued on down the winding, curving highway through the hills. I knew what was out here, or more accurately what used to be, and as we neared the old gravel lot, my heart sped, and my breaths came in short choppy gasps. He was right. This wasn’t going to be easy. I hated even driving by this place, and the very thought of pulling over and stopping for longer than a second was causing a shit storm of panic to course through me.

When he slowed as we approached the empty gravel lot, I looked at him. “Kane…?”

He reached over and took my hand, and he squeezed it. But he didn’t look at me, and he pulled in regardless of my hesitation. He drove to the center of the lot, exactly where the old gas station used to sit, and he pulled to a stop, turning my car off.

He was silent, and I stared at my lap rather than look around. I didn’t want to see where we were. I didn’t want to feel what this place felt like. It was hell. And I didn’t need to look at it to be hurt by it.

“I knew I shouldn’t…” He finally spoke as he looked at me. “It wasn’t my intention to get involved with you—not with my…” He shrugged.

I glanced at him but looked back down, trying to hide the hurt.

He squeezed my hand. “Please look at me.”

I didn’t want to. There would be no hiding the pain when he saw my eyes swimming in tears, and I was feeling just vulnerable enough I didn’t want to share that with him. But when I didn’t look back right away, he released my hand, reached for my chin, and turned my face toward him. He smiled, but his eyes were as glossy as mine.

“But I knew I might never get the chance to see you again, and I couldn’t imagine a lifetime without that.” He ran his thumb across my chin. “And then…” He shook his head as he looked down at my lap. “And then I touched you.” He looked back up at me. “And it felt so good. God, you can’t imagine how good it feels.” His eyes kept shifting away nervously and then moving back to me. He was terrified. “I fell in love with you the very second I wrapped my arms around you in your classroom on that first night. And I knew … I’d made a mistake.”

A tear ran down my cheek, and he brushed it away, his lips pulling up in a sad smile.

“How do you give up something like this?” He studied my eyes but his lips were trembling. “I thought … I could stay for you. I could do this as long as I had you. I could live a life with you and not destroy us. But … it’s not your job to heal me. And that pressure is unfair to place on you when there’s no hope that you ever could. Because the fact of the matter is … you didn’t break me. I did.” He looked around, and a huff of breath left him as he took in our surroundings. “This place…” He shook his head, still letting his eyes rove. “…is a living, breathing reminder of what I—”

“Then we’ll leave together. Why can’t we do that?”

He smiled as his focus returned to me. “I’ve been running away for eleven years. I’m tired, Hell. And it doesn’t work.”

“But… You are running away.” I stared at him trying to figure him out. “If you’re leaving and you love me, then why can’t I come with you?”

He took a deep breath. “Because you can’t go where I’m going. You don’t belong there.”

I shook my head, trying to work out the words he was saying. He watched me, not elaborating in the least, and he finally put the key in the ignition and started the car. I just gaped at him, trying to keep the panic in check. I couldn’t take any more pain from this man, but for some reason, I knew more was coming.

He pulled out, heading away from the turnoff for his dad’s house. It was still foggy, and we drove slowly through a blanket of misty gray air. He didn’t accelerate to the speed limit, and I figured out quickly why. He pulled in at the old Sleepaway Motel. It had been vacant for years. The strip of ten rooms backed up to the thick woods behind it, and over the years, those woods seemed to have encroached and wrapped around the structure.

There were twists of brambles pressing in around the exterior walls, and the entire place looked ghostly and desolate—not that it had ever been a show stopper. Most of the windows were boarded over, and the ones that weren’t had been at one point, and the planks still laid on the ground.

Kane turned the car off, but before he opened the door to get out, he took a deep breath, and his fingers tightened on the steering wheel. I watched him, confused and horrified at the same time. When I reached for his hand, he peeled his fingers from the steering wheel. His fingers trembled as he fumbled with mine, and when I glanced at his face, the tendons in his neck were strained tight, and he was panting as though he were unable to get his lungs to work.

He looked at me, and it was pure panic I saw. He reached for my cheek, clutching against my jawline and pulling my face close to his. He kissed me, but his lips trembled, and I could feel the panting, shuddering breaths touching my mouth with each quick exhalation.

“You promised,” he whispered. “Just love me a little while longer. Okay?”

I nodded. “Kane…”

“It’s okay.” He reached for the door handle, and he held his focus on me for another moment before he climbed out.

I followed him, and when he rounded the front of the car and met me, he took my hand. He led me to the side of the building where the brambles were thick and met the side of the building. He led me through the twisted branches, holding them out of my way and taking my hand to help me balance as we picked our way through the mess.

It reminded me of our childhood in some strange way. We’d grown up playing in the woods between our homes. My family had moved to town when I’d been in junior high, but we’d traipsed through the wooded hills all the way up to that point, and even a few times after.

The gnarled branches scraped my bare legs, and thorns tore into my skin in a few places. I barely felt it, though, and I kept pushing my way through the tangles as Kane helped me. When we emerged, it was to the back of the strip hotel. There were broken and uneven concrete patios behind each of the ten rooms, and beyond that more trees, tangles, and brambles. The land dropped off steeply about fifteen feet past the patios, and it was a jagged rocky decent to the forest floor fifty feet below. The fog broke and moved through the trees, and garbage littered what ground I could see at the bottom of that steep hill. All around me I could smell mildew.

I didn’t like this place.

Kane led me to a patio just a few down from the end of the building, and he peeked into the unboarded window that looked into the hotel room, but he didn’t linger there. He turned, walking to the woods’ edge. There was a small outcropping of rock that jutted out from the ground like a small mossy cliff overlooking the drop off. He stood there, staring down at the forest floor far below, and when he released my hand, he stuffed his hands in his pockets. I remained quiet, watching him, confused and horrified at what was going to come next.

“I did something,” he said quietly.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Kane

Eleven Years Ago

I shut my headlights off as I pulled into the Sleepaway parking lot, and when I climbed out, I didn’t bother shutting my door all the way.

What was I doing? I just wanted to be with Helene. I could go to her place. That’s where I was supposed to be. She needed me there, and I needed me there too.

My feet had stopped moving, and I was standing there like a fucking idiot. I turned back to my truck, stuffing my hands in my pockets and even taking a step back toward it. My body ached, my lower back throbbed, and everything felt bruised inside and out. Every time I moved, I could feel the gash in my side seeping more blood, and I wanted to bathe as much as Hell had needed it.

I imagined going back to her. I was going to. I wanted to. I was going to touch her and hold her and do all the things she needed me to do and that I needed to do too. And tomorrow when we woke up … what? Would she ever be able to look at me again? Would I be able to look at her? Would she ever want me to touch her again? How were we supposed to go back to being friends?

I closed my eyes for a moment, remembering what I’d done to her less than two hours before. I’d raped her, forced to or not, I’d fucked my best friend against her will. She’d opened her eyes. She’d seen me doing it. She’d looked at me even. And I’d done nothing to stop it. I hadn’t even tried. I hadn’t refused to touch her. I hadn’t fought back. Instead, I’d cried like a baby and bent over like a bitch.

My hands were balled into fists by the time I opened my eyes again, and I turned back toward the hotel. The light in the one hotel room was still on, and I walked up to the side of the window, peeking in. It was empty. The bed had clearly been slept in, and the only light on was one bedside lamp. Maybe it wasn’t him. Maybe the stranger was long gone. Maybe he’d never been here at all.

Knowing just how quiet the Sleepaway usually was, it was entirely possible this light had been on for days, and the owner of the neglected old place had simply not gotten around to cleaning the room since the last occupant. I turned around, facing the parking lot and resting my back to the wall next to the window. I inhaled deeply, slowing the race of my heart as I let my eyes close again.

This had been a mistake. I should be with Helene right now—not out in the middle of nowhere looking for strangers, so I could do … what?

Hurt him.

I took a step back toward my truck, and that’s when I heard it. A cough. Nothing more. It was far off and distant, but it was outside somewhere. Then I heard something else. Twigs snapping, branches moving, and something being tossed off into the forest, rattling as it hit the ground and came to rest.

I peeked back into the room, but nothing had changed. It was empty, not a cup, not a bag, not a single thing that suggested someone was inhabiting the space. I crept toward the end of the building three doors down from the window I’d been looking in. There was a narrow dirt walkway that led to the back of the building, and I could see fluorescent lights illuminating the space.

When more branches rustled, I cocked my head to the side and listened. My heart was racing again, and when I took the first step down the path, I paused for a half a second and then started walking. I hugged the side of the building, keeping my outside shoulder away from the branches next to me, and when I reached the back corner, I edged up to it, listening some more.

I could smell cigarette smoke, and when I heard another cough, it was nearby, and I pulled my body back from the edge of the building for a moment. But then I leaned out, peeking around the corner.

And he was there.

I had to hold my breath to keep the gasp inside my lungs, but I stared, unable to look away. He was standing along the tree line, smoking, and the high overhead fluorescent light lit up the line of concrete slabs that sat just outside the backdoors of each room. There was a green canvas knapsack sitting on the ground just outside the back door to the room with the light on. I could see the handle of the knife the man had been carrying when he’d assaulted Helene and me sticking out of the trim that surrounded the door. I was guessing the gun was in the bag, because I couldn’t see it tucked into the waist of the man’s pants.

The man had no idea I was there, and I watched him. When he turned toward me and I saw his face, I recoiled around the side of the building. I crouched down and held my arm across my stomach as I fought the need to vomit again. The very sight of him was disgusting—his scruffy facial hair that ran too far down his neck, the pot belly that sat on top of spindly knobby looking legs, his ill-fitting clothes that hung on him in places and stretched over his skin in other places. I’d never been more disgusted by the sight of a person in all my life.

I inhaled and exhaled deeply until the nausea passed, and when I stood back up, I peeked again. The man sauntered easily as he smoked, and when he lifted the very bottle of vodka Helene had sold him to his lips and took a swig, he paused and swayed on his feet. He stubbed the cigarette out on the side of the vodka bottle and then flicked it into the woods.

When he adjusted his crotch, my jaw clenched tight. He chuckled quietly to himself as he lifted the bottle to his mouth again. I could feel my nostrils flaring as I breathed through my nose, and when I made the mistake of recalling the sight of him shoving himself down Helene’s throat as she choked, I took a step out from behind the building before I knew what my feet were doing.

Tingles of hot rage flushed my skin, and I walked, foot over foot toward the man, feeling bile rise in the back of my mouth as my throat constricted. I wanted to kill him. I was going to kill him. I was going to make him suffer the way he’d made us suffer. And I was going to make it hurt.

When my fingers closed around the handle of the knife, I yanked it from the wood trim. The man was still facing the woods with his back to me, but when he heard me grunt as I dislodged the blade, he turned slowly toward me, staggering off to the side as he did.

He smiled when he saw me, laughing as his eyes moved down my body. “Back for more.” He slurred his words, and when his eyes lit on the knife I held in my hand, he broke into a loud bout of laughter as though it was hysterical to see a deranged seventeen year old kid standing in front of him threatening his life.

