Copyright 2015, Sibylla Matilde

Photo by: Sara Eirew Photographer

Cover models: Jonathan Dumas and Valérie Benoit

ISBN: 1514312336

ISBN-13: 978-1514312339

Distributed by Amazon

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy.

Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental. With the exception of the original material written by the author, all songs, song titles, and lyrics contained in this book are the property of the respective songwriters and copyright holders.

For my Brit Ho, Bethy boo. Here’s your Mofo.

Love you… even if you do listen to K-pop.

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Epilogue

Songs that inspired Easy Little Lick

Acknowledgments

Other Novels by Sibylla Matilde

About Siby

Stalk Siby

Lick:

A cool drum trick; a short and commonly repeated musical motif; something a drummer can nail whenever… wherever…

…even in his sleep.

I’d been home for about an hour when the yelling started. The neighbors were fighting.

Again.

My dad usually stepped in, trying to calm the man down while my mom called the cops. That’s just the kind of guy he has always been, tough and protective. Always looking out for those who needed help.

And she needed help. Badly.

They tried to get her to leave so many times. They tried to bring charges against him on her behalf.

But her responses were always the same.

He’s not normally like this.

He’s just drunk.

He doesn’t mean it.

So nothing was done. You can’t really help someone who doesn’t want to be helped.

My dad would intervene and protect her until the cops got there. The guy might get hauled off to the drunk tank or something. The fucker would sober up, and she would always take him back. Abuse can fuck with a person’s mind so badly.

From my open window, I heard the crash of broken glass. Things were escalating.

A heavy thud and another scream.

Fuck. My mind raced. I didn’t know what to do. My parents weren’t home. I was stoned out of my gourd after I’d toked up in the park with my buddy Brannon while my brother’s band played for some society wedding.

Now, though, I wished I’d stayed sober. I wished I knew what to do. That dude next door was a big fucker and a violently mean drunk. I was a lover, not a fighter. Even more, though, the pot had me paranoid.

Not so much of the guy himself, since I wasn’t exactly a little fella. I was more worried that the cops would show up and bust my ass for drugs.

Fuck, I had to do something, though. I reached for my cell phone.

“Nine-one-one, what is your emergency?” the dispatcher asked.

“My neighbors… they’re fighting. I think the guy is beating up his wife.” My voice hitched as I heard another scream. Another crash. “Shit,” I breathed, “someone needs to help her.”

“Stay with me, sir. What is your address?”

“Nine-oh-three Daly Street, and they’re in a blue house next door. Hurry,” I urged, peeking through my curtains. “It’s really bad.”

The shouting increased as the man raged on. A sharp crack, like broken wood, rang through the air. I heard the woman’s anguished pleading. Sobbing.

“Should I go help her?” I asked. “My dad would help her if he was here.”

“I’ll get someone there right away, but stay with me,” the dispatcher said, maintaining her calming tone. It sounded surreal and far away, especially with the panic and terror floating through my open bedroom window. “Do not engage.”

The buzz I still felt coursing through my veins and the fear I heard in the woman’s voice twisted inside me. Suddenly, I didn’t care if I got in trouble. I wanted to help her. I wanted to stop him.

“I have to go,” I gasped frantically when I heard another loud crash. “I have to stop him.”

“Sir, stay with me. Law enforcement officers are very close. They will only be a minute or two.”

It was more like three. Just over three of the longest motherfucking minutes of my life. I watched the clock, my panic growing as each scream echoed in the night air.

And then… silence. Eerie and cold in the darkness.

I shot out of bed, barreling down the steps out the door just as the sheriff pulled up. Right behind him was an Ophir PD car.

It had been just over three minutes, but it was still too late.

By the time they arrived and subdued the abusive, angry man, he’d already done what he’d come so close to doing many times before. What my dad and mom had told her would happen if she didn’t leave him.

What I could have stopped if I’d only intervened. If I hadn’t hesitated because I was stoned, selfish, and paranoid.

I watched as they carried the woman’s body from the house, zipped up in a black bag. The guilt crushed me. It cut me deep and festered in my conscience.

It haunted me.

It changed me.

I still drank. I even still toked up a little now and then, but I always kept a tight hold on it. I always made sure it wouldn’t fuck with me too much. I made sure I could and would still man up whenever needed.

I would never hesitate again.

Five years later…

“But it’s a sex party, Cody,” Justin groaned as he picked up his bass to prepare for the show that night. “A sex party. When’s the last time you were laid, anyway?”

I only laughed. A wild orgy was Justin’s version of heaven and, really, a rare event for small-town Montana. To me, though, while it did sound pretty fuckin’ hot, it also sounded kind of… empty. I’d done the random hookups, not a ton of them, but enough to know that something was just missing there.

Maybe it was because I was younger than the other guys in the band, something they gave me shit about all the time. I was the baby of the group. I’d lived my whole life in the small town of Ophir, just outside of Butte, and even Butte wasn’t huge by any standards. My buddies, mostly the other Bangin’ Mofos, lived much more vicariously than I did.

The thing was, I just kinda knew there was someone out there who would come along, hit me like a ton of bricks, and that would be it. Forever. Sort of a chickish view on life, so I didn’t really share it with my manwhore friends, even though they were settling down one by one, getting all domesticated.

Justin, though… he was a bit stubborn about it. He’d always been the wildest of the bunch, always on the lookout for something hot and dirty. Always seeking a new twist. Voyeurism, exhibitionism, threesomes, foursomes… moresomes. He truly couldn’t understand where I was coming from.

He figured my parents’ idealistic marriage had ruined me for casual hookups.

Maybe he was right.

I’d grown up listening to my mom and dad go on and on about the moment they met. How they knew right then and there it would be forever. It was a summertime street dance and the band started to play my mom’s favorite song. She had exclaimed that she wanted to dance, and the crowd had practically parted to lead directly to my dad. My mom always told the story to my brother and me with a sappy, sweet grin on her face. She said it was like a scene in a movie, and my dad would throw her a little wink as he smiled at the memory.

Two decades later, things were smooth sailing in the Driscoll home. I could see how they loved each other more and more every day. They still flirted like teenagers even after kids and bills and years of water under the bridge.

So I just couldn’t settle for quick and dirty. Not when I knew something like that was possible.

I had no shortage of offers with the girls that hung around our band. Over the past couple years, I’d touched and tasted more than a few, but nobody really seemed to fit. None of the girls I’d had really felt right. The sparks didn’t ignite. I never really experienced the burn.

They saw the outside me. Tall and pretty fuckin’ buff from all the time I spent on the drums, more or less every waking moment that I wasn’t working my day job as a mechanic for my buddy Brannon. I had ocean-blue eyes and sandy light brown hair. The chicks that flocked around the Mofos took one look at me and went all rainbows and butterflies thinking I could be the one.

But they never really scratched beneath the surface. They didn’t take the time to get to know me. They saw muscles and heard the words ‘drummer in a band’ and that’s all they needed. Everything was always so superficial, and there was no depth to their attraction.

I started feeling like I had unrealistic expectations. I had my heart set on that perfect girl who would come along and rock my world.

But maybe that perfect girl didn’t exist.

“Fuck,” Justin continued, “I need a wingman, desperately, and Drew already said no.”

Drew nodded as he tuned his guitar. “Maggie’s out of town.”

“Dude,” Justin pleaded, “if she was here, she’d be begging you to go. She lives for that shit.”

“Yeah,” Drew laughed back, “but she’s not, and I can’t go without her. That’s cheating, you fucker, and she’d kick my ass.”

“Fuuuuuuuck,” Justin snorted in exasperation. “Why the fuck is Cody the only other single Mofo? The fucker is pure relationship material with all his nice guy shit. If any of you bastards wound up getting pussy-whipped, it should have been him. But nooooo.” He turned to Denny, our Dublin-born front man, who was testing the mic. “Wait, you and Felicity are into exhibitionism, right? What was that thing you did back in Ireland? Dogging? Why don’t you—”

“Feck off,” Denny replied, grinning slightly at Justin’s desperation, but exuding an underlying possessive vibe that said he really wasn’t joking. “I’m not sharing Fliss.”

“Maybe Brannon and Sophie,” Justin thoughtfully murmured. “The three of us have gotten busy before.”

“And I’m pretty sure Brannon told you never again,” I said. Brannon was a friend of the band and became my boss when we’d graduated from the automotive program at the local community college. He and his girlfriend Sophie had a rather adventurous beginning to their relationship, fulfilling all the things on her naughty bucket list. Since then, though, they had settled pretty concretely into monogamy.

“Fuck,” Justin muttered, turning back to me. “See, you fucker? There isn’t anyone else but you.” His mouth dropped open with an epiphany. I could almost see the light bulb appear over his head. “Maybe you’ll meet your dream girl there, that perfect woman you've been saving yourself for.”

“Yeah, right,” I laughed. “Nobody meets their soulmate at a sex party.”

Right about then, we heard footsteps on the stage stairs.

Doug, the owner of the Copperline, came up first, followed by a girl who appeared pretty close to my age of twenty-three. She stood slightly hidden by him. From what I could see, she had long dirty-blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail and was wearing a T-shirt and jeans. All in all, her appearance seemed fairly nondescript.

“These guys are our regulars on the weekends, the Bangin’ Mofos,” Doug was saying as he led her up to the stage, coming to pause beside my drums. “Hey guys, I want you to meet Ilsa. She’s a new waitress who will be starting tonight. Ilsa, that wanker over there is Denny, there’s Drew on lead guitar and Justin on bass, and this big fella behind the drums,” he motioned over to me, “is Cody.”

“Ilsa…” I murmured to myself, “like on Casablanca.”

I hadn’t really meant to say it out loud. I had the tendency to spout out things without thinking more often than not, usually things that didn’t make a lot of sense to most people. That was the only place I’d heard the name, though… Ilsa Lund, Bogie’s star-crossed lover from the old black and white flick. Brannon’s grampa always had WWII movies playing in his garage, and Casablanca had sorta stuck with me after all those years.

When I spoke, Doug stepped aside, and Ilsa looked right at me with the most beautiful hazel-brown eyes. Even from where I sat a few feet away, I could make out the amazing color framed by long, thick lashes. Drawing me in and holding my attention. Hypnotizing me.

I pushed back my beanie hat and just sort of stood there staring at her, taken captive by her gaze. Rendered speechless.

“So, be nice to her,” Doug continued, “but I don’t want any of you guys to fuck her, got it?”

At that remark, her eyes went very wide, and the most tantalizing shade of pink colored her cheeks. She quickly looked up at her new boss, somewhat alarmed, but more in a question.

“It’s kind of a ground rule I've started,” Doug explained to her with a shrug, then looked back at us. The guy was an old biker, grew up in Sturgis, all leathery and really badass looking, so his menacing glare tended to be sort of boner-shriveling. “I go through waitresses like crazy with these manwhores. I’m tired of that shit.”

With those words, Ilsa looked back at me with her eyebrows furrowed.

So much for a good first impression.

Over the next couple weeks, she avoided us. I wasn’t sure if it was Doug’s warning, or if she was just naturally shy.

She reminded me of a shadow. Silent. Moving around the outskirts where nobody would notice her.

I could barely keep my eyes off her, though.

The other barmaids often came to our parties, breaking Doug’s cardinal rule over and over, generally with Justin, sometimes with Drew and Maggie. They gossiped about who had done what in little groups at work. At every after party we had, I wondered if Ilsa would show up.

But she never did.

She didn’t dress like the bar skanks either. Much like that first time I met her, she wore jeans and loose-fitting T-shirts. Her hair was usually just pulled back in a simple ponytail.

She made her rounds at the tables each night, giving slight smiles to the customers. Shy, but sweet. She seemed to fade in and out of the background. Because she shrank away from the limelight, because she didn’t wear super short skirts and have cleavage down to her navel, she seemed to fly under the radar.

The band and, for the most part, the crowd at the Copperline treated her almost like furniture. Like she wasn’t a living, breathing woman with beautiful eyes who blushed the most stunning shade of pink when I once spoke to her.

Yet, she seemed to appreciate their lack of interest. She mechanically went about her business, clearing tables and taking orders, showing as little of her true self as she could. She was remote. Watchful and wary, avoiding interaction whenever possible. If someone tried to pull her into conversation, she quickly shut it down. She was just shy of rude, carefully making herself seem almost flat and boring, and that interest would fizzle and quickly fade away.

Except in me.

There was just something about her. She was just unlike anyone else I’d ever known. A mystery.

Every night when the bar closed, she quietly slipped out to her car and drove away… towards Butte, I noticed one night as I watched her leave.

After a couple weeks of zero interaction, I started putting myself in her path as she worked, trying to catch her eyes as she moved around me. Most often, she evaded me, thwarting my attempts to be social. Every now and then, though, I managed to catch her eye. Little things I did to make it difficult for her to ignore me. Using my body to block her path until she had no choice but to tap me on the shoulder and murmur a quiet ‘excuse me’ to get me to move. Handing her something to hear a quiet ‘thank you’ accompanied by the slightest of shy smiles.

My tactics didn’t always work, but sometimes they did.

It was crazy, really. I was crazy. I could have had my pick of the bar on any given night. The Bangin’ Mofos were practically celebrities in the area, and I had been pegged as the one with massive relationship potential. A big fuckable teddy bear.

But when I could get her to actually look up and focus on me, her eyes said more than her words and her motions.

I saw sadness, loneliness, and a little fear. I saw a fragile soul who appeared alive, but not really living.

It was the strangest feeling. I wanted to hold her. To comfort her. To protect her. To take the sadness inside her and replace it with something beautiful. Those moments between us, rare and short as they were, made me want to know more about her. They made me feel like maybe I did know her a little, like I was privy to some kind of secret.

Most often, she would shutter the emotion behind thick lashes. Every now and then, though, I managed to say something just right, something that made her eyes sparkle with a faint glimmer of amusement.

And then she’d duck her head and turn away.

I had seen something there, though. I zoomed in, focusing on those little moments because I knew that, in spite of her obvious desire not to, she liked me back… if only just a little bit.

A couple weeks became a month and then two. The longer I knew her, the more I became truly fixated on this one girl I’d barely even spoken to.

I wanted to talk to her.

I wanted to make her smile. To make her laugh.

To make her moan.

I just wanted her.

The Bangin’ Mofos were like brothers, and I was constantly treated as the little brother of the group.

The other guys gave me shit all the time about my age. I was almost twenty-four, but a good year younger than any of them. This constant ribbing had gone on since we’d gotten together a few years before, especially when they all reached the legal drinking age of twenty-one and I hadn’t.

I had also been labeled as the big, dumb one, a part I actually played to perfection. Not that it was really the case, but drummers tend to get the dense-guy image. I didn’t do a lot to alter their perception, either, even if school had been a breeze. I had excelled in math as a kid. Same with welding and auto shop when I got to high school.

More than anything, though, I was a machine on the drums. If anything in life came easy to me, it was that. The rhythm seemed to flow from the world around me into my soul and out through my hands. I was far from the best drummer ever, not even comparable to my idols, guys like Shannon Leto and Dave Grohl, who could shred like nothing I could even hope to come near.

But I had been beating the shit out of everything I could get my hands on since I was a toddler. Since I laid out my mom’s pots and pans and beat on them with spoons. I had a constant tempo in my head, a perpetual rhythm that made my fingers tap unthinkingly. It made me bounce my leg almost nonstop. My parents had me tested for ADHD as a kid because my third-grade teacher complained that I just could not sit still. The doctor examined me and talked to me. He watched me for a few minutes and turned to my mother.

“This kid needs an outlet for his beat. Get him a set of drums.”

So she did. A piss-poor cheap set because she thought I’d never stick with it. I was only eight years old, after all. I started in my bedroom. After a year of constant cacophony, my folks moved it out to the garage.

My older brother had gotten a guitar around the same time. A few years later, he formed a garage band with some friends, but felt I wasn’t cool enough to play with them. They’d lure me sometimes, telling me they might let me play with them if I helped haul equipment when they had a gig, but the fuckers never did follow through.

Their promises had me practicing like a motherfucker, though. I spent every spare minute trying to prove myself. Before long, I didn’t want to be good enough to play with them. I wanted to be better than them. I wanted them to wish they could play like me.

If I wasn’t practicing, I was watching greats like Don Henley or Peter Chris. Studying their movements to see how they pulled off their amazing licks.

I soaked up everything I could find and listened over and over to the same songs until the beat echoed in my dreams. Until I could mimic every bark and scoop. I wanted more. I thirsted for it.

I’d known Brannon for years since we both grew up in the same small Montana town of Ophir. He was a couple years older than me, though, and didn’t hang out much until we were in the Automotive Technology program together.

At the time, his grampa was on his case to be a little more responsible. Brannon had taken some time after high school to coast through life, but the old man had been pretty insistent. A little over a year later, we realized why when his health started to fail. He managed to hang on long enough to watch Brannon graduate, then left him his auto shop in Ophir. Shortly thereafter, Brannon hired me on.

The whole time we’d been in college, I’d hung out with Brannon and had gotten to know his friend Denny, a crazy Irish fucker who somehow had decided he wanted to settle in Montana. Denny could play a little guitar and had a hell of a singing voice. His roommates, Justin and Drew, were also musicians and had a radio show on the campus station. We fucked around a lot on it, making up songs, playing instruments… and developing a following.

We never really formed a band.

We just were a band.

Pretty soon, we started getting gigs, and that was an awesome ‘fuck you’ to my brother and his friends who were, by that point, realizing I actually had some talent. When we started getting chosen for shows over their band, I asked if they wanted to help haul our equipment. My brother looked like he wanted to kick my ass, but I’d gotten a lot bigger than him over the years, so he just made some bitch-ass remark and sulked away.

I was a lot bigger than most guys I came across, really, taller than all my friends and built like a fucking linebacker. I ate damn near anything and everything I could get my hands on, but as much as I played, all those calories turned to muscle. I could have been kind of scary if I’d been a dickhead, I guess. If I was a mean fucker, always looking for a fight.

Instead, I sorta went with the big nice, dumb guy approach and played the part very well.

So well that even my buddies bought it.

“Hey, Drew,” Justin called out one night as he tightened a new string on his bass. “What do you call a drummer with half a brain?”

Drew grinned and I gave a good-natured sigh. These fuckers and their drummer jokes.

“Dunno, Justin, what?”

“Gifted,” Justin replied, and the two of them laughed and laughed.

And laughed.

They thought they were so clever.

Ilsa had come to the top of the stairs, some bottles of beer on her tray, just as Justin had started the joke. When she heard the punchline, she scowled at him. He hadn’t even noticed she was there.

She seemed rather invisible to him, which baffled me. Denny often said that Justin would ‘shag a crack in a plate.’ The dude did damn near every girl he set his eyes on. He was even one of the few guys I knew who was completely comfortable doing a male-female-male threesome… without a referee.

Me? Not so much.

“How about this one?” Drew chuckled, “What’s the best way to confuse a drummer?”

“What?” Justin snorted.

“Put sheet music in front of him.”

Justin wrapped his arm around his gut as he practically rolled on the floor.

Hilarious.

Ilsa, however, was not amused.

Having handed a beer to Denny, she turned to hand one to me as well, her brows drawn in irritation.

“They’re just giving me shit, Ilsa,” I smiled, talking in a low voice. “It’s not a biggie.”

She didn’t seem convinced. “It doesn’t bother you?”

Shit! She talked to me.

Finally!

Be cool, Cody… be cool.

I shrugged one shoulder, like I wasn’t totally jazzed. I’d only been trying to get her attention forever.

“We’re dudes. That’s kinda how we show we care. I’d worry if they got all mushy and shit… especially Justin.” I raised an eyebrow and gave her an easy grin. “He’s really not very in touch with his feminine side.”

This brought a sweet smile to her lips and for a second, I almost thought she’d stay for a moment. Talk to me a little longer.

Wishful thinking.

Instead, she lowered her eyes, almost seeming to remember something. Looking back up at me as she began to turn towards the stairs, she gave me a hint of a feisty little grin.

“Tell them they can get their own damn beer,” she shot back at me as she headed off stage with two beers still on her tray.

That little bit of spark in her eyes smoldered in my chest, making me care even less what kind of jokes those dickheads came up with.

I was used to them anyway. I was used to the razzing and teasing. I took their good-natured quips without batting an eye. It was just how we all were with each other. I let it roll off my back. I blew it off. Sometimes I acted like I didn’t even get the jokes, or I pretended I hadn’t heard them.

My feigned ignorance was bliss.

I noticed from then on that, when Ilsa was in earshot of their teasing, she’d frown. In spite of my attempt to alleviate her concern, she still didn’t like it. After a couple weeks of it, she came to my rescue.

No shit. Blew me away.

Justin, as usual, was giving me crap about my lack of pussy-mongering. Drew had been totally whipped by Maggie for some time. We all figured (and dreaded) they might get married eventually. So, now that Denny had shacked up with Felicity and Brannon had fallen head over heels for a local princess, Justin was the total manwhore of the group. A title he reveled in. Unfortunately, the fact that I, with no girlfriend to tie me down, wasn’t constantly banging everything in sight meant I was practically a chick in his eyes.

“Hey, Justin,” Drew joked, “what do you call a drummer who breaks up with his girlfriend?”

“What?”

“Homeless!” Drew replied, and he and Justin howled with laughter.

“You know, though,” Justin dryly stated after their chuckles died down, “he’d have to have a girlfriend first.” Both of them started up laughing again even harder, eyeing me like there was a snowball’s chance in hell that something like that would happen. Justin kept chuckling as he tuned his bass, razzing me like the motherfucker he tended to be when a wry, quiet voice came from the stage stairs.

“Some girls aren’t looking for a walking STD, you know.”

Every one of us froze solid. She’d spoken to us… well, she’d spoken to Justin.

And she’d done it to defend me.

Holy motherfucking shit.

Seeing the shock on our faces, she snapped her mouth shut. A totally mortified did-I-say-that-out-loud look crossed over her face, and she cleared her throat.

“Do you guys need something to drink before you get started?”

The guys barely moved, still astounded by her comment.

“I’ll take a bottle of Bud,” I finally said, breaking the silence. She gave me a sidelong nod.

“Me too,” Drew offered. “Maybe just bring four of them up.”

She nodded, turned on her heel, and shot back down the stairs.

“Jaysus,” Denny gasped, “who knew that little bird could talk?”

Drew laughed. “Leave it to Justin to get her to open her mouth.”

“Yeah, I’ll get her to open something alright,” Justin nodded, raising his eyebrows. “Who knew she had spirit? I might just have to check her out.”

I instantly bristled. “Leave her alone,” I said as I glared at Justin with a sudden ferocity that took even me by surprise.

I was not a fighter by nature. I was mellow and easygoing. I had never responded like that to Justin—to anyone—and it threw him for one hell of a loop.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” he asked, narrowing his eyes at me in speculation.

“You can pick on me as much as you damn well please,” I growled, “but leave her alone.”

Justin gave a screwed up look at Denny and Drew, then turned back to me, feigning a look of unbelievable shock. “Cody, do you have a little crush on the new barmaid?”

My skin felt flushed, not so much from his teasing, but rather the protective anger on Ilsa’s behalf. “Just because you’re a slut doesn’t mean you have to be a fuckin’ dick to every girl you meet. Believe it or not, not every chick is madly in love with your ass.”

“Oh my God,” he laughed. “You really like her, don’t you?”

“Fuck off,” I growled as I clenched my jaw and turned away, trying to channel some sort of inner peace or some shit. Anything to tone this down before I flew off the handle completely.

“Really?” he continued. “Her? You like her? That little waifish tomboy? We've got a smorgasbord of hot, slutty chicks around us practically twenty-four-seven, and you want this plain little waitress with no personality?”

Drew started to laugh, but caught himself as he glanced at the back stairs. He quickly cleared his throat and turned to scowl at Justin, slugging him in the arm.

“What the fuck—” Justin snarled.

“Uh, hey there, Ilsa,” Drew murmured over my shoulder.

I looked back to the side of me to see her standing at the stairs to the stage, just out of my sight until I turned my head. There was no way she hadn’t heard what we’d said. The only question was how much.

Justin’s insults.

My wanting.

Fuck.

Yet, she appeared relatively unaffected. She didn’t really look at any of us, just sort of at the floor.

“Here’s your drinks,” she said quietly.

But I saw it.

Just for a split second, there was a slight quiver of her lip. She covered it with a bracing breath, raising her eyes to sweep around those of us on the stage. Not defensive, but an uncaring affect. Unfazed. Completely flat after that tiniest fragment of emotion.

She quickly handed out the bottles, not making eye contact. “I’ll come check on you guys again in a bit.”

Her soft voice was almost swallowed up by the awkward silence, then she was down the stairs and gone.

“God, you’re an asshole sometimes,” I groused at Justin.

“Awe, look at our little Cody getting all protective,” he shot back. “About time you turned into a man.”

I threw down my sticks and stood from behind the drums. “Justin, I’m not shitting you. I’ll kick your fucking ass.”

Justin was almost as tall as me, but I probably outweighed him by a good fifty pounds. Still, the guy often didn’t know when to shut up… like now.

“Dude, seriously, pussy isn’t worth shit like this.”

I started around my set, but Denny stepped in front of me, placing a restraining hand on my chest. Drew gaped at me as though I’d grown two heads right before his eyes. I’m not sure anyone had ever seen me raging like this before.

“Relax your cacks, Cody,” Denny said before glancing over his shoulder to Justin. “And you, ya feckin’ eejit,” he scowled. “That was pretty harsh, even for you. Play nice.”

“Whatever…” Justin mumbled, seeming a little dazed in his own right by our tiff. “And speak English, you fucker.”

Denny ignored the last bit and stepped over to me, speaking in a low tone to keep things semi private.

“What the hell are ya throwing a feckin’ moody for?” he asked.

I didn’t know, really. I wasn’t quite as crass as Justin, but I usually found him somewhat amusing. He tended to be pretty spot-on with his observations, and I generally laughed along, even when he was aiming his ribbing at me.

For some reason, though, just the mention of Ilsa—just the faintest jibe in her direction—and I was spitting mad. The annoyance roiled inside me, leaving a simmering anger that was so foreign to my calm, mellow nature.

So it was no surprise that my band mates were a bit taken aback. I was a bit taken aback as well.

How to explain it, though?

“I’m not sure. Short fuse tonight, I guess.” I tried to brush it off. Denny was still concerned, that was clear, but left it alone. We weren’t chicks, so he didn’t go with the ‘Are you okay?’ type thing. We had balls. Y-chromosomes. They sorta kept things like that from getting spouted out between us.

He shot me one last puzzled look. “Well, go park your arse behind your drums. Justin won’t be slaggin’ ya anymore tonight.”

Drew just continued to stare back and forth at the lot of us, still mystified by my uncharacteristic outburst, while Justin focused on tuning his bass.

“He fucking better not,” I muttered, earning another peculiar glance from Denny as I sat back down.

Her vulnerability stuck with me as we played that night. My eyes kept looking for her in the crowd, scanning the faces until I saw her, then losing her again in the low light.

Nothing seemed amiss on the outside as she wound through the tables taking orders and delivering drinks. After a while, I started thinking Justin’s fuckhead comments hadn’t gotten to her that much after all. Maybe I really had just overreacted.

Then I caught sight of her standing towards the rear of the room. We were playing a slow song, some ballad Denny had written for Brannon and Sophie, and a number of couples had congregated out on the dance floor, swaying to the mellow beat. I watched her as she watched them. Loneliness radiated from her, almost visible in the dim neon beer-sign lighting.

Was she missing someone? Was her forlorn expression the result of a lost love? Maybe an unrequited one? Or maybe she was just yearning for the closeness of another human being, the desire to let someone in rather than to hold everyone around her at bay.

Regardless of what made her look and feel that way, it triggered an ache deep inside my chest, something that made me want to shelter her in my arms, to hold her up against the steady beat of my heart so I could ease the sadness from her eyes.

She turned her head away just a bit, taking a deep breath and looking out over the crowd again. Scanning the room, looking for someone in need of service. When her eyes came my way, she noticed me watching her.

I was caught, but so was she, and she knew it. She had let her shield slip, had let me witness the vulnerability buried deep inside. I hadn’t the faintest clue what was even wrong, but I wanted so badly to make everything okay.

She broke free from my gaze and lowered her eyes for a second before she looked back up at me. Once again, wary and cautious. Steeled up to get through the rest of the night… maybe through life in general.

But that raw, naked expression stayed with me long after she left her spot along the back wall and headed into the crowd.

A few Saturday nights later, the bar was closing, and we were packing up some of our shit to put away until next weekend. Doug had ushered the last few stragglers out the door before he went into the office to do the books for the night. Ilsa had been wiping down tables, picking up empties, and was now washing glasses behind the bar.

She looked exhausted.

“I think that’s about it,” Drew murmured, coming up the stage stairs after carrying a box outside to Denny’s truck. “I guess a bunch of people are headed out to the lake for an after party. You going?”

It took a minute to realize he was talking to me, even though we were the only two people standing there. But my mind had wandered a bit as I watched Ilsa out of the corner of my eye. The weary sloop to her shoulders as she washed one glass after another. One of the other barmaids had called in sick, and the other had skipped out right after the bar had closed, leaving Ilsa with the bulk of the work. I was a little pissed on her behalf. A cleaning crew would show up for the floors and bathrooms, but all the little things still needed to be done.

“Uh, Cody?” Drew said, waving his hand in front of my face. “You, um… you wanna ride out to the lake with me?”

“Sorry,” I said, shaking my head to clear it. Mentally chastising her coworkers for leaving her high and dry wasn’t going to do anyone any good. It just seemed to get me worked up. “What were you saying?”

“The lake… the party…?” Drew chuckled. “Earth to Cody. Dude, you’re even more spacey than usual tonight.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty wiped. I think I’m gonna head home.”

“All the chicks will be heartbroken. Big ol’ sweet teddy bear Cody isn’t coming out to play. You know, Maggie’s got a friend in town who’s just dying to—”

“Drew,” I interrupted, “the last thing I want to do is to hook up with one of Maggie’s friends. It’s bad enough seeing you get led around by your dick.”

“Fine, then,” Drew laughed. “More for me, then. This is one of those friends.”

Drew’s tumultuous relationship had its perks, for him anyway.

“Doesn’t that kinda weird you out, man?”

He looked at me like I’d grown two heads. “Two chicks? Fuck no. That’s hot.”

“Maybe now and then, but all the time? Do you guys ever just do it with the two of you?”

“Do it? Dude, you sound like a twelve-year-old girl,” Drew laughed. Part of me totally saw what he was trying to pull, though. Things had turned a bit sour for the couple lately. They fought more than they fucked, although they did that a lot, too. They just rarely did it alone. Maggie had a penchant for always inviting one or two others along. Generally female, but she wasn’t too picky with the gender.

Drew obviously didn’t want to see the glaring issues that were staring him right in the face, so, while he was like a brother to me and I actually did give a shit, I let it drop.

“Whatever,” I said with a roll of my eyes. “Go and get your pussy before she takes off with the friend and leaves you in the dust.”

I saw a glimmer of worry go through him. He wasn’t so sure that she wouldn’t. After all, she’d done it before. He quickly covered it with a false cocky confidence.

“She likes dick too much to totally leave me behind.”

“And there are no other dudes going?”

He scowled at me because that had also happened in the past.

“Go home and go to bed, you fucker. It’s past your bedtime. I’ll be thinking about you when I’m the meat in a pussy sandwich.”

That made me laugh as I followed him down the stairs. “Please don’t.”

He chuckled in response to my discomfort and started for the back door. “That’s so not what I meant, dickhead.”

“Right, well… later.” I turned towards the bar rather than outside, motioning over to the main barroom with my thumb. “Doug wanted to talk to me about some drums. He’s thinking of replacing the house set and wants my opinion. Then I’m heading home.”

It wasn’t a total lie. Doug was thinking about it. Granted, we’d kind of already talked, but I didn’t know if he had done anything about it yet.

I mostly wanted to ditch Drew, though. Ilsa was still here. Still working. The bar was quiet. I had an excuse to hang around and maybe… something.

“Okay,” he shrugged and hollered back on his way out the door. “Later, dude.”

As I headed towards the office, I saw Ilsa jerk her hand out of the soapy sink with a sharp, pained gasp. She grabbed a bar towel and pressed it against her palm, but not before I saw the blood.

Needless to say, I didn’t go back to the office.

Instead I went to Ilsa.

“Shit, you’re bleeding,” I said, and her eyes flew up to meet mine. “Let me see.”

“It’ll be fine, just a broken glass in the water,” she murmured, shaking her head, but I caught her hand and pulled it towards me, focusing my attention on it.

The instant I touched her, I felt a sense of something powerful. Her slender hand shook slightly as I ran my finger along her palm.