“Shut the fuck up!” I screamed, spit flying from my mouth. My hand was gripping the handle of the knife so tightly it hurt.

But the stranger was too drunk to care or maybe he just wasn’t capable of caring drunk or sober. “You gonna make me, bitch boy?” He slapped his leg as he laughed, nearly falling over.

“Shut up,” I spat again. “Don’t say another word.” I could barely speak through my gritted teeth.

“Or what?” the man asked as he smiled. He took a step toward me. “What are you gonna do?”

I took a step toward him, holding the knife up.

The man held his hands up, but it was mocking, and he didn’t retreat nor did he stop smiling as though this was nothing more than an amusement to him. All I could think about was how much I wanted to cut his dick off and how terrified I was to get close enough to do it.

God, I wanted this man to hurt.

“I hate you,” the words whimpered out from my mouth pathetically, and I could feel the warmth at the back of my eyes threatening to unleash into tears again. That couldn’t happen right now. No matter what I did, I could not give this man one more tear.

The hand I was holding the knife in was tremoring, and the stranger’s eyes glanced to it, his eyes widening and then narrowing as he tried to focus. He laughed again. “You’re scared shitless, kid. Chill. Have a fucking drink.” He held the bottle out toward me. “I swear, I ain’t gonna fuck ya again.” He raised his free hand. “Don’t get me wrong, that was a hell of a tight ass. But if it makes you feel better, you saved your girl from getting it up hers.”

I was breathing through gritted teeth, trying to suck and release air through my clenched jaw. My lips were pulled back, and the rage consumed more of me by the second as I glared at him.

“Should be thankin’ me,” he said with a nod as he tipped the bottle to me. “You really think that bitch woulda given it up to you? She was a virgin, dude. You weren’t gonna get that cherry.”

I took another step closer, and the man’s eyes shifted to my feet as the bottle paused mid-way to his mouth. He stared at me, his lips parted. His body was suddenly rigid and unmoving—even the drunk sway was stilled for the moment. He was sizing me up. I’d been in enough fights to know exactly what he was doing. It was the pause before the pounce.

My grip tightened on the knife. Could I do this? Could I kill this man? I wanted to, but was wanting enough to make me do it? I needed Helene here. I wanted to hear her voice. I needed her to tell me what to do.

Kill him. I could hear her speaking quietly against my ear in a cruel tone not at all befitting of her. Make him suffer for me. Make him pay for what he did to us. Make it hurt.

Yes, I could kill him.

Don’t do it. This time her voice was pleading with me, and I could feel her imaginary hand on my arm, pulling me back from him and back from this place into her arms. Her arms. That’s what I needed. Not this. Just her. You don’t want to do this. Her voice was so gentle against my ear, pleading softly. Come back to me. Let me give you peace.

I whimpered, and it turned into a groan of intense frustration. I shook my head trying to get her out of it so I could focus on this place and the stranger standing in front of me. He was still frozen, but as I watched him, the corner of his lip pulled up in a subtle smirk.

He dropped the bottle, lunging toward me, and before I knew what I was doing, I was lunging right back. I planted my fists in the middle of his chest, my hand still tightly holding the handle of the knife, and I threw all my weight into pummeling him backward.

And I did.

I shoved him straight over the edge of the embankment, and I watched his body fall as his eyes widened and his hands clutched at the air between us. He landed ten feet down the steep hill on a jutting chunk of rock that broke through the earth. It was a sickening sound of bones breaking when he hit, and the air from his lungs was expelled in a huff. His body tumbled hard and fast down the hill out of sight into the dark. I could hear it crashing and bouncing, but the man made no conscious sound. The last thing I heard was a loud crack of hard on hard.

And then nothing.

I stood there, gasping as I stared down into the darkness. I couldn’t see where the dark ended, and I had no idea how far down it went. I listened, trying to hear over the roaring pound of my heart and the desperate pant of my breaths. I didn’t move a muscle as I waited for something to happen.

But nothing happened.

Not a sound stirred the leaves down below—no snapping twigs, no groans of pain, no scrambling hands trying to claw their way up to me. Silence. A shiver ran through me, physically sending a tremor out from my chest to my limbs, and when it passed, I finally moved. I picked up the nearby rucksack, and I threw it as hard as I could down the same path the stranger’s body had fallen. I kicked the vodka bottle down too.

And I ran.

Chapter Forty

Kane

She was crying by the time I finished speaking, and she was covering her mouth as tears streamed down to pool on the top of her hand. She was standing next to me, staring down the embankment at the same spot fifty feet below.

The hill didn’t drop as far as I’d once assumed. That night nearly eleven years ago to the day, I’d stood in this same place imagining the hill just dropping into oblivion and going on forever. But in the light, it was just a steep craggy hill with an end.

“I made it nearly a mile down the road before I realized I was still holding the knife. I pulled over and threw it as far into the woods as I could.”

“Why was he still here?” she said even as she still covered her mouth.

“I don’t know, baby. It looked like he was getting ready to leave.” I shrugged. “They didn’t find his body for a year and a half. Skeleton actually.” I glanced at her.

“I don’t remember any—”

“You would have been in college in Philly by then. And there was nothing more than one small article in the newspaper here. Trust me, I obsessed over the Hazleton Times for years.” My sarcasm didn’t amount to much. “They never did ID him. The article I read said they found what they believed to be his bag with an unregistered gun inside, but there was no identification in it. They thought, correctly I’m guessing, that he was just some drifter who’d hiked over from the interstate. It was assumed that his death was an accident due to alcohol and a few missteps. He had multiple broken bones, and his skull had been crushed when he’d hit the base of a tree trunk—not to mention the empty vodka bottle they found nearby.”

She took my hand, lacing her fingers with mine, and I closed my eyes as she squeezed. My chest was tight, painfully tight.

“I panicked. I’d gone home to see my dad already, and it ended … badly. He’d been pissed. Thought I’d been fighting again. He kicked me out, laughed at me because I was … crying, and…” I shook my head. “I was so angry. It took over, and I … just…” I shrugged. “I knew what I’d done was wrong. It was my fault that man hurt us in the first place. I’d shot of my mouth like usual, and it ended up hurting you in a way I could never have imagined…”

Helene shook her head, but I ignored it.

“I knew my dad wouldn’t give a shit why it happened, and I just … wasn’t sure how I was ever going to cope with what I’d done to you. And after I did this…? How was I supposed to explain to the cops why I was here looking for this man?” I looked at her, and she was crying. “So I didn’t explain anything. I came back to your parents’ house, held you for a while … and then I left. And it was the biggest mistake I’ve ever made.”

“If it was your biggest mistake then don’t make it again.” She turned to me, and she pulled her hand from mine. “You don’t have to leave.” She was imploring me.

“I do,” I said calmly.

“You don’t!” she snapped at me. “Is it this place?” she continued, refusing to give up the question. “Is it me? Don’t you want to be with me?”

I took her hands again. “Of course I want to be with you. I’m in love with you.”

“Then why?” she sobbed. “Why are you leaving? Why can’t I come with you? Why?” She tried to pull her hands away from me, but I held onto them tightly.

I took a deep calming breath, willing the words from my mouth. “I’m not moving away,” I said quietly.

Her eyes shifted back and forth across mine, waiting for more.

“I’m turning myself in—”

“No!” she snapped at me before my last word was even out of my mouth. She yanked her hands away from mine, stalked a few feet away, and wrapped her arms around her body as she cried.

“Helene…”

“No,” she spun toward me, pointing her finger at my face like a scolding parent, but tears were trickling down her cheeks. “That’s not fair. You don’t deserve to have your life ruined because of this. You don’t deserve to suffer for the rest of your life because of what you did.”

“I deserve to be free from this.” Tears filled my eyes, finally overcoming me. “And baby … I have suffered, I am suffering.” My voice broke over the words, and my tears fell.

I stared at her, and she let out a sob, doubling over and covering her mouth as she groaned.

“I know you think I’m destroying my life, but I’m trying to save it.” I clasped my hands together, and I bit my upper lip, letting it out slowly as I put the words together in my head. “I’m so tired, Helene. I can’t keep this secret anymore.”

“It was self-defense,” she said as she stood up straight. She nodded, sniffing her nose and wiping the tears from her cheeks. She walked to me. “It was.” Her voice was starting to sound shrill, and she couldn’t seem to stop nodding her head as though she weren’t going to stop until I nodded too.

I put my hands on her shoulders. “No it wasn’t, Hell. Self-defense ended the moment he let us go. It was … something else.”

“He went after you.” This was clearly not an argument she wanted to let go.

“I had no business being here. The knife was in my hand, not his. I put myself in a place that invited the attack. I don’t know how it’s going to play out. I truly don’t, but … I’m going to tell the truth, because it is so long overdue, and hiding it has destroyed too much of my life already.”

Her shoulders slumped on a heavy defeated sigh, and her attention dropped to my chest. She eventually looked off into the woods. “He deserved it,” she said quietly, but the soft tone of her voice didn’t hide the venom.

“Don’t say that. Don’t make excuses for me.”

Her lips pursed again as more tears came, and she dropped her forehead to the center of my chest. I rested my palm to the back of her head, and I stroked her hair.

I leaned down, resting my lips to the crown of her head. “We don’t get to make those judgments. And the weight and responsibility of that decision has been as hard to bear as my actions that night. It’s a hard thing to carry knowing I’m responsible for a man’s death.”

She tilted her head up to look at me, and I cupped her cheeks, stroking my fingers behind her jawline. “Let me confess,” I begged as my lips trembled. “Please don’t ask me to carry this burden any further. I’m begging you.” I stared through the pools of tears in my eyes at her.

And she nodded even as she started sobbing again.

Chapter Forty-One

Helene

I felt numb on the ride back to town. I also felt strangely calm, strangely free, and not at all strangely devastated. I’d needed to hear him talk. I’m not sure I’d had any idea until this moment just how much I’d needed that, but I had. I’d needed his secrets. I’d needed the truth. I’d needed to understand why.

And now I did.

He pulled in right next to his dad’s truck in the small cemetery parking area, but he made no move to get out. He put the car in park, took his foot off the brake, and clasped his hands in his lap as he stared down at them. I wasn’t sure if he was waiting for me to say something or working up the nerve to say something himself. But after a minute he was still silent.

I cleared my throat. “How soon?”

He cleared his throat too. “Tomorrow morning.”

I couldn’t stifle the quiet sob that escaped my lips, and I lowered my head as I covered my mouth. It wasn’t long enough.

He reached for my hand, pulling it to his lap. “I have some things I have to do today to clear up my dad’s final expenses, pay off the last of the nursing home charges, make sure everything is processing with the life insurance claim, and get some paperwork in order.”

I nodded, but I didn’t look at him.

“But I need you right now,” he whispered. “I know I don’t deserve that, but please, don’t deny me you right now.”

When I looked at him, his lips trembled even though his eyes stared straight ahead.

He finally looked at me, and his eyes softened. “If you need to say no, it’s okay. I’ll understand.” He was silent for a moment. He looked down at his lap. “I’m not asking to make love to you. I just want to…” His words dropped off.

But I knew what he was going to say. He’d said it a few times recently. “Be close to me,” I said quietly, finishing the sentence for him.

His breath hitched as he inhaled. “You can’t imagine how good it feels.”

He looked at me then, reaching for my cheek and pulling my face closer, but he changed his mind and wrapped his arms around me instead. I sank into his body across the center console of my car, and I clutched at his sides as he buried his face against my neck. I ran my fingers through his hair and down over the back of his neck. His skin popped with goosebumps, and he sniffed back his tears even as he moaned quietly.

“I need to cancel class—”

“No. Please don’t.” He pulled back. “I’ll be there.” His lips pulled up slightly. “I want to be in your class tonight. I love watching you up there.”

I nodded.

“I’m going to … stay here for a little while. Walk down to the grave before I go.”

“Do you want me to stay?”

“No.” He finally reached over and opened the door. He stood at the driver’s side and waited for me to walk around. He hugged me, and I sighed against his neck. I didn’t want to let him go, not for even a second. He smelled so good, the way he always had. He felt good too, warm and strong. And when he pulled back, he cupped my cheek and ran his thumb across my chin.

“I love you, Helene.” He looked at my lips, and he even licked his lower one, but he didn’t lean to my mouth.

“I love you, too.”

The side of his lip pulled up for a second, and then he walked away.

I drove home, but when I approached my driveway and saw Hilde’s car parked there I kept on driving. She had a key, and she was likely waiting inside for me. I grabbed my cell phone. I’d forgotten I’d silenced it when I’d arrived at the cemetery, and when I swiped my finger across the screen it was to see missed call after missed call, interrupted only by voicemail notices and the occasional text message.

I hit play on the first voicemail message.

Call me.

Nothing more.

Second message.

Helene, where are you? Call me … now.

Third message.

Okay. Starting to get worried. Mark told me he called you and told you about Kane’s dad’s funeral. I drove by the cemetery, and Kane’s truck is there, but he’s not and you’re not. Where are you?

Fourth message.

Do I need to call the cops? Don’t think I won’t.

Fifth message.

I am your older sister. You are required, by law, to answer your phone when I call. I’m at your house. I’m not leaving until you call me. Call me. Call me. I’m serious. Call me.

Sixth message.

Honey, this is mom. Hilde’s all in a tizzy because she can’t reach you. Will you please call your sister, so she knows you’re alright? And we really need to talk about this … relationship business that’s going on right now in your life… Oh … Darnit, Reggie. I’m talking… Just stop… Just, oh, here’s your dad. Honey, this is your dad. Call your sister. She’s driving me crazy. So is your mom.

I didn’t call Hilde. I drove. And I drove. And I let my mind wander and tune out life as I did.

I ended up at Lackawanna State Park, a lake about an hour north of Hazleton. I’d been here more times than I could recall on school outings, family picnics, even a couple of times with Kane when we were in high school and wanted to get away from town. It was deserted on this day. Of course, it was entirely too chilly out for campers, and it was lunchtime on a Wednesday.

I pulled into a gravel parking lot that looked out toward the water, and I sat there, staring into the distance. The day was too overcast and gloomy to see the sun, and after sitting in my car in a stupor for nearly five minutes, I climbed out and walked down toward a nearby dock that jutted off into the lake about twenty-feet or so.

The cold dew that would likely turn to frost overnight turned my black flats glossy and wet, and my toes quickly went numb as I walked through the grass. The dock creaked and groaned as I stepped onto it. It was plenty sturdy, but as the water lapped at the floats underneath it, it swayed here and there.

When I reached the end, I stared down into the water. It was dark, reflecting little to no light from the sky at this point, and I imagined falling into it for a moment and sinking slowly to the sandy lake bottom. But then it was someone else falling in, throwing himself in and sinking away from me that I saw—willingly drifting into the dark. I could almost see his eyes watching me as he sank. The panic intensified to something not entirely tolerable, and I dropped to my knees, gripping the side of the dock and gasping for air.

My tears fell, dripping into the black water and sending small ripples out as they splashed. I sobbed loudly, letting it out in such an ugly childlike way. But I was alone, and the world around me was silent. When I screamed, I clenched my fists tight and let the sound roar out of my chest. I don’t recall ever screaming like that—not ever. I wasn’t one to let sound erupt from me. I was too controlled, too stifled, too self-conscious to let go of myself so freely.

But I did.

My scream carried even through my gritted teeth, and when it finally passed as I lost my breath, I gasped again, sucking in air as though I were ready to suffocate. Wasn’t I?

“I can’t watch him leave again. I can’t do it,” I said to the water. “I can’t… I can’t…”

I stayed there on my knees, looking down into the water that seemed to get darker by the second. The dried wood of the deck planks was scraping my knees, and I could feel splinters piercing through my skin. I ignored it as long as I could, focusing on the water and calming my breaths.

When I stood, my legs ached and I hobbled a couple steps back toward the shore until I found my stride. By the time I reached my car, I was so cold I was shivering. I climbed in and cranked the heat up. My phone was sitting in the passenger seat, and I grabbed it with the intention of making sure Hilde hadn’t sent the cops out looking for me.

But as I picked it up, the screen came to life and Kane’s number was there. I paused, and I let it ring over and over and over again, until at the last minute, I swiped my finger across the screen, closed my eyes, and lifted the phone to my ear.

“Hello,” I croaked out.

He was silent for a moment. “Baby, where are you?”

“I took a drive.”

He inhaled and exhaled slowly. “Hilde was just here. She’s worried about you. Please tell me where you are.”

“Lackawanna. I just… I don’t know.”

“You’re all the way up there?” His exhalation was louder that time. “I’ll come get you—”

“No. Please don’t. I’m heading home.”

He didn’t respond right away. “Okay.”

* * * *

“Okay, everyone, books closed. You have—”

The door suddenly opened, and Kane walked in. He held an apple in his hand, and as he walked toward me, he kept his eyes trained on my face. I was leaning against the front of the desk.

“Sorry I’m late, Professor Hess,” he said quietly as he set the apple down just next to my hand. His fingers brushed mine, and I inhaled sharply as I glanced down at the apple.

“Thank you, Mr. Thorson.”

He turned and took a seat in the middle of the front row, and I took a deep breath.

“As I was saying, you have the entire class period for the test tonight, and you’re free to leave when you’re finished. Any questions before we get started?”

Kane’s eyes traveled down my body, stilling when they reached my knees. I’d not thought to change since getting home from Lackawanna. In fact, it was safer to say Hilde had eaten up every last second of my time grilling me incessantly about my absence earlier in the day, and I’d spent my time refusing to answer her invasive questions. I was still wearing my dress and ballet flats. And given the way Kane’s eyes were studying my knees, I was still sporting red kneecaps covered in scrapes, scuffs, and a few splinters. His brow furrowed, and his lips pursed, and when he finally looked up and met my eyes for a moment, he cocked his head to the side. I ignored it.

“Okay then.” I pushed off the desk with the stack of tests in my hands. I handed stacks out to the students in the front row to pass back, and when I returned to the front desk and sat down, students were already busy scribbling away—including Kane. I couldn’t imagine this test meant that much to him, considering he wouldn’t be passing the class without the remaining quizzes, final paper and final exam, but he was working diligently.

Thirty minutes later, he stood. He was the first to finish, and I was actually disappointed. Being finished meant he was free to leave. The last night I would have him in class, and it was over. He walked casually up to me. He was holding his test, of course, but he’d pulled an envelope out of his textbook as well.

When he reached me, he set his test down and the envelope as well. “I’d like to turn in my final paper today.” He pulled his lower lip into his mouth as he watched me.

I just stared back for a moment, but then I nodded. “O…” My voice caught in my throat. “Okay.”

He nodded and smiled. “Okay.” He looked around the room for a moment, and when his eyes returned to me, they were glossy even though he still smiled. “I’ll see you later,” he said as his eyelids fluttered for a moment, and then he turned and walked out.

“Yeah…” my voice trailed after him, and when the door closed behind him, I had to look down at my lap for a few moments.

I picked up his test, and I started reading.

1.) Define and discuss a posteriori knowledge. Relate this concept to real life.

A posteriori knowledge relates to knowledge and understanding that exist through experience. Experience is, in fact, the basis of this concept. This concept diverges from the alternate a priori knowledge which does not require experience. At its root, a posteriori requires the senses in order to truly have knowledge of something.

I would relate it to real life in the following way:

I’m in love with you. This is concrete and unquestionable knowledge to me. And while it may be so concrete and so defined as to suggest it exists absent experience, I have and continue every day to experience it through every last sense I have.

I taste you. There isn’t a single ounce of your skin I don’t want to experience. Your cum is perfect and indescribable, your lips are always sweet, and when your skin turns salty, I know it’s for the best of reasons and has everything to do with both of us and what our bodies are doing together. That particular taste is so exceptionally intense. It’s your need, your desire, your desperation to be with me, to give yourself to me. You’re an exceptionally passionate lover, and when your skin becomes clammy and moist as you work to get what you need from me, I can taste every ounce of your want. I taste you.

I smell you. Everywhere I turn you’ve imprinted yourself on me. It’s the way my sheets smell like your perfume after you’ve slept in them, and it’s that ghost like sense that you’ve just passed through a room by the same lingering sweetness. And don’t get me started on the scent of your arousal. It can intensify my need in a blinding rush, and the very best thing I can say about this particular sense is that it has a tendency to thread together memories in one’s mind, linking the past and the present, and even giving me hope for a future—that you’ll be a part of mine. It’s a perfect trigger for everything I need to recall of you. I love your scent.

I hear you. Even when I can’t be near enough for your voice to reach me, I still hear it. Your sound makes me smile, it makes me laugh, it enrages me at times, and it makes me weep at other times. The pain you can convey in nothing more than your tone can bring me to my knees. And the joy it can impart is enough to give me everlasting peace. It’s a signature, much like the taste of you, which defines your existence to me. And I hear it so loudly.

I feel you. In every part of me, I feel you. My heart beats, it flutters, it drums, it pounds in desperation for you every time I’m near you and even when I’m not. It sends electric waves of warmth through my body along with my blood, and the very physical way I feel your presence inside me as a result is incredible. I feel it just as I feel the softness and warmth of your skin under my fingers when I touch you. I feel it to the same intense degree I feel your wetness coating my lips when I lick your pussy. I feel it like I feel the tightness of you around my cock when I’m making love to you. I feel the presence of you coursing through my veins every day. You touch every part of me in a very physical way. And I feel it.

I see you. I see the very visual parts of you—your incredible smile that always makes me want to kiss you, your amazing wide eyes that wake my senses up, your small breasts that I’ve become addicted to, your slight curves that I can’t seem to stop touching, and that beautiful warm place between your legs which gives me immense pleasure and has all but banished the dark memories of what I did to you from so long ago. But there’s more of you to see than just that. I see the hidden parts too that only you and I know about. I see your pain, I see your nightmares, I see your strength. I also see your heart. It’s breaking right now, but it’s still the most incredible part of you, because it has the capacity to love me and that’s everything to me. Baby, I see you so clearly.