“It’s not horrible, but you should clean it out,” I said, avoiding her eyes, yet aware they were on me. “There’s a first aid kit at the end of the bar. Let me grab it.”

“It’s not that bad, Cody,” she gently protested. “I just need to apply a little pressure. It’ll stop.”

When she actually said my name, I felt a little thrill run through my body. I wondered what it would be like to hear her breathe it into my ear… to hear her moan it.

Fuck.

Down boy.

“It needs to be bandaged,” I argued.

“I’ll bandage it later. I need to finish these glasses, so it won’t do any good to dress it now.”

“I’ll do them,” I shrugged, “after I've got you all fixed up.”

“You’re not a dishwasher.” Her voice sounded a little exasperated, yet there was a hint of a smile in it. “You’re a drummer.”

I looked her right in the eye. “I want to help.”

“Why?”

“Because you need me to.”

Her mouth fell open just a touch, then she shook her head a little. “It’s fine, Cody,” she said softly.

Shit… I could listen to her breathy voice say my name all night… fuck…

“It will be,” I replied, and turned to the end of the bar to grab the kit. I totally took my time cleaning the cut, if for no other reason than how nice it felt to hold her delicate hand. To stand close to her and soak her in. To take care of her.

She sort of smelled like sunshine.

Warm and sweet. Soft. The scent tickled my senses and stirred up all sorts of thoughts, some innocent and some definitely not so much.

As I swabbed the cut with an alcohol pad, my eyes flicked up to meet hers. She seemed fixated on my face, watching me with a slight bewilderment, as though nobody had ever really cared for her before.

I realized as soon as I touched her that I had wanted to do this ever since we’d met. I wanted to come to her aid, in any way I could. I wanted to be her hero. To right all the wrongs done to her, even if I didn’t know what the fuck they were.

She didn’t say a word, and I didn’t want to scare her away, so I didn’t either. I downplayed my attention, dropping it back to her hand. The knowledge that I was touching her, even so innocently, blazed through my body making me feel stronger and weaker all at once. I applied some antibiotic ointment, and placed a soft, loose bandage over the cut. Smoothing the tape down, I gave her a light, easy smile that completely belied the depth of the feeling in my chest. I then turned a bit at the waist, grabbing a clean, dry bar towel and handing it to her.

“Now,” I said, “I’ll wash and you dry.”

She looked at the towel for a minute before taking it from my hand with a whisper of a sweet smile and a faint nod.

“You should drain the sink,” she said, “and get the broken glass out first. The last thing we need is for you to get cut, too.”

“Yes, ma’am,” I grinned.

Working side-by-side without really talking a whole lot should have been way more awkward than it was. It felt comfortable, though, for some reason. After a few minutes, she relaxed a little, and we traded smiles back and forth. One of us occasionally murmured a ‘thank you’ or some other polite nicety. Her voice, while subdued, was rather enticing with a slightly husky cast. We moved around each other, keeping far enough away to maintain an easy comfort, even though I would have been happy to brush up against her at any given moment.

All too soon, the glasses were done. The night cleaning crew had made its way around the dance floor and lounge areas, heading towards the bar, our cue to move on.

“That’s it,” Ilsa murmured, looking down the length of the bar.

Everything was in its place, clean, organized. Nothing more to do. Just when I expected her to turn away and head back to the office, she leaned her hip up against the low sinks and gave me a sweet smile.

“Thank you for your help.”

She stood only inches away from me, close enough that I could have reached out and touched her. I wanted to so badly my fingers tingled. She nervously twisted her long hair over one shoulder, revealing the smooth, fair skin at her neck, and it took all the strength I had in me not to lean over her and place a tender kiss there. The desire burned hot in my mind.

There must have been a glimmer of it in my eyes. She trembled almost imperceptibly and swallowed hard, dropping her gaze down to the clean, white bandage on her hand.

“Thanks both for helping with the glasses and for this.”

“Don’t mention it,” I replied. My fingers reached out before I even thought about it, stroking softly down the cotton gauze and tape.

This time, her hand jerked back a bit, as though my touch held a static shock. She took a step back, and her tremulous breath rattled through me, making me instantly regret the sudden distance she put between us. With another quick step towards the end of the bar, she nodded.

“Well, goodnight, Cody.”

“‘Nite, Ilsa.”

She met my eyes for a brief moment, just a split second, and then turned and fled down the hall to the office.

I watched her leave, and the mystery of her swirled around in my mind. I wanted to know her, but wondered if I ever really would. She seemed so cautious and hyper-aware, and I ached a little thinking she might simply remain a wonder that would filter through my consciousness, never to truly come to light.

It was the following Friday night. While she’d flashed distant smiles my way over the past week, Ilsa had kept her distance. She was aware of me, though. I could feel the constant energy between us. I wanted more of it, to feed off it.

So I’d arrived at the Copperline earlier than usual that night. I needed fuel to play, so I generally went and ate before a show. Tonight, however, I ordered it to go and took it with me to the bar to eat. I just kinda wanted some time to hang out before the main crowd surged in. I told myself it was to pump myself up without all the distractions that would be flying in my face later.

There was a huge distraction, though, in the form of an enigma of a girl that I thought about more and more all the time.

If I was honest with myself, I was only early because I just wanted to be around Ilsa.

After a quiet ‘hey, Cody’ when I showed up, she went about her usual routine, checking the stock behind the bar, making sure the tables were wiped down. She seemed to be in her own little world, yet still aware of my presence as I ate my burger and fries and tried really hard not to watch her.

It was an almost impossible task.

I’d sat at the section of the bar that was angled right into the wall, primarily so I could lean back while I ate and, thus, be able to look around the room. I’d be able to kind of surreptitiously be with Ilsa. Maybe I could catch her eye and she’d chat with me a little.

Karma kicked me in the ass for being a creep, though. As I sat there, Pauline sashayed in and slid onto the stool next to me.

Fuck.

“Hey, Cody,” she said with a flirty tilt to her head. She reached over and grabbed a French fry from my dinner, running it along her lips before she took a small, snapping bite.

“Pauline,” I murmured. Please go away, I thought to myself. Please, please. I didn’t know much about Ilsa, but I figured my chances of getting to know her better would be severely hindered by Pauline’s presence.

Pauline sort of forced my undivided attention. I couldn’t very well face the wall, and, as much as I really didn’t want her there, it went against my nature to be a total dick, especially since I had nailed Pauline once in the past. I didn’t want to be one of those guys. Not that I wanted a relationship with the woman, but I didn’t want to be an asshole to her either.

So, I just kind of continued to eat, hoping she’d get the hint and go away.

She didn’t.

She reached over for another French fry, brushing her breast against my forearm. I leaned back and out of her way, but she leaned into me even more, making me think that maybe I did need to be a dick.

“You can have these if you want,” I said, pushing the fries over to her in an attempt to keep her further away. “I’m full.”

“Don’t you need to eat?” Trailing a long fingernail down the thick muscle of my bicep, she ignored the fries and moved closer to me. “You have to keep up your strength for when you’re getting all hot and sweaty on stage.”

By the time she said ‘hot’ and ‘sweaty’ in a breathy pout by my ear, I was practically falling off my stool and more-or-less plastered against the wall.

“Pauline—” I began, but was interrupted by a quiet voice behind me.

“Cody?”

It was Ilsa.

Fuck me.

I damn near flew from my seat to stand before her. She looked over at Pauline with a quiet ‘excuse me’ then back up at me. “Um, could you come help me move a keg? I need to get at a box of wine that’s behind it, but I can’t budge the damn thing.”

I damn near said I’d move a fucking mountain for her, but I didn’t think she’d be too receptive to something like that from me. We’d known each other, played this little cat and mouse, for a couple months, but, in all reality, we’d not actually spoken a whole lot.

“Sure thing,” I replied, hoping like all hell that I was coming off kinda cool and nonchalant. I glanced back at Pauline as I started walking away. “Gotta go. Duty calls.”

Pauline, rather displeased with Ilsa’s timely interruption, called out after me as I followed Ilsa back to the cooler.

“I’ll catch you later, okay?”

Yeah, nah… not if I had anything to say about it. She wouldn’t catch me at all. Now or later. Been there, done that.

“So which keg?” I asked as Ilsa and I stepped into the walk-in cooler.

Turning to look at her, it suddenly hit me that we were alone. I’d never really been this alone with her, not even when we’d been washing glasses. Even then, there’d been the cleaning crew in the room, but now… it was just her and me.

I’d actually daydreamed about this. Being this close to her made me remember how pretty her eyes were. It reinforced her slender, yet curvy build, her fine-boned features. Her breath was visible in the chilled air as she exhaled nervously. I had to swallow back a little groan when she bit her lip and shrugged, looking a little guilty.

“I… well, I kinda… made that up.”

The strangest feeling swirled around inside me at her confession, dazed and excited all at once. “You what?”

“Well, you seemed like you wanted to get away from her, but she wasn’t really taking the hint.”

I chuckled and looked down at my feet. “Yeah, she’s a bit… forward.”

“I just thought I’d give you a hand,” she said with a shy tilt to her lips.

Shit… she really did kinda like me. She had to.

I knew it!

I liked it!

Actually, I fuckin’ loved it!

Unable to help myself, I grinned wide. “You were just trying to lure me into the cooler, weren’t you?” I teased.

“Okay, now who’s being forward?” she asked wryly, rolling her eyes.

Yet she still wore just the slightest smile.

“Sorry,” I laughed, holding up my hands. “Really, I appreciate your help. More than you know. Feel free to come to my rescue anytime.”

“I’ll keep an eye out,” she replied, and quietly left the cooler.

I stood there for a minute after she left, allowing the frigid air to surround me, to chill the raging heat that suddenly burned through my veins. It occurred to me that, while I’d been watching her without watching her, she’d been watching me without watching me, too. And she just indicated she was going to keep watching me. There was a certain satisfaction that arose from her need to step in and save me.

If I had been crushing on her before, that little interlude in the cooler had shot my imagination into overdrive.

I managed to catch her eye a couple times that night as us guys played. She rounded the tables, waiting on the crowd.

She smiled brightly at me from clear across the room. Such a little gesture, but… wow. It felt like a massive victory.

And at one point, after I had just finished shredding a solo for one of our best songs, I looked up to see her looking almost hypnotized as she watched me play. Her eyes were hot and intense, studying my movements. She was close enough to the stage that I could see her breath catch in her chest. I felt the sweat drip down my back, a slow-moving trickle that I could almost pretend was her touch.

Holy shit! She was turned on.

Progress!

Right about then, I managed to totally flub up, crashing down on the cymbals way early. All three of my band mates turned to look at me, but I ignored them and kept playing along as though they were the ones who’d made the mistake. The audience didn’t notice, or at least most of them didn’t seem to, and the ones that did didn’t seem to care.

Ilsa caught it though. She sheepishly glanced away, taking another deep breath, and turned, focusing diligently on the customers at the table behind her.

And then the next table.

And the table after that.

Avoiding eye contact. One step forward and two steps back.

Shit!

Feeling like I’d been caught with my hand in the cookie jar, I tried to focus, to get back in the zone and play like I should have been all along. I did fairly well, mostly because Ilsa didn’t look my way again.

The problem was, I could still see her. It was like my eyes were drawn to her. It took conscious effort not to just sit and stare because I couldn’t seem to ignore her.

And then concern began to bud inside me when she had started limping.

About halfway through the night, she began lifting one foot when she was waiting by the bar for drinks, taking the weight off it and flexing her ankle. As she walked away, I saw her favoring that side with every step. Her brows drew together and I could see traces of pain on her face.

Before she’d get to a table, she’d wipe her expression blank and plaster on a muted smile to hide her discomfort.

Something was hurting her, but what? Of course, me being me, I wanted to help her. I felt the incredible urge to go pick her up and carry her off to a chair. Yeah, a bit of an overreaction, but I didn’t want to see her in pain. I wanted to figure out the issue and make it go away, even if it was minor. This did look fairly minor.

But still…

After a while, she said something to Doug, and he gave her a quick nod, gesturing towards the back door. She replied with a pained smile, and limped outside.

I needed break time. Like right the fuck now.

I caught Denny’s eye and nodded towards the stairs as we wrapped up the song. He gave me a total WTF look, but still went with it, letting the crowd know we’d be back in fifteen.

I was down the stairs and out the door before he was done talking.

She sat on the bench out behind the Copperline where employees went for their smoke breaks. There was a large tin can about halfway full of sand and scattered with stale cigarette butts.

She wasn’t smoking, but had one of her shoes off and was rubbing the foot she’d been favoring.

“Hey, Ils,” I said as I stepped outside.

When I spoke, she glanced up at me. “Hi, Cody.”

Looking back down at her foot, she pressed her thumb along the arch. She sorta groaned without much sound, more that her body tensed and released. I sat on the other end of the bench and grabbed her running shoe from its spot between us. They weren’t bad quality, but they appeared very worn. On the verge of falling apart. They couldn’t have been comfortable at that point. As much as she was on her feet during a shift, she really needed something better.

“These shoes look like they've seen better days. You should have something a little better for your line of work.”

“They’ll do for now,” she murmured, and her eyes closed as she pressed again.

“Here,” I said, pushing my beanie hat back off my forehead, “give me your foot.”

She jolted back into awareness, staring at me wide-eyed. “What?”

“I’ll rub it for you.”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. “It’s fine.”

“Really,” I argued. “I've been told that I've got magic hands.”

She smiled and choked back a little laugh. “I’ll take your word for it.”

“Seriously,” I grinned, watching as her subtle amusement with my antics seemed to grow. “You don’t know what you’re missing.”

“You don’t want to rub my foot,” she said, narrowing her brows in skepticism. “It’s all sweaty and stinky and gross.”

“Sweaty isn’t necessarily a bad thing. Some of my favorite pastimes involve getting quite sweaty.”

I saw a flash of heat cross over her expression, and she looked away, back down at her foot. “That doesn’t surprise me,” she said in a low voice.

“Why do you say that?”

“I seem to recall Doug warning you guys off me. I understand he goes through a lot of waitresses because you Mofos are always bangin’ them.”

I shrugged. “Justin, maybe. Denny and Drew are all committed and shit, but Justin’s always on the prowl and seriously seems to be lacking in scruples. I’m not near as bad as he is, though.”

“You’re not?” she asked, cocking a beautifully shaped eyebrow.

“Well, I’m not a fuckin’ saint, but I’m nothing like Justin. He uses sex as entertainment, always looking for some way to top the last experience he’d had. Me…?” I shrugged, “Not so much.”

“All the same, I’ll pass.” She lowered her foot to the ground and reached for her shoe, but I pulled it back.

Tipping her head to the side, she gave me a look of disapproval. The slight upturn of her lips, though, spoke volumes.

“Give me my shoe, Cody,” she said with mock seriousness.

“C’mon, when’s the last time someone gave you a good foot rub?”

“Well, never,” she answered, “because it’s gross.”

“I won’t take your sock off.”

“Jeez, I’d hope not,” she laughed. “That would be even more nasty.”

“Come on,” I said, patting my thigh. “Put it right here.”

“Cody,” she began.

“Ilsa,” I interrupted.

She pursed her lips at me, and I grinned back at her in response. She fought the returning smile, but her eyes sparkled with our little back and forth.

“Cody,” she repeated.

“Ilsa,” I repeated back.

“Cody, give me my shoe.”

“Ilsa, give me your foot.”

She was beyond adorable when she got all stubborn.

I defined stubborn, though. I tried another tactic.

“I owe you. You got me out of the clutches of a very persistent barstool bunny this afternoon, and you’re always running for us, making sure we’ve got cold drinks. I really think it’s the least I can do.”

“You’re not going to give me my shoe back, are you?”

I shook my head with a wide smile. “Nope.”

I could feel her wanting to give in, and it simply elated me when, with a heavy sigh, she lifted her foot and set it on my leg.

I realized all too quickly that I hadn’t really thought this through when my hands took hold of her dainty little foot. I wrapped my fingers across the top and pressed along the arch with my thumbs. Ilsa let out the most delightful little moan.

A moan that went straight to my dick.

I looked sharply over at her and, even in the pale shadows behind the bar, I could see a flush rise in her cheeks. That had totally caught her off guard, too, and for a second we both froze. I dropped my attention back to her foot and started to rub again. She didn’t make any more sounds other than a slight catch in her breathing from time to time. She couldn’t seem to help the blissful expressions from crossing her face, though.

Not that she didn’t try. That much was obvious. She managed to keep it pretty well in check if she knew I was looking at her, as though my attention made it harder for her to relax.

But as I looked back to her foot, watching her covertly out of the corner of my eye, a look that bordered on orgasmic took over her face. Her eyes drifted closed and her lips parted. A long, slow breath rose in her chest, and her head fell back ever so slightly. Goosebumps rose on her forearms.

Oh, sweet Jesus.

I kept my face angled down, directed at my hands as they circled the ball and squeezed her heel. A little more pressure, and her eyebrows drew together. Her hips squirmed a little.

My mouth went dry.

She was totally pulling sex faces.

God, they were fucking beautiful.

My mind took it and ran, racing ahead with images of her writhing beneath me. Naked in my bed. Her smooth skin under my touch as I made her gasp and moan.

Like I’d told her… magic fucking hands.

Suddenly, the back door opened. Ilsa lurched off the bench, standing back against the wall with only one shoe on, as Doug poked his head out. She’d retreated into the shadows a bit, yet I could still see the flush staining her cheeks.

“You okay, Ilsa?” he asked, giving me a hard look. “How’s the foot?”

“Um, it’ll be fine,” she said nervously. “My shoe was kinda rubbing weird. Cody, um… he was seeing if he could fix it.”

Doug’s mouth tightened.

“Here you go, Ils,” I said, playing into her little charade, even though I knew there was no fucking way Doug was buying it. “Try this.”

I handed her the sneaker, and she slipped it on quickly.

She gave me a tense smile. “That’s much better, Cody, thanks.” She looked back up at Doug. “I’ll just, uh… get back to work now.”

She darted around him, back into the bar. The whole time, Doug’s suspicious gaze was locked on me. He started to turn, but pointed to me menacingly.

“Don’t fuck her.”

I was bigger, but Doug had experience and badass biker vibes on his side, making me instinctively shake my head.

“I’m not,” I promised.

But, holy fuck, I wanted to.

Bad.

Over the next few days, I started getting a little more overt in my attempts to draw her in. To put myself in front of her. Her quiet nature and sad hazel eyes intrigued me. Her overall persona seemed so lonely, and I could almost feel the desire to belong. To join in. Yet, as time went on, she still made no efforts to become part of the crowd. She actually did the opposite, distancing herself from everyone around her. She’d been here for months, but nobody really knew her.

Almost as though she wanted to be invisible and, thus, out of mind.

She was anything but invisible to me, though. Since the other night when I’d made her moan on the bench out back, I could barely think of anything else. I even fucking dreamed about her, waking up stiff and swollen with my hand clutching my aching dick. Stroking until I came with her name on my lips.

My fascination was quickly becoming obsession. God, I was turning into a creep.

My conscience rebelled, but my physical reaction to just the thought of her overpowered it.

At the Copperline, every time I caught sight of her, it took considerable effort to not lose focus on everything else around me. Every. Fucking. Time. My tempo was off during songs, garnering some odd looks from the other Mofos. I’d force myself to sync up, to get back in the zone, yet my thoughts would wander.

And, God forbid, she sent one of her rare smiles my way. One sweet shy lift to her lips, and any concentration I had been clinging to was just gone.

Just as Denny announced we were taking a break one night, I caught sight of her heading towards the back storage room. A golden opportunity to try to get her to talk. To make her smile. I honestly had no clue what I wanted from her, but I really wanted something.

I walked back into the store room to see Ilsa balancing on her tiptoes while reaching for a bottle of wine just out of her reach.

“Here,” I said, “let me help you get that.”

She started and began to twist away, but froze as I stepped close to her, reaching over her head towards the shelf. While I didn’t really mean to, my body brushed against hers, lightly pressing against her curvy little ass in a way that shot a flash of wanting through me. Her breath caught a little in her throat, and, as I brought the bottle down, her warm, sunshine smell tickled my senses.

I realized just how close we were. In all those times I’d tried to draw her out, I’d never been able to get quite this close, and I was going to make the most of it. I set the bottle on top of a few cases of beer next to me, then lifted my hands up to the shelf just at the level of her shoulders, caging her in, her back to my front.

“What is it about you?” I asked quietly, feeling a slight tremble radiate from her body to mine. “You don’t let anyone get too close. Why?”

“You’re too close right now,” she breathed back, turning her head slightly to the side towards me. Not looking at me, but not trying to move away either.

“But you don’t want me to be.”

She dipped her head down, her ponytail brushing faintly against my face, and the warm, fresh scent seemed to emanate from her hair. Without conscious thought, I breathed in deeply, allowing her to fill my senses.

Her hands curled into the shelf in front of her, her knuckles tight. At first, I wondered if she was afraid, uncomfortable, but then her body arched ever so slightly towards me, almost as if it was against her will. A signal of her own craving, and it was me that brought it out of her.

I lowered my head, grazing my lips along her neck, bared but for a few stray wisps.

Even as she tilted her head to ease my access—barely, but she did it all the same—she fought the attraction.

“Remember what Doug said.” Her voice was ragged, her breathing choppy. “You’re not supposed to fuck me.”

“Ils, I remind myself of that all the time… but God…”

“All the time?” she whispered.

“There’s something about you… something irresistible. Enthralling. I just want a little taste,” I murmured, flicking the tip of my tongue out to graze the skin of her neck just below her ear. Knowing with every fiber of my being that this could scare her back into her little shell, I simply needed to share this with her. I needed her to know that she wasn’t just any other girl.

She gasped at the touch, then moaned as my lips gently kissed the damp skin. One of her hands left the shelf before us to wrap around my forearm, clutching the tense muscles beneath my skin. She turned her head more towards me, and I met her eyes over her shoulder.

My blood felt like it was vibrating in my veins. Everything in the world was wrapped up in the narrow distance between us, in the hyper-alert hazel of her gaze locked onto mine.

I could have kissed her.

Fuck, I wanted to kiss her.

Her eyes, soft and hazy in appearance, focused on my lips, silently begging me to, and I started to go in. Fuck caution. I didn’t care about anything but the intense need to taste her lips.

At the last second, though, she turned her head, causing my lips to graze her smooth cheek.

Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuck… No!

So close.

“Wait,” she said in a ragged whisper, panting with labored breaths. “Don’t. I… Cody, I can’t.”

I immediately pulled back, but not completely. I kept her locked in the circle of my arms, but tried to tone down the creeper vibe I had going.

My heart was pounding in my chest, rampant and desperate. So fucking close. I wanted to press my lips against the nape of her neck. Her head had fallen forward, and her ponytail slipped off to the side. The smooth, white skin beckoned to me.

Instead, I did what she asked. I fought the fierce craving that pulsed through my veins and gave her space. I lowered my arms and took a step back, instantly missing the warmth that emanated from her body.

She turned to face me, looking up at me with hot anguish in her eyes. “I can’t.” Her voice shook.

“You want to, though,” I murmured in a low tone.

She dropped her eyes, focusing on the Bangin’ Mofos logo on my T-shirt. “It doesn’t matter what I want… I can’t. I’m sorry.”

And before I could stop her, she slipped out of my reach and fled from the room.

I sat there for a moment, staring at the bottle of wine she’d forgotten. Totally turned on just to be turned down. A whirlwind of rejection that left me wanting. Confusion, aroused by her abrupt refusal, tugged at my consciousness.

She felt this attraction between us. I knew she did. She had to. This was way too powerful to be one-sided.

She just felt she couldn’t act on it, but why? Something was stopping her, something painful that I wanted to fix. I was aching to touch her, but aching to soothe her, too. I wanted to take that lonely sadness from her eyes.

And then I’d gone and freaked her out by going all alpha creep on her. I fucking licked her, for Christ’s sake.

Who does that?

No wonder she ran away from me. I’d have run away from me, too.

With a nagging heaviness in my chest, I grabbed the wine bottle to take out to her.

“You forgot this,” I told her, setting it beside her on the bar.

Ilsa flicked her gaze up to me for a second, still hungry and sad, before she took it and turned to grab a couple glasses. Her expression gave me another kick in the gut.

“Thank you,” she murmured, dismissing me quietly with a shaking voice.

There we were, doing our weird little dance again. Another step forward, three or four steps back. I had been so close I had actually tasted her, if only just a bit. The way she pulled back and the cryptic things she said, though…

It doesn’t matter what I want… I can’t.

There was something seriously fucked up about this whole situation, but I was starting to realize that it wasn't just me she was afraid of.

I wanted to believe I affected her so powerfully that she was simply fighting her attraction to me. Doug had introduced us as manwhores, and I wanted to think it was that perception that made her hold back.

But there was something darker scaring her away from everyone, not just me. In fact, her attraction to me was fighting that fear. Losing, but the battle was real. The fear was real, and it kept her away.

I wanted to know what it was.

It was another Saturday night, and we were about halfway through the set.

It had taken me a good week or so to get Ilsa back to where we’d been before I hit on her in the storeroom. A good week of patient gestures, being attentive to her and what she was doing. Lifting heavy shit whenever I saw the opportunity, even if I had to damn near run across the barroom to do it.

A good week before I started seeing those shy smiles from her in response.

But I did start to see them again. After a few more days, they became a little more free and easy. A little more frequent.

They also came with suspicious glances from Doug. I quickly learned not to be too overt in my attention when he was around.

As us guys wound down the song, getting ready to take a break, I scoped out the room wondering where she was. Trying to work out in my mind how I could casually ‘run into’ her. Accidentally… but with full intent. A paradox of will.

I didn’t see her, which, in all actuality, was probably for the best.

There was a special kind of energy in the air. The dry summer heat hadn’t yet begun to cool for the night. The crowd, many of whom had spent their day out in the sun, seemed full on ready to party, and their vibe fed our showmanship. The guys and I always played well together, but sometimes we were kind of amazing.

Tonight, we were truly rockin’ it.

On nights when we hit that level, I felt almost high coming off the stage. It fed something inside me that turned me on and made me hungry. On nights like that, my need battled with my conscience for control.

My conscience wanted more than cheap thrills, as cheesy as that sounded. They left me feeling empty, like I was missing something spectacular. When my conscience won out, I went outside and cooled off, or waited until I got home and jacked off… lately with visions of Ilsa in my head.

My need wanted to grab the first girl I saw and, essentially, make Justin proud by fucking my way through the bar sluts like he did. When my need won out, it was just too fucking hard to resist the soft bodies that presented themselves. Like with Pauline. She was there and warm and willing.

But she had never aroused this feeling in me that Ilsa had. No one else had even come close.

Tonight, while we were rocking, I was raging. The adrenaline was coursing through my veins and burning through my system. I wanted to surrender to the visceral, carnal instinct of it all—the animalistic need to just plain fuck—and every bit of my lust was focused on Ilsa.

Knowing the way my advances had pushed her back before, it would really be wise to avoid her. It was for the best that she was sort of MIA.

As I skipped down the stage stairs and headed for the back door to cool off, though, I heard her voice, testing and tempting my resolve to stay away.

“Cody?”

Fuck.

Bad timing.

Down boy.

I still froze. I had to. It was as though she’d shot a little Spiderman web out at me and I couldn’t move.

I stopped walking away, but I didn’t turn around. I only tipped my head a little over my shoulder to glance back at her.

“Hey, Ilsa,” I managed to force out.

“Do you need anything?” Ilsa asked. “Cold beer or something? You look really hot.”

A dry, choked laugh escaped my throat.

Warnings flared in my brain, telling me to back off. To back away.

But I was entirely too fuckin’ keyed up… and she had sought me out. This was something new. It was her play, even if she didn’t know we were in the midst of a game. In spite of her pushing me away before, she wanted me.

Knowing this spiked my need. Courage and confidence surged through my veins. It was just too good of an opportunity to pass up. I was dying to make her blush a little.

“Hot, huh? Thanks,” I grinned and turned fully towards her, pulling off my T-shirt, wiping it over my sweaty forehead and chest.

Ilsa’s eyes went wide, her mouth fell open, and I was certain I heard the tiniest little moan. Her gaze followed the damp fabric as I swept it over my pecs, and she swallowed hard. As I stepped a little closer, her mouth snapped shut before she opened it again to try and cover what she’d just said about me being hot.

“I mean… you’re, uh… you’re all sweaty.” Her voice had gone a bit breathless, and she leaned up against the wall behind her, holding her hands flat against it like it would keep her safe. I closed the distance between us, loving how she trembled, how she wrenched her gaze from my bare chest to look up into my eyes.

“It happens when I play,” I murmured. “I get a little… intense. It’s a bit of a workout.”

Her hazel eyes had gone soft, almost unfocused. Knowing it was a bad idea, yet finding it too hard to resist, I lightly cupped her cheek in my palm, then trailed it down to the base of her neck. Her skin was so smooth… like fine silk. Her cheeks were flushed, and I could feel the rapid, rhythmic beat of her pulse under my thumb. Racing.

A tempo that matched mine.

I stared at her, my blue eyes focused on the hazel flecks in hers. Her breathing fluttered against my skin, lighting my senses on fire.

“I want so badly to taste you,” I warned.

Her tongue darted out to wet her trembling lips as I moved to close the space between us. Miraculously, she began lifting up towards me, too.

Justin would have been incredibly proud. In fact…

“That’s my boy,” I heard him say from the bottom of the steps.

Fuck.

Ilsa jolted at the sound of his voice, and quickly slipped away from me.

“Shit,” Justin laughed, “don’t let me interrupt. Carry on.”

“No,” Ilsa breathed, sounding shaken and raw inside. “I’ll just go grab you guys something to drink.”

And just like that, she was gone down the hallway.

Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn…

“God, you’re a fucker,” I grumbled to my friend.

“You know,” he replied, as though I hadn’t even spoken, “she’s really not too bad when she’s all turned on like that. Funny… I've never noticed that curvy little ass before, either.”

“Justin,” I warned.

“I wonder if she’d be—”

“Fuck off and don’t even think about it,” I snarled.

“Hmm… you’re still a little testy when it comes to her, aren’t ya? Interesting.” He smiled and headed off to a group of girls that were eyeing him speculatively. “Ladies,” he began, wrapping an arm around each of the two closest to him. “How are we tonight?”

They cooed and giggled and fawned over him, feeding his narcissism. Sometimes I was amazed that he was a bassist. The dude had the attitude of a lead guitarist.

I waited a few more minutes, hoping to catch Ilsa back in the dark hallway again when she brought our drinks.

Instead of Ilsa, though, Doug appeared. He looked at me, handed me an icy bottle, and narrowed his eyes.

“I didn’t think I’d have to tell you this, of all the Mofos. Don’t fuck her, Cody,” he grunted as he handed me the beer, “and I mean it.”

“Doug—” I began, but he just turned and walked away.

He didn’t understand what was happening between Ilsa and I. I wasn’t out for a quick fuck with her, and he just didn’t get it… at all. There was something drawing her and I together that was stronger than her wary resistance, yet still hindered by it.

It occurred to me that Doug seemed more protective of her than I’d ever seen him with any of the other waitresses. There was no way it was just him not wanting to lose her as an employee. Were his threats based on jealousy? Did he want her for his own?

I instantly bristled at the thought. He couldn’t. He was way too old for her, too hard, and he didn’t act like he was hooked on her.

And Ilsa… God, she’d been so close to me just now. I could still feel the faint whisper of her breath as she moved her lips closer to mine. She had wanted me. I’d seen it in her eyes.

No, she didn’t have that kind of relationship with Doug, although something wasn’t quite right. Something was just a little off.

But what?

Don’t fuck her…

Doug’s terse reminder echoed over and over in my mind while we played into the night. The crowd had grown larger, and was becoming a little rowdier than usual. Lots of people were passing through the area, mostly bikers on their way to the annual big rally in Sturgis.

As more people, more strangers, filled the bar, I kept an eye out for Ilsa with an increased vigilance. The bigger the crowd got, the more on edge she seemed. The mood of the bar shifted. The easy, raucous revelry gave way to a darker tension. Too many strangers and too much booze.

And Ilsa was right smack in the middle of it.

During another quick break, I tried to talk to her. When I touched her arm, she about jumped out of her skin.

“Jesus, Cody,” she exhaled, “you scared me to death.”

“Are you okay?” I asked.

A flicker of skittishness lit her eyes as she looked at me. It worried me.

“Fine,” she lied. Clearly a lie. Whatever was freaking her out, she didn’t want to share.

“Ils—”

“It’s busy, and I've got work to do,” she murmured. “Thank you, though.”

Not feeling good about it, I let her go. I moved aside, allowing her walk back into the thick crowd with her drink tray in hand.

But as we began to play again, I kept my eye on her. In fact, I didn’t let her out of my sight. She wasn’t fine. Something had her feeling raw and fragile.