In summary, you’re an experience of the senses to me. I experience my love for you in something far more profound than a mere thought. It’s in everything I feel, see, hear, taste and smell every day. That, in a nutshell, is how a posteriori knowledge affects my life.

It is my life.

My Sweet Hell,

I’d really like to see you tonight. I will understand if you can’t, but please let me be close to you one more time.

Yours,

Kane.

“Professor Hess…”

I hummed. It was kind of a response, but my mind was just a bit too far away to fully engage with the speaker.

“Professor Hess…”

“Mm-hmm…” I finally glanced up, looking around the room in confusion for a moment.

“Are you okay?” It was Abby, the sweet girl from the restroom.

“What?” I asked, suddenly noticing there was a small stack of tests on my desk and a good third of the students were already gone. “I’m sorry, what?”

“Well, it’s just…” Abby pointed to her cheek. “You’re crying.”

I reached for my cheek, brushing the tears away. “Oh, no. No, no. I just… allergies.” I said, and I forced myself to smile.

She didn’t look sold, but she smiled back, finally setting her test on the desk. “Have a good night.”

“You too.”

I quickly flipped through the rest of Kane’s test. Completely blank. I sat there, gnawing on my thumbnail for the next thirty minutes, and when it was down to the last five students, my knee started bouncing too. Patience was becoming nearly impossible, and I packed up my things and stuffed tests haphazardly into my briefcase before the last two students were even done.

The very moment they walked up at the same time, I reached for their tests, snatching them from their hands as they both stared at me in shock.

“Tha… Thanks,” I spit out as I snapped my briefcase closed. I grabbed the apple off the desk, and then I ran from the room. I didn’t slow when I hit the hallway, and I passed other students by, none of whom were moving as quickly as me. The farther I ran, the faster my feet moved, and by the time I hit the exit door, I was sprinting. Students were staring, their eyes following me as I ran, and I didn’t stop until I was yanking my car door open.

I climbed in, panting and gasping for breath as I tried frantically to fit the key into the ignition, and as I pulled out, my tears started falling. “Goddammit,” I spit out through my tears. I lowered the front windows, letting the cold air rush through my car, and I inhaled and exhaled as deeply as I could, forcing my body to calm and my lungs to work.

Part IV: A Future Reborn

Chapter Forty-Two

Kane

I opened the door for her when she knocked, and she stood there, her eyes wide as she stared at me. She looked near panic, and I started to panic too. This wasn’t supposed to be panic inducing—not right now.

Her focus traveled down to my neck, and her eyes finally softened as a quiet laugh escaped her lips. She reached out and touched the knot of the tie I was wearing. It was dangling loosely from my neck over the T-shirt I still wore. She finally looked past me and into the dimly lit living room. It was still empty, of course, but I’d started a fire in the fireplace that cast a warm light across the room that flickered softly.

“Sweet Hell,” I said as I stepped back from the door.

She stepped in, smiling tentatively. She walked to the center of the room, turning in a circle and crossing her arms on her chest nervously. “You flunked the test,” she said quietly.

I smiled, stepping up to her, and I pulled her arms apart. “But did I pass you?”

She watched me for a moment, but she nodded. “Yes,” she whispered.

I leaned down, kissing her forehead. When I pulled back, I started undressing. Her eyes bulged for a moment, but she watched. I slipped my T-shirt off over my head, fishing the tie through the neck opening and leaving it on. Her lips pulled up at that, but then she was too busy biting her lower lip to smile when I undid the button and lowered the zipper of my jeans. I pushed them down along with my underwear, and I kicked them off to the side.

I reached for the wide belt on her dress, unbuckling it as she watched, and I tossed it on top of my clothes before trailing my hands back to the zipper and lowering it. I undid her bra, and as I pulled the straps over her shoulders, I caught the dress as well and lowered it down to the floor. She stepped out of it, and I scooped it up quickly and tossed it aside. I walked to the fireplace and grabbed the corsage that was sitting on the hearth. It was made up of small yellow flowers. I had no idea what kind they were, but they were yellow. That’s all that mattered.

When I turned back toward her, her eyes were studying my ass, and I chuckled as her attention quickly shifted up to my face. She saw the corsage in my hands, and she swallowed over a lump. Her lips trembled for a moment, and then she clamped them closed.

I leaned to her ear when I reached her. “I want my homecoming dance with my homecoming date.”

She nodded, and her fingers clutched at my waist. When I pulled back, she had tears in her eyes. It was just a teary-eye sort of day. That wasn’t terribly shocking. What was shocking was that she was still here. I was putting my Hell through hell, but she was hanging tight right there with me to the end. I ran my thumb under her eye, brushing away a tear, and then I kneeled in front of her. I slipped my fingers through the elastic wrist band of the corsage, and I opened it wide enough to slip over her slim wrist. As my hand slid the corsage in place, my mouth kissed her stomach, and my other hand inched her underwear down her hips.

The moment the corsage was on, I used both hands to slide her underwear the rest of the way down as my mouth kept kissing her lower belly. Her fingers stroked through my hair, and when I glanced up at her, she was watching me. I helped her step out of her underwear, and I tossed them aside as I stood back up.

I turned back to the fireplace again, and I grabbed my cell phone. “I searched on popular songs from back in the day,” I admitted as I pulled up my iTunes. “And I picked the most appropriate ones for us.”

Her lips pulled up sweetly.

“We now have our very own homecoming playlist.”

“What’s on our playlist?” she asked quietly as she twisted her fingers together demurely in front of her.

“Well … only four songs actually. The Reason by Hoobastank—”

“You always said their name sucked,” she interrupted.

I chuckled quietly. “Their name does suck.” I smirked. “The second one is If You’re Not the One by Daniel Bedingfield. If I recall you used to love that song.”

Her smile widened. “And I recall you saying his voice was too high.”

I bobbled my head as I hit play and set the phone back down. “I used to be a bit of a dick.” I smirked. “Then I searched for that lullaby you were singing Sienna, downloaded it which of course brought me to By Your Side by Sade too, so I had to add that one to the list as well. I’ve been very busy,” I said as I pulled her into my arms.

The sound of the most poorly named musical group in all of history filled the living room. I reached for Helene’s cheeks and held her face still as I looked down at her. Her hands gripped my lower back. The dancing aspect ended up lost on us when I got busy staring at her eyes before I’d even taken a step and her hands found my butt cheeks. We stood there staring at one another, and her palms moved over my buttocks, her fingertips grazing gently down between my cheeks.

My eyes didn’t leave hers for the entirety of the first three songs, and her fingers ran gentle, soft trails over my backside and lower back. But when By Your Side came on last, her teeth gritted, her lips trembled, and she lowered her forehead to my chest. The words of the song were a bit too perfect not to cause some reaction, and I gave Helene a few seconds to recover before I pulled her chin up to look at me. My eyes teared too as I watched her struggle, and she shook her head in what looked like frustration as she smiled and Sade sang to us.

“Tell me you’re not leaving,” she whispered.

My brow furrowed, and I shook my head. “You know I can’t do that—”

“You’re just going away for a little while. Can’t you tell me that?”

I nodded. “Yes. Just a little while,” I whispered just as softly as her voice. I was still holding her cheeks, and I brushed more tears away as I watched her.

“Tell me you’ll come back to me after it’s over.”

I smiled, but it crinkled my eyes and a tear ran down my cheek. “I’ll come back. I’ll stay back.” I studied her for a moment. “You own this life, okay? I just need you to let it go for a little while. Then it’s yours again for however long you want it.”

“Forever?”

“Forever.”

She took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. And then her hands moved again, gently gliding lower as her fingers toyed between the cheeks of my bottom.

“It’s okay. You can touch.”

Her fingers trembled as they moved lower, but then she was there, softly brushing over that part of me. I let my forehead drop to hers, and I closed my eyes as I released a deep breath against her lips.

I kept my forehead to Helene’s, letting her touch me. She was so exceptionally good at touching. It was always perfect, always gentle, always intentional and with purpose. She was the only person in the world I wanted to touch me inside and out, and I let her willingly now.

I didn’t open my eyes until Sade’s voice drifted off into silence. I kissed her, running my hands down her shoulders to her back and then farther to her bottom. I lifted her to straddle my hips, and I walked toward the bedroom. She clutched at my shoulders, and I could feel her breath on the side of my neck.

I laid her on the bed, putting her under me. She clung to my neck for a moment, holding me there, but the second she let go, I pushed up and kneeled between her legs, giving myself a moment to let the panic pass as I sank back to sit on my heels. I looked down at her, and she studied me patiently.

I laughed nervously even as my fingers fidgeted with the tie still hanging loosely around my neck. “God, I feel like such a kid with you,” I breathed out the words as I stared at her. “Figuring out how to fuck all over again.”

She sat up, resting her hands on my hips, but she didn’t pull me toward her. She kissed the center of my chest, placing one kiss after another on my sternum and then over to my nipple. It was gentle, sweet, the innocent type of kiss that could soothe as much as incite. When she kissed up higher to my throat, I bent down, resting my lips to the top of her shoulder. She let her lips brush and linger gently against my earlobe, and I closed my eyes tight as I listened to her breathe.

“I’m ready,” I finally said. “Lay back.”

I watched as she did, and she parted her legs even wider. My knees were wedged under her thighs, and I ran my palms over her raw and scraped kneecaps. She looked away for a moment, but when my hands grazed over the insides of her thighs from her knees toward her pussy, her attention returned to me.

She was glistening pink, and when the path of my hands brought my fingertips to her lips, I parted them farther, studying the way she looked. I could see where I’d been eleven years ago. I could see what I’d hurt. It was also exactly where I was going to be now, and it amazed the hell out of me that I had her permission, her desire even—that I’d somehow earned it. The arousal of seeing what I was going to invade—the very spot I would stretch open with my cock—mixed with the emotional aspect of what this meant for us, and it was so fucking intense. She always winced and whimpered when I penetrated her, but her legs were still parted wide, unafraid of whatever that pain felt like, and I knew she felt all of this just as powerfully as I did. How fucking incredible was that?

I leaned over her, and my body trembled pathetically like a leaf ready to crumble and break apart into a million pieces. God I wanted this, but there was something about seeing her hair splayed out messily around her on the bed, something about the firm surface behind her body, and something about the way her eyes watched mine that sent a chill up my spine even as my body begged to invade.

I nudged, using my hand to guide my cockhead to that spot I’d been staring at so intently moments before. I nudged harder, feeling the bulbous tip pop past her tight skin. And there was the wince. I stilled for just a second, and then I watched her lips part as I pushed in and she cried out quietly. The warmth and wetness were consuming me, and when I was fully seated within her, I let my head drop to her shoulder.

Her hand was upstretched near her head, and mine was holding her wrist, toying with the small flowers there as I waited and breathed against her neck. Her fingers stroked slowly over my back, and she nuzzled against my ear, humming warmly. “You were my flower too,” she whispered. “My warmth in the cold, my beautiful thing in all the ugly. You don’t have to be afraid of this.”