She made her way over to a table of a bunch of guys, all decked out in black leather cuts. Tattoos down their arms, bandanas around their heads, their skin red and leathery from riding their bikes all day in the sun. They’d been getting louder and rougher as the night went on, and one of them leaned into her to give her his order.

Ilsa leaned away, and from clear across the room, I could see her swallow hard. I could see the tension rise in her shoulders. I could see a tremor course through her body.

I felt the hair rise on the back of my neck.

She quickly moved away, escaping back to the bar to get their drinks. I saw Doug ask her something, and she nodded, offering a small, nervous smile. He said something else, raising his eyebrows as though he was trying to make sure his point was clear, and she nodded again.

With the tray full of drinks, she went back over to the table and started unloading it on the side far away from the guy who had leaned into her. The fellas on that side were better behaved, moving aside to allow her to get closer to the table. However, the other guy stood, slowly circling around until he stood behind her. He started to close in, essentially trapping her in between the table and his buddies.

Now I was pissed. I was mad-drumming. My knuckles were white with my tight grip on my sticks, wishing I was thwacking them on that fucker’s face.

But I was also on stage. We were in the middle of a song, Denny up front singing away. After I flubbed up for the third time, Justin looked over at me quizzically. I was fuming, burning up to clock the biker dude, and it must have shown on my face. Justin's eyes went wide when he saw my expression, and he followed my gaze to the table across the room.

Ilsa had lifted her hand, warding off the big, greasy bastard, but he took it in his own, placing it on his chest. I could see her jerking to get it back, but he held firm. One of the other guys said something to him, and he scowled down at his friend and snarled some kind of response that had Ilsa blanching white.

Now I was beyond pissed.

The fucker had his arm creeping around Ilsa’s waist, his body crouching into hers even as she tried to shrink away. She had brought up her tray like a shield, holding it between them. I was about to lose it.

Where the fuck was Doug?

I glanced over towards the bar, but his attention was drawn by the crowd before him demanding their drinks.

Ilsa pushed a little harder at the guy, and he grabbed her arm and jerked her up against him angrily. Her face contorted with a mixture of panic and pain.

Fuck it.

I dropped my sticks and jumped up from my stool behind the drums, ripping past Denny to take a flying leap off the stage into the crowd. The music quickly died out as my band, the couples on the dance floor—everyone in the bar, really—watched me charge over to the fucker.

He was big, possibly even bigger than me. He was weathered and hardened and looked pretty fucking scary. And he was pissed.

But I was more so.

I was in full-bore protection mode, and this fucker needed to back the fuck off.

His buddies jumped up, ready to fight, as I closed in and jerked his arm off Ilsa. The air crackled with tension. Positioning myself between him and her, I nudged her violently shaking body behind me, and she melted against my back. I still hadn’t put my shirt back on, and I could feel her broken breathing against my skin.

“Oh feckin’ hell,” I heard Denny say into the still-live mic. “Let’s go, fellas.”

I shoved my hands into the dickhead’s chest, pushing him back into the crowd a bit.

“Leave her the fuck alone,” I growled.

“You gonna make me, boy?” he snarled back, posturing for a brawl. “You’re awful pretty. Do you really think you can take me?”

“Fuck yeah, I do.” I puffed out my chest, feeling the anger course through my veins. My body was pumped and ready to go. I wanted to kick his ass.

He looked over to his friends, then back at me. “I’m not here alone, you know. You might be able to put up a good fight, but my brothers will fuck you up.”

“He’s not alone either,” Justin stated from my right, and the fucker glanced over to see that Justin wasn’t shitting him.

We were local celebrities. These guys were just passing through. One thing they didn’t know that everyone else in the bar did was that you did not fuck with the Bangin’ Mofos in the Copperline Bar. This was our turf, and we had the manpower to back it up.

“Jesus, Harold,” one of the other bikers muttered, “this ain’t cool. Every guy in here wants to kick our asses right now. Plus you’re being a dick anyway.”

Harold looked around, then back to his friend who’d spoken, checking out the faces of those around us, realizing that they were a bit outnumbered. It was evident, though, that he was either too drunk or too stupid to care.

He jerked away from his friend and came towards me, giving me just a second to push Ilsa away towards Denny who stood to my left with a nervous Felicity. I barely caught a glimpse of Felicity urging her back from the fight when the guy hit me.

Fuck, he hit hard, too. His tough act was not just an act.

But he was fighting to fight. To be an asshole, pissed that his moronic behavior wasn’t appreciated.

I was fighting to protect Ilsa.

I swung back, catching him with a good, solid blow to the ribs that caused him to double over. A good shove, and he stumbled back. With a growl, he came right back at me, swinging with large meaty fists. I avoided some punches, but a few connected. I was dimly aware of scuffles going on around me as others started to join in the fray.

Brannon had stepped up, probably the closest to my size, and was holding back the biggest of the biker’s friends, preventing him from jumping in to help kick my ass. Justin was in his own little brawl with another, a little wiry guy who successfully evaded him until Drew got the dude in a headlock. A few guys from the crowd stepped in as well, staring down or holding back the remaining bikers, keeping the last shred of civilization from turning into pure anarchy.

Suddenly, a deafening boom echoed through the room.

And there was Doug, standing with a shotgun aimed at the ceiling as bits of wood and plaster fell around him.

That crazy fucker had just shot off in his own place.

We all froze solid.

“Get the fuck out of my bar,” he scowled to the bikers.

“I thought this joint was biker friendly,” one of the strangers spat.

“It is,” Doug replied. “It just isn’t asshole friendly. Now get the fuck outta here before I call the cops.”

After a tense little standoff, they finally backed away and headed out the door. The crowd straightened and began to disperse, and Denny walked up to clap me on the shoulder.

“Jaysus, you bloody eejit, maybe give us a little warning before ya go all white knight on us again, hi?”

“Speak English, you fucker,” I chuckled back distractedly, glancing around behind me. I pulled my T-shirt from where I had tucked it in my pocket and slipped it back on.

Sophie, Felicity, and even Maggie approached their guys, searching for boo-boos to kiss and fussing over the guys’ bravery for taking on the bikers. Doug shot a nod in my direction, seeming to be half thanks and half warning for my attention to Ilsa.

Ilsa.

Shit.

Where was Ilsa?

I couldn’t see her anywhere.

“Felicity,” I said, leaning towards her and Denny, “where did Ilsa go?”

“She’s right here…” she replied as she turned and looked behind her, but there was no Ilsa there. “Shit, she was right behind me.”

“Go check in the office,” I barked at her and Denny, heading towards the back room. I nodded to Brannon and Sophie as I started walking away. “Bran, see if she’s out back.”

I pushed through the crowd, past the bar and towards the storage room. It was quieter in here, muting the sound from the barroom where Doug had started up the sound system, trying to regain the party vibe now that the excitement had mellowed some.

“Ilsa?” I called out softly as I stepped through the door. There was no answer. “Ils?”

Still nothing. Silence. I couldn’t hear a thing. Just as I started to turn, though, I caught the faintest glimpse of her tennis shoe sticking out behind a couple stacked kegs. Torn between the need to comfort her and her obvious desire to be alone, I hesitated but a second before I stepped over to where she sat and crouched down in front of her.

She was barely moving except for the occasional tremble that wracked her petite frame. So quiet that I thought she may have been holding her breath, willing the world away. My heart ached and swelled. All at once I wanted to hold her and protect her. I wanted to beat the shit out of that fucker in the bar for triggering this fear. I wanted to go apeshit on whoever had made her this way in the first place.

Her face was buried in her arms as they lay folded over her bent knees. There was an angry red mark on her wrist from where that bastard had grabbed her, and her entire body was curled up into a protective little ball.

“Ils,” I repeated, “what is it? What's wrong?”

“It’s okay, Cody,” she said into her knees, her voice muffled, but still sounding raw and shaken. “I just need a minute.”

“You’re not okay—”

“Please, just give me a few minutes,” she interrupted, still not lifting her face. “I’ll be fine.”

I carefully reached out, lightly touching her shoulder. Her reaction was immediate—a flinch followed by a gasp. She was barely hanging on by a thread.

“Look at me, Ilsa,” I said firmly. Gently.

My fingers pushed the curtain of hair back from her face as I carefully attempted to draw her out of whatever terror had a hold on her. Finally, she lifted her head, just barely, but enough to peek up at me. The fear in her eyes was staggering.

“You’re safe,” I promised.

Her forehead furrowed and she shook her head minutely.

That heartbreaking little motion did something to me. Something I couldn’t quite comprehend. All I knew was that I could offer her comfort. Security.

Something.

“Come here,” I whispered as I attempted to gather her into my arms.

She hesitated at first, then broke with a sob, coming forward to fold herself against my chest. Her entire body shook as the shock began to settle in, and she buried her face against my neck, bursting into tears.

“Shh…” I murmured against her hair. “It’s all right.”

Her arms gingerly crept around my waist. Before long, she was clinging to me, clutching me. She was terrified. But why? Of what?

My fingers combed through her hair and trailed down her back. Back and forth. Soothing her fear. Feeding her my strength. We barely moved for I don’t know how long, only adjusting a little as I sat on the floor and pulled her across my lap.

“What’s wrong, Ils?” I asked after a while.

She sniffled and shook her head, pressing her face into my neck.

“What happened out there? You can tell me,” I urged.

But her fingers gripped me tighter. Her voice was barely audible, muffled and low.

“Will you just hold me for a minute?”

She asked me to hold her.

Yes!

This was incredible… other than that she was in the midst of a full-blown panic episode and clutching me as though she was drowning. That part kind of sucked. A lot.

But I was holding her. She wanted me to hold her. She admitted that she wanted me to hold her.

So I did. I wrapped my arms around her, sheltered close to my heart, and her trembling began to ease.

One moment, I only wanted to comfort her… and then she shifted. Just a little.

Everything changed.

The awareness of her pressed tightly against me began to bloom in my chest, opening like the roses in my mother’s garden. Layer by layer, like the petals curling back to reveal the sweet beauty of the blossom.

Her fingers, clenched ever-so-slightly against my ribs, flexed the tiniest bit, her nails scraping against the soft cotton of my T-shirt. Her breathing changed. The short, stilted inhalations took on a different sense, spectral wisps that caressed my skin. Almost simultaneously, we pulled back just a tiny bit, just enough to meet each other’s eyes.

“What happened?” I asked, intent on getting some kind of explanation out of her.

“He hit you,” she whispered, brushing my question aside with a shake of her head as she lifted her fingertips up to the swelling bruise by my eye.

Sweet, but also avoiding my question.

“Better me than you, right?” I offered with a sad smile. “But what happened? What freaked you out so bad?”

Her watery eyes looked luminous in the dim light of the store room, and as she blinked, another tear broke free and trailed down her cheek. “I’m so sorry that he hit you.”

Still trying to put me off.

“Ils,” I murmured, “don’t. I’m fine. I’d do it again in a heartbeat, but seriously—”

“Why? Why did you do that?”

Oh for fuck’s sake… she wasn’t going to tell me shit. Not now anyway.

“You needed me.”

I fixated on the feral look in her eyes. She'd been hurt, but how? By who? She reminded me of a scared animal, as though any sudden movement would send her darting away.

Yet there was a sudden heat, a hunger that pushed through her trepidation. Maybe it was born of avoidance, something to distract me from asking her anything more. Hell if I knew what fueled that burn, but the air became heated and thick. Her cheeks tinged pink and her heart rate increased. Her breathing became choppy and the heat between us magnetically pulled me towards her.

I knew I was a fucker for doing it, for taking advantage of this moment, but I couldn’t seem to stop myself.

My fingers paused for only a moment as they sifted through her silky hair, cupping the back of her head. As they combed through the long, silky strands, her eyes rolled back and she leaned into me, drawn closer by the undeniable pull between us. My other hand slipped down to the small of her back and unconsciously coaxed her more firmly against me. The pull of lips seemed too strong—too natural—to resist.

“Fuck,” I groaned, lowering my head to kiss her.

I tentatively touched my lips to hers, brushing them lightly. As she leaned into me—as she cautiously kissed me back—my arms tightened around her. The tip of my tongue flicked out to taste her kiss, and she emitted a tiny moan that did crazy shit to my insides.

My lips teased and toyed with hers, and her movements became bolder. She began to press into me of her own volition. Her nails dug into my back in a rhythmic, wanting manner. Her hips flexed against my groin, and the hard-on I had going started raging. Burning. Aching.

My hand on her back moved lower, cupping her perfectly rounded ass, and my other dropped, tracing down her neck to brush along the side of her breast. My fingers skated down her ribs as her arms came up to my shoulders, wrapping around my neck. Like lightning in a dry storm, she seemed to ignite around me. Her gentle caresses left a scorching trail in their wake.

Suddenly, the door opened, and she all but jumped off me. Her chest rose and fell as she stumbled to her feet and tried to calm her breathing. Even now, she looked so seductively beautiful. I was pretty sure there would be some permanent damage due to the painful erection straining against my jeans.

“Is she in here?” Felicity asked.

“Yeah,” I gruffly replied. My throat was hoarse and heavy. My body felt chilled after the sudden loss of Ilsa’s heat against me. “We’ll be right out.”

Felicity didn’t seem to take my hint, instead stepping into the room and walking towards our hidden corner by the shelves. She eyed me with speculation as I sat on the floor, then Ilsa who leaned up against the wall before me, her hand over her chest.

“Are you okay?”

Ilsa nodded and stepped around me. “Fine,” she murmured. “I need to get back to work.”

Before either Felicity or I could say another word, she was out the door.

“Cody?” Felicity began. “Is she okay?”

“I don’t know,” I replied as I stood, “but I don’t think so.”

She narrowed her eyes at me. “Are you okay?”

I ignored her question, climbed off the floor, and headed back out into the barroom.

Ilsa avoided me like the plague after that interlude in the storage room. If she saw me coming towards her, she would dart in another direction. She would zip by me. She would do anything she could to avoid coming within ten feet of me.

I shouldn’t have been surprised, really. I had no clue what had happened to her in the past to make her so afraid of human interaction, but something traumatic had really done a number on her. That level of fear wasn’t just a natural shyness.

It wasn’t just me. She avoided everyone, really, but she seemed to avoid me even more, especially now. Like she made a concerted effort to do so. Every time I felt like I was making some sort of inroads with her, the rug seemed to get pulled out from beneath my feet. I’d stumble and by the time I’d regained my footing, she was farther away from me than ever before.

It made me want to draw her closer even more.

The bar was slow, but it was only a Wednesday so that wasn’t really a shocker. I had kind of counted on it. We weren’t playing that night, yet I convinced Justin to come out with me after work. Being at the garage all day tomorrow was going to suck, but I had a mission.

Ilsa had avoided me completely ever since the biker fight and that tumultuous kiss in the storage room a good week and a half ago. I had no clue where else I could find her, so I’d started spending every spare moment at the Copperline. My frustration was overwhelming.

I’d tried to catch her a week ago, but she got off work early and was gone before I knew it. The bar was swamped Thursday, Friday, and Saturday. If the bar was busy, she stayed busier. She kept far away from me in a way that simply could not be coincidence. It had to be intentional. Sunday, she worked an early shift and was gone before I even showed up. Monday and Tuesday, she was off work completely.

Tonight, though, she was here. The bar was relatively quiet. She wasn’t getting away from me without a talk. Not tonight.

She did try, though. She stayed behind the bar, close to Doug, who was mixing drinks, for most of the evening. Out of the corner of my eye, while Justin and I shot some pool, I saw her say something to Doug, and he gave her a short nod. A minute later, she was headed down the hall to the office.

She was going to leave early again, but this time, I was ready.

I shoved my pool cue into Drew’s hand, as he’d just shown up looking like utter shit over some new fight he was having with Maggie, and I slipped out the door into the back lot where Ilsa had parked.

A few minutes later, she emerged from the back of the building, looking over her shoulder. Appearing suspiciously like she was trying to leave unnoticed.

She froze solid when she turned and saw me leaning up against her driver door.

“Leaving already?” I asked nonchalantly.

She swallowed hard, convincing me even more that she had been trying to avoid me.

Taking a couple cautious steps towards me, she seemed to want to maintain some distance between us.

“Slow night,” she murmured, watching me warily. “Doug, um… Doug told me to head home.”

If she wasn’t going to come to me, I’d come to her. I straightened and pushed away from her car, coming to stand right before her.

“Want to go for a ride?” I asked.

“A ride?”

“Yeah,” I replied. “I've got my bike.”

“Your bike?”

“My Victory.”

She just kind of gave me a look that indicated she hadn’t the faintest idea what I was talking about.

“It’s a motorcycle,” I finally offered.

The girl had no poker face whatsoever. I saw a nervous energy cross over her face, but I also saw a glimmer of yearning. The smallest hint of longing in her eyes. She could picture it, the two of us on my bike. Her arms around my waist, pressing into my back as we rode through the mountains.

Yet she dropped her eyes and shook her head. “I can’t. I've got to… I’m gonna be late…” she trailed off, not even the slightest bit convincing.

“Ils,” I said, lifting my eyebrow, “you just got off work three hours early. How the fuck are you going to be late?”

Her mouth fell open, then snapped shut. I had her there. She knew it, too.

I stepped a little closer, almost touching, making her look up to meet my eyes. Her thick, dark lashes blinked closed a few times.

“Just a quick little ride…” I urged, “up the highway and back.”

My hand came forward to settle at her hip, and I was rewarded and tortured with the tip of her tongue darting out to wet her lips.

“I don’t have a jacket,” she whispered hoarsely, like that was a deal-breaker.

I shrugged off my black leather and tucked it over her shoulders.

“Problem solved,” I smiled.

“Just a quick ride,” she uttered, still on guard.

And then I smiled wider.

“Let’s go.”

The sun was just setting as we headed up the winding, twisting road up Pipestone Pass, and the golden glow from the clouds reflected off the pines. The evening wasn’t cold, but there was enough of a chill that I was glad I’d given her my coat. I had told her a quick ride, but this wasn’t a road you sped on. Apart from being dangerous, it was simply too stunning to rush through.

Plus, I was really in no hurry to end this.

Her arms held tight around my abs, causing me to tingle a little all over. Her body pressed against my back and moved with mine around the deep U-shaped turns in the highway. At the top of the pass, I turned off the highway onto a dirt road that headed back to a picnic area. A day-use spot that would be vacant at this time in the evening, hidden from the main road by thick pine and aspen trees.

I slowed to a stop and looked back at her over my shoulder.

“Hop off,” I urged.

For a moment, she didn’t move.

“I thought we were going for a ride,” she reminded me.

“Yeah, but we’re also going to have a little chat.”

“Cody—”

“Hop off, Ils,” I repeated.

“Cody—”

“Ilsa.” The tone of my voice parroted hers, and I twisted around to look at her, one eyebrow raised.

Again, I could see that what she wanted to do and what she thought she should do were at war in her head. Her face softened and she bit her lip, one last indecisive motion before she climbed off the back of my bike.

After I’d done the same, I reached out to take her hand and led her up a small path through the trees, circling over and around some thick chunks of granite that stuck out of the ground. Literally sitting right on the continental divide, these mountains were rough and wild, formed by the forces deep in the earth. They were spectacular, the foliage green and lush. The path came to a rocky outcropping that faced back to the north, overlooking the winding road below us, showcasing the higher, snow-capped peaks in the distance that overlooked Butte.

This spot was truly breathtaking.

“That’s beautiful,” Ilsa murmured. She let go of my hand and stepped closer to the cliffs and watched as the sun began to dip behind the hills to the west. A light breeze blew the hair back from her face, hair that had fallen loose from her ponytail on the windy, winding ride. As she looked back at me, I reached out to tuck a lock behind her ear. She faintly leaned into my touch, then caught herself. Reaching back, she pulled the ponytail tie from her hair and began to gather the strands to put it back in place, but I reached out, tangling my fingers with hers and gently stole the elastic band away.

With my other hand, I combed through her long, thick hair and stepped closer.

“Why are you avoiding me?” I quietly asked into the calm wind.

Dodging my gaze, she gave a faint shake of her head. “I’m not.”

“Liar.” My voice came out more as a caress, softening the retort.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” she replied.

“That took a little work on my part,” I smiled, grazing my fingers around her outer ear and tracing my thumb down her throat. “I get the feeling you don’t want to be.”

“That’s not it.” She gently shook her head. “It’s not that I don’t want to be here with you. I actually do. It’s that I shouldn’t want that. I don’t want to want to be here with you.”

“Why?” I murmured, dipping my face down towards hers, lured by the sweet taste of her kiss that still haunted me days after it had happened.

“It’s so complicated. My life is complicated.”

I drew back to look at her more directly. “Maybe I could help,” I offered, brushing my fingers along the curve of her cheek.

Her eyes seemed sad even as she smiled up at me. She looked down to where her hands had come to rest on my chest. “You can’t.”

“You don’t know that,” I murmured. The breeze picked up for a minute and her sweet, warm scent mixed with the fresh pine, tickling my senses.

As she lifted her head, her hand rose to trace the line of my jaw, scraping along the scruff. “It’s wonderful that you want to,” she whispered. “That’s enough.”

“You have to trust somebody sometime,” I said. “I won’t hurt you.”

“I know you won’t.” She lowered her hand and pulled away, looking out over the landscape, her posture pensive and conflicted. “It’s not that easy, Cody. That’s not all there is to it.”

“So tell me the rest.”

She glanced back over at me, watching me for a moment before she shook her head slowly from side to side.

She didn’t trust me. She might want me, but whatever her secrets were, she didn’t trust me with them. That thought echoed through my mind, tightening my lungs as I watched her take a few more steps away, towards the overview of the valley below. She bent and sat on the grass, resting her chin on her drawn-up knees.

“I can’t, Cody. There are a lot of reasons I can’t.”

I made my way over to her, settling in the grass beside her, studying her as she steepled her index fingers together and pressed them against her full lips. She didn’t say anything for a moment, then turned to face me with a tortured pain in her eyes.

“I shouldn’t have kissed you,” she breathed solemnly.

I swallowed back the raw pang her words caused. That really sucked to hear. Big time. It shot a sickening lurch though my stomach, taking me down a notch… or four.

The most amazing kiss of my life, and she regretted it.

Catching her gaze and holding it, I tried to sound more confident and cocky than I felt at the moment.

“I’m glad you did.” The rough edge to my voice gave me away, though. It conveyed the depth of emotion she aroused in me.

“You shouldn’t be,” she said. Her face was so close, her eyes so incredibly defeated. “You’d do better to stay away from me, for your own sake.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Cody,” she whispered, swallowing hard, “I don’t keep my distance because I want to, especially with you. You… everything about you…” Her voice seemed to crack, and she stopped and pressed her lips together before she went on. “But I can’t. We can’t. You shouldn’t waste your time on me.”

“But I don’t feel like this about anyone but you,” I said, cradling her face in my palms as I searched her teary eyes. “I never have. I know you feel something for me. There was something in that kiss.”

Her hazel eyes looked up and held mine, clearly tortured with want. Scared and sad and alone, as though she always would be. Like she had to be.

“It’s because I do feel something for you,” she whispered, “that I can’t.”

“Tell me why,” I said.

“Just take my word for it,” she replied.

“That doesn’t convince me,” I murmured, moving closer, bringing my lips just a breath away from hers. “So unless you can come up with a more concrete reason, I reject your argument.” While I spoke, my fingertips traced small circles along her hairline, pulse points to soothe her, to bring her just a little closer. To relax her enough to trust me just a little bit.

She lowered her eyes. “Cody,” she said in a breath. Her body was giving in even if her mind chose not to. The attraction I felt between us was real, powerful, and she felt it every bit as much as I did. Her body leaned just a little closer.

“I've never been so enthralled by a single kiss,” I softly said as I barely brushed my lips against hers. Her breath caught and she swayed into me just enough to almost kiss me. There was no other way to describe it, as though the energy was too great and to actually touch would carry us both away.

“Cody…” She didn’t really say it as much as she exhaled it.

“I want to kiss you again,” I whispered with another ghosting over her lips.

“Cody…” Again, just a slight gasp.

I caught it with my lips, gentle and sweet. At first, there was the shock of that intimate connection, that softness and that tingle in my gut. Like before, like that first kiss in the back room of the Copperline.

Only better.

Then I turned my head to angle the kiss, to deepen it as my arms enfolded her. I pulled her up against my chest, one hand cupping her cheek, my fingers threading through her hair and tightening to hold her steady. I moved slowly… even though I was starving for her, even though it took all the self-restraint I had. I could feel the anxious energy pulsing beneath her skin, even as she relaxed against me and quietly moaned into my mouth.

Sliding my hand down along her thighs, I gently lifted, drawing her tight up against me and tucking her legs up around my hips. The sweet caresses of her tongue languidly swept against my own, her arms sliding up my arms, molding along my shoulders and up to clasp my jaw in her slender fingertips. Her warm body curled into me and pressed against me as she returned my endless kiss, unhurried and enthralled by the moment. By the touch of our lips and the taste of this undeniable attraction between us.

A tiny little bit of my brain nagged to my subconscious, telling me that I shouldn’t be doing this. I’d brought her up here to talk. Uninterrupted. Away from other people so I could figure her out. So I could get her to trust me and confide in me about whatever had her running so scared from life.

But, Jesus, I couldn’t stop kissing her. I couldn’t stop savoring the delicious ecstasy. Not if my life depended on it.

She leaned back, maybe trying to pull away, and I followed, lowering her little-by-little to the ground and covering her delicate body with my own. Everything about the way she was cradled beneath me felt entirely too right. Her full lips and the sweet little sounds she made, the scrape of her nails digging into my back through my thin T-shirt. I opened my eyes to see her hair spread out on the grassy ground beneath us, wild flowers all around her and the low hum of wind whistling through the pines. On top of a low mountain, the world down below seemed so far away. Her eyes searched mine, clouded with foggy need.

“Cody,” she groaned against me, “I think—”

“I don’t want to think,” I interrupted. “I just want to kiss you. I want to touch you.”

Fuck, I shouldn’t have continued. I knew it at the time. I should have stopped. I should have lifted off her and pulled her up beside me. I should have forced her to sit five feet away while she told me her secrets.

But I couldn’t.

For the first time in my life, I was totally overcome with wanting. It overruled my conscience. It overruled my sense of right and wrong. When I ran my hand up under the leather jacket to close over her breast, her hips pushed up against my aching cock, and she lifted her head to kiss me again.

Fuck my conscience. Fuck right and wrong.

I trailed tiny sucking and biting kisses down her neck as she shrugged free from my coat, her hands slipping up the back of my shirt to clutch at my bare skin. Her head fell back as I nipped and tasted a path down along the collar of her T-shirt, down to the point of the V-neck.

Lifting my lips, I gathered the hem of her shirt to bare her flat stomach. I felt a shiver of apprehension rise through her and watched her face, held her soft gaze as I pushed up her shirt a little farther. Up over her ribs and then her breasts, revealing a simple, white bra that cupped her tits so beautifully. Goosebumps rose along the ivory skin that glowed in the twilight. My thumb traced the smooth edge. I dipped my head and followed the path with the tip of my tongue before I pulled the fabric down to take a hardened nipple into my mouth.

Ilsa’s body bucked beneath me, her pelvis pressing hard up against my rigid dick, and she gasped loud into the cool evening air. Her fingers wound into my hair as they tangled and pulled, and I drew harder at her breast. One of my hands caressed fine patterns up and down her ribs, teasing the skin on her stomach just above her jeans, and her body rippled beneath my touch. My mouth left the tight bud of her nipple to lick a wet trail down through the valley between her breasts to the other side. I lifted my hand and teased the cool, wet skin I’d just left, rolling the tight bud as I inhaled the scent of her skin. Baring her other breast, I tantalized it with my teeth.

The taste of her skin fed my growing passion, amplified by the sensation of her smooth swells and curves. It all had my mind reeling, unable to function except to do exactly what I was doing at that very moment.

She urged my lips back up to hers, skating her hands down my back and inside my jeans to pull me tighter against her. Afraid of crushing her with my weight, I braced with my elbows even as I ground my dick hard into her hips.

Entirely too quickly, before it even registered what she was doing, her hands slipped around to the fly of my jeans. She paused just a second, moaned deep down my throat, and began to work the button fly. The cool air and her warm touch felt like sheer fucking heaven as her delicate fingers wrapped around my cock.

Stroking and squeezing, rubbing her thumb against the tip, all slippery with precum, her hand was powerful and bewitching. It brought me to the edge, then her thumb swirled around slowly, alternating fast and slow, rough and tender. It was like she could read my thoughts, like she could feel the pressure building and then adjusted just before I lost control. It was like she could read my breathing, she could understand the gasping and groaning, pulling back when it was becoming too much.

“God,” I moaned against her throat, “I want to fuck you like nothing I've ever wanted before in my life.”

“Please, Cody,” she gasped, as I pushed up to my knees, reaching down to unfasten her jeans. My dick ached, missing her phenomenal touch. I could almost still feel her fingertips stroking my aching length.

I unzipped her jeans and she lifted her hips to shimmy out of them, dragging her underwear down as well. She wasn’t bare like most girls I knew, rather dusted with soft curls that shadowed the apex of her thighs. I watched my hands glide down her perfect, pale skin towards the center, gently nudging her legs apart to reveal her sweet, beautiful pussy.

The rising moonlight glistened in her wet folds, and I lowered my head, feeling the cool grass brush against my bare cock as I buried my face between her legs. Licking her deep, fucking her with my tongue, nipping at her outer lips, sucking at her clit. I feasted on her, drinking in her arousal, pumping my fingers deep and hard into her silky depths.

“This is wrong,” she gasped even as she tugged me closer, tilting her hips up to give me better access.

“This is beautiful,” I replied against her wet, delicious skin and pressed my fingers inside her heated core once again. I swirled and curled them around, finding that special spot and teasing it with firm strokes.

She cried out and her fingers dug into the thick grass beneath her. Sliding my other arm under her leg, I angled her sweet pussy up to my tongue, then sought her hand and interlaced my fingers with hers. She was so hot, so close, so wet, and so ready that she jerked against my tongue and flew apart underneath me, sobbing and shaking. I licked her deep, tasting the burst of her orgasm, swirling my tongue in a slow, hard circle around her clit.

I lifted up over her again, reaching into my back pocket for my wallet and the condom inside. My hands shook as I ripped open the package, lost momentarily in her touch once again on my cock, still savoring the taste of her on my lips. The cool breeze picked up, chilly against my bare length, and I rolled on the condom, desperately wanting to bury myself in her heat.

And then I was positioning myself at her opening, her legs spread wide, her hands urging me closer until…

Sheer. Fucking. Bliss.

“Jesus, Cody,” she gasped as I pushed slowly inside, her soft little body squeezing the broad head of my dick. “You’re… oh my God… you’re huge.”

Her breath was coming in quick, short bursts, and her body tightened around mine. Her fingernails dug into my back as her body arched.

“Am I hurting you?” I asked, literally praying to every god anywhere that she didn’t want me to stop.

“No,” she whispered, sounding utterly shaken and rapturous. “Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.”

I slid fully in, capturing her low moan with my lips. Flexing all the muscles in my ass to press as deep as I could go, I relished in the tight squeeze of her around me. I kissed her long and hard, plundering her lips while I held that position until my muscles burned. Her hips tilted up towards mine, and every movement she made seemed to draw me into her a little more.

“Oh fuck,” I groaned against her lips, “you feel amazing.”

Her fingertips trailed up from my shoulders to my neck, a little farther to graze the rough, unshaven angle of my jaw. With a breathless dusting of her lips, she kissed me, and we barely moved for a moment, just savoring the firm connection of my dick inside her and her lips pressed tightly to mine.

Resting my weight on my elbows, settled on either side of her shoulders, my fingers brushed her hair back, then tangled in the smooth, silky tresses when I withdrew and pushed back into her.

“Oh my God,” she gasped.

I did it again, methodical in my movements, but barely in control. Holding on by the faintest thread to allow her to accommodate my size, I pulled almost completely out, teased us both with a few shallow movements, then slowly squeezed back inside. With every fraction of an inch, she got a little more wet and slick with arousal. All the while, I wanted more than anything to pound into her with everything I had.

Another slow stroke, and her pussy rippled around me. Another, and her body trembled. I caged her in with my arms, holding her with a firm, yet delicate grasp. Sheltering her beneath me as she shook and tightened around my cock. Her hips began to mimic mine, pulling away when I pulled away, pushing back together as I pressed my thick, solid length back into her. I could hear the wet slide of our bodies and her broken breathing. Her legs curled around mine, her heels digging into my calves.

I buried my face in her neck as the heat began to boil up inside me. The pressure in my dick became almost unbearable, damn near painful, while our tempo increased.

Every gasping sob against my shoulder pushed me a little closer to release. I fought it back, slowing my strokes, raining kisses down her neck and nipping at the soft skin behind her ear. I shifted her legs, pressing her knees up to her chest as I went deep, then released them to wrap around me as I went shallow.

I wanted so badly for her to peak beneath me. I wanted her to explode like nothing she’d ever experienced. I dug my fingers into her soft, round ass and jerked into her hard, then circled my hips, fully impaled, and did it again. Repeating the motions until her gasping breaths became more frantic.

Suddenly, she let out a raw, ragged cry as she tightened around me, almost a scream against my chest, before she went wild underneath me. Clawing and sobbing as she shook. The pulsing contractions of her pussy around me finished me off, and I exploded inside her with a hoarse groan.

My muscles felt liquid. My bones felt pliable. And for a split second, I felt almost numb.

She was like nothing I’d ever felt. The furious need and the wild way she made me lose control. I could still feel her pulsing around me, coaxing it all out of me. Releasing my energy into her body.

I wanted to stay there, just like that, forever.

I wanted more. More of this, but even more of her.

I wanted her bare, I wanted to feel the silky slide of her skin around me with nothing between us, not even a fine layer of latex.

Lying there on her and in her at the top of a mountain pass in the pale moonlight, I started yearning for more. A love like the ones depicted in old movies… like Ilsa and Rick in Casablanca.

Well, maybe not like Ilsa and Rick. They were torn apart by war and didn’t even get a happy ever after. She married some guy named Victor and flew off to America. He had to settle for a bromance with some French dude.

So, maybe more like what my parents had. The American dream with two-point-five kids, something that would last for the rest of my life.

Justin would kick my ass if he knew what all was going through my mind.

It was absolutely insane.

I’d known her for a couple months overall, and most of that had been without much interaction. Just glances and polite smiles. A few words here and there in the past few weeks. In reality, my own fascination with her hit me with an intensity that terrified me.

In spite of the trepidation, the uncertainty and desperation that whirled in my mind, I couldn’t pull away. I wanted to stay buried inside her forever.

I lifted my head, looking down at her and smoothing the hair back from her face. Her thick lashes opened, her fingertips lifted to trace my jaw as she studied my face.

But one thing about her made my chest ache, made my stomach feel hollow.

Even though she looked sated and, frankly, very well-fucked, her eyes looked sad.

But why? Everything inside me wanted to fix her. To take her pain away. Yet she wouldn’t tell me anything. I needed more time with her, to get her to open up to me and trust me. To let me help her.

“Come home with me tonight,” I said, tracing my fingers down her cheek.

Her gaze instantly brimmed with unshed tears and her lip trembled. “I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Please,” she whispered, “Cody, please don’t ask me why. Please don’t ask me to explain. I can’t tell you.” She closed her eyes and swallowed hard as the tears crested and began to leak out. “I can’t… just… just hold me… for a little while.”

I wanted to push it. I wanted to know what she was hiding, why she was hurting. I had the most powerful urge to help her, somehow, even though she gave no clues as to what was wrong.

“Please,” she choked out, burying her face in my neck and pressing tight up against me. Her body trembled, shivering in the chill of the night air.

I folded her tighter in my arms and pulled her up with me, still joined so intimately, as I rose to a kneeling position. She barely moved on her own, only clutching me a little tighter, pressing her face a little more firmly against the pulse beating in my neck. I had pulled my jacket up with her and used it to cover her chilled skin, trapping in the heat of our bodies.

Still she held on to me. Still, tremors shook her, and I felt warm, wet tears seep against my skin, down to the neckline of my T-shirt.

So, as much as I wanted to know, to help her and heal her, to do something for her… I didn’t push her anymore. I held her as the last traces of daylight faded into night and the stars began to glimmer in the darkening sky. After a long while, her trembling ceased, and she kissed the damp shoulder of my shirt.

She lifted her head, studying me in the darkness, and reached up to kiss me gently. Sweet and full of emotion. Telling me with the touch of her lips what she couldn’t say out loud.

She was falling for me. Hard and fast. She didn’t want to and felt like she shouldn’t, but she was all the same.

And I responded with a wordless promise of my own.

I, having already fallen, would be there to catch her.

The ride back down the mountain felt different. I felt different.

Ilsa’s hands splayed out across my abs, as though she was trying to touch as much of me as possible. Her head rested against my back, her cheek pressed against my shirt. Instead of holding onto me, she was simply holding me. She was emotion itself, the entire spectrum wrapped around me. Peaceful and tumultuous, twisted together. Desolate, yet content, as impossible as that sounds.

We pulled into the back of the Copperline and stopped next to her car. The lot was calm with the unobtrusive Wednesday night crowd inside relaxing. Saving their energy for the next few days when the place would be hopping.

I turned off my bike, and waited for her to do or say something. To climb off the back and leave or to change her mind and stay. The longer we sat, the more I thought she might come with me after all.

Cupping my hand over hers, I turned my head to speak quietly over my shoulder. “You should come home with me, Ils.”

Her breath caught as she drew it in, a choppy sound that displayed her uncertainty and her want. Turning her face slightly, I felt her press a kiss on the center of my back before her hands loosened and she climbed off my bike. She stood beside me, searching my eyes, like she was trying to tell me something without saying anything.

“Thank you for this,” she finally whispered, barely audible over the hum of the jukebox emanating from the bar. “Tonight was… beautiful.”

“It could be more,” I replied in a low tone. My hand swept along her cheek and she closed her eyes, almost in pain.

“No, it can’t, Cody.”

“Tell me why,” I tried again, but she only shook her head.

“Please don’t,” she whispered.

I curled my fingers into her hair and around the back of her head, pulling her closer for a tender kiss, then touched my forehead to hers. “I couldn’t help but ask.”

She lifted her eyes to mine, once again raw with torment. “You’re a good guy, Cody. You’ll make some girl very happy someday.” Tears glistened in her gaze. “I really wish it could be me.”

She pressed her lips to mine, not really kissing so much as absorbing me, breathing me in. Then she stepped back and slipped off my jacket, handed it to me, and turned to walk to her car.

With one last sad smile, she climbed in and drove away.

If Ilsa had avoided me before, it was nothing compared to what she was doing now. Not only staying away, but practically disappearing before my eyes. She refused to even look anywhere in my direction. Oddly, she even seemed to stay closer to the Copperline bar sluts, a behavior that mystified me at first.

Until I realized what she was doing with them.

It started with Pauline.

When I had eased my ache with her, Pauline had made it no secret that she wanted more. I’d been pretty successful in brushing her off, not wanting her to feel something for me that I didn’t feel back. She had all but given up in the past couple weeks.

Until one night when my eyes were searching for Ilsa across the bar room, and I caught sight of her handing Pauline a drink. Ilsa glanced up towards the stage to see my attention directed towards her, and a strange expression swept over her face.

Longing mixed with despondency, and then she quickly wiped it away with a false smile. She leaned down to say something to Pauline who immediately looked over at the stage. At me. Directly into my eyes.

And she smiled, a come-hither look, flirtatious and inviting.

Fuck me, what did Ilsa say to her?

Whatever it was, I’d played right into it, watching like I did. Unable to tear my eyes away from Pauline’s hopeful gaze.

Fuck.

Fuck.

Fuck.

She did it again the next night with Ruth. Then Laura. She even did it with Vivienne, a divorcee who was a couple years older than us guys, but totally cougared out now and then. She sorta freaked me out, to be honest, and I had always kinda avoided her.

But Ilsa had them all watching me, looking for the occasional glance in their direction that they obviously interpreted as encouragement. Before long, I was half scared to look out over the crowd at all, and tracking Ilsa’s movements became nearly impossible. At the end of each night, I spent time extricating myself from them instead of trying to get to her.

But even as she did this, night after night, she clearly didn’t want to. Lonely regret radiated from her eyes, from the set of her mouth…

…every single time.

I thought I was never going to catch a break with her. She did the whole avoidance thing spectacularly, and part of me wondered why I even cared. She didn’t want me. Or she didn’t want to want me, as she had said once.

Two Saturday nights later, though, after the bar had closed, we had packed up our shit and were heading out. The back lot was almost empty with the exception of the Mofos’ vehicles, Brannon’s Cougar, and Doug’s pickup… and Ilsa’s car.

I almost didn’t see it, the dark color blending in with the shadows. At first, I didn’t see her. I wondered where she’d gone and how she’d left without her car. Then I caught sight of her, resting her forehead against the wheel. Not moving.

I panicked and bolted over there, thinking she might be hurt. As I ripped open her car door, she jumped and glanced quickly up at me, then dropped her eyes and turned away.

She was crying.

“Ils? What is it? What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine, Cody,” she replied in a small voice.

“Bullshit. Are you hurt? Did someone do something to you?”

She shook her head, and I crouched down in the open door to get closer to her level. She still didn’t look back at me, just sniffed and took a deep, shaky breath.

“Ils,” I tried again, more gently. Coaxing. “You wouldn’t be crying if something wasn’t wrong.”

I thought she might not answer again. She sat still. Pensive. “I can’t get my car to start,” she finally said, having gained a little control over her voice.

“Okay,” I said. “That’s not so bad. Lucky for you, I happen to be a pretty fucking awesome mechanic. That’s my day job. Let me take a look.”

“I’ll just call somebody, Cody.”

“Brannon’s garage isn’t the only auto shop nearby, but if you called around, you might just get stuck with me regardless. So you may as well save yourself the trouble.”

She finally looked up at me, her lashes spiky with tears. “Cody—”

“What’s it doing?”

“It just…” she sighed in defeat. “It won’t start. It was turning over, but now it’s not even doing that.”

“Probably killed the battery trying. Pop the hood, Ils,” I said. When she didn’t move, just averted her eyes, likely thinking of any way possible that she could get rid of me, I reached in under her dash, and pulled the release myself.

As I went around front and lifted the hood, Brannon and Sophie walked up.

“Try starting it again,” I called out, and only a few clicks indicated she’d heard me. I wiggled the battery cables, trying to improve the connection, told her to do it again. Same result.

“Battery’s dead as a doornail,” Brannon commented.

“Yup, I think she killed it trying to get it to start. I’m not sure why it wouldn’t start in the first place, though. I’m going to grab my truck and jump-start her, but maybe take a peek while I’m doing that. See if you can tell what else might be wrong with it.”

He nodded and got out his cell phone, flicking on the flashlight app to shine over the engine. Sophie rounded the car to the driver door.

“These guys are total gear heads, so they’ll get you up and run—” She stopped abruptly, and her tone softened as I stepped away. “Hey, it’s not that bad, Ilsa. Really. Bran and Cody are amazing. They’ll get it fixed for you.”

By the time I got back with my truck, Ilsa had gotten out and was looking just slightly less distressed, although still on edge. She stood alongside Sophie while Brannon and I jump-started her engine, Bran in my truck and me in her car. It took a few minutes to get the battery juiced up, and another minute or two before we finally got her car to start. Brannon had figured the alternator was truly fucked, probably a result of a pretty pathetic looking belt, and the way the car acted when it was finally running seemed to support that theory. As I flicked on the lights, the heater, and the radio, the voltage went a little haywire.

I also learned something new about Ilsa.

She had very odd taste in music.

“What the hell?” I asked as I turned up the volume and tried to make some sense of what I was hearing. It was like bubblegum pop but… not.

It sounded like it was from another planet.

Ilsa looked slightly sheepish as she twisted her hands together. “It’s, um… it’s K-pop.”

I couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. I glanced over at Brannon, and he seemed to be equally amused, then back at Ilsa.

“It’s what?” I asked.

“K-pop,” she replied, chewing on her lip. “Korean pop music.”

“Well,” I nodded, “that explains why I don’t understand a word they’re saying.”

Right then, the chorus hit (at least I think it was the chorus), saying something that sounded like ‘Dream Girl.’

“That part sounded a little English.”

“There are bits that are in English,” Ilsa shrugged.

“I kinda like it,” Sophie smiled. “It’s pretty catchy.”

Brannon shot her a horrified look.

“What?” she asked. “I do. What’s this band called?”

“They’re called SHINee,” Ilsa shyly replied, “but two E’s at the end, so it looks like shiny.”

“I’ll have to look them up,” Sophie smiled, bouncing a little to the beat as she stuck out her tongue to Brannon, “and I’m going to listen to them in your car.”

“Not the Cougar,” Brannon gasped, feigning sheer terror, but it was totally belied by the grin touching his lips.

“Like you won’t let Sophie do anything she wants,” I laughed. “You’re so whipped.”

“Fuck off,” he shot back. “You’re fired.”

Ilsa looked the slightest bit concerned at that, so I leaned my head down towards hers and smiled. “He fires me about twice a day. He doesn’t mean it.”

“I do this time,” Brannon replied, but his grin completely belied his words.

Watching the back and forth between us, Ilsa seemed to come out of herself just a little, even offering up what could almost have been a giggle at the couple’s playful banter. Before long, Sophie, who was probably one of the nicest girls ever on the entire planet, had her sharing the names of a few other bands, and Sophie was pulling them up on Spotify. They had created a whole K-pop playlist in no time.

“This is great,” she squealed. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Brannon deadpanned, looking anything but enthused, “thanks a lot.”

“Sorry, Brannon,” Ilsa offered, with a light, apologetic grin.

“I’ll make it up to him,” Sophie said, snuggling up close to her man.

Standing there, I suddenly found myself envious of the two of them. For a second, I allowed myself to wish Ilsa would do the same with me. The urge to pull her close and to tuck her up against my side made my hands itch to touch her. Right about then, Ilsa looked up at me, and there was a moment that I almost thought she maybe wanted the same. Her smile faded just a touch, and she licked her lips nervously.

But then she abruptly moved away, towards her car.

“Well,” she said, looking like she was getting ready to bolt, “thank again, guys. I appreciate it.”

Part of me panicked a little, not wanting her to leave just yet. It had been over two weeks since the awesome outdoorsy sex up on Pipestone Pass. Over two weeks of watching her push me away, to put others in my path. Over two weeks of lying in my bed at night with her sexy little gasps and moans echoing around in my head. Over two weeks of waking up hard as a rock after dreaming of her and jacking off in the shower to alleviate the ache in my balls, even though it still left the one in my chest.

I had an awesome excuse to not let her drive away into the night again, though.

I was in no way confident that her car would really keep running. It had been kinda hard to get going, and alternator issues could be a real bitch, especially with night driving. Power surges and dumps caused by electrical inconsistency could make it downright dangerous, especially when it started fucking with the headlights, and I really didn’t like the thought of her cruising down the highway and having her lights go dim. Or being stranded on the road from here to Butte at this late hour.

Brannon raised his pierced eyebrow to me, indicating he had similar concerns about the safety of her driving off.

“Hey, Ils,” I said, stepping towards her, a bit in between her and her car and blocking her escape, “I think we need to take your car into to Brannon’s shop. It isn’t running terribly well at the moment.”

She frowned, looking suddenly frantic, and shook her head quickly. “It’ll be fine, Cody. You don’t have to do that. I’ll take it to a shop when I’m off on Monday.”

“It’s not a problem,” Brannon said. “Cody could give you a ride home tonight, and we’ll take a look tomorrow.”

“No,” she said quickly. “I mean, then I won’t have a car at all, and I have to work tomorrow.”

“Ils, I’ll just give you a ride,” I said, feeling a little despondent at how panicked that suddenly made her. She didn’t respond, just bit her lip looking incredibly nervous. Practically hyperventilating. “Or Brannon and Sophie could, I guess, since you seem to want me around like the plague these days.”

Both Brannon and Sophie gave me strange looks, not so much at me offering their help, but rather how I ended that offer. I sounded like a complete loser, but, since the night in the mountains, my pride had really taken a hit at her hands. I knew there was something driving her need to stay away from me, something that didn’t really have anything to do with me, but it still kinda felt shitty that she got so desperate at the thought of being around me.

“It’s not that,” she replied. “It’s just… I, well… I have to work tomorrow, and it’s so late. I hate to think of you guys driving back and forth in the dark. Especially with the bars having just closed and drunks being out on the road.” She was sort of babbling, spouting out excuses as fast as she could think of them, from the sound of it.

I crossed my arms over my chest. “Well, that just makes me feel worse about letting you take this car doing what it’s doing.”

She snapped her mouth shut, and I could almost see the wheels turning in that pretty little head of hers. Her mind anxiously spinning through possible options that might take her away from me.

“How about you just take my truck?” I finally said. “You can just use it until we've got your car figured out.”

“Won’t you need it?” she asked in response.

I shook my head. “I've got my bike, remember?”

Her cheeks flushed, visible even in the shadows of the lot. Yep, she remembered. She’d been on my bike with her arms wrapped around my waist and her body pressed tightly against me. Then she’d rocked my world in the mountains before we’d come back down to earth.

Oh yeah, she remembered.

Brannon helped my case, turning to me to offer his assistance. “Soph and I will follow you to the shop and give you a ride back to the house, if you want.”

“And I’ll make them listen to K-pop,” Sophie grinned at Ilsa who offered her a weak smile in reply.

“Or I could walk home from the shop and avoid the K-pop,” I groaned at the thought of being trapped in the Cougar with whatever-that-was blaring through the speakers. “It’s a nice night out.”

“Whatever,” Sophie said with a roll of her eyes. “At any rate, you don’t have to worry, Ilsa. We’re happy to help out.”

I looked back over at Ilsa who still seemed unsure, but, after a moment, she finally dropped her head in defeat and agreed.

The next morning, up way earlier than usual after a later-than-usual Saturday night, I was in Brannon’s shop working on Ilsa’s car.

There was no doubt in my mind that the alternator was fucked, which really blew, but mostly because of the expense. Replacing it would take no time, but her make and model of car required an alternator that had pretty high amperage, and the part itself was looking like it would be a couple hundred dollars if we got it locally.

Brannon had been in early as well, perusing online parts places trying to find a cheaper one. In the meantime, I checked out everything I could think of to make sure there wasn’t a bigger problem than the belt that caused the alternator to go to shit in the first place. Thankfully, it didn’t seem like there was anything else, but it looked like the best bet was to stay local for the parts. Between the time it would take to order a cheaper alternator and the uncertainty that it would be dependable, Brannon decided to just make a quick run to a parts store in Butte.

A short time later, we had the car running with a new lease on life. I sat in the driver’s seat, looking for other little things that might need attention. I loved cars anyway, but working on hers sorta seemed… special.

Not that I would ever admit that to the other guys. God, Justin would never let me hear the end of it.

“It wouldn’t hurt for her to have some jumper cables,” Brannon said, grabbing a spare set from the tow truck. “Pop the trunk, Cody, and I’ll throw these in there for her. I’ll just give them to her.”

I pressed the button that released the back, then continued to examine the fuses under the dash, pulling them one at a time to ensure they were okay.

“Holy shit,” I heard Brannon say from the back of the car. “Cody, dude… come here.”

I climbed out and walked back to where he stood with some trepidation as to what he had found.

The two of us stared down into the trunk of her car and the cargo it held.

It was like she was moving, but didn’t have a lot in there. A few boxes held things like toiletries, one with some books. There was one with a few pairs of shoes, and a couple with clothes.

“This is Ilsa’s shirt,” I remarked holding up a T-shirt. “I've seen her wear this. Maybe she was doing laundry?”

“But what about this other stuff?” He reached into one container to pull out a box of Cheerios. “Food?”

“I don’t know. Groceries?” I asked, going to set the shirt back down in the box when something else caught my eye. Something that made me freeze solid.

“Yeah, but some of these boxes are open,” Brannon continued, not noticing my shock. “Why would she be carrying around food that she had already started eating?” Suddenly, he saw where my gaze had stopped. “Holy fuck, is that—?”

I dropped the shirt I held and reached out for a smaller garment. A very small garment actually.

Like for a baby.

I pulled back another shirt from the next stack, and there was a similar tiny shirt and a pair of pint-sized shoes.

“Those are baby clothes,” Brannon breathed. “Does she have a kid?”

I was astounded. “I have no idea.”

We looked through things a little more. I felt sick doing it, like I was totally invading her privacy, something she obviously treasured. It seemed even worse since she was clearly trying to keep a huge secret under wraps. I just had to know though. I had to find something to give me an idea of just what I was dealing with here.

Lifting a jacket revealed a small box of toys, there were a few little stuffed animals, little kid books, and one of those xylophone things that reminded me of one I had as a kid. Under an old quilt were some folded baby blankets, soft fleece, a few light blue and a few light green. A couple packages of diapers and some baby wipes. Mixed in with the groceries, there were a few boxes and jars that indicated they were for toddlers.

“Jesus,” Brannon exhaled. “I feel kind of like a dick for going through her stuff, but how in the fuck did none of us know she had a kid?”

“She doesn’t share much. This would explain why she didn’t want either of us to give her a ride home last night.”

“Why didn’t she tell anyone? It doesn’t make sense.”

“She’s scared of something.”

“What if it’s not her kid? What if she’s kidnapped someone else’s kid?”

“I don’t believe that,” I said, shaking my head. “I can’t believe that… not Ilsa. It’s gotta be hers, but… shit, this raises more questions than it answers.”

“Man, you said it. Who knows what else she’s dealing with. Seems like the last thing she needed was expensive car repairs,” Brannon murmured.

“I’ll pay for the alternator,” I said without hesitation. “The labor, too.”

“Cody,” Brannon said, “I know you've got a little crush on her, but I don’t think—”

“It’s more than a crush, Brannon,” I replied. “Things have gone a lot farther than anything so innocent.”

“Seriously?” Brannon asked, his mouth dropping open in surprise.

I gave a curt nod.

“Like how much farther?”

I clenched my teeth.

“Jesus, did you fuck her?”

I slanted a murderous glare over at him.

“Holy shit… dude, she barely even talks to anyone.”

“Yeah, well she didn’t do a whole lot of talking with me either.”

“Holy fuck.”

“Yeah… so just do me a favor and let me pay for the expensive shit.”

“What do we tell her?”

“Tell her it was just the belt,” I replied, looking at the soft little baby T-shirt in my large, grubby hand. “That’s a cheap thing to fix, and we had to replace it anyway. We can write the bill separate for that, but keep it low. I’ll pay the bulk of the repair cost.”

“I dunno, Cody,” he hedged, “maybe—”

“She’s got a kid, dude,” I interrupted, sweeping my hand over the contents of her trunk. “She’s a barmaid. She hasn’t been here long, seems to pretty much be living out of her car, and, as far as I know, she doesn’t know anybody. She can’t afford a bunch of fucking repairs, so don’t tell her it’s that much. Even say you had the belt lying around and don’t charge her for that either. Something. But I’m paying for the damn parts.”

Brandon looked a little surprised by the adamant demand I was making.

“Are you sure you know what you are doing?” he asked.

“Nope,” I replied, “but I’m taking her car back tonight… and we’re going to have a little talk.”

My stalkeriness went into overdrive. I told myself it was a necessary evil. I needed some answers and had to do some drastic shit to get them.

Knowing she was working that night, I called the Copperline to ask Doug to give her a message for me, to let her know I wouldn’t have her car done until the next morning. It was complete shit since Brannon and I had already fixed it before I even called, but I didn’t want her expecting me that night.

I was setting the stage for an intervention of sorts.

Then I drove her car to the Copperline after it got dark, parked way in the back corner of the lot where she wouldn’t notice me, but I could still see the door.

And I waited.

The Sunday night crowd was sparse. At a little after ten, I saw her come out of the building and head for my pickup. As she left the Copperline, I followed.

Towards Butte, on the outskirts of town, she pulled into the driveway of a small square house. There were a couple cars parked in front of the garage, making me wonder if she lived here, but not alone. Not that it was a fancy place, but maybe she wasn’t as destitute as I’d thought.

After she went inside, a middle-aged man came out of the house, went to a sedan parked near the front steps, and opened the back driver-side door.

I bristled the moment he’d appeared.

I wondered how he was related to her… if he was related to her. He was old enough to be her father, but I was trying so hard to consider all the angles. For all I knew, he could have been her man, and that thought made me ill to no end. Even more so than when I thought Doug was hot for her. This was worse, though. If this was where she lived, and it seemed like it was where he lived…

Had she cheated on him with me?

But then Ilsa came back out of the house… and she was carrying a small child with light blonde hair. The kid’s head was tucked against her shoulder and little legs hung limp when she walked. The man reappeared from reaching into the sedan with a child safety seat that he buckled into the passenger side of my pickup, then stood back and allowed her to set the child down in it.

After a moment, she turned to him and gave a tiny wave, which he returned with a kind and thankfully not leering grin. No hugs or kisses or fondling. Thank God. Ilsa climbed up behind the wheel and started back down the short drive to the highway.

Okay, thank fuck. It didn’t seem like there was anything there… but, then I really started to worry.

Was she homeless? With all the stuff in her trunk, was she living out of her car?

I followed her into Butte, keeping at least one vehicle between us at all times, and she drove through the quiet streets, heading uptown. In a fairly desolate part of town, she parked in front of a small, run-down apartment building, gathered up the sleeping kid, and headed inside.

I waited for a minute, watching for movement or light. Something to indicate that she lived here and, if so, which apartment might be hers. After a few moments, light came on in an upstairs room, and I breathed an immense sigh of relief, exhaling air I hadn’t even realized I was holding.

I’d really started to think she was homeless.

The curtains were drawn, but they were thin, and I could see the faint outline of her crossing into another room. I waited a few minutes, looking for a sign of another adult. A roommate or the kid’s dad.

After a bit, not seeing anyone else but her, I counted windows over from the main entrance, trying to estimate how far in her place was. When I thought I had a good handle on it, I climbed out of her car and trekked up the stairs to her door.

It seemed crazy, a little bit obsessive, that I was here. I hoped to God that I had the right door when I knocked lightly, considering it was almost midnight by this point. Most people would be a little put out having someone waking them up looking for someone else.

I started wondering if I had the wrong door, so I stood back and kind of looked up and down the hallway to reassess. Thinking once again that I did, I knocked again. This time, I also leaned into the door and quietly called her name.

“Ilsa?”

Then it was like I could almost feel her on the other side. I knew she was standing there. I looked down to see the faint shadows from her feet, breaking the warm light that escaped underneath the door.

“Ils,” I called out again, just loud enough for her to hear, but not so loud as to bother the other people living in the building. “It’s Cody, open the door.”

Silence, but then a little click of the lock, a rattle of the door chain, and she was standing there before me.

She looked terrified.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “How did you even know where I live?”

This was so going to make me sound like a stalker.

“It’s not as creepy as it seems,” I began, “but I followed you.”

“Why? I thought I was just meeting up with you tomorrow.”

“We got your car done a little faster than we figured we would.”

“Oh, well, okay. I’ll grab the keys to your truck.” She started to turn away, but I placed my hand on her arm to stop her.

“That’s not the only reason I’m here. I’m also here because we need to have a chat.”

A wary shadow flitted through her eyes. “Cody, I really appreciate everything you’re doing for me, and please, don’t think I regret… that time I was with you. I just—”

Her voice cut off abruptly when I reached into my pocket and pulled out the little T-shirt from her trunk.

“You have a kid?” My question was really more of a statement.

She stared at the little garment in my hand, then glanced up at me. Caught. Trapped. Distrustful.

Finally, with no alternative, she nodded.

“A son. Max. He’s almost a year and a half.”

“How about a man?” I asked with my heart in my throat. Thinking back to my own parents and their essentially perfect relationship. Role models who had instilled a deep sense of right and wrong in the game of love.

Marriage meant fidelity. They made me hope I could have something like that someday.

Her answer now had the potential to really fuck with that goal.

If she was married…

Fuck, I couldn’t think that way. I couldn’t jump to conclusions.

She took the little shirt and held it to her heart. “It’s just me and Max,” she whispered, then turned and walked into the apartment. “I haven’t always been the good girl I’m trying to be now.”

I stepped inside and closed the door behind me. The main room itself was practically bare, only a couch and an old easy chair separated by a shabby side table that held a lamp. There was a small coffee table with a few scattered baby toys and a book spread open to mark a place. The bag she’d brought out of the house on her way home was on the floor beside it.

A tiny kitchenette was tucked into a corner of the room with economy-sized appliances and a little table with two chairs, one of which had a booster seat strapped onto it.

She wasn’t living in her car, but it didn’t really look like she was living here either.

“So are you just moving in?” I asked. “I could help carry some stuff up from your car.”

“Um, no… I’m not sure how long we’ll be here.”

“You got another place lined up?”

She bit her lip and turned her face to the side, evading my question.

Okay, so that’s not something she wants to share.

“Where is your son?” I asked, trying a different tactic.

“In the bedroom,” she said nervously, motioning towards a closed door, “asleep. I was just reading, getting in a little quiet time.” An accusatory expression swept over her face as she held up the small shirt. “Wait, so you went through my car?”

I still kind of felt shitty about that and nodded with a chagrined twist to my mouth. “We didn’t really mean to.”

She was a little flushed, her eyes sparkling with indignation. “How do you not mean to go through my car?”

“We were putting a set of jumper cables in the trunk for you.”

She thought about that for a minute, then pursed her lips. “Shit.”

“What?”

“It’s hard to be mad at you for being nosey when you were doing something nice like making sure I had jumper cables.”

I shrugged and gave her a slight smile. “Everyone should have some, especially if your car does shit like it did last night. We happened to have an extra set in the tow truck, so Brannon figured he’d just give them to you.”

She looked up at me again in concern. “So Brannon knows, too, then?”

I nodded, watching her closely as she fought for control of some deep-set fear.

“Can I trust you guys to keep it a secret?” Her words belied the emotion emanating from her.

She didn’t trust us at all.

“Brannon probably told Sophie. Not sure if he’s told anyone else, but I’ll tell the Mofos not to share beyond our little group. I don’t know what your rationale is, but you have kept this a secret for a reason. I don’t want to fuck that up for you.” I watched as she exhaled, a thankful expression washing over her face. “That said, you and I need to get some stuff straight.”

Her pensive look returned, and she shook her head slowly. “Cody, there can’t be a you and I.”

“Fuck that,” I replied, quiet and firm. “There already is.”

“I have a child.”

“And?”

She studied me as though I’d grown two heads. “Well, that’s just weird,” she finally murmured.

“What’s weird?”

“Finding out something like that would send most guys running, not turn them into stalkers.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not like most guys.” I leaned back and folded my arms across my chest. “So… Max, right?” I paused, and then continued after she gave a quick nod. “Is Max why you think you can’t be with me?”

She looked away, biting her lip. I wondered for a second if she’d actually give me something to go on this time. If she’d maybe clue me in a little.

“I’m not really in the market for a boyfriend,” she finally said. “I have a little guy in my life already, and he needs to be number one.”

“That doesn’t really explain why you didn’t tell me before. It doesn’t explain why you haven’t told anybody at the bar, either, except maybe Doug.”

“Doug doesn’t know either.”

“Well, if you were trying to keep dudes away, and you thought having a kid would do it, why weren’t you singing it from the rooftops?” I stepped closer and leaned into her, feeling as though some sort of magnetism was pulling me into her space. I felt her body tremble, felt her yearning to reach out to me in spite of her mild panic. “And, you slept with me anyway.” Her breath caught. “Why?”

She raised her eyes up to meet mine, and her gaze was conflicted. For a minute, she focused on my lips, licking her own. “Because I wanted you,” she finally whispered. “I have for a while, ever since I first met you when you muttered something about Casablanca.” Her words were so quiet that I could barely hear them, even in the quiet room.

“Your name… it made me think of the movie.”

“And,” she continued nervously, “in the stockroom when you almost kissed me. Being so close to you. I couldn’t stop thinking about it. What it might be like. Then you came to see if I was okay, and you did kiss me. The way it felt to be in your arms… I wanted to be held by you again. It was selfish of me because I know this can’t continue. I have other responsibilities, and I can’t do this.” Her voice dropped to barely a whisper. “But I wanted a little more of you, just for a little while longer.”

I stepped towards her, slowly, afraid that she’d bolt again like she did so many times before.

She stood her ground, though, in spite of her obvious trepidation. Her breathing became choppy, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes grew soft with emotion and arousal.

I took another step, and she spoke, breathy and low.

“You shouldn’t be here, though.”

“Maybe not,” I replied, my voice rough with want as I took another step. Close enough to touch her. Close enough that I could have traced my fingers down her cheek or set my hands lightly at her waist if I wanted to. I totally wanted to. God, it was almost painful to not touch her. “Maybe I shouldn’t be here, but I am.”

I could feel my heart pounding in my chest, feel the blood pulsing through my veins. Ilsa’s lips parted and trembled, and her body swayed the faintest bit.

“I thought it might get you out of my system,” she breathed. “Then maybe I wouldn’t want you anymore.”

“Is that how it works for you? You start feeling an attraction, act on it, and then it goes away?”

“Or,” she shrugged, “I thought maybe you wouldn’t want me… that it was all about the chase, and you’d lose interest. Then it wouldn’t matter what I wanted.”

“That’s kind of the opposite of how I feel.”