I nodded even as I kept my face against her neck and touched those fucking little flowers on her wrist. And then I humped gently. It was slow at first, and her free hand continued to coax me as it ran over my back, finally moving up to clutch into my shoulder. She held me tight as my hips moved, driving my cock deep into her and then retracting. She gasped the quietest sweetest sound with every invasion, and as I listened, my need to fuck with abandon grew.

It was a very Kant-unapproved drive that was building within me. I was losing myself in her. But her hips were rising up to meet mine, and as my thrusts sped, she reached both hands down to my bottom. Her nails dug harshly and painfully into my cheeks, and she pulled me against her. One of my knees was wedged up higher under her thigh, as though I was practically trying to crawl within her with every thrust.

I gripped the top of the mattress just beyond her head, and then I pulled back, looking down on her face. I paused for a half a second, and she stared at me as her chest rose and fell rapidly. When her nails dug into my ass just slightly deeper than they had been, I hissed and then I fucked. I pounded, snapping my hips hard between her legs and listening to the sound of skin on skin as my body smacked into hers.

Her eyes were open, so open and alert, and I studied them as I slammed into her over and over and over again. I was gritting my teeth against the need to come, and I set my body loose the very second I saw her start to wilt. She cried out, her nails practically piercing my skin as she clutched at me, and I stilled deep within her, spasming and grunting through my orgasm as she trembled underneath me.

“I love you, Hell,” I whispered against her ear.

“Stop calling me Hell,” she whispered back.

I laughed as I pulled back to look at her. She smiled, and she reached for the tie that was still around my neck. Her fingers stroked over the material, and I reached for her forehead, brushing her hair back. I stayed there inside her, looking down at her face, and when I finally pushed myself up, I dropped down beside her on the bed. I pulled her into my arms, and I sighed as I relaxed. I wasn’t going to fall asleep though. I wasn’t going to give her up for even one second before I had to go. But she looked so tired, and I yawned at the sight.

She kept opening her eyes wide as she fought to stay awake, and eventually she lost the fight and I did too. Her breathing slowed as mine did, and I watched her lazily and tried to soak her in. Her eyes would open randomly as she still fought sleep, and she moaned in frustration.

“It’s okay,” I whispered.

And then I was asleep.

Chapter Forty-Three

Helene

I felt my body being lifted, but when I started to struggle, Kane’s lips touched my ear, and he shushed be gently.

“It’s okay, baby. It’s just me,” he whispered.

I wrapped my arms around his neck, and when I opened my eyes there was nothing but darkness around me and a faint glow coming from somewhere ahead of us. As we got closer I could see he was carrying me down the hall toward the bathroom, and the dim flickering light was coming from within.

I hadn’t seen the bathroom since he’d redone it, and when he entered the room, I looked around. It was stunning. The old dingy clawfoot tub was a gleaming white, and the tile was all new. Water was already running in the deep tub, and he set me gently down in the warm water. There was a candle lit on the bathroom counter, and he closed the bathroom door before he turned back to me.

I watched him loosen and pull the tie from his neck, dropping it to the floor. He climbed in behind me, his legs on either side of mine, and he slipped the corsage from my wrist, dropping it to the floor as well. When he slid down lower in the water as he leaned back, I turned toward him, laying on my stomach between his legs and resting my cheek on one of his hard pectoral muscles. He sighed, and he ran his hands down my back.

“What time is it?” I lifted my head and rested my chin on his sternum.

He smiled gently. “Early. Only five. You can go back to sleep if you want.” He winked. “I won’t let you drown.” He watched me for a moment. “There are a couple more things we need to talk about, though. Now or in a while when you’re ready to wake up.”

“Now. I don’t want to sleep any longer.”

He nodded slowly. When he opened his mouth, he closed it again. He bit his lower lip nervously. “My lawyer said…” He inhaled a deep but shaky breath. “…a couple years best case scenario…” He struggled to swallow for a moment. “But it could be longer. Ten years … more…” He didn’t bother trying to finish that, and he studied me with the most terrified look on his face. “I can’t ask you to give up part of your life for me. And I… I don’t want to be responsible for you losing years of yourself—”

I reached up, touching his lips and stopping whatever words might have come next. “I don’t have a life without you.”

I stared at him, waiting to see some glimmer of understanding. When his expression remained blank, I sat up. His eyes drifted down to my breasts. It wasn’t overtly sexual though—even when he reached out and gently stroked the back of his finger over my nipple. I waited for his hand to drop and for his attention to return to my eyes.

My heart was racing when I spoke again. “Have you ever noticed how your existence can feel so normal and familiar that you just assume it’s who you are and it’s who you’re supposed to be…”

He studied me.

“But then … something comes back to you that you thought you’d lost, something that was always supposed to be yours, and…” I shrugged even as tears filled my eyes. “…things change. You suddenly can’t remember why or how life ever felt normal before, because such an integral part of who you are was missing.”

His lips pulled up slightly even as they tremored.

“And you know, beyond all doubt, that there is nothing more important in this world than hanging on to that thing you lost once upon a time. Because going back to what you once assumed was your life is simply no longer an option.”

He bit his lip. “I’ve taken ten years of your happiness already—”

“You’ve given it all back to me—”

“And I’m going to take more—”

“Only for a little while longer. Just of a little while, remember?”

He watched me for a moment, but then he nodded.

I did too, and as I did, I leaned to him, resting my forehead to his. “We deserve a future,” I said quietly. “We deserve to be happy.”

“Yes, we do,” he whispered.

We were silent for a while, and I laid back down against his chest and snuggled up to him as he wrapped his arms around me.

“My lawyer will be here at eight. He understands he’s not to pressure you into giving a statement about that night. You don’t have to talk about anything you don’t want to. I don’t have to mention your presence—”

I shook my head, sitting up again. “I’ll give a statement.” Even saying those words sent a tremor of panic through me.

He reached up, brushing my hair from my forehead. “It’s going to be hard to talk about this.”

I nodded. “This isn’t a secret we ever should have kept.” I was silent for a moment. “I’m sorry. You tried to stop me from bathing. You knew I shouldn’t, and I…” I looked down at his chest.

He shook his head, clutching my cheeks in his hands and pulling my face back up to look at him. “No,” he said forcefully. “No. We were just kids. We didn’t know how to deal with this. Promise me you won’t blame yourself for that.”

I nodded. I wasn’t sure I could keep that promise.

“I’ve decided not to sell the house,” he finally continued. “I may need to at some point to pay for legal expenses, depending on how it goes, but now that my father has passed away, there’s no immediate financial necessity.”

He’d finally given me something to smile about. “I’m glad to hear that.”

He smiled. “I’m glad you’re glad. Because the second part of that statement is … that I’d like you to move in here.”

I just stared at him like an idiot as he waited for me to respond. The thought of being here without him was painful. He was a part of everything around me, and I couldn’t imagine walking through that front door every day and not being reminded of how much I was hurting for him, missing him.

“It’s a good place for our life to start.” He was still watching me expectantly. “I want you to make it ours.”

“Okay,” I finally said.

He pulled me back to his chest and held me in his arms. I closed my eyes again, listening to his heart beat and letting the steady rise and fall of his chest comfort me. I couldn’t imagine that this was going away. I couldn’t imagine that in only a few short hours this would be a memory—an unattainable memory.

But I couldn’t imagine not waiting for this man. I would wait for him.

* * * *

“I’m so glad to finally meet you, Helene. I’m Ross Bernstein, Kane’s attorney. Kane has told me a lot about you.” The man held his hand out to me, and Kane touched my lower back.

I shook the man’s hand. “Good to meet you.”

Ross smiled at Kane over my shoulder, and then he stepped through the door. He had a briefcase in his hand, and he was wearing a suit. I was still in the same dress I’d started out in the day before. It was a rumpled disaster at this point, and my hair was pulled back in a high messy bun that I’d fixed with a hair tie after getting out of the bathtub.

It was now eight-thirty, and Ross intended to take Kane away from me in exactly thirty minutes. For a house without a single clock on the walls, all I could seem to hear was the tick… tick… tick… of some imaginary timepiece. I’d never hated and loved a time more in my entire life. This time was precious to me; it was also painful.

Every time Kane touched me I could feel a tremble in his fingers. I could see it too when he reached for the coffee pot and poured us both a cup. He caught me looking, and he instantly fisted his hands, forcing a smile to his lips.

“Helene, Kane would like to designate you his power of attorney. He wants to ensure you have legal access and rights to his assets while he’s away. Would you be willing to act as his power of attorney?”

I glanced at Kane, and he was gnawing on his lower lip.

I nodded. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Ross pulled a set of documents from his briefcase and set them on the counter in front of Kane, handing him a pen.

I watched Kane sign and initial the documents, and when he was finished, he slid them back to Ross. Ross notarized the documents as we watched and then slipped them into a manila envelope.

“I’ll stop at the recorder’s office as soon as I’m able.”

Kane nodded, but he remained quiet. He leaned over, kissing my temple and letting his lips linger for a moment. When he pulled back, he fished his keys out of his pocket and handed them to me. But he didn’t look at me.

“Umm…” He cleared his throat. “House keys and keys to the truck.” When he pulled a drawer open, he grabbed a folder from within. He had to clear his throat again. “You’ll find everything you need in here for the pending life insurance claim, my bank account information, the title to dad’s truck… You should just sell it. I don’t…” He was stammering, and when he abruptly went quiet, he closed his eyes.

“Kane?” I touched his waist.

He wiped his hands on his jeans as though his palms were sweaty, and then he abruptly turned away. “I’m going to take the garbage out,” he said quickly. He grabbed the two garbage bags he’d set by the front door and walked out, leaving the lawyer and me to stare after him.

“He’ll be okay,” Ross said when Kane closed the door behind himself. Ross pulled a business card from his pocket, handing it to me. “Kane’s left explicit instructions that I answer any questions you might have openly and honestly. He wants to make sure you’re always informed of what’s happening.”

“What is going to happen to him?” I asked. “I… I just…”

Ross smiled at me. “My only goal is to help him do this in a way that will protect his life and his future. I believe he deserves that, and I’m going to do everything in my power to get him back to you where he belongs as soon as possible.”

“Could it really be ten years?”

Ross cocked his head to the side, and my heart fell.

“There’s no such thing as a statute of limitations on murder, and Pennsylvania doesn’t have a limitation on manslaughter either. This is a manslaughter charge to me at minimum. But speaking from a strategic point of view, we hold a confession related to a crime no one knows about. That gives us the upper hand. Kane won’t spend his time worrying about that. He’s intent on putting this to rest, and I’m going to let him. But, it’s my job to make sure it’s done in the best possible way for him. And he does finally understand that.”

He smiled at me. “You know, when I first met him almost a year ago, he came to my office in Philadelphia seeking information. It wasn’t about strategy to him. He was prepared to walk in, give his statement, and let the chips fall—against my good advice I might add.” His smile pulled into a smirk. “But … then his father had a stroke, and it delayed his plans. And somewhere along the way, things changed for him. Over the past month or so, he’s started thinking strategically. He understands the importance of protecting his future. I have no doubt that’s because of you. He’s very lucky to have you.”

I nodded, but I looked down.