All this time, I was moving closer, invading the little personal bubble of space around her. The warm scent of sunshine filled my nostrils, and my mouth watered at the memory of her sweet arousal on my taste buds.

Her eyes closed and she appeared to be drawing up her resolve, taking a few bracing breaths before she opened her eyes. But her gaze was liquid, glossed over with desire.

“I don’t ever remember feeling this way… about anyone. I shouldn’t feel this way, Cody. You should go.”

“Do you really want me to?”

Say no. God, say no.

“That doesn’t matter,” she said hoarsely.

“If you really want me to leave, I will. I’ll turn around and walk out the door. All you have to do is tell me that’s what you really want.” I reached up to barely skim my fingers through her hair, grazing her cheek, eliciting a sharp gasp. “Just tell me you want me to go.”

“I… can’t…” she stammered.

“You can’t what, Ils?” I asked, dipping my lips close to hers, but still not really touching her. “You can’t want me? Or you can’t tell me to go?”

“Cody…”

My name on her lips, that frantic whisper that caressed my skin.

Fuck, don’t say no. Tell me to stay.

“Tell me to kiss you,” I demanded in a low tone.

Her gaze, hazy and hot, focused on my mouth. Her lips moved at first with no sound. She swallowed again and shook her head.

“Tell me,” I repeated, and then I waited.

“Kiss me,” she finally breathed, and she touched her lips to mine.

In the beat of a heart, she was in my arms, her arms tightly wound around my neck, our mouths fused together. I swept my tongue deep, brushing it against hers until she moaned down my throat. My hands swept over her body, tingling with the sensation of touching her again. They slid down over her ass, cupped it and lifted her up against me, pinning her to the wall.

Every movement she made fueled the fire inside me. Every swipe of her tongue and clench of her nails. Her desperate little whimper as I pressed my hips into hers, and the increased fervency of her kiss had me feeling almost weak in the knees.

One minute, I had her up against the wall with her legs around my waist, the next I was carrying her, wrapped around me, to the couch. I fell into the soft cushions along the back with her straddling my hips as she threw herself into the kiss.

Everything about her was so passionate, so raw and feral. Like the last thread had snapped and she was tumbling down in reckless abandon, uncontrolled and wild.

Her hands slid down my chest to feverishly work the buttons of my flannel shirt free, opening the soft fabric and scraping along my bare skin. I gripped her hard around the back of her neck, holding her steady as I kissed her fiercely, my other hand slipping down her back and into her jeans and underwear, cupping the luscious curve of her ass.

Our first kiss in the Copperline stockroom had been full of emotion. Her pain and fear made her cling to me body and soul. When we came together up on the pass, it had been new and primal. Searching for bliss in the twilight.

This, though, was voracious hunger. Hers feeding off mine and thereby escalating it. Her inhibitions burned away in a flash, each of us remembering how good it felt to touch the other. Fierce and demanding, this carnal need overcame her, showing me a side of her I’d yearned to experience. An aspect to her nature that thrilled me. It made me burn and ache.

Freeing the last button of my shirt, she pushed the fabric to my sides, baring my chest. She sat back, watching her fingertips scorch down my body, tracing the defined muscles. She lifted her hazel eyes to my blue ones, and lowered her lips to kiss and soothe my skin, to nip gently at my collarbone with her teeth. With each sharp bite, my fingers wound more tightly into her hair. She gasped when I pulled, digging her nails into my ribs and trailing sharp little kisses up my neck to bite gently at my ear.

With her movement, her scoop-neck shirt slipped off her shoulder, revealing smooth skin that taunted me, begging for my lips and hands. The first touch of my mouth at her bare shoulder wrought a low moan that echoed in my ear. The sound fueled my fire, and my hands slid up the back of her shirt and circled around her torso to trace along just below her bra. I could feel the goosebumps rise under my fingertips, and she suddenly drew back. Afraid that she was going to push away, my hold on her tightened, but instead, she clasped my face in her hands and kissed me as though she were dying.

She explored my mouth, tangling her tongue with mine, then sucking mine into her mouth. The motion made my dick throb, making me wish she was sucking that instead of my tongue. This whole time, her hips rocked against me, creating a ferocious, all-consuming hunger.

I reached down for the hem of her shirt, drawing it up and over her head. She wore a simple gray bra and, a split-second later, I had flicked the hooks and had removed it as well.

Jesus, she had beautiful tits. Round and full, soft and swollen with need. I flicked one nipple with my tongue, then the other, pushing her breasts together so I could go back and forth quickly. Alternating the flicks with long, sucking kisses of her nipples and tender bites around the edge. My hands slid up her back, holding her torso steady for my onslaught, even as she nudged and ground against me with her pelvis. I looked up at her face, soft with delirious bliss, radiating a beauty like nothing I had ever imagined.

Her eyes cracked open a tiny bit to see me looking up at her, and her fingers guided my lips back to hers. After a smoldering kiss, she continued to descend, working her way down my chest and stomach, down to the waistline of my jeans. Kneeling on the floor before me, she slipped the button free and lowered the zipper to free my aching cock. It lurched in anticipation, craving her touch. Her eyes caught mine as she slowly lowered her head. Her breath tickled the sensitive skin as she grazed it along her soft cheek… and I thought I’d die when she licked—long and firm—up my length.

Fucking fuck… she about did me in right there. Like tasting an ice cream cone, her eyes held mine for a second before drifting closed, her face lost in enjoyment.

More licking. Small sucking kisses up and down my length. Tracing the smooth skin with her fingertips. Everything she did was phenomenal. Torture. Agony and ecstasy. When she finally closed her lips around the head, I felt like my entire body was on fire.

When she had toyed with my tongue, I thought she’d be great at giving head. I was wrong… she was a-fucking-mazing.

Instinct raised my hips, and she sucked me inside, pulling back in a way that hollowed out her cheeks, then sliding her lips back down over me. Her tongue swirled around my shaft, feeling its way around the sensitive tip.

The sight of her. The feel of her. Fuck, everything about her converged on me. Sensory overload, and I felt myself breaking under her touch. When her tongue flicked down to graze my balls, I grabbed her arms and pulled her up to stand before me.

I scattered little bites over her stomach and ripped open her jeans, jerking them down to her knees. I breathed in at her cloth-covered pussy while my thumbs pressed against the soft flesh surrounding it.

“I want to eat you out,” I groaned against the apex of her thighs, “but, God, I want to fuck you, too.” She responded by squirming in my hold, pressing her thighs together to ease the ache building there. “Maybe I’ll fuck you first and then you can ride my mouth. I’ll fucking lick you clean.”

I finished stripping off her jeans, taking her underwear with them until I had her completely naked in front of me.

Lifting my hips, I shoved my own jeans down, and she reached out with shaking hands to help, tugging them down to my ankles and pulling off my work boots before freeing me completely. I grabbed the worn denim, reaching into the back pocket to snag a condom, then tossed them aside.

Ilsa snagged the foil packet from my hand, ripping it open with a flash of her beautiful teeth. Then her hands were smoothing the latex over me, rolling it down with a slow torment. I gripped her hips, jerking her towards me, practically launching her onto me. I forcefully pulled her down hard and lost myself in her sweet warmth.

“Cody,” she gasped, “oh God… oh my God…”

She braced herself with my shoulders as she circled her hips, as she rose and fell, sliding up and down my dick.

I slipped my hands under her thighs, lifting, then slamming her down on me. Her breasts bounced before my eyes, and I looked down to see her wet pussy swallow my hard length, over and over, faster and faster. Every hard slap of her skin echoed in the quiet room and I gripped her thighs so hard I was sure I’d leave bruises which only seemed to turn her on even more. She rode my dick like a fucking porn star.

Feeling close to losing it, I lifted her off me, flipping her over to her stomach on the couch. With the guidance of my hands, her ass was in the air, the scent of her arousal thick around me, and I positioned myself at her pussy again. My fingers curled over her shoulders, yanking her back against me, plunging inside her again.

And I was a fucking machine. Her cries were muffled by the couch, every deep stroke causing her ass to tremble and her legs to shake. She practically screamed into the pillows when she came hard, her pussy pulsing around me in rhythmic squeezes that tested my stamina to the very limit.

Still, I kept going, through her orgasm, slowing my strokes a little to allow her to come back down, kissing her shoulder and whispering in her ear.

“God, it’s like fucking heaven in your pussy.”

I slowly stroked out and bit her neck as she moaned.

“The way you come all around my cock,” I growled. “So fucking hot.”

Her hips flexed, driving herself back against me. She lifted her arms, pushing against the end of the couch for leverage, circling her sweet pussy around my dick with every stroke.

“Oh, yeah… that’s it… fuck yourself against my dick. Slow and easy.”

Tortuously slow strokes, the slick slide of her around me as she moved. Her hips circled to increase the drag of skin on skin. As much as I wanted to revel in the moment, my body was already on the verge of ecstasy. I couldn’t wait anymore.

I started pumping into her again like mad, almost brutally, holding her steady with a bruising grip low on her waist and my other hand cupping her shoulder, pulling her back against me, driving her higher until she flew apart once more. Only then did I allow the molten heat to flow through me. Only then did I let it go, throwing back my head with the euphoria that burst through my consciousness.

Feeling boneless and weightless, I collapsed over her.

“Where’s his father?” I asked.

We lay wrapped in each other’s arms, a light, plushy throw pulled over us, just big enough to tuck around our torsos. Our legs, tangled together, stuck out beneath the blanket, and my fingertips traced a feathery pattern down her bare thigh.

“He’s gone,” she replied, tensing her shoulders and burying her face into my chest.

“So I don’t have to worry about some angry dude showing up?”

She didn’t move, just quietly whispered against my skin. “I don’t really want to talk about him.”

“Ils,” I started, but she interrupted me.

“There’s not much in the way of good memories there.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

I lifted my hand to run my fingers through her hair, combing through it gently, feeling her slowly relax against my body once again. I figured we were done talking, judging by her quiet reflection. Yet the moment wasn’t exactly awkward. It seemed warm and comfortable. A togetherness of our minds as well as our bodies.

I was surprised, then, when she spoke in a low voice.

“I feel so safe in your arms,” she whispered, “like nothing can hurt me when I’m here.”

“Nothing can,” I promised, pressing a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I won’t let it.”

“Why are you like this? You’re a veritable white knight.”

I chuckled a bit at that description. “Just call me Lancelot.”

“That didn’t end so well for him, you know.”

With a low and quiet laugh, I skated my hand down the blanket to rest at the bare skin peeking out just below her hip. “As long as I’m not going around sleeping with married women, I should be okay.”

We were silent a little longer, all the questions between us lingering in the air. I thought back to that night so long ago, the night that my neighbors fought and my lingering remorse for not acting fast enough.

“I've always felt a need to step in and help people, I guess, but a couple years ago, I realized what can happen when… well, when I don’t act. The guilt kinda eats me up inside, knowing I should have done more than I did.”

Ilsa pulled back and looked up at me with sad eyes, her brows drawn together in concern. “What happened?”

“A few years ago, Brannon and I were helping my brother set up and take down his band’s instruments for a wedding they were playing in the park. During the reception, we went out and got totally baked behind the pavilion. I got so stoned that I just wanted to go home and go to bed after a while.” I brushed my fingers along her cheek and smiled grimly. “My brother was so pissed, because we were both useless by the time they were done. They threw me in the van with the instruments, then threw me out on the front lawn. I still lived with my folks, so I think he was hoping my dad would find me and bust my ass for smoking weed.”

“Did he?”

“No, my parents were out for the night. They didn’t get back for a long time, so I laid there for a while and then crawled up into my room.”

“Well, that’s lucky,” she commented.

“Not really. I’d have rather gotten nailed by my dad than what really happened.”

She pulled back and looked up at me with concern, reaching up to cup my jaw in her hand. “What happened?”

“We had a neighbor who would get really drunk now and then. Mean fucker when he was hitting the sauce. He also had the tendency to start hitting his wife.”

I felt her body tense in my arms, as though she knew where this was going.

“I’d been in bed just a little while when I heard them starting up. It began with him shouting, I could hear her crying, and then more, things like breaking glass, loud thumps. The crack of his hand connecting with her skin.”

“What did you do?” she asked in a very small voice.

“I was so stoned that I couldn’t think straight. Generally, my dad would go over there, get the dude to stop while my mom called the cops.”

“But your parents weren’t home.”

I nodded. “Right, and, while I thought I might be able to take the guy, I was so scared I’d get in trouble for being stoned, like get thrown in jail or something. The more I thought about it, the more paranoid I got. I hesitated… I gave it a minute, hoping it would stop on its own, but it just got worse. I ended up calling nine-one-one.” Swallowing hard, I shook my head. “I should've gone over there.”

“You called, though. You got her help,” she said. “That’s what’s important.”

“They didn’t get there fast enough.”

I felt a tremor ripple through her body. “What do you mean?”

“He killed her. Bashed her head into the granite countertop. She was dead before she hit the floor.”

After all this time, even though the marijuana haze I’d been in at the time it happened, the pain still felt raw and jagged. The remorse I felt still choked me, clawing at my chest with a vicious grip.

I felt a soft touch combing through my hair in soothing, gentle strokes.

“It’s not your fault, Cody,” she whispered. “You did what you could do.”

“Not everything.”

“You did more than a lot of people would.”

“If I could go back, do it again… I would've gone in there. I would've stopped him. I would've saved her.”

Ilsa drew back and looked up in my eyes, wiping away the moisture that still threatened when I thought about this. I hadn’t talked about it with anyone in a long time. When it had happened, I hadn’t really opened up to my parents, and they made me see a counselor. I told the shrink very little, just enough to make her think I was fine. I haven’t said a word about it otherwise, to anyone. Not even to Brannon.

He knew about the altercation, and he knew I had called the cops. He saw the change in me after, my increased need to save the day whenever I saw trouble, no matter how it would blow back on me. He tried to ask me about it once, but I blew him off. I downplayed it and let the world around me think I was okay.

I wasn’t exactly sure why I was telling Ilsa about it now. Maybe it was the deep-set pain I saw so often in her eyes, like she could understand pain in a way so many others really couldn’t.

She wrapped her arms around my neck and pressed her slender body against mine. Trailing her hands over my skin, dusting light kisses over my chest and neck. Every touch conveyed emotion. It eased my guilt just a little, unburdening me ever so slightly.

My arms tightened around her and we lay there, awake but not saying anything, just holding each other in the night until sleep began to pull us under. Just before I faded into oblivion, I heard her faint, heartfelt whisper.

“You’re a good man, Cody.”

I woke up slowly, wondering what had brought me from sleep. The sky showed it was barely dawn, mostly dark outside the curtained window. Ilsa was still curled up against my chest, tucked between me and the back of the couch.

And then I heard it.

Coming from behind a closed door in that tiny apartment was the sound of a little voice.

Ilsa’s son.

Max.

He wasn’t crying or fussing, just babbling on quietly in some little kid language that I couldn’t remotely understand. I looked back down at Ilsa to see if she’d heard, if it was waking her up, but she was out cold. She appeared as though she could sleep through a nuclear war or a zombie apocalypse, which kind of surprised me since she was so on edge all the time.

Then it occurred to me that maybe she really needed the sleep, a single mother with a full-time job, no stability, and zero help.

Carefully pulling free from her arms and tucking the blanket around her naked body, I eased off the couch and pulled on my jeans. The pre-dawn air was a little cool, but not too bad and I really wasn’t sure where my shirt had ended up. I wanted to let Ilsa sleep as long as she could, too, so I didn’t give much thought to finding it before I cracked open the bedroom door to peek inside.

At first, I didn’t see anything. Just a large bed in the middle of the room with a bunch of blankets in a messy pile. I glanced around for a crib, but the bed was really the only furniture in there. I stepped in a little farther, and a little blond head popped up out of the blankets. Wide eyes watched me for a minute in the warm glow of the nightlight, and then a shy smile lit his face.

He crawled out of the blankets towards the foot of the bed as I walked closer. Reaching the edge of the bed, he sat back on his knees, held out his arms, and gave me a very clear demand.

“Up.”

Shit, really? I debated just lifting him down to the floor for a second, but I had no clue if that was the right thing to do. Ilsa had said he was just under a year and a half.

What if I put him down and he went straight to her and woke her up? Or what if he got into something poisonous or something else that would hurt him?

I lifted him up against me, and the little guy settled right up against my chest and rested his head on my shoulder.

Okay… Fuck. What now?

I was sorta frozen with indecision for a minute, looking around the room trying to decide what to do next. His diaper was soggy against my forearm, but I wasn’t so sure it was my place to rectify that. I thought of Ilsa, fast asleep on the couch and noted a small stack of diapers by some folded up clothes in the corner.

Okay, I thought, let’s do this shit.

Oh God, please don’t let there be any shit.

I grabbed a diaper and laid Max on the bed, pulling off his jammie pants. The kid seemed to think we were going about this the right way so far. He just looked up at me with serious eyes. I gently tugged back one of the tabs and sorta peeked in to assess the situation.

No crap. Awesome. I could handle this.

Maybe.

I pulled back the tab on the other side and slowly lowered the diaper, sliding it out from under his baby bottom as I reached for the clean one. About a half second after the air hit his little man junk, the bugger rolled over with a squeal and started for the edge of the bed.

Fuck.

I grabbed his foot to stop him, then lifted him and placed him on his back, one hand on his chest to hold him down while I used my other hand and teeth to try and open up the clean diaper. All the while, Max squirmed and giggled, apparently enjoying the fresh air on his bare skin.

“Max, dude,” I murmured quietly, “hold still so I can get you dressed. I’m sure the fresh air feels awesome, but it would be terribly awkward for your mom to catch us like this.”

I should have just woken up Ilsa.

I finally managed to get him diapered, although the diaper sorta looked like a little, white Christmas present wrapped by a five-year-old. I got his jammie pants back on over the top of it, though, thinking they’d help hold the loosely fastened diaper in place, at least until Ilsa woke up. When I finally had him dressed again, Max lifted his arms.

“Up?”

I wondered if that was all he could say as I lifted him and tucked him in the crook of my arm.

“Mook?” he asked.

I guess not.

But what the fuck did ‘mook’ mean?

“Mook,” he repeated, pointing towards the door.

Um…

“Mook.”

This time there was a little more urgency to his voice, so I followed his direction as best I could, carrying him into the main room of the small apartment. His eyes immediately fixated on the refrigerator.

“Mook.”

This kid had a one track mind, but then it occurred to me what he might be saying.

“Milk?” I asked in a low voice. I opened the fridge and saw a bottle inside, ready and waiting. Max became rather animated when he saw it too.

“Mook!”

“Shh…” I murmured. “Don’t wake up your mommy. She’s pretty tired.”

I grabbed the bottle, shaking it a little since I wasn’t entirely sure what was in it, sputtering a little as a couple drops leaked out of the nipple and hit me in the face. Maybe it was just milk, but I had no clue how long kids drank formula. I had handled her luscious tits enough to be pretty sure it wasn’t breast milk, at least. I held it out to Max, and he immediately went to town, sucking down loud gulps as he stared up at me, stopping once or twice to take a deep breath before going back to it.

Daylight was beginning to filter through the thin curtains, and I was able to see him more clearly. He had round, cherub cheeks and expressive blue eyes that focused on me as he drank from the bottle. He was watchful in a way that reminded me of Ilsa. He actually looked a great deal like her with the same shape to their eyes and similar pert noses. His hair lay fairly flat against his head, straight like hers, but light blond that made his thick, dark eyelashes stand out that much more

I wondered for a second what characteristics, if any, he’d picked up from his absent father.

Max eventually grew bored of studying me and turned his head and his bottle to look at the countertop I leaned against. Popping the bottle from his mouth, he pointed to a box of Cheerios.

“Eat?”

“You want some Cheerios, kid?”

He kicked his legs with a little burst of excitement. I sorta took that as a yes, and poured a few on the counter. I held a few out in my palm and, for a minute, he concentrated on grasping one in his baby fingers before shoving it in his mouth.

He did it again a few more times, and I realized it was actually kinda cool to watch. I’d not been around kids much until lately. Brannon’s sister had kids, but I didn’t spend a whole lot of time with them when they were little. My older brother had one kid, but he’d moved to California after college, and we only saw him and his wife once or twice a year.

It wasn’t until Denny and Felicity had Eoghan (why the fuck they didn’t just spell it Owen, I had no clue) that I had much interaction with someone so little. Eoghan was younger than Max by a couple months, I figured, having just turned one year old not too long ago.

As Max reached into my palm for another Cheerio, I could kinda see what Denny loved about being a dad.

With every bite he ate, Max’s eyes would look up at me and he would give me a quirky little smile. At first, he was pretty quiet, but then he started saying ‘mmmmm’ right after every piece went in his mouth. I kept handing him Cheerios, one after another, grinning more with every bite he consumed. I started making funny faces that Max must have found humorous because he began to giggle.

Maybe not the smartest move because I quickly heard movement from the couch.

“Mama!” Max squealed over my shoulder, pointing towards Ilsa who sat perched on the edge of the couch holding the blanket over her naked body.

The sun had just crested over the mountains, lighting the clouds on the horizon, and the pink glow of early sunrise had filled the room. Ilsa’s skin was radiant, like smooth porcelain. Her hair tumbled around her shoulders, and she brushed it from her wide eyes.

I’d always found her to be beautiful, even when she tried not to be, but seeing her naked in the morning light after having had another taste of her the night before made my chest tighten. My lungs constricted with a weird, aching apprehension.

We just kinda stared at each other for a moment. Max plucked Cheerios from my palm and stuck them in his mouth one by one. I honestly don’t know how long we would have remained motionless if he hadn’t finished them and turned to point again at the counter.

“More?”

His small voice seemed to shake Ilsa free from her thoughts. She gingerly rose from the couch, tucking the soft blanket around her, and headed quickly to the bedroom.

“I’m going to get dressed really quick,” she murmured more or less to herself, “and then I’ll come out and take care of him.”

“It’s okay,” I assured her. “Take your time. We’re just hanging out eating Cheerios and drinking mook.”

She stopped short and glanced over at me. “Drinking mook?”

“I gave him the bottle that was in the refrigerator. I hope that was okay.”

“Um, yeah,” she said quietly. “It was one I made up last night for him to have this morning. Sometimes when he gets up really early, it’s kind of hard to get my brain to turn on.” She studied me for a minute. “How long has he been up?”

“Maybe ten or fifteen minutes is all,” I replied.

She took a few steps towards us. “Maybe I should take him with me and change his diaper.”

“I kind of took care of that, too.”

Her mouth fell open in shock. “You changed his diaper?”

Trying to get a read on her, trying to decide if she was thankful or creeped out by the fact that I had done that, I nodded slowly.

“You were sleeping pretty soundly,” I explained, “and I wanted to let you rest. Somehow I get the feeling you’re not able to do that very often.”

She dropped her eyes to the floor, then looked back up at me, biting her lip. The tenderness in her eyes rocked me. It sort of took my breath away.

“Thank you.”

“No problem.”

She glanced at Max who was once again focused on the Cheerios in my palm. One bite after another, interrupted only by the occasional small, slobbery grin. She leaned forward to kiss his little baby cheek and smoothed his hair down.

“You stay here with Cody, baby. Mama will be right back,” she whispered. The love for her little guy shone bright in her eyes, softening her features, making me want to pull her up against me just to hold her. To feel a taste of that love from her.

With one last pensive look up at me, she quickly turned and slipped into the bedroom, closing the door behind her.

As soon as she’d left the room, I heard my cell phone ringing from behind the couch. I’d set the ringtone to play Savior by Thirty Seconds to Mars, picked for its awesome drum licks by the one and only Shanimal.

Max jumped, startled at the sound until he realized it was music. I saw my flannel shirt on the floor. My phone, which had been in the pocket last I saw, was half-covered by the soft fabric.

The display said Drew. Probably wondering where I spent the night.

“Hey,” I answered.

“Did you do her?”

“Um… good morning to you, too.”

“Is that where you are? The little waitress’ place?”

“Drew—”

“Come on,” he whined. “You were working on her car all day yesterday, so when we didn’t see you at the bar, we figured you took it to her. Fucking Justin bet me twenty bucks that you’d be home after getting shot down. Please tell me you’re still there after boning her all night.”

“Do you want me to fucking hang up on your ass?” I grumbled back.

Max suddenly looked a little alarmed by my tone, almost as though he might cry. I gave him a silly smile, swinging him just a little to distract him. It took him a second, but he relaxed and settled back against me.

It also occurred to me that dropping the F-bomb around a kid who was likely learning to talk may not be so wise.

“Dude, come on,” Drew begged. “None of us ever fuckin’ win a bet with Justin.”

Trying to keep my tone light, I spoke in kind of a sing-song voice.

“Well, maybe you should stop making bets with him.”

Max gave me a little toothy grin.

“What the fuck?” Drew gasped. “Why do you sound so weird?”

Shit.

“Um, no reason…” I tried to sound as normal as possible while still making faces to Max who wrinkled his nose and grinned back up at me.

“There’s someone there with you, isn’t there.”

“Drew—” I began.

“You are there! It’s her, isn’t it?” I heard him give a muffled shout. “Justin, you owe me twenty bucks, you motherfucker!”

“Okay, I’m gonna let you go now, Drew,” I said quickly as the bedroom door opened. Ilsa stepped out, dressed in a T-shirt and a pair of denim shorts that were all frayed around the bottom. My throat went dry at how hot she looked, her legs bare and her long hair falling soft and straight around her shoulders.

She instantly appeared a little panicked when she saw me on the phone. I winked at her, silently trying to convey that I hadn’t said anything incriminating, even if those fuckers were pretty much on target with their guesses.

“Wait,” Drew said, pulling my attention back to the conversation we were having, “are you coming home any time soon, or were you just going to have naked-sex-day?”

Naked-sex-day sounded kind of awesome, but very unlikely to happen with Max around. Based on Ilsa’s wary expression, I doubted it would even happen without him around.

“I’ll probably be home in an hour or two,” I told him.

“Huh… really? Now I’m not so sure you fucked her after all. Every girl I know that you've done in the past has been pretty sure you were the one. They all say you’re like a big teddy bear with a dick the size of a horse or some shit.” He groaned. “Oh hell, was it bad? Was she a nut buster or smelly or some shit?”

“I’m going to hang up now, Drew,” I warned.

“Wait, no,” he said. “Sorry. I’ll get to the point. We were thinking it looks like it’s going to be an awesome day out, all clear and sunny, and it’s a holiday, so we’re all taking the day off. We want to barbecue.”

“It’s a holiday? What holiday?”

“It’s We Wanna Barbecue Day.”

I rolled my eyes as Ilsa stepped over to me and motioned with her hands to take Max. He squealed a little and dropped into her arms.

“What the fuck was that?” Drew asked.

“Nothing,” I quickly replied, then tried to distract him. “So a barbecue, huh?”

He took the bait—hook, line, and sinker.

And they all thought I was the dumb one.

“Um, yeah, we were thinking just something kinda laid back. Low key. Denny and Felicity, Brannon and Sophie, me and Maggie, Justin and his right hand, and you and… well, you and Ilsa.”

Ilsa was close enough that she heard him say her name, and her eyes widened in alarm.

“It’s okay,” I mouthed, then talked back into the phone. “Drew, nothing—”

“Whatever,” he interrupted. “Just stop by the store on your way home and get some kind of meat or something.”

“Drew—”

“Okay, see ya in a bit,” he said. Just before he ended the call, I heard him talking again. “Justin, you so fucking owe me twenty dollars.”

I looked down at Ilsa, who was almost white with panic, and tried to reassure her.

“They’re just making random guesses, Ils. They don’t know anything.”

“I heard my name, Cody,” she said in a choked voice. “They know something.”

“They know I fixed your car. They know I didn’t come home last night. The rest is just Drew and Justin hypothesizing. I didn’t confirm or deny anything.” I wrapped her, Max and all, in my arms like I had wanted to before. “They won’t blab about shit, not even Justin, if I tell them to keep it to themselves.”

She leaned into my bulky frame, allowing me to support her, even if it was only just a little.

“You know, this isn’t really fair,” she murmured against my bare chest.

“What isn’t?” I asked.

She looked up at me, still a little sad and reserved, but more calm than she’d been a minute ago. “When you do stuff like this… like wrapping your arms around me,” she quietly replied.

I raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“I told you last night, there’s something about being held by you that makes me feel safe.”

Cupping her face in my palm, I brushed my thumb over her cheek.

“Safe enough to go to a barbecue with me? To hang out with my friends?”

“I don’t know, Cody,” she hedged.

“You don’t work today, right?”

“Well, no, but you guys can be kind of wild, can’t you? It’s probably not the best place for Max.”

“This is just a cookout, not a drunk fest party. Denny and Felicity will be there with their kid.”

“Denny and Felicity have a kid?”

“Yeah, Eoghan,” I answered. “He’s just over a year old.”

She looked down at her son. “Not much younger than Max.” Her voice sounded kind of wistful.

“Yeah,” I said, slightly mystified by her tone.

“Max doesn’t get to be with kids much,” she murmured. “Like ever, really.” Her finger stroked his little cheek.

“Not even at his sitter?”

“He’s the only kid she watches.”

“Then come with me,” I urged. “Who knows, they might be buddies for life or something.”

That didn’t seem to make her feel any better. Instead, she just swallowed hard. I pulled her close again and ran my hand along her back to calm and soothe her.

“It’ll be fine, Ils. You might even have fun.”

It took some doing but I did manage to get her in the truck, Max in the middle all buckled into his car seat. He seemed to love my pickup. Must have said ‘cruk’ about a bazillion times, and when I romped on the gas and the engine rumbled and roared, he let out pure squeals of joy.

Ilsa twisted her hands all the way to the store, all the way through the store, and all the way to the Mofo house. She looked out the passenger window. She looked at Max. She looked at me.

But she barely said a word.

Max babbled the whole time. I could barely understand him, but a few words stuck out.

Of course there was ‘cruk’ over and over, not just mine, but every truck we saw. In Ophir, where damn near everyone drove a pickup, that was a lot.

There was also ‘cow’ followed by ‘mooooo!’ That made me laugh.

His jabbering sort of filled in the apprehensive silence that surrounded Ilsa, wrapped around her like a thick blanket.

We pulled up in front of the house, and Ilsa went white, almost shaking.

“I don’t know if this is such a good idea.” Her voice trembled.

“Just relax,” I said. “These guys are like my brothers. You can trust them.”

The expression on her face said she was having second thoughts about even trusting me, but, with another look at Max, she gave a short nod. She undid his car seat and lifted him into her arms while I reached into the pickup bed to grab the groceries I’d been told to bring.

Drew and Justin were out back when we got there, and, since neither Brannon’s Cougar or Denny’s truck were there, I figured they were it for the moment. I set the bags on the kitchen counter and motioned for Ils to follow me.

“‘Bout time, you fucker,” Justin muttered as I stepped through the sliding glass doors, but then his mouth fell when he noted Ilsa behind me… more like, when he saw her holding Max.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you have a kid,” he gaped.

For a second, I thought Ilsa was going to turn on her heel and run back out to my truck.

“Language, you fucker,” I ground out, and Justin snapped his jaw shut.

Drew looked equally shocked, holding a bottle of beer halfway up to his lips. Then, like he’d been hit by a bolt of lightning, he jumped up out of his chair and pointed at Justin.

“See?! I told you he slept with her! I fucking told you!”

Justin scowled up at him and repeated my words. “Language, you fucker.”

With every word, Ilsa seemed to shrink behind me.

“Guys,” I said, and they both stopped and looked at me, startling me a little. To be honest, I wasn’t sure exactly what I had planned to say. They generally ignored me, so I figured I’d have a little more time to come up with something before they stopped.

An awkward couple seconds passed. Very awkward.

“So, you've met Ilsa,” I finally said, slipping my arm around her waist and drawing her forward. She didn’t resist, yet seemed to unconsciously tuck herself against my side. I was her shelter, her strength, and that knowledge gave me the most incredible feeling. “This little guy is Max.”

“Cool name,” Justin murmured, a little dazed still, but managing to say something that didn’t include some form of ‘fuck.’

“Thanks,” she whispered in response.

“So where is everyone?” I asked after another uncomfortable silence.

“Denny and his little fam are on their way,” Justin explained, “and Brannon and Sophie should be here shortly.”

“Is Maggie coming, too?” I asked Drew.

He shrugged in response, looking kind of morose. “Who the hell knows what Maggie’s doing anymore.”

I glanced over at Justin.

“Why do you think he’s drinking already?” he hinted. “Trouble in paradise.”

We heard a rumble of exhaust pipes nearing the house, followed by the sound of the front door opening. Denny’s thick Irish accent floated out to us as he spoke to his son.

“There you go, ya snapper,” he said. “Go find your Uncle Justin and whack him in the bollocks for me.”

“Denny,” Felicity’s laugh echoed through the house. “Don’t tell him to do stuff like that.”

There was a rustle of grocery bags in the kitchen and Eoghan came toddling through the open door to wrap his little arms around Justin’s calf.

“Ahhhh!” Justin froze, seeming terrified. “Get him off me.”

Felicity appeared, her hair almost blinding in its bright crimson red, and handed a sippy cup to Eoghan. As she turned, she caught sight of Ilsa, who was once again trying to disappear behind me with Max.

“Ilsa,” she gasped with a tender smile, “you’re a mom?”

Denny stepped outside and looked equally shocked, catching my gaze for a moment.

“Guys,” I said, “meet Max.”

Felicity smiled with a brilliant warmth that seemed to ease Ilsa’s panic just slightly. She still clung to me, and I could feel her shaking, but I knew if anyone could make her feel comfortable, it would be Felicity. The woman was born to be a social worker, and could inspire trust in the most battered of souls.

“He’s beautiful,” she softly said to Ilsa, stepping forward to hold out her hands. “May I hold him?”

Max’s gaze was trained on Eoghan, and he almost seemed startled to look up and see Felicity. Seeming just slightly unsure of himself, he hesitated before he allowed Felicity to lift him into her arms. He stared at her for a moment before returning to cast anxious glances at Ilsa and shy ones at Eoghan.

“How old is he?” Felicity asked. Everyone else just sorta stood and stared, still not quite getting over their shock at seeing Max.

“Almost a year and a half,” Ilsa replied in a somewhat shaky voice.

“Well, he’s adorable,” Felicity said.

“Thank you,” she replied with a pensive, yet genuine, smile.

I tightened my arm around Ilsa’s trembling shoulder and pulled her closer to me. She responded by tucking her arm around my waist and leaning into me, soaking up my comfort.

Eoghan toddled up to Denny, now seeming a little uncertain that his mommy was holding some other kid. Denny scooped his little dark-haired son up into his arms and stepped a little closer to his wife and Max.

“Max,” Felicity said, “this is Eoghan.”

Max just stared at the other kid, something I hadn’t really expected. I honestly hadn’t been sure what to expect, but Max, who had pretty much babbled my ear off that morning since Ilsa had woken up, was completely silent.

“He doesn’t really get to be around other kids much,” Ilsa quietly explained, “so he’s liable to be a little shy. Aren’t you, Max?” She gave her son a reassuring smile.

Felicity looked back down at Max. “That’s okay, Max,” she whispered and kissed the top of his head. “You can be as shy as you want.”

Eoghan reached out his pudgy little baby fingers to point to Max and sorta said some garbled gibberish thing.

“This is Max, Eoghan,” Felicity told him again, then repeated the name slow and clear. “Max.”

Eoghan watched his mom for a second and pointed to Max again. “Ax,” he said, at least I thought that’s what he said.

“Right, buddy,” Felicity said. “Max, this,” she pointed to Eoghan, “is Eoghan. Can you say Eoghan?”

Max just stared for a minute, then turned back towards Ilsa and held out his arms with a small cry of ‘mama.’

Ilsa looked worried as she took him, cooing to him that it would be okay, but Felicity patted Max’s little back and gave her a smile.

“If he’s not used to being around other kids, this is perfectly normal,” she said. “Give him a little time. They’ll interact, especially if we don’t push them to.”

Max stuck his thumb in his mouth as he looked warily at Eoghan. Ilsa sorta looked like she wanted to do the same thing, but she nodded.

Justin looked over at Drew. “Figures… Cody finally gets himself a fucking girlfriend, and she comes with a whole ready-made family and shit.”

“Language, you fucker,” Drew laughed.

I just smiled down at Ilsa. Justin totally meant that to get under my skin, but it didn’t. He was spot on, and it didn’t bother me at all. I actually liked it.

Things were just beginning to settle when we heard Brannon’s Cougar purr into the driveway, followed by the opening door and short, quick footsteps through the house. Suddenly, Sophie stood there looking back and forth between Eoghan and Max in awe. Well, more like awwwwwe. Another rustle of grocery bags hitting the kitchen counter, and Brannon appeared behind her.

She looked up at him, then to the small boys again. “Oh my gosh,” she cooed. “How adorable! I want one!”

Brannon looked almost nauseous for a moment before he choked out, “Don’t you think we should get married first, Soph?”

She frowned up at him, but in a teasing manner with love shining in her eyes. “I’m not really one for doing things in order.” She turned to Ilsa. “Hi again,” she said softly.

“Hi,” Ilsa replied.

“He’s adorable. I’m so glad you came.”

“Thanks,” Ilsa replied nervously.

“Wait,” Justin cut in, evidently still fixating on what Brannon had said, “you guys are getting married?”

“They practically already are,” I grinned. “She’s got him by the balls.”

“Fuck off,” Brannon snorted at me with mock outrage, “or I’ll fire your ass. She proposed to me forever ago, but we have yet to make it official.”

“I didn’t propose,” Sophie laughed as she smacked Brannon on the chest. “Anyway, in my opinion, it already is official. I've been using your last name for almost two years.”

“Right, when you proposed.”

“That was not a proposition.”

Brannon looked around at the rest of us. “See, this is what she always says,” he laughed with a good-natured grimace.

“Besides, I don’t need a piece of paper, Bran. I have your name and your ring.”

“I thought all girls wanted a big wedding,” Drew asked.

“Not really,” Felicity murmured wrapping her arms around Denny’s waist as he held their son. “I loved my wedding just the way it was.”

“Cheeky little bird,” he grinned back at her and dropped a tiny kiss on her lips.

“Speak English, you fu—” Justin began, but snapped his jaw shut as he remembered the little ears and ended up murmuring something about fudge.

“I never wanted a big wedding,” Sophie said. “I don’t want a big anything.” Sophie scowled over at Drew who, of course, took it totally wrong and laughed like a loon.

“Doesn’t say much for Brannon,” he howled.

“Bite me,” Brannon shot back.

“Just ignore him, Bran,” Sophie said, turning to him and wrapping her arms up around his neck. “You and I both know better than that.” She bit her lip, and Brannon’s hands tightened around her waist. With a sweet smile, she continued. “And I have everything I want… except maybe one of those.” She gave a slight nod in the direction of Eoghan and Max.

The most intense emotion crossed over Brannon’s face. His expression morphed into a look of wonder, maybe even a little hope. “Are you serious?”

“She’s totally got baby fever, dude,” Justin remarked.

Both Ilsa and Felicity turned to scowl at him. “Shut up, Justin,” they said almost in sync.

“Jinx,” Felicity grinned.

“Snap,” Ilsa replied with a faint giggle.

Brannon seemed to just then realize that he still had an audience. He grabbed Sophie’s arm and pulled her back into the house and out of sight.

Justin looked around at the rest of us with a devious smile. “Twenty bucks says they go fuck in the music room.”

“Language, you fucker,” Drew shot back.

The longer we were there, the more Ilsa began to relax. The Mofos gave each other a lot of shit, but the truth was that we were pretty fucking close-knit.

We grilled up a couple steaks, a bunch of ribs, and some chicken. Everyone brought a little something, and the hot afternoon sun made the day seem sorta perfect.

Even with the little pint-sized scuffle that went down.

Max watched Eoghan like a hawk, but stayed back, not engaging. Eoghan didn’t really seem to think much of it as he sat on a blanket in the grass playing with a few little toy trucks Felicity had pulled from her bag. She offered one to Max, but he just kinda stared at her, then back at Eoghan who was wheeling one around on the blanket making little motor-ish sounds.

As Felicity sat there talking to Sophie (who did actually look a bit flushed and mussed after coming back outside) and Ilsa, Eoghan commandeered the truck she had been offering to Max. None of the girls really noticed, chatting away, but poor Max just focused on that truck like it was the fuckin’ Holy Grail.

Slowly, he began to creep just a little closer to Eoghan.

And a little closer.

A little more.

Then with a speed that was almost incomprehensible for a kid so little, he snatched the truck away and scooted back over by Ilsa.

Eoghan’s shocked face crumpled, and he burst into tears.

“What’s wrong, buddy?” Felicity asked him, and he sobbed, pointing to Max who was clutching the truck tightly in his fingers.

“Oh, Max,” Ilsa murmured. “Baby, did you take that from Eoghan?”

Max watched Eoghan cry like his puppy had died, then looked up at Ilsa and let out a sorrowful howl of his own. The two seemed to feed off each other. When one would cry, the other would cry louder, back and forth until Eoghan was throwing himself into Felicity’s arms and Max was sobbing hysterically into Ilsa’s shoulder.

Justin looked at them in horror, then back to Brannon as they kicked back on the deck.

“Jesus, and you want one of those?”

Brannon just rolled his eyes in response.

“I’m so sorry,” Ilsa told Felicity as everyone pretty much ignored Justin.

“They’re just being kids,” Felicity replied. “Kids love to cry. Plus, it’s getting close to nap time.”

As if that was his cue, Denny stood and went over to her, scooping up a sobbing Eoghan and rocking him against his shoulder. Felicity stood as well, picking up the two trucks and handing one to Eoghan and the second to Max. Well into their tantrums, though, each little boy clutched it to them and continued to cry.

Brannon watched them with what almost looked like envy. Whatever had gone down in the house made me think the former manwhore totally had caught Sophie’s baby fever.

Drew and Justin gaped at each other, each mirroring the other’s horrified expression.

“I’m never fucking having kids,” Justin muttered.

“Language, you fucker,” Drew replied.

“I've got work tomorrow, so we need to get going anyway,” Felicity said, patting Eoghan on the back. “Give him two seconds in the truck, and he’ll be out like a light.” She flashed a grin to Ilsa. “We’ll get these guys together again. They’ll be buddies in no time.”

Ilsa responded with her own doubtful smile and snuggled her face into Max’s hair.

After Denny and Felicity had left with Eoghan, Max seemed to settle some. The tantrum competition was over. Sitting on a patio swing curled up in his mother’s lap, he finally managed to stop crying and started doing his usual babbling thing. I went to sit beside them, and he looked up at me and pointed.

“Dody,” he chirped.

Justin almost spit out his beer. “Holy fuck, did he just call you daddy?”

Drew smacked him on the back of his head. “Language, you fucker. And I’m pretty sure that was little-kid-lingo for Cody.”

Ignoring their antics, Max scooted across his mom’s lap to settle between us. I looked down at Ilsa, wondering about the sudden pensive look on her face, and gently rocked the swing. She watched her little boy as he leaned against me, then looked up at me.

“He really likes you,” she whispered, almost tearfully.

I cupped her cheek with the palm of my hand. “That’s not a bad thing, Ils.”

She was quiet on the way back to Butte. Max, who had conked out between us on the swing, had woken up the minute we buckled him into the truck. Most of the way back to their place, he was a little running commentary of everything he saw.

“Dog!”

“Cruk!”

“Train!”

“Dody!”

The sadness had creeped back into Ilsa’s eyes. She’d begun to relax at the barbecue, but towards the end, a heavy weight seemed to settle around her shoulders.

Max dozed off just as we pulled up in front of Ilsa’s building. She unbuckled him and lifted him against her chest to carry him inside. I got the feeling she was about to say goodbye, to politely let me know I should leave. Her fear and worry was beginning to take hold, to pull her away.

I wasn’t going to let it, though.

Grabbing the diaper bag, I climbed out of the truck, fully intent on getting back inside her head. I took her keys and unlocked the door, holding it open for her and Max, who was sawing logs as she carried him in and went into the bedroom to lay him down. I stood in the bedroom doorway as she tucked him in, stroking her fingertips along his cheek.

When she stood and turned, she had tears in her eyes.

I watched as she came closer, and, when she was within reach, I pulled her into my arms. Holding her close to me, trying to give her that feeling of safety she’d mentioned before. Her hands splayed over my back and her body pressed tight against me. I just held her tight for a few minutes, giving her unspoken promises with every beat of my heart.

She clutched me back as a quiet war waged inside her. Her uncertainty was strong, yet she didn’t pull away. She surrendered to the shelter I offered.

Bending slightly, I tucked one arm beneath her knees and lifted her up against my chest to carry her into the living room. I settled the two of us on the couch, but she kept her arms wrapped tight around my shoulders with her face pressed against my neck.

“Ils?” I murmured into her hair. “What is it?”

She shook her head, just a tidge, and hugged me tighter.

“You can tell me,” I promised. “You can tell me anything.”

“No,” she whispered, and I felt hot tears seeping into my skin. “I can’t. Not this.” Her voice was thick, choked with sorrow. “You should probably go, Cody.”

For some reason, her words struck me dumb. I guess I thought we’d gotten beyond some stuff when I’d found out about Max. Evidently there was more. Something else that she was hiding, some skeleton in her closet, something bigger than Max.

“I don’t want to. Besides, I’m not going to leave you alone when you’re feeling like this,” I said stubbornly.

“It’s better to be alone. Safer.”

“Safer?”

“For everyone. So nobody gets hurt… Max, me… or you.”

She drew back and studied my face, her fingers tangling in my hair. For a second, she looked like she might say something. Like she might confess whatever the secret was that had her so scared.

Instead, incredibly, she kissed me.

She kissed me with a powerful sense of love and loss and heartbreak. She poured all her emotion into holding me close and making love to me.

My fingers skated up the back of her thighs, up into her shorts, cupping the smooth skin of her ass and making her moan softly into my mouth. She tugged at my shirt, freeing the buttons and stripping it from my shoulders, caressing my arms, my abs, and my chest with a tender scrape of her fingernails.

With dreamlike movements, I undressed her, pulling her shirt over her head and removing her bra. I laid her back on the couch, unbuttoning her shorts and pulling them off together with her simple cotton underwear. I leaned over her, stroking her deep inside with two fingers, growing harder every time she constricted her hot, wet pussy around me.

My dick was throbbing, aching with the need to be inside her. With a clawing grasp, she urged me over her body, spreading her legs wide and pressing her hips up into mine. Grinding her bare sex against the rough fabric of my jeans.

“Please, Cody,” she gasped. “Please, I need you inside me.”

Hearing those words on her lips, her raw demand, was overpowering. I realized she was using sex to avoid talking, but, God… I needed her. Her and only her.

My hands tangled with hers as we tugged at my jeans, freeing my stiff, broad cock. She lifted her legs, drawing up her feet to catch the denim and shove it down my legs. In doing so, her wet pussy stroked my pulsing length, and it burned through my body. That skin to skin contact was like nothing I’d ever felt before.

I wanted more.

Ilsa seemed to feel the same way. Even after I’d kicked my jeans from around my ankles, she tilted her hips, rubbing her slick arousal up and down my shaft. Small sobs broke through her kisses. She continued with the movements and gasped when, with a slight twist of my hips, the head of my dick was tucked right up against her sweet, wet entrance.

“Fuck me,” I breathed out, my voice shaking with need, “please tell me you’re on the fucking pill.” My voice sounded strange in my own ears, frantic and desperate to take her bare.

“I am,” she whispered against my lips, and I slid home.

“Jesus, Ils,” I moaned, “your pussy feels like fucking silk.”

She clenched her inner walls around me as I withdrew and pushed firmly back inside, making her gasp and cry out.

I kissed her hard, filling her up with my cock and holding her body steady. “We’re never using condoms again. Just you and me, skin on skin.”

Her fingernails skated up my back to dig into my shoulders. I pulled back and slammed into her, swallowing her fragile cry.

“I want to come inside you, all over your body, to mark you as mine,” I growled as I pumped into her a second time, the force of my body rocking hers. “I want you to ache when you walk, knowing my dick did that to you.”

“Yes,” she whispered, meeting my pounding thrusts with sharp slaps of our skin.

Every word I said made her more wet, made her pussy grip me tighter. She started to tense up, reaching for her release.

“I fucking love you enough to take your fear away.”

As I growled those words, she shattered around me and burst into tears all at once.

“Cody,” she sobbed. “Oh God, Cody.”

Two more strokes and I let go inside her, feeling my hot, thick cum mixing with her own wetness. The rush of my orgasm shot into her in bursts, triggering her body to shake and tremble around me. I held her tight, soothing her tears, feeling the power of this connection between us.

A connection she didn’t want, but it was there all the same, and I wasn’t about to just let it go. To let her go. Wasn’t happening. I tried to say it without saying it, kissing her eyelids and holding her tight as her tears began to fade.

I rose up on my elbow to look down between us as I slowly withdrew, still semi-hard, mesmerized by the glistening wetness all over my dick. Almost completely, and then pushed back inside. Again. Over and over, watching the cum collect around the edge of her pussy.

It was fucking beautiful… and mouthwatering. That twisted thought ripped through my brain and, before I could stop myself, I pulled out, knelt before her, and closed my mouth over her sex.

“Cody,” she moaned, her fingers wound tight in my hair, pulling hard as I licked her clean. The salty taste of my own cum and the sweetness of her orgasm exploded on my taste buds. I swept my tongue deep inside, swirling around and around, and my cock began to stiffen again at the carnal abandon of this act. Ready and alert, throbbing with a sudden renewed need.

Rising to my knees, I lifted her body and flipped her over like a rag doll, then grasped her hips and pulled her pussy back up to my lips. With her legs in the air, her mouth found my dick, and she moaned loudly with the first taste, sucking me deep down her throat. I lay back on the couch as she rode my lips and sucked my dick. The moment was so hedonistic, so wrong and forbidden. Swiveling her hands up and down my cock as she licked me, making me hard as fuck all over again, and sucked me off.

And there was the beautiful little bud of her ass, right there before my eyes. I slid a finger inside her soaking wet pussy, then pressed it against her rear entrance and pushed inside.

She bucked her hips and groaned. With my cock at the back of her throat, the vocalization sent vibrations straight to my balls. The beautiful curve of her ass shook, tremors coursing through her legs as we feasted on each other.

I twisted her around again, back upright and sitting on my lap with her back to me. I lined her up and plunged back into her pussy with a hoarse growl. She bent her knees, tucking her feet alongside my thighs in the couch and leaned forward, giving me the most incredible view of our connection as she rose and fell on my hard length.

Pressing my finger back in her ass, I caressed us both through the thin walls, feeling the touch in my dick. I could feel the motion of every stroke as she fucked me, as she broke around me. Sobbing softly, shaking violently, digging into my thighs with her fingernails. The pulsation of her pussy around me ripped another orgasm from my body, pulling it up from deep inside my soul, giving it all to her.

I could barely move for a few minutes. Ilsa fell back against my chest in exhaustion, breathing in harsh gasps.

“I love you,” I whispered against her ear.

Her response was hazy, barely audible and sounded almost delirious. I almost wondered if I dreamed it.

“You can’t, Cody,” she murmurs dazedly. “You can’t.”

In the gray morning light, I stood and pulled my T-shirt down over my chest, then leaned over to grab my work boots. It was only about six o'clock, but I had to drive back to Ophir for work, and I really needed to stop at home and take a shower, especially after all the sweaty sex. I almost took a shower in Ilsa’s bathroom, but she was sleeping so soundly, and I didn’t want to wake her up.

I glanced over at her as I laced up my boot, though, and saw her eyes open. Watching me with a sleepy, solemn gaze.

You can’t…

Her breathy whisper echoed in my ears.

I wanted to ask her why, but I knew she wouldn’t tell me. I’d slept fitfully, trying to figure her out. Wondering when she would give in. She had to feel the way I did. Her mind fought this thing between us, but her actions—her body and the way she pulled me to her and kissed me last night, the way she looked at me and the way she held me—everything else said this was real and strong.

So what was she afraid of?

I rested my elbows on my knees, sitting in a chair angled up by the couch, and looked straight at her. I didn’t want there to be any confusion about how I felt.

“I wasn’t just saying that last night,” I began.

She dropped her eyes and scooted upright a little, holding the plush blanket up to cover her breasts. I stood and moved closer to the couch, sitting by her legs and lifting her chin with my fingers.

Her lip quavered when she met my gaze, and I gave her the most honest, heartfelt expression I could possibly make.

“I love you, Ilsa.”

“Cody—”

“I’m not sure what you’re afraid of, but I know there’s something powerful between us,” I said and cupped her cheek in my palm. “I know you feel it, too.”

Tears filled her eyes and her entire body began to tremble. I leaned forward, brushing her lips with mine in a soft kiss. Rather than releasing her, I held her still and dipped my head so our foreheads touched.

“Ilsa, you touch the deepest parts of me,” I whispered. “I think about you all the time. Something happened to you, something that has you running scared, I know that. But you need to know that I’m patient. I’m stubborn. I’ll wait and I’ll love you. I’ll protect you and give you time because I know with every fiber of my being how good we can be together. Just give us a chance.”

Her arms lifted to wrap around my neck and, as the sun rose over the mountains and a faint golden light glowed in the room, I held her close to my heart.

I could love her through this. I had to. I didn’t have any other choice.

“Why do you want me?” she whispered. “Why me? You could have anyone, and you set your sights on a barmaid mother with a boatload of issues.”

I combed my fingers through her hair and drew back to press a soft kiss on her nose.

“Because you’re you,” I replied. “You’re soft and sweet and kind and warm. You have an adorable kid, and you’re a gentle and patient mom. But more than anything, I've never known a soul that made me feel like you do, that made me want to be a better man like you do.”

“I don’t think you could get any better, Cody,” she whispered. A wistful cast lit her eyes for a split second, so quick I almost missed it before she dropped her eyes.

“I’ve gotta get to work,” I murmured, “but I’ll see you tonight at the Copperline, okay?”

She gave a hint of a nod and lowered her arms to rest her hands on my chest.

My heart simply ached as I pulled away and stood. I walked to the door and met her sad gaze one last time before I left for work.

I had no idea what to expect after those couple nights. I wondered which Ilsa was going to come into work. The new, sweet Ilsa that I’d held and loved, or the timid, evasive one that pushed me away.

Every time I’d made headway with her before, she avoided me after. I hoped this time would be different, that she wouldn’t pull back, at least as much as she had before. For all I knew, though, she could just up and disappear. She sure didn’t have much to pack.

The girl had me completely turned inside out. I barely knew which way was up anymore.

So, expecting the worst, I damn near fainted with relief when she showed up at the Copperline and actually flirted with me a little. She was still my Ilsa. Shy and quiet, understated. Still ghosting around the room unnoticed.

But she murmured little things to me when she was close. She brushed her fingertips down my arm as she walked by.

She waited for me in the hallway when the sets ended, slipped outside to make out with me behind the bar.

All reclusive and clandestine, but so very hot.

The fact that she was coming onto me a little was really, fucking hot. My obsession with her clearly wasn’t just about the chase because when she gave me one of those scorching looks, it was all I could do not to throw her over my shoulder, carry her out to my truck, and fuck her until I dropped from exhaustion.

For all that shy and evasive Ilsa intrigued me, flirty and forward Ilsa had me hard as a rock about ninety-nine-point-nine percent of the time. (The point-one percent came after I came until I was ready to come again, which really didn’t last long with her around.)

She still didn’t really offer up any information about her past or family or how she ended up in the area. She remained secretive even as she gave herself to me in every other way. I tried to ignore it, tried not to let it bother me, but it did. Her secrecy remained a barrier to real, true intimacy between us.

Yet, every day, she seemed to relax a little bit more. She genuinely found comfort in my presence, of that I was certain. She cared for me. It wasn’t just a physical desire. There was a depth of emotion that bound us together.

So, as hard as it was, I would be patient. I would give her the time and the space, and someday she would trust me enough to truly let me in.

I spent every evening after work in the Copperline, even if we weren’t playing, and spent every night in her tiny apartment, curled up on her couch with her delicious, naked body pressed tightly against my chest.

Sometimes, it almost felt like playing house. Like Justin had said, my girl came complete with a cute little kid. Max was easy to adore. Every morning, he and I had some man time, eating our Cheerios and drinking mook while I tried to let Ilsa get a tidge more sleep. Then I’d leave, off to work until I met up with her in the bar.

Rinse and repeat, as us drummers often said.

“You really need another bed,” I murmured as I traced my fingertips down a fine sheen of sweat on her bare back. “This couch is comfy for a bit, but it might be nice to sprawl out a bit.”

“It’s got a built-in bed actually,” she replied. “It’s a pullout sofa.”

“Seriously?” I asked. “Why haven’t we pulled it out?”

She exhaled a drowsy little sigh. “Too tired. By the time you’re done with me, I can barely move.”

Okay, that was really fucking nice to hear. It was awesome knowing that I fucked her into exhaustion on a regular basis.

But I still wanted to sprawl out.

I gathered Ilsa up in my arms, ignoring her muffled protest, and set her in the chair, all wrapped in the throw from the couch. Pulling off the cushions, I saw a lever to pull up, and, sure enough, out came the hide-a-bed. Blankets and all. I pulled back the sheets and once again lifted Ilsa up against my chest, settling her on the bed.

“I’ll be right back,” I said quietly as I tucked the blanket around her bare shoulders and kissed her forehead.

“What are you doing?” she asked with a wide yawn.

“Just going to check on Max,” I said.

Her eyes flew open, and she looked up at me with a mixture of shock and immense warmth. I traced my fingertips along the curve of her jaw.

“I figure,” I said with a teasing smile, “after how loud you were a bit ago, I should make sure he’s still asleep.”

She pursed her lips with mock indignation, then lifted up on her elbow to give me a quick, tender kiss. “I wasn’t that loud.”

“It was beautiful… it always is. Music to my ears. I love to hear you come apart around me.” I touched my lips to hers in a firm, yet gentle, kiss.

I checked on Max who was out and looked way too comfortable all sprawled out alone on the full-size bed. Reaching out to tug the blankets up a little, I tucked them around his chest and went back out to join Ilsa on the sofa sleeper.

It was somewhat more comfortable than being crowded into the couch. There was room to spread out some, but I still wanted Ilsa spooned up in front of me.

Fortunately, she seemed to kind of want that too, and as I drifted off to sleep, I realized I was doing so smiling.

Lazy Sunday. I’d been looking forward to today all week. Spending my early mornings with Max, my days working, my evenings at the Copperline, and my nights doing my best to drive Ilsa wild was starting to wear me out. I was burning the candle at both ends… along with a couple spots in the middle.

Max and I had his usual breakfast while I sipped my coffee, but seeing the sofa pulled out into a bed got him all excited. He wiggled until I put him down, toddled over to the sleeper sofa, and stared at it for a minute.

“Mama!” he exclaimed.

Ilsa’s eyes drifted open and she smiled at him softly. “Hi, baby,” she murmured sleepily.

“Up?” he asked.

Ilsa shot an uneasy look at me. “Um, I should probably get up.”

I walked over to her and handed her a cup of coffee, with cream like she liked. “It’s Sunday. You don’t have to get up. We can just lie around.”

“Yeah,” she said quietly, almost whispering, “but I’m naked.”

I laughed. “As much as I’d like to keep you that way, I can see where it might be a little awkward.” I reached out and snagged my shirt off the chair by the couch. “Here,” I offered, “slip this on.”

I picked up Max, drawing him away while Ilsa pulled the shirt over her head and tugged on her panties.

And then the three of us laid in on the hide-a-bed while Ilsa read Where the Wild Things Are, and I couldn’t help but wonder where we could get Max a little wolf suit.

It was hot as fuck that day, and Ilsa had no air conditioning. The heat made Max miserable, and Max made Ilsa and me miserable. Around noon, Felicity called and asked if we wanted to meet them at the splash park.

Still timid around other kids, Max stuck pretty close, but would tiptoe around the spray nozzles and run giggling back over to Ilsa when he’d get wet. He and Eoghan sort of played more by each other than with each other, but we started to notice that Max would follow the gregarious little Eoghan around a bit. They even sort of started to communicate some, parroting each other from time to time.

At one point, I looked over to Ilsa as she watched them and noticed she had tears in her eyes.

“Ils?” I murmured, walking over and tucking my arm around her. “You okay?”

“He’s playing,” she whispered.

“Yeah, he is,” I replied.

Right then, he and Eoghan walked right into a heavy spray, and both boys came squealing back over. I caught Max in my arms and lifted him high up over my head, tossing him up into the air as he giggled.

“Nanana,” Max said, lifting his tired head from my shoulder to point at the bananas in the produce section of the grocery store.

“You want bananas, baby,” Ilsa asked, grabbing a small bunch.

“Cody?” a woman’s voice said from behind me.

Oh shit.

I turned around slowly to see my parents standing there looking completely mystified that I was holding some random kid. Ilsa stood beside me with a total deer-in-the-headlights look.

“Hey there, Mom…” I said. “Pops.”

Uh oh.

“What an adorable little boy,” my mother gasped. She was normally much more articulate, but also clearly shocked.

“This is Max,” I offered. “Ilsa’s kid.”

My mother looked to Ilsa, who seemed to shrink back right before our eyes, her face showing obvious signs of panic.

“Ilsa…” my mother said, trying to smile through her surprise. “It’s lovely to meet you, Ilsa. George, isn’t it lovely to meet her?”

“Yeah,” my dad replied, looking equally dazed. It suddenly occurred to me that I’d never really introduced my parents to a girl before. I’d never been very serious about one until now.

“Ils, this is my dad, George, and my mom, Alice.”

“It’s… um… nice to meet you.” Ilsa’s voice was shaky.

“So what do you do, Ilsa?” my mom was trying to make polite conversation to loosen the tension, but that question seemed to make Ilsa even more nervous.

“I… um…” she began, and then she looked up at me. “I’m going to run and get milk before I forget.”

And she was gone.

“I think you scared her, George,” my mother frowned at my dad.

I shook my head. “I think you scared her, Mom. Ilsa’s pretty shy. She, um… I think…” I didn’t really know how to explain her in a way that didn’t make her sound like she was scared of the world. Even if she actually was a little scared of the world.

“Have you been seeing her for very long?”

“A little while.”

“And she has a child,” my mother said glancing pointedly at Max in my arms. Max was kinda looking at her the same way Ilsa had.

“He’s a great kid,” I said. “And she’s… well, Mom, she’s great, Mom. She’s the most beautiful soul I've ever known.”

My mom smiled, genuine and sweet. “Oh, Cody. My sweet boy.”

“Okay,” Ilsa said, walking back up to us. She looked a bit more together, like she’d pumped herself up to face my folks. “Got milk. Sorry, I was afraid I’d forget if I didn’t grab it and then Max would be bummed in the morning.”

“We’ll let you go, kids,” my dad said, putting his arm around my mom to guide her away.

“Maybe you could come over for dinner some night,” my mom offered. “I could make something special, and—”

“Mom—” I began.

“Alice—” my dad said, nudging her towards the door.

“Okay,” she smiled sheepishly. “Well, it was nice meeting you and your son, Ilsa.”

“You too,” Ilsa replied.

After they walked away, she glanced up at me. “I’m sorry,” she said.

“For what?”

“I just panicked. That’s your mom, and she wants the best for you.”

“And?”

“That’s not me, Cody.”

I shook my head emphatically. “Don’t say that.”

“She was so shocked to see you with Max,” she whispered. “You shouldn’t be—”

“She was equally shocked just to see me with a girl, Ils,” I interrupted. “I've never introduced someone to my parents. I've never found someone I wanted to… not before you.”

“Cody—”

“I wanted you to meet them,” I tried to explain, “I just didn’t really plan to do it in the middle of the grocery store.” My fingers tipped her chin up, forcing her to look at me. “I would have also liked to have given them—and you—a little heads up.”

“It was a little awkward,” she said with a wry twist to her lips.

“My parents will love you, Ils,” I murmured, cupping her cheek in my palm and holding her gaze when she tried to look down. “They’ll love you because I love you. They’ll see how much you mean to me, and that’s all they need.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

“Nanana,” Max said.

“Better go buy this kid his bananas,” I smiled.

That night, I just wanted to hold her.

Not that I didn’t want to do more, because I always wanted to do more. But the urge to just shelter her in my arms—to give her that safe sensation she’d told me about—that’s what I really wanted.

We had dinner and watched a movie, some kid flick about a little garbage compacting robot. We watched it for Max and then kept watching when he fell asleep two minutes in.

I got up, put Max in the bedroom, and came out to wrap her in my arms. Today had shaken her. It reminded me that she still had some things to overcome, even though life had gone pretty smooth for the past week.

That was the way of the world, though. You could sail along, and then something could come up and fuck things all to hell.

“Ils,” I murmured into her hair.

“Yeah,” she replied.

“You’re safe with me… always.”

I heard the faintest catch in her breath, and her arms tightened around my waist.

“Cody?”

“Yeah, Ils?”

“I really do like having you here,” she whispered. “No matter what, I want you to know that.”

That sounded slightly ominous, but I tried to keep positive. I searched for the feeling behind her words and held them close to my chest.

“I like being here.” I said softly, nuzzling my face against the top of her head. “I hope I can be here with you for a long time.”

I felt her press a gentle kiss against my chest. “Me too.”