“I’m going to do everything in my power to make sure this isn’t elevated beyond a manslaughter category crime. It would be a gross injustice if it was, and I’m committed to fighting that, even if it means going to trial. That said, pleading this out will likely be our best bet, and it’s what I expect to happen; it’s what I want to happen. I’d like to say involuntary manslaughter, but in truth, my gut says it’s likely voluntary with very strong mitigating circumstances that need to be taken into consideration when it comes to sentencing.”

“Well, when can I bail him out? I mean, will I be able to while…?”

He shook his head. “It won’t go down that way if we plea this out. But even if it did, he’s already made it clear he doesn’t want to be. He’d rather get credit for time served. Usually I advise my clients against that as a general rule, but in his particular case, I support the logic. He’s going to do some time. There’s no question of that to me. You don’t walk in and confess to killing someone ten years in the past when there were no other accomplices involved and expect to wheel and deal your way out of some time. We simply don’t have the leverage to argue our way out of a prison sentence of some sort, and he sees no sense in delaying the inevitable. But like I said, I don’t see it going down that way.”

The door suddenly opened again, and Kane stepped in. He watched us for a moment, his face expressionless. I hated how nervous he seemed, regardless of just how appropriate his nerves were. He walked to us, and he inhaled deeply as he sank against the counter by my side.

Ross looked at his watch. “Fifteen minutes?”

Kane nodded, but then he looked at me. “Take a walk with me?”

I followed him out the back door, and we moseyed toward the woods. There were overgrown paths all around this property that Kane and I used to get lost on, and we picked our way down the largest of them toward the creek. I could hear it gurgling and splashing in the distance, and it only took us a few minutes to reach the rocky shoreline. The water was clear and shallow, and there was a large rock about four feet high sitting off to the side of the path.

Kane and I had sat on that rock more times than I could recall when we were children, throwing rocks into the stream and laughing like idiots. I rested against the rock, and he faced me, leaning close to me and kissing the side of my neck.

“Is there anything you want to talk about?” he asked me quietly. “Anything you need to know.”

“Tell me what our future is going to look like.” I studied his face.

He instantly smiled and hummed. When he lifted his hands he cupped my cheeks gently, curling his fingers behind my jawline. “I’m going to marry you some day.”

My lips trembled, and heat settled into the backs of my eyes as I nodded.

“I’m going to give you babies.”

I nodded some more, laughing quietly even as I cried.

“I’m going to teach them to draw penises on the walls and feed banana peels to the DVD player.”

I laughed louder as a tear ran down my cheek.

He brushed it away. “It’s going to be a beautiful life.”

“A beautiful life,” I agreed.

“And in the meantime … you’re going to be happy.” He nodded. “Please be happy.”

I nodded too.

His hands inched up under my skirt, crawling up my thighs tauntingly. I wasn’t wearing underwear at this point, and when his fingers discovered that, he hummed warmly. “You’re also going to be very naughty with this body when you’re alone, okay?”

“Okay,” I breathed out.

He touched me, gently grazing over my skin, and when he slipped his fingers between the lips of my sex, his breath caught in his throat and he sighed this half groan, half breath.

He moved slow, taking his time toying and stroking, and I closed my eyes, letting my head fall back. He kissed my neck, letting his lips linger and his breath warm my skin, and when he reached to my back, it was to lower the zipper halfway down my back—just far enough for him to pull the top down and get his lips around my nipple.

It was chilly out again, and my skin popped with goosebumps. He sucked on my nipple warming it and innervating it at the same time, and he hummed and moaned, sending a tickling vibration out through my body. I stroked my fingers through his hair, and he took his time, licking and sucking. When he pushed two fingers up into me, I gasped. His penetrations were slow and gentle, and he kissed his way back up to my mouth. He kissed me over and over and over, humming and moaning quietly as he sucked on my lips. When he finally sighed and pulled back, his lips were pink and mine felt raw.

“We need to get back.” He ran his thumb across my lower lip.

My eyes drifted down to his chest.

“I know you’re not ready.” He tipped my chin up. “But it’s time.”

I shook my head as tears built and pooled, and my chest was tight as I tried to contain the sob that wanted to come out. His eyes glossed over as he nodded, and he brushed a tear from his cheek.

“Oh, God, Helene.” He dropped his forehead to mine. “I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” I whispered.

“I can’t imagine going even a day without touching you.”

He reached to my back, pulling the zipper of my dress back up, and then he stepped away from me, holding his hand out to me. We walked back to the house, and I ignored the cold. His hand was holding mine, and it was the only thing that touched me. I wanted the walk to take forever—the rest of my life at least. I also wanted it over.

We walked through the house, and Ross followed us silently out to the front porch.

“Helene, I’ll be in touch.” He nodded to me kindly. “I’ll wait in the car,” he said to Kane, and Kane nodded.

Kane stepped down the first porch step, and he turned to me, pulling me into his arms. “Just a little while,” he whispered against my ear.

I closed my eyes as I nodded. “Just a little while. And you’ll come back…”

“I’ll come back to you.”

“And you’ll marry me…”

“In my heart I already have.”

“And you’ll give us babies…”

“I can’t wait to meet our children.”

“And you’ll love me…”

“I never stopped, and I never will.”

He pulled back, and I cupped his cheeks, brushing his tears away with my thumbs as he did the same for me. He nodded.

And I nodded too.

When Hilde pulled up at just that moment, my attention shifted to her car, and Kane glanced back.

“I called Hilde a little while ago,” he said when he looked back at me. “I didn’t want you to be here alone after I left. But she doesn’t know what’s going on.” He bit his lip. “She loves you, even if she hates me.” He smirked, but it fell quickly. “She only hates me because she doesn’t understand us and the things we went through. You can make her understand, but she needs to hear it from you … when you’re ready.”

Hilde climbed out of her car. She looked worried—more than worried, and she paused, gripping the top of her driver’s side door as she stared at us.

Kane glanced back at Hilde again, but his attention returned to me quickly. “And she still may hate me…” He smiled, but his lips trembled. “I love you so much.” His hands were tremoring as he held mine.

“I love you too.”

He brushed another tear away, and then he sighed heavily. “My sweet Hell.” He leaned forward kissing my forehead and letting his lips linger on my skin. “We’re going to be okay. Don’t stop saying that. Don’t stop believing that.” And then he let go of my hands, and he turned away.

He passed Hilde on his way to Ross’s car, and she watched him suspiciously as she walked toward me, her eyes continuously glancing over her shoulder as he climbed in the passenger seat.

The last I saw of his eyes were the very moment before he covered them with his hand. The car was backing up, and Kane’s eyes were on me. I watched as his lips pulled up in a small smile, the shimmer of his eyes intensified for a moment, and then he covered them as his shoulders started to shake and he lowered his head.

That was it. He was gone. Again.

I sank to the top porch step, suddenly unable to support my own weight, and I covered my eyes as I buckled over and sobbed.

“Helene… Helene…” Hilde sat beside me, wrapping her arm around me, and she shushed me quietly as she pulled me closer to her.

“It’s going to be okay.” I nodded as I cried. I wasn’t sure if I was reassuring Hilde or myself. “He’s coming back,” I whispered.

We were going to be okay.

Epilogue

Helene

Five Years Later

I often saw him around campus, walking in that same casual and laid-back way he’d always had. He never carried a backpack with him. It was always just a book or two and a pen. And he always wore jeans, a casual shirt, and work boots. I, on the other hand, dressed far more professionally. He would smile kindly at me if he passed me on the sidewalk, and I would smile back, my cheeks warming.

But on this day his path was leading in the same direction as mine, and when he reached the door of the Academic Center, he pulled it open for me.

“Thank you, Mr. Thorson,” I said curtly, forcing my response to sound professional.

“You’re very welcome … Dr. Thorson.” He winked as I passed him.

We walked side by side down the hall, and when he suddenly reached in front of me, grabbed the handle of the door we were passing, and then pulled me into the darkened room after him, I let out a yelp of surprise. He pushed me to the wall just beside the door, and his lips found mine in the near dark. He groaned as he kissed me, and he pushed his tongue past my lips.

I was wearing black trousers and a fitted light pink knit shirt. It hugged my belly, and his hands ran over my protruding stomach as his moan loudened.

“Have I ever told you how much I enjoy making babies with you?”

I laughed quietly, letting my palm rest against his cheek as my thumb covered his lip and stopped his mouth from any more inappropriate kissing.

“You’re going to get me in trouble,” I admonished.

He scoffed. “I’m pretty sure baby number two was conceived somewhere on this campus…” he said as his hands still ran over baby number two’s bump. “…so it’s a little late to be worried about propriety, Hell. Don’t you think?”

“Later.”

He chuckled. “Yes, Dr. Thorson.”

He pulled the door open again, peeking down the hall in both directions before tugging on my hand. It wasn’t like it was any secret we were married, and the most the college cared about was that he didn’t end up in any of my classes. That didn’t mean Doctor of Philosophy Helene Thorson exiting a darkened vacant lecture hall with local carpenter, part-time student, convicted felon Kane Thorson would be seen as appropriate.

“Where were you working today?” I asked him as we strolled down the hall slowly.

“Harry McAllister’s. His wife made him call me to finish that addition he started eight months ago, because apparently she expects it to get done sometime in her lifetime. Never mind the fact he hasn’t even gotten Tyvec up and we’re going into winter…” He looked at me, smirking. “That reminds me, Hilde wants us to take Hannah trick-or-treating with them.”

“She’s only a year and half old. Is trick-or-treating even appropriate at this age?”

“Well… I said we’d talk about it. But I’m not gonna lie. It’s Halloween, it’s trick-or-treating, and I’m siding with Hilde on this one.”

“You just want the candy.”

“Of course I want the candy.”

I laughed. “Maybe?”

He nodded. “We’ll talk about it later.” That meant he intended to get his way.

I paused outside the lecture hall, turning toward him and taking his hands in mine. “You ready?”

He smiled sweetly. “Yes.” He winked at me, and then he pulled the door open, waiting for me to enter first.

I walked to the front of the classroom, and Kane followed me, taking the seat behind my desk. He leaned back casually in the chair as I stepped in front of the desk and sat on the edge.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” I began. “We’re continuing our discussion on justice today, and we have a guest here to help facilitate some dialogue on the topic. This is Kane Thorson, my husband. He was also the subject of my dissertation—”

“Kane Thorson. I know who you are,” one kid in the front row remarked.

I was already forgotten. That tended to happen when I invited him into my classroom. We’d done this a number of times in my general philosophy classes, and I was used to being outshined by him on these days. It was a small town, after all, and it was no secret who he was at this point.

“You… You like killed a man.”

I glanced back at Kane who was staring blankly at the kid.

“I mean, dude, it’s totally cool. He deserved it. You’re like … vigilante justice in the flesh.”

When Kane pulled his attention from the kid, he met my eyes. I gave him a quick nod, and he stood, rounding the desk to me. He leaned against the desktop, resting his hand just behind my rear, and his thumb stroked gently above my tailbone. I shut up then, letting him take over.

“So let me start out by saying, I don’t for even one second condone my decisions. You should understand that about me,” he said adamantly. “I was seventeen, I’d been traumatized, and my actions that night nearly ended up destroying me.”

I let myself sink just a little closer to the crook of Kane’s shoulder as he spoke. I loved listening to him discuss this, which might be odd, but I did. There was this certain authority and conviction to his tone that was all the assurance I needed that he was now in an emotionally healthy place with this. He’d recovered from the trauma … finally.

He’d spent three years of a five year prison sentence focusing on this. And then, thanks to his stellar behavior, he’d been granted early release. He’d been fortunate enough to be sentenced to a medium security prison with a committed focus on intensive behavioral and emotional counseling—of course we had Ross Bernstein to thank for a lot of that, too. Kane needed the emphasis on emotional wellbeing, and he was also smart enough to know he needed that—a fact that went a long way in his recovery.

“As my lovely wife has undoubtedly mentioned before, justice is not an easy topic. Believing someone deserves to die doesn’t make it so. And handing out that judgment comes with a very heavy burden. Helene said she handed out the forward of her dissertation last week, so you’d all have a chance to read the background of my particular case, so we won’t spend time rehashing that.

“What we can talk about, is what justice truly means, the arguments surrounding the topic—injustice to fight injustice, the moral qualms with vigilantism, the emotional and psychological trauma associated with taking the law into one’s own hands, moral and ethical dilemmas surrounding the death penalty, I could go on…” He rolled his eyes, and students chuckled. I did too.

“So, Kane used to be a student in my evening class,” I continued. “He’d actually done his term paper on the topic of ethics surrounding vigilantism. He gave a copy of it to me prior to turning himself in, and his self-effacing and self-examining approach to the topic spurred me to hone my own dissertation topic to vigilantism, and very specifically, the ethics and even psychology surrounding it. I already knew I wanted to incorporate the psychology of victimization into my study of justice, but I ended up focusing my research on justice and vigilantism as a result of victimization.”

“You married your student?” a young gal asked, clearly having heard nothing else of what I’d said.

“Well … we weren’t in a relationship at that time,” I lied.

But then the class erupted into laughter, and my brain scrambled to figure out what I’d said that was so funny. Until I glanced to Kane just to see him mock scowling at me. He rolled his eyes, and I had to fight back the laughter then too.

“That’s not the point,” I continued quickly.

“She did, however, steal my term paper topic and use it as her dissertation topic,” Kane continued dramatically. “You guys caught that, right?”

“Wha—?”

“Well, you did,” he said sarcastically. “Just sayin’…”

And more laughter.

“I did not,” I said indignantly as I gaped at him.

His lips pursed into a small, very satisfied smile as his eyebrows shot up.

He held his free hand up in placation as his other hand still toyed with my backside. “I’m kidding. It’s a topic we’re both equally passionate about for good reason, and it was an amazing experience being interviewed by her for her project. We would go through interview questions during visitations or she’d mail me questions, and it was … cathartic—which is such a bullshit cliché word, but…”

My eyes bulged as I glanced at him. He was cussing in my classroom again. When he looked at me and caught my eyeball admonishment, he laughed.

“She’s sensitive to cuss words,” he said to the class. “Don’t mind her.” And he rolled his eyes again as students laughed once more. “My point is, it was amazing. Talking to her in such detail about a past we’d both experienced was…” He shook his head. “It helped me learn to talk about it, and it taught me I actually love talking about it. Umm…” He glanced at me as he contemplated something. “It also really helped me isolate my feelings on certain things.” He held the eye contact for a moment, and his lips pulled up slightly.

“The thing was,” he continued as he looked back to the students. “From the time I committed this crime to the time I found Helene again, I was doing everything in my power to destroy myself. I was spiraling out of control in a very self-destructive way. My behaviors, my actions, my lifestyle, none of it was acceptable. And yet, I couldn’t seem to give up the need to hurt myself. In fact, letting go of that was like recovering from an addiction—the need to feel pain was very strong. But I’m a smart man,” he remarked casually, and students smiled at his easy manner. “I knew my actions were being driven by guilt. I could see what I was doing, and I thought I understood it—even if I didn’t think I could change it.”

A sea of enthralled eyes stared back at him.

“But I was wrong. It was so much more complicated than that. And that realization was one of the first things I discovered about myself just through working on her dissertation questions and talking with her.”

“So if it wasn’t guilt, what was driving you?” a student asked even as she was still raising her hand.

“I was angry,” Kane said simply. “I was carrying more fury and rage than I knew what to do with. I was internalizing it and aiming it at myself, but I was … mad. One of the most poignant moments of this process for me was when Helene asked me if I would have killed the man if he hadn’t become confrontational.” He shrugged his shoulders. “I couldn’t answer that question,” he said bluntly. He looked at me again. “I couldn’t tell the woman I loved more than anything else in this world, who I wanted to marry and have children with, and who I wanted to trust me with her life and future whether I was capable of killing out of rage or not.” He swallowed harshly over a lump in his throat as he looked at me, and his brow flinched.

“That destroyed me psychologically,” he said as he looked back out to the class. “And yet, I’d never been able to put that into words prior to sitting down with her and analyzing the repercussions of my actions. In truth, it infuriated me because I felt like that man had taken away my chance to change my mind, and I was so angry at him for that, and I resented him. That one thing that seems so clear and simple now had gnawed away at me for years, and yet, I was so focused on hurting myself that I didn’t fully realize the why behind my need to punish myself.”

I looked out at the faces watching Kane intently. Some stared, some eyes were glassy, and a few hands were even reaching for eyes to brush away stray tears.

“How do you trust yourself not to hurt the people you love the most when you have no idea what you’re capable of?” He slipped his hand up under the back of my shirt, placing his palm on my lower spine.

A young man raised his hand, and Kane nodded at him.

“Why did you turn yourself in? I mean, no one knew! No one would ever have known.” The kid shook his head, clearly perplexed.

“I knew.” He studied the kid for a moment. “And I wasn’t doing a very good job of managing that knowledge. Don’t think it was an easy decision. When I was … nothing more than a student in Helene’s class…” He rolled his eyes again, and students snickered. “…I was changing my mind every five minutes. I didn’t want to go to jail. I didn’t want to talk about it. I sure as hell didn’t want to leave Helene. But … I also knew I couldn’t continue in this life the way things were.

“The thing I learned is that whether I deserved to mete out justice or not … didn’t really matter. It was bigger than me. Justice is bigger than all of us. It’s complicated, it’s messy, it…” He glanced to me and smiled. “…unravels the second you think you’ve wrapped your head around it.”

He looked back out at the students. “Human life is a fragile, fragile thing. Taking it away from someone … is a decision that doesn’t belong to us. Mind you, this is my opinion, and it is based solely on my experiences and my prejudices. You’re not required to agree with me, and I would fault no one for taking a different stance. As my wife will tell you, nothing is black and white in this field.” He went silent, and his hand stroked my back gently.

“So, an eye for an eye?” I asked as I looked at him.

“That one’s still a little complicated for me. But if it involves taking an offenders life, no.” He looked back at me.

“Death penalty?”

“No.” His lips pulled up slightly.

“Extermination of pedophiles?”

“No. Though, I’m not at all opposed to castration.” His lips pulled up in a bigger grin as he watched me.

Students laughed again, and when we faced forward, I saw more hands brushing tears away even as they chuckled and smiled.

A young woman in the second row raised her hand, and I called on her.

“Is there a circumstance in which you would ever kill again?”

Kane nodded. “To protect my wife, children, and even my own life … absolutely. To exact a revenge I thought I deserved. No. That price tag is too high.” He paused for a moment. “Here’s what I’ve discovered. I deserved better than what I gave myself. I deserved to recover from the trauma that happened to us and go on to live my life. I’m the one who took that away from myself for ten years—from Helene too, because my actions impacted her just as much as they did me. None of us can do anything in this world only to ourselves without affecting another. We’re all just dominoes lined up waiting to fall.”

The room was silent, and Kane’s fingers curled against my lower back, sending a flush over my skin.

“Okay,” I finally said. “He’s open to questions you might have, so I’m turning it over to you guys. Don’t worry. If he doesn’t want to answer a particular question because it’s too personal, I assure you, he’ll tell you.”

I stood, and Kane’s hand slipped from under my shirt. I rounded the desk and took a seat in the chair, and soon, hands started to raise. Kane answered one question after another. Many were relevant, many were ridiculous or just plain invasive. He politely refused to answer any questions about what happened to Kane and I—there were always a few people willing to ask for specifics. But frankly, our statements were all part of public record if they cared to research it, and it simply wasn’t the point of this discussion.

“What were you most looking forward to doing when you got out of prison?” a young woman asked.

He glanced back at me, smirking for a moment as I rested my hand on my stomach.

“That’s absolutely none of your business,” he said as he turned forward again. “But I’ve only been home for two years and three months, and we already have a daughter who’s eighteen months old. Do the math.”

I shook my head as I rolled my eyes, and laughter erupted from the class again. There was usually plenty of laughter when Kane paid a visit.

The questions eventually died down, and as Kane stood to leave, more or less cutting off any further discussion, I stood too.

“Okay, guys. Take fifteen.”

Students stood and stretched, and Kane turned toward me, but he paused, turning back quickly. “Immanuel Kant has some wicked stupid theories about sexuality, by the way,” he announced.

Students stopped for a moment, and mouths pulled up in intrigued grins.

“Just … fair warning. Don’t even bother showing up to class that day.”

Whoops and hollers broke out for a moment, and as the room emptied out, my rather juvenile husband turned back to me and smiled.

I leaned against the side of the desk, and as the last of the students cleared out, he reached for my stomach and stepped up close to me.

“I’m going to go pick up Hannah from your sister.” He leaned down, kissing my cheek. “I’ll see you when you get home tonight.” He smiled, caressing his palm over my belly.

“Okay.”

The door opened, and the first of the returning students walked back in. His hand grazed down to my hip, and he leaned down giving me one more kiss on my forehead. He winked just before he turned and walked out.

* * * *

Kane

“I’m just saying…” I popped an apple slice in my mouth as Hilde scowled at me disapprovingly. “…she just didn’t seem to think trick-or-treating was a necessary thing for a one and a half year old.” I bit off a small piece of apple, stripping the peel from it before holding it up to Hannah’s mouth. She practically took my fingers off as she attacked the apple.

“Well, that is just hog manure,” Hilde retorted.

“Agreed. I mean, she’ll be the cutest damn ladybug this town has ever seen. And I will totally split the loot with you if you can talk her into it.”

Hilde nodded. “Okay. I’m on it.”

“How was Hannah Montana today?”

Hilde scowled at me again. “Do not call my niece that. She’s going to start tweaking soon if you keep calling her that.”

“Twerking, Hilde. It’s twerking. And Hell’s already tried to teach her. Hannah’s just not coordinated enough yet. Soon I think though…” I offered Hannah another bite of apple as she cooed and giggled and then shark bit my fingers.

Hilde rolled her eyes at me, and I smiled back at her. Hilde did a lot of eye rolling and scowling when it came to me, but … she still liked me. Mark told me so, and I believed him. He was blunt after all—a man would have to be to be married to Hilde.