“But with a real bed.”

She lifted her head and there was the slightest bit of a smile touching her lips. “The hide-a-bed isn’t that comfortable, is it? I didn’t realize it before. Until you started staying here, I slept in the bedroom with Max.”

“You know, I have a big bed.”

She glanced up at me warily. “And?”

“And, say we lived in a place with more bedrooms—”

“We?”

“Max could have one, and… well, we could have one.”

“We?” she repeated, her voice sounding a little strained.

“Yeah,” I cautiously smiled, “we.”

“Cody… you’re not asking me to move in with you, are you?”

“Well, probably not in with me into the Mofo house,” I said, and winced a little at the relief in her sigh. “It’s probably not the best environment for Max.”

“Right,” she breathed.

“But maybe you and I could get a place together. A little house with a yard that Max could play in.” Her shoulders tensed and her breath caught.

“Cody—”

“Just think about it,” I said.

“This is kind of sudden.”

“Ilsa, to be completely honest, I think I knew it was you months ago on the day I met you. I felt like I got hit with a fuckin’ lightning bolt, and I instantly wanted you and only you.”

“But we’ve never even really said we were dating. Like, we haven’t put a label on it or anything. You hardly know anything about me.”

“I’m sure, Ils.”

And I was. I could show her, be there for her. I could spend my life with her.

She just needed to know that, too.

I started getting a little panicky when six o’clock rolled around and she hadn’t shown up.

Ilsa wasn’t usually late. I started freaking out a bit, wondering if I’d pushed too hard last night with the talk of moving in together. I replayed the awkward conversation with my parents, seeing her body tense with panic at the realization of who they were.

I called her cell, but it went straight to voicemail. She didn’t have it turned on.

Part of me wondered if she wasn’t coming in at all. I kept seeing that haunted look in her eyes after my parents walked away, and it began to eat away at my gut.

She wouldn’t just take off, would she?

I even went to Doug and asked about her. He gave me a suspicious frown, but said she’d called in to say she was running late. As I started to turn away, he hollered after me.

“You’re not fucking her, are you?”

I ignored him.

And I waited.

I almost crumpled to the floor in relief when she walked through the backdoor just before nine and scurried down the hall to the office. What had started as a nagging fear damn near had me ready to call out a search party to find her.

We’d just started a set, so I couldn’t talk to her yet. I couldn’t take her pulse to see where her head was at.

But she was here.

Thank fuck.

After the fifth song, I dropped my drumsticks and motioned to Denny that I needed a break. Confused, he nodded back to me, and told the crowd we’d be back in fifteen.

I made a beeline for Ilsa where she stood taking a drink order on the far wall.

“Cody, phone call,” Doug shouted to me as I headed past the bar.

Fuck. I had no idea who the fuck would be calling me here, but because it was Doug who told me, I figured I ought to take it, especially since my question earlier had evidently aroused some suspicion. I headed his way to stand at the end of the bar, and took the phone from him.

“This is Cody,” I said into the receiver.

“Are you enjoying her?” a man’s voice asked.

What the fuck?

“Who?”

“Did she even tell you her real name? Because it sure as hell isn’t Ilsa.”

My heart stopped beating and plummeted.

“What the fuck are you talking about? Who are—?”

“My. Fucking. Wife,” the harsh voice viciously spat. “The woman you've been sleeping with. That’s what I’m talking about.”

It took a moment to sink in just what he said.

Wife? His wife?

Ilsa was his wife?

Fuck, Ilsa was married? I felt like I couldn’t breathe. A sudden wave of nausea and uncertainty seized my gut. His words had taken the wind right out of me. All those weird little nuances of her personality, all those times she shied away from anything permanent.

“You’re lucky that I don’t cut your balls off,” he sneered. “Sleeping with another man’s wife is a dangerous game to play.”

“Jesus,” I breathed in shock, barely listening as I reeled from the fact that Ilsa was married.

“Do me a favor,” the guy said. “Tell her that her husband called.”

And then all I heard was a dial tone as he disconnected.

Fuck.

Fucking fuck.

Jesus Christ.

I dropped the phone and just stood there for a minute, replaying the conversation in my head. There had to be some mistake. He had to be talking about someone else, or to think I was someone else. Justin… that was it. Justin had fucked someone’s wife and he just had us confused. My brain raced for some other explanation.

But he had called her Ilsa.

Speak of the devil, about that time, Ilsa walked back up to the bar with her tray and unloaded a few empties.

“Doug, I need a Coors Light and a Jack and Coke,” she said to her boss.

When he turned his back, she glanced over at me. Her brows immediately knit with concern.

“Cody, are you—?”

I grabbed her arm and started towards the exit. Doug shouted out her name, but I wouldn’t release her. I pulled her along behind me, right out the back door, and spun her around to look her in the eye. Tipping her face up to the dim lighting behind the bar, I asked her.

“What’s your real name?”

Instantly upon hearing the question, she went on guard.

“It’s not Ilsa, is it?”

She shook her head slowly. Warily. “How did you know?” she breathed.

“Your fucking husband just told me.”

The look on her face told me that fucker hadn’t lied. I watched as her face went completely pale. She lifted a shaking hand up to her stomach and suddenly gasped for breath, like she’d been kicked in the gut.

She was keeping secrets.

Really big motherfucking secrets.

She took a couple harsh, sketchy breaths, but her words were barely audible in her shock.

“He’s here?”

“He just fucking called me.”

“He called you? How did he—”

“He called the bar and asked for me,” I shot back. “Fuck.” I shook my head.

It was almost like she wasn’t even listening to me anymore. When she looked back up at me, even though I was unbelievably pissed as hell, it was like she was looking right through me. Her reaction to being caught didn’t make any sense. Like she went into some kind of weird, hollow shock. That pissed me off even more. This shit was tearing me apart and she was just acting… vacant.

“Max…” she started, staggering towards the back door to head inside.

I was so angry, so fucking hurt. The rage had me by the balls. The dreadful feeling in my chest began to filter throughout my body.

“I didn’t believe it until now. I didn’t think you’d lie to me, but you did, didn’t you?” I growled, catching her by the arm as I pushed her up against the wall. “Didn’t you?!”

That got her attention.

In fact, she looked completely terrified of me all of a sudden. She whirled away and fell back, dropping to her knees and shielding her body. Sheer panic lit her eyes, like she thought I was going to hit her.

She gave no excuses or explanations.

Just shrank before me in pure terror.

“Jesus, Ils,” I said, my fury began to give way to concern as I reached for her to help her stand up. Her reaction didn’t make any sense to me.

“No!” Ilsa gasped as she lurched away from me. I got a hand on her arm and tried to pull her back, but her voice rose, bordering on hysteria. “I have to go!” she almost screamed and attempted to jerk free.

“Tell me what the fuck is going on,” I demanded, trying to keep the confused frustration out of my voice.

She sort of emotionally exploded, jerking back and slamming her body into me. Trying to work free. She clawed at my hand and slapped at my chest. In my own surprise at this reaction, I stepped back. I let go.

She ran through the back door and down the hall towards the office. I followed, watching in angry confusion as she ripped her coat and purse from the hooks on the wall. With a frantic sob, she dug through her purse for her keys. Just as I was about to say her name, she turned to see me standing there blocking the door.

“Ilsa, what the fuck is going on?”

She seemed to be fighting off her panic, trying to appear calm, as she looked at me for a minute.

“I have to go.”

“You’re not going anywhere, not until you talk to me.”

“I have to go,” she repeated.

“Jesus, Ilsa, fucking talk to me!” I growled, blocking the door with my large frame as she tried to push past me.

“Cody, I have to go!” she exclaimed. She looked away biting her lip, closing her eyes and shaking her head before glancing back up at me with tears in her eyes.

I was completely blindsided. My senses were all off-kilter. She sounded so desperate, and for a second, I almost let her go. Yet, I had a feeling… if I let her walk away from me right then, I would never see her again.

I took a few steps closer, and she backed up against the wall behind her.

“Please, Cody,” she begged in a ragged breath. “I just have to go. I’m sorry.”

I shook my head. “That’s not good enough. I can’t accept that.”

“Let me go,” she whispered.

“Let me help you.”

“You can’t help me.” Tears streamed down her cheek, and I reached up to wipe them away with the pad of my thumb. My fingertips brushed against her ear, and she slammed her eyes shut, causing more tears to fall.

“Let me help you,” I repeated. My hand feathered down from her cheek, over her neck and shoulder.

“Please…” she lifted her hand to my chest, trying to push me back with a weak shove. “I don’t have time for this.”

“Then don’t fight me on it. I’ll drive you.” I ran my hand down her arm, slowly making its way to the tight grip she had on her keys. Exerting a little pressure with my thumb digging gently into her palm, I coaxed her hand open, slipping the keys from her grasp with my other hand. I interlaced my fingers with hers, gave a slight tug, and pulled her along behind me. Whatever was wrong, whatever she needed, I was going to be there for her. And then she was going to give me some fucking answers.

She followed me out of the bar, slightly numb and dazed by some unknown threat.

I saw Brannon and Sophie on my way out the back.

“Dude,” I told him, “tell the guys we had an emergency. And tell Doug that Ilsa had to leave. We’ll explain later.”

“Do you need anything?” he asked as both he and Sophie glanced over at Ilsa in concern.

“Not right now,” I said over my shoulder as we left through the back door. We stepped out into the darkness. “Where are you parked?” I asked.

“Over there,” she nodded off to the side of the lot. We neared her car and I unlocked the passenger door, motioning for her to get in. She hesitated for only a second before she did as I indicated, and I closed the door behind her. I rounded the front while she buckled her seatbelt. As I climbed in behind the wheel and fired up the engine, I looked down at her sitting beside me.

“Where we going?”

“Butte,” she whispered. “I have to go get Max.”

“Where in Butte?”

“Myrna’s… the babysitter. She lives on the edge of town.”

I nodded, remembering the night I essentially stalked her before, the night I found out about Max. I still wasn’t entirely sure what was happening, but she was clearly terrified.

So, not having a clue what I would be facing when we got there, I turned onto the highway for Butte.

It was just getting dark, but the outside light was on when we pulled up, dimly illuminating the little porch on the square house.

“I’ll go in and get him,” she murmured as she opened the passenger door. I clapped my hand over her thigh, holding her in place for a second.

“I’m going with you,” I said.

She hesitated, but gave a faint nod, and climbed out of the car.

She quietly rapped on the door, waiting for a few moments before knocking just a little bit louder. Finally, we could hear someone moving on the other side and the door opened to reveal an older lady wrapped in her bathrobe looking out at us with confusion.

“Ilsa?” the woman asked. “I wasn’t expecting you until morning. Are you okay?”

“Something’s come up,” Ilsa explained. “I need to get Max.”

The woman glanced up at me as though she was trying to see the answer to Ilsa’s strange behavior in my eyes. I was just as in the dark she was, though.

“He’s sleeping but—”

“That’s okay,” Ilsa interrupted, and the older lady led us back to the bedroom where Max lay snuggled in his blanket. Ilsa gathered up a few things, stuffing them into a bag that she hefted over her shoulder. I lifted Max and settled him against my chest.

Quietly leaving the room and heading towards the front door, Ilsa reached into the pocket of the bar apron that she still wore. She pulled out a wad of bills and flipped through it, straightening and counting them before handing the whole stack over to Myrna. The woman frowned, evidently concerned by the desperation emanating from Ilsa, and she clasped her hand over Ilsa’s fingertips.

“Do you need that?” she asked.

“I know I owe you more, but this is all I have on me.”

“That’s not what I asked, honey,” Myrna said.

“I’m not sure when I will be back—”

“Ilsa—”

“—so please, just take this.”

The older woman still didn’t move to take the money, so Ilsa finally sighed and set it on the table beside her. She reached forward to give the woman a quick hug, then turned towards me.

“Let’s go, Cody.”

Outside, Ilsa opened the back passenger door for me to put Max in his seat, then reached inside to buckle up the sleepy little guy. With a soft brush of her fingertips over his rounded cheek, she gently shut the door and slipped into the front seat while I walked around the car and climbed in behind the wheel.

She was still fearful, but some of the initial panic had faded. Her breathing had slowed, and she wasn’t shaking quite like she had been before.

“Do you want me to take you home?”

“No,” she whispered quickly, shaking her head. “We need to go back to the bar so you can get your truck.”

“I can get one of the guys to take me to it in the morning.” I glanced at her again. She didn’t move. It was almost like I hadn’t even spoken. “So, your place?”

“I can’t…”

“You say that a lot,” I noted.

“I really can’t. I can’t go back to my apartment, Cody,” she whispered.

“Why, Ils?”

She looked out the window into the darkness for moment, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. Finally she spoke again.

“Just go back to the Copperline.”

No fuckin’ way was I going to do that.

The way she’d gone apeshit out behind the bar. Watching her give the sitter her entire night’s worth of tips. This whole situation, all the unknown, was ripping me to pieces. I needed some answers. I looked at her long and hard, then started the car up and turned back on the road towards the Copperline… but also towards Ophir.

“You’re coming home with me,” I stated after we’d driven a couple miles in silence.

“Cody—”

“You’re coming home with me, and you are going to tell me what the fuck is going on.”

“I can’t do that. I need to go.”

“Where? Because you’re not going home, so where are you going?” She didn’t answer, but only turned her face away again. “Why are you leaving in the middle of the night? Was that fucker on the phone really your husband? Are you really married?”

She looked over at me, her eyes luminous with unshed tears that reflected in the dashboard lights.

“Yes.”

One little word. It answered my question, but it was not good enough.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I couldn’t.”

“Why?”

She turned back to face the passenger window.

“You’re coming home with me.”

“Cody, I can’t.”

“You are.”

“Why?” she asked. “You should hate me for keeping something like this from you. I’m married, Cody. Married. Why would you even want me anywhere near you now?”

I looked ahead of me down the stretch of road illuminated by the headlights. It was actually a good question. She was right. I shouldn’t give a fuck. I should take the fact that she lied to me, tell her to fuck off, and put it all behind me.

Ultimately, though, even considering that I really felt pretty damn fucked over, she was in some sort of trouble. I knew she needed someone. She needed some kind of help. Her reaction to being caught in a lie wasn’t guilt or regret.

The expression on her face when I’d confronted her was pure fear.

I was bullheaded, and that old constant need to protect those around me took over, even as disillusioned by her as I suddenly was. I knew what it was like to live with the guilt of not acting, and it killed me to think of something happening to her and Max.

There wasn’t any choice really. I was going to help her… whether either of us liked it or not.

“You need me,” I finally said.

“I don’t want to involve you,” she explained quietly.

I looked over at her, her face barely visible in the dashboard lights.

“Little late for that, don’t you think?”

“Don’t, Cody, please,” she whispered, and I could hear something breaking in her voice. God only knew what the outcome of this would be, but the fear she exuded…

We neared the Copperline, and I felt her tensing up the closer we got. Right up until we blew right past the bar. I didn’t even slow down.

“Cody, you missed the turn.”

“I didn’t miss shit.” I looked over at her, glaring at her, daring her to say anything else. “You’re coming with me to Ophir, and we’re gonna have a talk.”

The house was still dark when we got there. As Ilsa grabbed the diaper bag, I unbuckled Max from his car seat and carried him upstairs, choosing to put him in the spare room that had been Denny’s when he lived there. There wasn’t much in the room, but there was an extra bed. I flicked on the closet light to spread the dim glow across the room while Ilsa tucked his blanket around him.

Married… she was fucking married.

I clenched my jaw and shook my head.

What had I done?

What the actual fuck?

I slept with a married woman… that’s what.

Slowly she turned and looked up at me. I had so much going through my head all at once that it was hard to even look at her.

But it was time for honesty. I needed to know everything.

I started for the door, turned back to her, and curled my finger, silently telling her to follow. As she stepped out into the hallway, I grabbed her arm and pulled her into my room, closing the door behind me.

My brain tried to process the situation, but completely failed. Now that her fear was under control, my anger was starting to seep back in. “You do tend to keep things to yourself a little, don’t you?”

She swallowed, sat on my bed, and looked down at her hands. “I should have told you.”

“It would have been good to have a heads up, especially before you slept with me.” She grimaced and looked off to the side. Her panic was beginning to give way to shame. “Even if not the first time, maybe the second… or third. Sometime in the past couple weeks, anyway. Might have been a good thing to share.”

“It’s complicated. I don’t even know where to start.”

I leaned back against the door and crossed my arms over my chest. “Try the beginning.”

“I got bombed on my twenty-first birthday,” she began. “I had started seeing Simon not long before, and finally gave it up that night. We were just messing around. It was definitely not serious. A few weeks later, though, I found out I was pregnant. I was in college, but I still lived at home. My parents were very puritanical, so they were absolutely horrified. They essentially threw a Bible at me, said I was going to hell if I didn’t make it right in the eyes of God. It was far from a love match, but I thought we could maybe make it work.”

“So you married him.” I tried like fuck to keep the pained frustration out of my voice, but it was there. Swirling around in my chest and aimed at so many people… her… him… myself.

“My dad leaned on his family pretty hard. My parents were so ashamed of me.” This whole time, she’d been looking down at her hands, but then she lifted her eyes to look at me. The luminous hazel depths looked so hollow and lonely that my throat ached. “They wanted me gone… out of their house. We hadn’t exactly been close before then, but that was it. They were done with me.”

As though she didn’t have the strength to hold my gaze, she curled back into herself a little and focused on a spot in the carpet. I suddenly found my anger directed at a new target, thinking her folks sounded like fucking assholes.

“My parents quit paying for my school, forcing me to drop out. They felt I was my husband’s responsibility at that point anyway, and he was going to be a lawyer, so there was no reason for me to continue. What did I need a degree for? My lot in life was cast. I was going to be a society wife. I would keep a nice, clean home, learn to cook gourmet meals, and support him in his career. That’s what a good little wife does, right?”

I didn’t really have an answer for her. That’s not what I’d expect of her if she was my wife. I’d want her to laugh, to do what she enjoyed. I’d just want to love her.

“Things were a little uncomfortable,” she went on, “but not… horrible. I tried to make the best of it by being what he wanted. I’d always been a people pleaser, and so I tried to do that for him. He liked me to be available for him and would get upset if I’d made plans with my friends or something. After a while, I didn’t really want to rock the boat, so I withdrew a bit. If I didn’t talk to my friends, I wouldn’t have to explain why I couldn’t do things with them.”

A sad smile crossed over her face. “And then Max was born. For the first time in a long time, there was something to really, truly be happy about… something to live for, to make me smile. It wasn’t a fairytale, but it was working.”

She took another bracing breath and continued.

“Simon graduated and got hired on at a law firm in Indianapolis. It was so far away from everyone and everything I knew. I didn’t have a lot of friends left really, by that point, but there were a couple I’d been close to since I was a kid. Leaving them was… difficult. But I had my baby. I just focused on Max as much as I could. He was everything in my world.”

Her brow knit tightly and she bit her lip with a troubling expression, but she still wouldn’t look up at me.

“Simon’s job was pretty stressful, but he was hoping to make partner, so he did a lot of socializing outside of work. He’d go out with the others and often wouldn’t come home until late. I kept the home fire burning and took care of Max.”

She shook her head with a far-away look in her eyes.

“I knew nothing about his life at work or what he was doing. He’d sometimes let me know if he was going to be home late, but it got to the point where I was more surprised if he was going to be home at a reasonable time. When he touched me, it was hollow. A way to slake his lust, like I wasn’t even a person to him.”

The sick, twisted feeling in my gut tightened, and I felt bile rise in my throat. I instantly became pissed at the thought of him touching her… using her.

“After a few months, it started to kind of turn… bad. He started coming home in these really dark moods. Angry and bitter. He became very volatile. He would say really cold and cruel things to me and fly off the handle if I didn’t react how he wanted. It was so strange, like the flip of a switch. I started wondering if he was maybe… taking something or going crazy from the stress… I didn’t know what to think. His behavior just became so erratic. I never knew which Simon I’d be dealing with. None of them were Prince Charming, but some… some were better than others.”

“And then, he really freaked out on me one day. I’d washed a jacket of his, and, when he found out, he just exploded. He slapped me, really hard across the face. I didn’t even know what I’d done wrong.”

“He had something in the pocket,” I murmured, “didn’t he.”

Ilsa nodded slowly. “The funny thing was, I had checked the pockets, but there was one that was hidden. He had some coke stashed there.” She took a deep breath and looked across the room, out the window. “Apparently, one of his work friends had gotten him into it, something to help keep them going during long, busy days. Something to give him a little extra confidence in court.”

“I was shocked, so shocked that it didn’t even really phase me that he’d actually hit me. Instead I focused on what he was doing to himself. I didn’t know how to deal with it, how to make him stop. The thing was, once it was out in the open, it was like he didn’t even try to hide it anymore. He started doing it even more and was very blatant and antagonistic about it all. He became even more moody and harsh. I was bending over backwards trying to keep things on an even keel, to keep him from lashing out, but he was very hard to please.”

She smiled wistfully. “Max was such a good baby. He was quiet and healthy. He hardly fussed at all, even when he was teething. When he was about six months old, though, he got a really bad ear infection and he cried a lot. Simon didn’t like that. He’d yell at me to shut Max up. He said the sound was more than he could take. Sometimes he’d leave, but sometimes… sometimes he’d just look at Max like he hated him… so cold.” Her gaze flicked up to me for a second, to see me watching her intently, then back down. “It scared me, so even after Max got better, I tried to keep him as quiet as possible when Simon was home. That’s probably why he’s a little delayed now. I wouldn’t let him babble on like a baby should. I was scared to.”

“I knew that it was only going to get worse, and the way he’d started acting towards Max… it scared me. I just didn’t know what to do. I tried talking to him, sort of feeling him out and suggesting that maybe it wasn’t going to work.”

“And?”

“He didn’t take it very well. That was… that was a bad one.”

“A bad one?” I asked with a sick feeling in my gut.

“He didn’t hold back much,” she whispered. “I barely remember anything after the first few seconds.” As a shiver coursed through her, it occurred to me that I never wanted to kick someone’s ass so much in all my life.

“And then?” I prompted.

“He went out. I called my mother, begging for help, but she said I had made my bed and that I needed to lie in it.”

“Jesus, he was beating you up, and you mother basically told you tough shit?”

Ilsa nodded. “Then she called him and told him what I’d done. He put a bunch of parental controls on my phone so he could keep really close track of who I called. Any texts I sent or received went to him also. He did the same with the computer, making it so he knew everything I did, every website I looked at or email I sent. He slowly closed me off from the rest of the world until I’d lost all contact with my friends from back home.”

As she spoke, her voice became more and more impassive, quiet and small, as if she was afraid of him even now. My protective instincts warred with my frustration at this situation. And in the middle of it all sat the helpless feeling that I was way more invested in her than she was in me.

That I always had been.

But I was starting to see why. All those times she’d told me she couldn’t or she shouldn’t… and I’d blown her off, thinking she was just shy or scared of getting attached. The loathing for my own failure to see the warning signs made bile rise in my throat. She glanced up at me, registering my clenched jaw, and she shied back a little more.

“After that,” she said, “things got worse yet. The strain that was already there intensified. The longer it dragged out, the more awkward things felt. The more awkward things felt, the more irritated he became with me. The more irritated he became… the more he would hurt me.”

Her voice lowered to a whisper.

“He generally kept some control and avoided places people would see, but one night he actually punched me… hard. Right in the face. I panicked and ran to get Max and leave. He grabbed me by the throat until I saw spots, and then he wrenched Max from my arms. Max was screaming, he was so scared. And Simon just held him out of my reach while he smacked my head into the floor. He said he’d beat it into me… I could go, but I couldn’t take Max. With his connections and my lack of them, there was nobody who would fight on my side.”

As she continued to talk, I sat there speechless, my mind trying to process the horror her life had been. I remembered the fights my neighbors had, how it all had culminated in a deadly blow.

Jesus… that could have been her.

Those screams that haunted me some nights, the sounds of my neighbors fighting and the violent end, began to float through my mind. Only now, I was picturing Ilsa… small and frightened. And Max crying while his mother was beaten. My gut lurched as I remembered watching the paramedics wheeling out my neighbor’s body.

“It scared me enough to make me stay,” she whispered, “but I was always looking for some chance to get out of there. I felt so trapped, though. I didn’t have anything of my own, nobody I could trust.”

“You’re lucky he didn’t kill you,” I breathed.

She gave me a grim shrug. “I knew I had to get out of there before he did, I just didn’t know how.”

“What did you do? How did you leave?”

“Like an answer to a prayer, one day in the mail, there was a credit card application in my name. I hid it in my purse, and then a couple days later, I called from a pay phone, and it was approved. A week later, I had a credit card he didn’t know about. It terrified me thinking he might catch me, but that little card gave me… hope.”

A small tremble coursed through her, as though the fear she’d felt still echoed in her bones.

“Then,” she said, “when I took Max for a checkup, I saw a brochure in the clinic waiting room for a women’s shelter. I drove there with Max directly after his appointment. I begged them to take me, but they didn’t have any beds available. However, they helped me with some paperwork to file for protection from abuse, then checked us into a cheap hotel to keep us safe until the hearing the next day. I was so hopeful… I didn’t sleep at all.”

“I took Max to a drop in child care place in the morning and went to the hearing, but it was a disaster. He had a buddy from his firm to act as his lawyer. I had no legal representation,” she raised a brow, giving me a knowing look, “and he knew the judge. They played golf together almost every weekend. My case was thrown out for lack of evidence of abuse. I’d never gone to the hospital, so there were no records. He’d never touched me in front of others, so there were no witnesses.” She took a deep breath that hitched halfway through. “I was so ashamed of how things had ended up that I hadn’t told anyone but my mother, and her and my dad signed a statement saying I had an overactive imagination. They said I was always painting myself as the victim.”

It all seemed so surreal. If I hadn’t known an abusive situation, if I hadn’t seen and heard how bad it could all end up, I might not have believed her. It was all that fucked up.

“When I left the hearing, I had no protection, and I was terrified. There was no way to keep him away from me. I had no money, just one credit card that he didn’t know about. I didn’t know where I was going to go or what I was going to do. I went to the drop-in center to get Max and headed right out of town. I just drove, randomly following the next road and the road after that until I wound up in Butte. It just… felt like it was a place I could maybe go unnoticed. I saw an ad in the paper for the waitressing job at the Copperline and found a cheap apartment.”

Her eyes had been watery off and on throughout her story, but when she looked up at me, they were full of tears and fear.

“But tonight he called you. He knows where I work. He knows… about you,” she whispered. “I have to go.”

“So you’re just going to run again? Where are you going to go this time? I don’t know what kind of credit limit you’ve got, but eventually your credit line is going to run out.”

She pursed her lips and looked away, her forehead knitted with worry, and large tears spilled forth and ran down her cheeks.

“I don’t know what else to do.”

I pulled her close, leaning her up against my chest, and brushed her tears away. With my touch, she seemed to give in to the pain and regret. She sort of deflated against me, placing a bracing hand on my chest.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “None of this was fair to you. I really tried to stay away from you. I tried to fight how you made me feel.”

She had. Every time I thought we took a step forward together, she took two steps back, and it all made sense now as she quietly cried in my arms.

“I’m sorry for making you think that there could be something between us. The truth is I really wanted to believe it.” She pulled back a little and looked up at me, holding my gaze. “I knew it was just a fragile dream and that I would have to wake up and face reality, but I really wanted to stay in that safe little world with you.”

“You could have told me,” I said, my voice sounding gruff and irritated as I still reeled from the shock of it all.

She swallowed hard and pulled back a little more. “I’m so sorry…”

“I thought… fuck, I thought…”

I couldn’t finish it out loud.

I thought you loved me.

“Cody—”

Her eyes were fearful, but mostly they were anguished. It reflected on her face, in her stance, perched on the edge of the bed ready to run.

“You were going to leave tonight.”

She dropped her gaze in reproach. Her shoulders fell with her guilt. Inhaling a broken, shuddering breath, she nodded.

“I was.”

“You were going to just drive off in the night, not even saying goodbye.”

“I wasn’t supposed to care about you. I didn’t want to because I knew I’d have to leave.”

“No, that’s not it. You didn’t trust me,” I said.

Her luminous eyes lifted to meet mine, her lashes spiked with tears. She started to shake her head.

“How could I, Cody?” she cried. “I essentially kidnapped my child. I was breaking the law. There’s probably fucking warrants out for my arrest.”

“Was anything between us real?” I asked with a raw, burn in my chest. “I was… fuck, I told you I loved you, and you said I shouldn’t.”

She wrapped her arms around her gut and looked away. “And I was right. You shouldn’t. I shouldn’t have let it go this far.”

I felt sick, hyper, and drained. It was pure agony, all of it. The whole situation seemed so hopeless.

“I’ll call Felicity in the morning, see what she thinks. She might have some connections. A way to keep you and Max safe.”

“How? He knows where I am. He’ll come after me.”

“I don’t know how, but we will. Felicity is a social worker, and her dad is the sheriff.”

I saw a glimpse of betrayal flash through her eyes, and then I could almost see her closing up right before my eyes. Freezing me out. “You’re going to turn me in, yet you wonder why I don’t trust you… why I don’t trust anyone.”

“He’s good and honest. He’ll make sure that fucker can’t hurt you.” I wanted to brush the tears from her cheek, but I clenched my hand and held it to my side.

“Right,” she whispered in disbelief, “I’ve heard that before.”

“Ilsa, it’s going to—”

“Do what you’ve got to do, Cody.” She stood and walked across the room to look out the window. Her voice was flat and hollow.

I didn’t know what to say. The tension radiated off her.

“Ils,” I started again, but she quickly turned and headed for my bedroom door. Standing, I went to stop her, but froze as she instantly cowered, a reflex that stopped me short.

With one last sad look, she opened my door and left the room. A moment later, I heard her go into the bedroom door down the hall.

After Ilsa confessed her sins, I went downstairs. I wanted to follow her into the spare room, to have her tell me it was all shit. That she wasn’t really married and I hadn’t really compromised my true-blue ideal of marriage. My mind reeled with everything she’d said.

I was just fucking blown away.

I ended up in the kitchen, mechanically reaching for the bottle of Jameson on top of the fridge. I sorta felt like I deserved a drink after everything she’d told me. A couple, really.

I didn’t mean to, but, by the time Drew and Justin got home, I’d gotten completely schnockered. The painful helplessness had mixed with the whisky and expanded the twisted turmoil that roiled in my gut until I was just flat pissed at myself. It turned me dark. The more I drank and the more the frustration soured in my stomach, the angrier I got.

I wanted to be pissed at her. To be self-righteous and furious at her for her dishonesty.

But, shit… I couldn’t blame her. Look what she’d been through. She was trying to survive something that could have killed her. I’d seen what it could do to a person with my own eyes. And she had Max to think about, too. No kid should grow up watching his mom getting thumped on, wondering if he was next.

So instead, I decided to be furious at the situation… at my own hope for a future with her. Something that had seemed such a sure thing just a short time ago.

I wanted to rage. I wanted to storm around in my anger. I wanted to hit something. Anger seemed like a safer emotion. If I was mad, I didn’t have to feel the vulnerability that was tearing through my soul. I could ignore the temptation to burst into that spare room, to wrap her in my arms and hold tight… to beg her to tell me that she loved me back.

And in the middle of my self-pity party, I wondered how I could've thought I really loved her.

I didn’t really know her.

“Cody?” Drew asked warily as he came in. I was slouched on the sofa, barely able to keep my eyes open with the bottle I had tucked up against my body. “You alright?”

I just sullenly shook my head.

“What happened with Ilsa?” Justin asked. “Brannon said there was some kind of emergency. Is she okay?”

“Nothing’s okay…” I slurred. “T’sall fucked up.”

I closed my eyes and dropped my head back, catching a glimpse of them trading concerned glances.

“Where’s she at, Cody?” Drew asked.

“Upstairs… spare room… trying to figure out how to get away from her husband.”

“Husband?” they both gasped.

“Yep,” I nodded and gave a caustic laugh, “turns out I was fucking a married woman.”

“Shit,” Drew breathed out.

“Holy fuck,” Justin muttered. “And you never knew?”

“I should have,” I moaned. “That girl… full of secrets… thought I loved her… didn’t know her at all.”

“Jeez, I’ll say,” Drew said.

Justin plopped down on the couch beside me and eased the bottle from my grasp. He took a long swig, swallowing slowly. “Wow,” he murmured. “Cody, man… I’m sorry.”

I eyed him through heavy lids. It occurred to me that it was the end of the world. My heart had been ripped right out of my chest, and Justin was being nice to me. Justin was never nice to me. Must be the rapture or some shit.

“Why the fuck are you being nice to me?” I blurted out. “You’re never nice to me, and it’s freaking me out.”

He gave me a quizzical look. “Um… fuck off, douchebag?” he said, making it sound like a question.