She finally sighed. “She was a peach. We dropped Sienna and Brody off at school, went to the library, came home, took a nap, ate, played, ate, played some more, ate some more…”

“Cool.” I shifted Hannah over to my other hip as I pulled my car keys out of my pocket.

“Hey, when are you planning on the upstairs bathroom tile job?”

“Probably two weeks. I’m fitting it in between the McAllister project and a roof I want to get done before it gets much colder out. Plus I’m taking a couple classes this semester, so I have to work around that. Will that work?”

“Sure.” She tossed the apple core in the sink, rinsing her hands. “Don’t know why you’re bothering with school, given how busy you’re staying with the carpentry.”

I snorted. “This coming from the woman who chastised me for dropping out of high school once.”

Hilde stared at me for a moment. “That was a long time ago.”

And that was a Hilde apology.

I paused for a moment. What was one supposed to say to a veiled apology like that? Thanks? You’re forgiven for being a judgy biotch?

“I better go,” and a sincere smile was what I eventually settled on. “Tell Sienna and Brody I said hi when they get home from school.”

“Okay,” she said as she walked up to me, smacked a kiss on Hannah’s cheek, and patted me on the shoulder.

“Okay, shorty,” I said to Hannah as I buckled her into the carseat. “It’s just you and me for a few hours until mama gets home from her night class.”

She smiled and giggled, reaching for my chin and pulling my whiskers.

We spent the next few hours playing and watching football in the living room, and when Hannah fell asleep on my chest as I lounged against the end of the couch, I checked my phone to see the time. She’d be home soon.

I brushed Hannah’s light brown hair off her forehead. She looked like us. Of course she was supposed to, but it was still such an incredible thing to see Helene mixed with me in this beautiful little girl. Never in a million years did I imagine my life would amount to so much—so much that I was able to share part of myself with Helene to create something new and amazing. There was a time when I didn’t think I had anything good enough in me to share in that way.

But I was wrong. Thank God I was wrong.

“I love you, Hannah,” I whispered, knowing she couldn’t hear me.

Thirty minutes later, Helene walked in. Her lips pulled up sweetly as she set her briefcase down by the door. She slipped her heels off, and she walked toward me. She leaned over the sofa, peeking at Hannah’s face.

“Hi, baby,” I whispered as I reached for her tummy.

“Hi.” She kissed me. “I’ll put her down.”

I nodded. “Come to bed when you’re finished.”

She lifted Hannah from my chest, and I stood, following her toward the hallway and turning lights off as I moved. She veered off toward my old childhood bedroom with Hannah, and I turned the other way toward the master bedroom. I stripped out of my clothes when I entered and crawled into bed.

I picked up a textbook that I’d left on my nightstand, and I tried to immerse myself in business law for a few minutes. But I was already thinking about fucking my wife, and that did something to my brain not entirely conducive with studying. I stared at a page related to contract law, knowing this actually did pertain to my line of business and was likely important to my very profession, but … I saw nothing.

“Whatcha doing?”

I looked up to see Helene standing in the doorway, and I smiled. “Thinking about fucking you.”

She sauntered over to me. “Really? Because it looks like you’re reading.”

“Oh, no. I promise you I’m not.”

She took the book from my hands, taking in the sight of my erection, and her eyes bulged. “Oh, no you’re not. Not unless business law became a lot more interesting than I remember it.”

I smirked at her as she set the book back down on my nightstand, and as she stooped over slightly, I grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her down to hover over me. Her face was close to mine, and as she watched my eyes, I pushed my fingers up under her shirt and then down past the waist of her pants, trailing my palm over her belly and down to her pussy.

My mouth fell open and hers did too when I slid my finger between her pussy lips. She was wet, and her breath caught in her throat when my finger ran over her clit. She leaned down, sucking the head of my cock into her mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” I cursed as my fingers twisted into her hair. She bobbed up and down, and I watched her lips stretch. She’d taken a step back when she leaned down to my dick, and I couldn’t reach her anymore. Of course, her lips were now wrapped around me, so I couldn’t complain too much about the loss of her cum from my fingertips. Instead of touching her pussy, I kept my hand on the side of her stomach, caressing gently with my palm as she sucked and licked.

“Kiss me,” I finally demanded when my need to come became too intense.

She pulled up slowly, letting me watch as my dick passed her lips. She leaned to my mouth, toying with me by holding her lips just out of reach. I lunged then, kissing her as I sat up straight and pulled her pants down her legs. She was moaning against my mouth, and I didn’t break from her lips until she was naked from the waist down.

I leaned back, propping my head up on my hands to watch her. She stood up straight and stripped her shirt off over her head, unclasped her bra, and then let it slide off her arms.

She crawled onto the bed between my parted legs, and she leaned back, resting with her head at the foot of the bed. I reached over, grabbed her pillow, and tossed it to her. She pushed it under her head, and then she opened her legs.

I stroked my cock as I stared at her pussy, and she reached down, parting her lips for me. She was too far away for me to reach out and touch, but she was close enough to see the details—the glossy wetness, the pink skin, the hole I was going to fill. She knew I wanted to look, and she knew I wanted to watch her touch herself too.

So many things were unspoken between us in the bedroom now, and I loved that. I knew she liked to watch me jack off just as much as I liked to watch her touch herself. I also knew when she wanted anal play by nothing more than the way she’d bite her lower lip and take a deep breath as though she wanted to ask the question but couldn’t quite figure out how. She was just shy that way. I always made her ask the question regardless of her nerves before I’d give into her wishes. I was just a shithead that way, I guess. And as her cheeks would blush as she fought to describe exactly what she wanted me to stick up her ass, I’d smile and my dick would get even harder.

But this wasn’t the anal play sort of night. I could tell by the way she was touching herself that she wanted to feel me there, only there right now. Her fingers brushed gently over her clit, and she gasped. My hand was gripping my erection harshly, pulling up and then sliding back down.

“Pretty soon I’m not going to be able to reach my own vagina,” she commented even as her breath caught in her throat again.

I pushed up to my knees, smiling down at her. “Do me a favor. Let Dr. Kossuth say vagina. You stick to pussy when you’re with me.” I winked as I leaned down to her … vagina, and I sucked her finger that was still stroking her clit into my mouth. I pulled on it for a moment, tasting her subtle flavor, and then I released her finger, turning my attention to her pussy.

I licked and laved and let my tongue roll over her nerves, and when I flicked her clit with the tip of my tongue, her fingers dug into the tops of her thighs until in a loud groan, she came, clapping her hand over her mouth to stifle the sound so she wouldn’t wake Hannah.

I chuckled with my lips still against her wet skin, and her thighs trembled. I sat back, wiping my lower lip as she stared up at me and caught her breath. I pinned her thighs back farther as I wedged my knees under them, and then I pressed my cockhead to her entry.

I pushed forward, watching her face as I slid in, and her eyelids fluttered as she moaned. I rocked in and out, looking down on her. I’d been terrified of this once, but now I leaned over her, bringing my face close to hers as she lay under me. I wouldn’t be able to make love to her this close face to face before too long, and I was going to take her this way for as long as I could.

“I love you,” I whispered as I thrust my hips harder.

She reached for my cheek, pulling my mouth to hers. “I love you, too.”

She held my face close as I fucked, and she whimpered and cried out as I penetrated and plunged deep into her. I came with gritted teeth as I stilled and spasmed inside her, and then my muscles crumbled, and I pulled her to her side as I collapsed next to her.

I ran my hand over baby number two, and she watched me as her fingers pinched and pulled gently on my facial hair. She touched my forehead then, grazing her fingers over my skin and tickling across my face. As much as I missed laying closer to her and feeling her breasts sandwiched against my chest, I loved the feel of her round belly pushing against my stomach.

She started falling asleep, and I yawned at nothing more than the contented look on her face. Her eyes would open, watch me lazily for a moment, and then close again.

“It’s a good life, isn’t it…” I said as my fingers still touched her belly. It wasn’t a question. “A beautiful life…”

Her eyes opened again, looking so tired. But she smiled a perfect Helene smile. “Such a beautiful life,” she said. Her eyelids fluttered again as they closed.

“Good night, my sweet Hell,” I whispered, and then I closed my eyes.

The End

About the Author

Elizabeth Finn is a multi-published contemporary romance author, and her passion is creating stories packed full of believable conflicts, characters who leave you rooting for them, and romance that might just short-circuit your e-reader. She likes her characters flawed, but they always find the best part of themselves on their journey, and her readers find themselves devoted to her honest and heartfelt voice.

Discover other titles by Elizabeth Finn:

The Fight for Us (A Standalone Bristol Island Tale #1)

Inappropriate (A Standalone Bristol Island Tale #2)

The Rules Regarding Gray

Unforgiven (Unforgiven #1)

Unforgettable (Unforgiven #2)

The Innocent Liar

Conflicting Interests

Brother’s Keeper

Restoring Jordan

The Devil’s Pawn

Connect with Elizabeth Finn:

ElizabethFinnFiction.com

Facebook.com/ElizabethFinnFiction

Eliza@ElizabethFinnFiction.com

@ElizabethFinn77

Go back to Table of Contents

Table of Contents

Part I: A Past Relived

Chapter One: Helene – Eleven Years Ago

Chapter Two: Helene

Chapter Three: Kane – Eleven Years Ago

Chapter Four: Kane

Chapter Five: Helene – Eleven Years Ago

Chapter Six: Helene

Chapter Seven: Kane – Eleven Years Ago

Chapter Eight: Kane

Chapter Nine: Helene – Eleven Years Ago

Chapter Ten: Helene

Chapter Eleven: Kane – Eleven Years Ago

Chapter Twelve: Kane

Chapter Thirteen: Helene – Eleven Years Ago

Chapter Fourteen: Helene

Chapter Fifteen: Kane – Eleven Years Ago

Chapter Sixteen: Kane

Chapter Seventeen: Helene – Eleven Years Ago

Chapter Eighteen: Helene

Chapter Nineteen: Kane – Eleven Years Ago

Chapter Twenty: Kane

Chapter Twenty-One: Helene – Eleven Years Ago

Part II: A Today Undefined

Chapter Twenty-Two: Helene

Chapter Twenty-Three: Kane

Chapter Twenty-Four: Helene

Chapter Twenty-Five: Kane

Chapter Twenty-Six: Helene

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Kane

Chapter Twenty-Eight: Helene

Chapter Twenty-Nine: Kane

Chapter Thirty: Helene

Chapter Thirty-One: Kane

Chapter Thirty-Two: Helene

Chapter Thirty-Three: Kane

Chapter Thirty-Four: Helene

Part III: A Tomorrow Gone

Chapter Thirty-Five: Kane

Chapter Thirty-Six: Helene

Chapter Thirty-Seven: Kane

Chapter Thirty-Eight: Helene

Chapter Thirty-Nine: Kane – Eleven Years Ago

Chapter Forty: Kane

Chapter Forty-One: Helene

Part IV: A Future Reborn

Chapter Forty-Two: Kane

Chapter Forty-Three: Helene

Epilogue: Helene & Kane

About the Author