“That’s better,” I nodded, instantly wishing I hadn’t when a wave of nausea rolled through my head and down through my gut. I groaned, leaning forward to rub my hands over my forehead. “I should have listened more, asked more questions… or made her answer the ones I did ask. I knew she was hiding shit, but I never imagined this.”

“Lying bitch,” Drew muttered. “All women… they’re a bunch of lying bitches. The whole fucking lot of them.”

“She’s not a bitch, you asshole,” I snarled.

“That’s bullshit, Cody. Women are fucking masters at shit like this, leading us around by our dicks while they play their little games,” Drew scornfully spat. “Fuckin’ Maggie… I know she’s fucking around on me. And this, Cody… God, you’re the nicest dude I’ve ever known, and for her to pull this over on you… that’s just fucked up.”

“She just…” I muttered, “she had to.”

“She had to lie to you?” he sneered, reaching out for the bottle.

“I’m with Drew on this,” Justin said as he handed it over. “She didn’t have to fucking lie to you. I’m telling you guys, just fuck ‘em. Fuck ‘em, every one of them. Fuck ‘em all and leave them wanting more… but always leave ‘em.”

“No,” I said and shook my head drunkenly, swaying a little as the room continued to move before my eyes.

Drew pointed at me, and it took a minute for me to focus on his finger. “You’re too nice of a guy, Cody. Nice guys finish last.”

Justin nodded. “You’ll never fuckin’ understand women. That’s why you just fuck ‘em and go.”

“She fucking snowed you, man,” Drew said, taking another swig. “Totally used you and made you her safety net.”

“She had to,” I mumbled. “I was the only one she had.”

“Fuck that,” both of them responded.

The room swam before my eyes as I allowed Justin and Drew to continue their tirade. They didn’t get it. They wouldn’t get it.

My eyes started to drift closed, heavy with whiskey and regret. The more they drank and ranted, the more I wanted the solitude of my room. I wanted to forget. I wanted to slip into the oblivious darkness that the booze was offering.

I struggled to my feet, weaving a little. My legs felt weak and I paused a minute to give them a chance to solidify beneath me.

“Cody, dude,” Justin said as he started to follow, “need some help?”

“Fuck off,” I muttered, “I don’t need anyone.”

I stumbled to the stairs, missing the first one a couple times, but finally making my way to the top. Bracing myself with an arm out to touch the wall, I pitched and reeled down the hall towards my room. For a moment, I stared at the closed door to the spare room, my bitter remorse burning through my chest.

I should have just left her alone. Her life was in a shambles. She had tried to tell me without telling me so many times.

I can’t. There’s a lot of reasons I can’t.

You shouldn’t waste your time on me.

There can’t be a you and I.

She knew it. The last thing she should have done was hook up with me, and I’d pushed her to it. I’d kept at her, ignoring the signs, only concerned about what I wanted, not listening to her. Not really.

Somehow the wall reached out and grabbed me, causing me to stumble with a thump as I fell against it. For a moment, I used the solid support while the world stilled before me, and then I slowly moved on down the hall and fumbled with my doorknob. The fucking thing seemed to move when I tried to grab it, like I couldn’t quite catch it.

Then, a small hand reached out and turned it. Ilsa slipped an arm around my waist and guided me into my room, towards my bed.

For a minute, everything in me swelled. Her soft touch and sweet, warm scent. Heaven in my arms.

God, I loved her.

But I shouldn’t. She was married.

“No, you shouldn’t be in here,” I mumbled in a garbled voice.

“I know,” she whispered back, sounding broken and frail.

I straightened, stumbling away from her as I pulled my shirt over my head. I focused on the desire to go to sleep. I tried to block out everything around me. My shirt started pissing me off, though. It got hung up on my head, and I yanked on it a little harder, weaving as it came loose. I threw it to the floor, using my frustration to stiffen my spine as I tried so fucking hard to ignore her.

She stood across the room from me, and even in my schnockered state, I could feel her sorrow. Her worry. Her lonely heartsickness.

I jerked on the fly of my jeans, ripping open the buttons, and she turned away with belated modesty. I veered towards my bed, clumsy in my intoxication, as I tried to get off my jeans, only to realize I still had my work boots on.

Fuck.

Ilsa stepped forward and eased me back on the messy pile of blankets thrown haphazardly on the bed.

“Don’t…” My voice sounded distant, hanging on to the last shred of consciousness. “You’re married.”

She didn’t respond, just knelt before me and undid the laces of my work boots, pulling them off before she rose. She tugged down my jeans and pulled them from my legs, leaving me in my boxer briefs.

“Scoot up,” she said with a nudge towards the head of the bed. I flopped and fell until my head had reached the pillow. Reaching down, she started to pull up the blankets, covering my body.

Just before she turned away, I noted the tears trailing down her cheeks. I grabbed her arm, pulling her towards me.

“I shouldn’t have pushed you to be with me.”

She swallowed hard and turned her face away, but I tightened my grasp and rolled, taking her with me and holding her still with the weight of my body.

My fingertips trailed along her jaw as I stared down at her in a drunken haze. “I should have stayed away,” I ground out. “I never should have slept with you.”

She was fighting back tears, losing the battle, and a small, choked sob broke free.

“I've never known anyone like you,” I continued, “never wanted anyone so much… but I never should have touched you.”

I brushed my lips against hers.

“I should have been like Justin. I should have just stuck with the bar sluts. Fucked ‘em and left ‘em… and left you alone.” My lips trailed down her tear-streaked cheeks to her neck, biting little kisses along the tender skin. “I should have just had lots of empty, meaningless sex. Anything would be better than the way this feels now.”

She wasn’t even trying to hold back any longer, crying beneath me as my hands slipped down her body to the hem of the long T-shirt she wore to bed. With a groan, I lifted the fabric, shoving it up as I found my way back to her lips where I kissed her deeply, with all my pent up emotion pouring from my soul. I wanted to purge it from my system, to release this hopelessness that felt so awful.

But the minute I kissed her, the desperation for her alone took over. The promise of being one with her, of losing myself in her touch and her scent. Better than any whiskey, it numbed the pain that ripped through my chest.

I stripped the clothes from her body and made her moan for me. I overwhelmed her with my presence until she was panting with desire, until that need had her responding through her tears.

“I hate this,” I moaned as I slipped inside her. “I hate that I want you so much.” Through the haze of lust and alcohol, I saw more tears fall from her eyes. I saw the lonely shame color her cheeks.

I took her gently with slow strokes that made her sob. Deep into her body, twisting at her soul. Wanting her to ache and burn like I did.

I knowingly fucked another man’s wife, feeling like an asshole for going against everything I’d ever thought about marriage.

And she let me. Not even once did she try to pull away, to stop me. She held me, whispered how sorry she was, while she lifted her hips to meet my thrusts.

After I came inside her, after I touched pure beauty, the self-reproach came rushing back.

“Why did I have to fall in love with you?” I whispered into her neck. “God, I wish I’d never met you.”

If I had been just a little less intoxicated, I could have guarded my words a little better. I could have clarified that it was my guilt and regret for ignoring the red flags she’d thrown up all along. If I hadn’t met her, neither one of us would be hurting right now.

But as it was, as bombed and shattered as I was, I didn’t. I used her flood of hot, agonized tears as a substitute for my own. Tears that chilled my skin when she pulled away, shaking with quiet sobs.

I stared at her lifelessly as she reached for her night shirt and slipped it on over her naked body.

“I’m so sorry, Cody,” she whispered, and stumbled from my bed to the door.

My heart felt rotten inside. Purulent. Festering with remorse and guilt and shame.

I should have gone after her. I knew she was hurting. I knew what I’d just done and said had hurt her even more. I should have followed her and told her… something… anything.

But I didn’t.

I lay there all alone in my bed with the scent of her all around me and I passed out cold.

I woke up feeling dead inside.

Everything I thought I’d known the day before had disappeared before my eyes. Things I’d thought about Ilsa. Things I’d thought about myself. I felt sick as the words I’d said to her last night came back to me. Her quiet crying seemed to reverberate through my head and echo through the still morning around me.

I had to help her.

I climbed out of bed and tugged on my jeans. My head was pounding so I stopped in the bathroom to grab some Tylenol. Coming out, I was face to face with the closed door of the spare bedroom.

I figured she was in there sleeping. As quiet as it was, Max had to be asleep at the very least. I almost knocked on the door anyway. I needed to apologize, to let her know that I was going to help her somehow. Yet, I didn’t. She needed the rest after all the shit that had gone down last night.

Instead, I went downstairs and started a pot of coffee. While it was brewing, I gave Denny a call.

“Cody?” he answered. “Is everything okay? What happened last night?”

“Are you and Felicity busy today?” I asked. “Ilsa is in some trouble, and it might be something that Felicity can help her with.”

“Sure, we can pop over,” he replied, no questions or judgments. Denny was seriously one of the best guys around. “Just give Fliss a bit of time to get ready.”

“She’s married,” I began. Denny and Felicity both looked utterly shocked. “I didn’t know it until yesterday.”

“Jaysus,” Denny breathed.

“Her husband is a prick, used to beat on her, so she wanted out. He didn’t like that idea. She tried to go about it the right way, the legal way by getting some kind of protection order, but her case was thrown out.”

“That can happen, unfortunately,” Felicity commented. “It happens all too often.”

“They said there was lack of evidence,” I continued, “but her husband is a lawyer with connections.”

“So she took Max and ran?” Felicity asked.

I nodded, wincing at the remnants of the hangover that swirled around in my head. “Exactly.”

“We will get something filed here,” she nodded. “I don’t care who he is back where he’s from, but she’s the one with connections here. We won’t let him touch her.”

“Thank you,” I said with a grim smile.

“I take it she’s here,” Denny asked.

“Yeah, she’s up in your old room.”

“Why don’t you go get her,” Felicity said as she pulled her phone from her purse, “and we’ll get the details worked out. I’ll make a few phone calls while you’re doing that, starting with my dad.”

I climbed the stairs up to the bedrooms on the second floor, feeling slightly more optimistic after talking to Felicity. Hopefully, Ilsa would feel some promise, too.

“Ilsa?” I quietly called as I knocked on the door.

There was no answer. I turned the knob and peeked in, not wanting to disturb Max if he was asleep, but my stomach fell when I looked into the room.

They weren’t there.

Not so much as a sign of them. The diaper bag, Ilsa’s purse… gone.

Fuck.

I ripped back down the stairs into the great room. “She’s gone.” Running out the kitchen door, I realized her car was gone, too. “Fucking hell,” I breathed.

As if I hadn’t already felt guilty enough about last night, the things I said to her echoed around in my head. Things I never would have said if I hadn’t been angry and hurt and totally bombed like I was. Things I had wallowed in, listening all night to Drew and Justin and their own fucked up views on women.

“Why did she leave? It doesn’t make any sense,” Felicity murmured.

I looked over at her feeling like a complete fucker, and by her expression, my guilt was written all over my face.

“What did you do?” she asked warily.

“I got pretty blitzed last night after she told me,” I groaned. “Wallowing in self-pity. I said some shit… did some shit.”

“Where would she have gone?” she asked.

“I have no idea. Anywhere.”

Felicity dialed her cell phone. “Dad, you know that girl I just called you about? Well, she’s gone. She took off.” She paused for a minute. “Yeah, I am… very worried. Her husband has been creeping around, and I’m not sure what he’ll do if he gets a hold of her. Can you do something?” Another pause. “We don’t know what he’s driving, but… well, could you put out word to keep an eye out for her?” She looked over at Denny and I. “I know, but she’s not safe out there. Okay, just a sec.” Felicity lowered the phone and handed it over to me. “He wants to know what she’s driving, how long she’s been gone, stuff like that,” she said.

I took a deep breath and took the phone. “She’s got a dark blue Impala,” I told him, “about four years old.”

“When did you see her last?” he asked. All business. No nonsense.

“Pretty late last night,” I answered.

“Did she say anything at all to indicate where she might be going?”

“I thought she was staying here, but… well, then I was kind of… an idiot.”

There was a quiet moment on the other end. “What do you mean by that?” the Sheriff asked.

“Well, I, um… I was upset and a little drunk.”

“Why were you upset, Cody?”

I looked over at Felicity and Denny who were watching me closely. “Because I love her… and she didn’t tell me. She didn’t trust me.”

Felicity’s face went soft. She kind of made an ‘awe’ face and leaned into Denny who put his arm around her.

“I take it that you didn’t know she was married,” Sheriff Williams asked.

“No sir,” I replied, “I didn’t, and I didn’t really handle it well when she told me.”

He asked me a couple more questions, said he’d see what he could do to track her down, but, short of putting out an APB or something, he wasn’t entirely sure he had much to offer. She hadn’t been gone long enough to file a missing persons report and, honestly, I likely didn’t even know enough about her to complete one.

Because, after everything she’d told me, I still didn’t even know her real name.

“You fucked her, didn’t you?”

We stopped by the Copperline to see if Doug had heard from her at all, and he had. She’d called to let him know she wouldn’t be back, that she was sorry for the short notice.

Doug now looked like he wanted to kill me. I didn’t blame him. I kinda wanted to kill me, too.

“In more ways than one,” I gloomily replied.

“Dammit… I didn’t think it would be you, Cody. I told you guys not to fuck her, and now she’s gone.”

“We’re trying to find her.”

“Yeah, good luck with that. I’m not sure how, but that girl’s in trouble and she’s scared.”

“I know, and I actually do know why.”

“I tried to watch out for her. She came in here looking for work, but asked if I could pay her under the table, so I know she was running from something.” He turned to glare at me again. “I told you to stay away from her. As long as she was here, I could have helped keep her safe.”

I slammed my fist down on the bar. “She wasn’t safe here, Doug. The fucker looking for her called this bar. That was him last night on the phone. He called and asked for me because he’d been watching her and knew we’d hooked up.”

“Shit,” Doug muttered. He clenched his jaw and gave me a hard look. “You've gotta find her, Cody.”

“I know.”

I didn’t know where to start or where to look. Ilsa’s phone kept going straight to voicemail. I left message after message, apology after apology, and nothing. I kept hoping Felicity’s dad would turn up with something.

Anything.

I had to find her.

All day I racked my brain trying to think of anywhere she might have gone, but the only thing I knew was that she probably wouldn’t go back to Indianapolis where she was from. That left the rest of the fucking United States, really, and every minute she was gone had me that much more convinced that I’d never see her again.

Justin and I drove all over Ophir and all over Butte, then along the back roads nearby. Brannon and Sophie also cruised around the area, as did Denny and Drew.

Nothing.

We looked everywhere. She was nowhere to be seen.

Hoping Ils would come back, Felicity hung out at the Mofo house with Eoghan for most of the day. She also checked in with her dad from time to time.

Nothing.

I even drove up Pipestone Pass where we’d ridden on my bike, that first time I’d held her and loved her. I desperately hoped with everything in me that she was there, just hiding out. That our little spot on top of the mountain was a place of solace for her.

But there was no sign of her. In the hours she’d been gone, she could truly be anywhere within a couple hundred miles.

Finally, with no place else to look and no way to contact her, I headed back home.

I went straight to my room and collapsed on my bed. The faintest whiff of her scent wafted around me, a reminder that she’d been here. That just when she needed me the most, I’d been a total dick to her and made her run away. I’d been so caught up in the fact that I’d done the unthinkable—I’d slept with a married woman—my mind sort of tuned out that she was scared and suffering.

I lay there for hours trying to sleep, but mostly just wallowing in the fact that she was gone. Missing her. Missing Max. Wishing I could go back in time and undo my petulant, drunken display. When I did finally manage to doze off, thoughts of her filled my dreams. Smiles turning to dread. Laughter turning to fear.

And I slept fitfully, unable to escape the pain of missing her.

My ringing phone woke me up. It was early, barely even light, which meant it was really early in the long Montana summer day. I rolled over to my side and glanced at my phone, then jolted awake when I saw Ilsa’s name on the screen.

“Ilsa,” I said into the phone, “Jesus fucking fuck. Where are you?”

“Cody,” she whispered, “I only have a second before Simon comes back.”

For a second everything lurched in my gut.

Fuck.

He had her.

No. God no.

“He caught up with me,” she whispered, feeding my sense of foreboding. “He grabbed Max and told me to get in the car. I couldn’t let him take my son, so I came with him… but I’m so scared.”

“Ils—” I started, but she cut me off.

“I don’t know what to do, but you said once you’d help me. Don’t let him take us back, Cody,” she said, her voice cracking with emotion.

“Fuck, Ils, where are you,” I asked, jumping out of bed and dragging on a pair of jeans as I spoke to her. “I’ll help you, I won’t let him take you, but I need to know where you are.”

“I don’t know exactly. He’s taking us back to Indianapolis. We’re someplace east of Billings on I-ninety-four, at a rest area.”

“Okay, listen to me,” I said as I pulled on my shoes and grabbed my keys. “I’m leaving right now, headed that way. I’ll drive like a motherfucker, but I’m a couple hours behind. Hopefully he’ll have to stop for the night, even if he’s coked up, so you’re going to have to call me or text me whenever you can to let me know where you are.”

“Okay,” she replied.

“Turn your phone off in between so you can save your battery.”

“Okay,” she repeated.

“You need to get off the phone now, Ils, so he doesn’t catch you with it, but I’ll drive all the fucking way to Indy if I need to, alright? I’ll break down the goddamn door and take you out of his fucking house.”

“Cody, I’m so scared,” she whimpered.

“I know,” I said as I tore out of my room and down the stairs. The house was quiet in the early morning. “But I won’t let him hurt you anymore. You just do what he says to keep yourself and Max safe.”

“Okay.”

“Give me your home address, Ils, in case your phone dies or something happens where you can’t call.” I leaned over the counter and scribbled it on a piece of paper that I shoved in my pocket. “Now hang up and hide your phone before he comes back.”

“Okay.”

“Ils?”

“Yeah?” She sounded terrified.

“I’m coming to get you. It’ll be okay.”

I heard a shaky breath through the phone, and then a wavering “Okay.”

Then dead air.

I scribbled a note to my roommates, leaving Ilsa’s address there too in case something happened to me.

Then I was out the door, in my truck, and on the road.

Eastern Montana was unique in its beauty. Nothing like the mountain peaks near Ophir, but the wide open skies and prairie seemed to go on forever. It made the world seem so big, made the distance between Ilsa and I seem endless. Miles and miles and miles…

She sent me a text in the middle of the afternoon. They’d crossed into North Dakota and had just passed a small town called Medina. I could almost feel the fear and uncertainty in her short text, and my chest tightened with regret and remorse once again for the way I’d reacted and made her run.

She said Max was safe, but getting fussy from being in the car so long. Simon had said something about maybe stopping in one of the small towns along the road. Judging by their location, I’d cut the time down between us considerably. Of course, I was driving ninety to nothing, determined to stop them.

The sun was low in the sky as I crossed into the Dakotas. The landscape was dry and sparse, the road long and straight before me. The longer it took for another text, the more anxious I got. The more I started imagining all kinds of shit going down.

Had he found her phone? Had he hurt her?

My thumbs drummed nervously on the steering wheel as I pressed a little harder on the gas. It felt like forever.

Finally, just after dark, I got another text. Valley City. Simon was in the office of the AmericInn hotel getting a room for the night.

I stopped to get gas and check Google Maps. Valley City was a little over a hundred miles away from me, and I could be there in just over an hour if I pushed it. I sent her a quick reply asking her to let me know what room, and I’d head straight there.

About forty-five minutes later, maybe thirty miles from Valley City, my phone rang again.

“Cody,” Ilsa gasped, frantic and out of breath. I could hear Max fussing quietly in the background.

“Ils, are you okay? What room are you in? I’m close. Maybe twenty minutes…”

“Simon went to get something at the front desk, and he left Max with me. I ran, Cody. I've got Max and we are back in a bunch of trees behind the hotel.”

“Jesus, be careful. Keep Max quiet and watch out for that fucker. I’m close.”

“I just crossed a road, but I’m not sure what it’s called. I’m back in the woods, but kind of walking along it until I get to an intersection.”

“Stay out of sight until I get there, Ils,” I warned.

“I will,” she said, gasping for air. “Wait, there’s a road.” I could hear her moving faster, and she murmured quietly to Max. “It’s okay, baby. We’re almost safe. Cody’s coming.”

“Dody,” I heard Max whimper.

Fuck, his scared little voice reached into my chest and squeezed my heart. I shoved my foot flat on the floor as I saw the streetlights of Valley City come into view.

“Okay,” Ilsa gasped, “we’re on Riverview Drive where it intersects with Eighth Avenue. There’s a bridge off to my right and some trees down along the river.”

“Get down in those trees and stay there,” I ordered. “I’m just coming into town. I need to look on the map to see how to get there, so I've gotta hang up for a minute.”

“Okay,” she whispered.

“Stay there. Right there. Don’t move.”

“Okay, Cody.”

“Dody,” I heard Max whine. “Want Dody.”

“He’s coming, baby,” she murmured as the line again went dead.

It felt so much longer than the six minutes it took me to get to the spot she was hiding. Fortunately, that spot was essentially right off the interstate.

So close.

I was so close to them.

Eighth Avenue went north to south, but I’d just crossed the river so, even without checking the map, I knew I’d have to turn to the left to get to where she was. A moment later, and I saw the bridge, and I jerked my truck to the side of the road and jumped out to find her.

“Ilsa!” I shouted. “Ils, where are—”

“Here!” she cried, running out of the trees towards me with Max in her arms. Tears were streaming down her face as she flew into my embrace.

God, she was here. She was real and I was holding her. It was amazing. My legs almost gave out with the intense relief that coursed through my veins.

I pulled back to look down at her, to brush the wetness from her cheeks. My other hand came to rest over Max’s little blond head, his eyes wide and reflecting in the moonlight.

“I've got you,” I whispered. “I’m here.”

I didn’t even hear the shot.

It came out of nowhere.

Just the strangest sensation in my shoulder, a burning stab of numbing shock. A sharp cry rang out—a scream—and I realized it was from Ilsa. Looking down at my shoulder, I saw the rapidly spreading darkness soak my shirt and a spattering of blood that had hit her cheek.

“Get back,” I shouted at her, pushing her back down towards the trees and away from the road. “Run!”

Pure adrenaline took over as I whirled around and charged at the dark figure on the road. I felt a little dizzy, but pushed through it, bearing down on him as he aimed at me again.

But I reached him first, using the weight of my body to knock him back before he could get the shot off. He wasn’t a small guy, but nowhere near my size, and definitely not built like me. I fought tooth and nail to throw him hard into the ground. The two of us hit the pavement, my arm scraping along the asphalt as I pulled back and hit him hard in the jaw. The gun went flying.

The burn in my shoulder began to spread, growing sharp and painful. My arm felt weak. Fuck, my whole body felt weak. Spots began to appear before my eyes, blurring my vision, but I pulled together every shred of strength in me and hit him again. Just when I thought I might be coming out on top, he shoved his hand up against my wound, digging into the raw flesh.

The pain was staggering, and it ripped through my body, shocking me into momentary submission. I felt his hands at my throat as he rolled the two of us, smacking my head hard against the road. Dizzy with pain and blood loss, it was all I could do to stay alert, to not let the darkness take over. I shoved at him hard, a sudden burst that threw him off me, and he staggered back.

My head was swimming, my focus was off, and the throbbing in my shoulder made it almost impossible to move. I crouched as he started to come at me again, and then…

Another gunshot.

And another.

He took a stumbling step towards me, like his own mind hadn’t realized what happened, like he wasn’t bleeding out from a gaping chest wound right before my eyes. A second later, he dropped to his knees, then fell flat before me. I looked behind me to see Ilsa standing there, Max clutching her leg, and the gun in her shaking hands.

I started to stand, but the entire world seemed to weave around me, and my body collapsed onto the ground. As my eyes began to drift shut, Ilsa dropped the gun and scooped up Max, coming to kneel beside me.

“Cody,” she cried, “Cody, look at me. Open your eyes.”

I tried, but my body just couldn’t do it. There wasn’t enough left in me.

“Cody, please,” she whispered frantically, “open your eyes.”

I felt her shuffling and heard the beeps of her phone. The faint voice of a dispatcher sounded in the quiet night.

“Nine-one-one, what’s your emergency?”

“Help, a man’s been shot,” Ilsa cried.

I started fading in and out as I heard her giving some directions, and then she was leaning over me.

“Please be okay, Cody. Please be okay…”

Everything seemed so quiet. Only a hushed murmur or two in the distance. My eyes felt heavy and sticky, and it took all the strength I had to open them just the tiniest bit.

That was all I needed.

I was in a hospital room, in a hospital bed. I had bandages down across my chest and all kinds of IVs and shit in my arms. I had little monitors here and there.

But what settled me was Ilsa and Max curled up fast asleep in a recliner beside me. I closed my eyes with a sense of overpowering relief and let the heavy darkness pull me back under, content in knowing that they were okay.

The deep tone of a man’s voice was speaking, asking questions.

Ilsa’s voice was quietly responding from close by me, and I felt the cool touch of her hand on my arm.

Both were speaking in murmurs. I couldn’t understand much at first, just making out bits and pieces. I cracked my eye open long enough to see the officer’s uniform as he wrote on a small notepad.

Police? Oh, right… Simon. Ilsa had shot him.

“We didn’t even see Simon until after he’d shot Cody,” Ilsa was softly saying. “There was so much blood. Cody was hurt, but he pushed me away. He told me to run.” She took a shaky breath and lightly sniffed. “I started to, but I couldn’t leave him there. When I saw the gun skidding across the road… I had to do something.”

“So you picked it up,” the officer asked.

“I did. I wasn’t… I didn’t know what to do, and when Simon hit Cody’s head on the ground…” A small sob broke through. “He was going to kill him. Cody was just trying to save me, and Simon… he was going to kill him.” For a moment, the room was quiet, and then Ilsa sniffed and continued. “I was afraid I’d shoot Cody by accident, but I had to stop Simon from hurting him.”

The murmurs began to fade out again as my shoulder started throbbing again, making it hard to focus. They mixed with faint sniffles. Then heavy footsteps headed away from the bed.

“I don’t think they’ll charge you with anything,” the officer said, sounding farther away from me now. “What you’ve told me seems to coincide with what his friends out in the waiting room said, both about you and your husband. The evidence we pulled at the scene seems pretty straightforward, and we got a copy of your denied order of protection. How that failed is beyond me. At any rate, none of it leads me to believe that the death of your husband was a criminal act on your behalf.”

The delicate touch of Ilsa’s fingertips dusted across my forehead, brushing the hair out of my eyes. I could almost feel her gaze on me, the thick cloud of worry that surrounded her.

“How’s he doing?” the officer asked.

“He’s alive,” Ilsa whispered. “He’s not out of the woods yet, but he’s alive.”

There was a momentary silence, the occasional sniffle, and then I heard a door open.

“We’ll give you a call if we have any more questions,” the officer stated.

“Okay,” she replied, and then the door closed.

In the quiet room, I heard Ilsa’s breath catch and hold, a quiet sob, and another catch. I felt warm teardrops fall on my arm.

I wanted more than anything to open my eyes, to comb my fingers through her hair. To hold her while she cried, but my body wouldn’t respond to my mind.

“I’m so sorry, Cody,” she softly cried. “I’m so sorry.”

A light kiss pressed against my arm, followed by her wet cheek as she laid her head down.

“Please be okay.” Her voice was fading again. Sounding far away even though I could still feel her touch. “I’m so sorry. So sorry…”

“Dody?” I heard Max chirp.

I wanted to open my eyes again, but it was so hard to do.

“Cody’s sleeping, baby,” Ilsa’s quiet voice replied. I heard a slight shuffle of movement, and then Sophie’s voice.

“Sorry,” she whispered, “he was getting kind of fussy out there… wanted his mama.”

What the fuck was Sophie doing here?

“It’s okay,” came Ilsa’s muffled response, and in my mind I almost could see her resting her lips against Max’s hair.

“How’s he doing?” Sophie’s voice again.

“He seems to be pretty stable, so it’s just a matter of him waking up. They’re not sedating him anymore.”

“That’s good, considering he just had surgery yesterday morning.”

“Yeah,” Ilsa murmured. “It’s amazing he survived, but even more amazing that he’s doing so well.”

“He’s a strong guy,” Sophie replied. “Brannon just talked to Cody’s mom, and they’re on their way from Ophir. They should be here by morning.”

There was a long silence. I tried to open my eyes, but it was impossible. They felt like they’d been glued shut.

“I shouldn’t be here…” I heard Ilsa whisper.

“What?” Sophie asked. “Why?”

“I’m the reason he’s hurt. His parents won’t want me here.”

“Ilsa, I don’t think they’re like that.”

“They won’t mean to be. I met them once before, and they were very sweet, but they…” She released a shaky breath. “They know I’m not good for Cody. I never have been.”

“They would want Cody to be happy,” Sophie argued softly.

“Could you forgive someone who almost killed your child?” Ilsa asked in a small voice.

“Simon could have killed him, not you. It wasn’t you who did this.”

“Simon wanted to kill him because of me,” Ilsa added with finality. “His parents won’t want him with me.”

“He’s stubborn, though,” Sophie added, “and he loves you.”

“And that will just drive a wedge between him and his parents… like I haven’t already caused enough drama in his life.”

I felt Ilsa’s eyes on me, but I couldn’t move. I couldn’t bring myself out of the choking fog that was pulling back into the darkness. My exhaustion and the morphine won, and I faded into nothing once more.

The room was dim. Only a low light glowed over the sink. The blinds were drawn, but, looking through the cracks, it appeared dark outside. It took me a minute to figure out where I was.

Ilsa… Where was Ilsa?

I turned my head on the pillow. She was still there, curled up in a chair by my bed with Max conked out in another chair beside her. Her fingertips were just barely a hair away from mine, like she’d fallen asleep holding my hand and then slipped away.

I extended my reach slightly, just wanting to touch her.

Her eyes flew open at the brush of my fingers and instantly filled with tears.

“Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re awake,” she whispered.

“Is Max okay?” I could barely talk. My voice sounded thick and rough.

She nodded, blinking quickly. Reaching for a pitcher beside the bed, she leaned forward and brought a glass of ice water close to my lips. The liquid felt incredibly cool against my parched throat.

“Are you okay?” she asked. “Are you hurting?”

I thought about that for a second, remembering the gunshot and wondering if the dull ache in my chest was from that. I tentatively moved my arm, and felt the pain in a different spot. Or all over. It was hard to tell, especially since I still felt pretty groggy.

“Why did you leave?” I suddenly asked, then regretted it when her lower lip trembled.

“I was making you miserable,” she whispered, shaking her head.

“That’s not true.” I tried to shake my head, but felt so stiff and sore that I barely moved.

“It is, though, Cody. Your life was so easy and mellow. Then I showed up and suddenly you’re getting in fights… I was keeping secrets… and Simon… how you felt after you found out.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me? You could have trusted me.”

“I wanted to… so many times,” she whispered and wiped a stray tear from her cheek. “It wasn’t that I didn’t trust you. Well, at first it was, maybe. When I first met you, I was scared of being found out. As I got to know you, though, it wasn’t fear of what you might do. It was fear for you… I was afraid of what might happen to you because of me.”

“Ils—”

“I was doing something wrong by running away, Cody. By taking Max away from his father, I basically kidnapped him. For all I knew, Simon had gone to the authorities, and I was a fugitive. I knew you’d protect me, but telling you…” She trailed off as she swallowed hard. “It would have made you an accomplice. It would have gotten you in trouble unless you turned me in.”

“I would have never done that,” I said.

Her hazel eyes held a sad smile. “I know. You would have taken a fall for me. You kinda did, actually, when you were shot because of me. I don’t deserve that, Cody.”

“Ils—” I began again, but she took my hand in hers, studying it as she traced my fingers with her own.

“I tried so hard not to love you.”

But I wanted her to love me.

“Do you?” I asked, almost afraid that even now she might say no.

She kept her eyes lowered for a moment, doing nothing to ease my trepidation, but finally lifted them to look at me once more and nodded.

“I do,” she whispered. “I really do.”

I closed my eyes for a moment, feeling her words wash over me. The haze of medicines and injury made it difficult to open them again, but I fought through it to look at her once again.

“Will you stay?” I asked. “Stay here with me.”

She furrowed her brow and looked down again. “I have to go tie up all the loose ends in Indy, now that Simon’s gone…”

God, I didn’t want her to leave.

“Will you come back?”

Say yes… say yes.

“Are you sure you want me to?” she asked. “You may not feel the same once you’re off the pain meds. And your parents must hate—”

A quiet knock at the door interrupted whatever more she was going to say, and a nurse came in, stopping short when she saw my open eyes.

Shit… fuck…

I wanted to tell her to go away, but she never really gave me the chance.

“Oh, wonderful,” she smiled. “You’re awake.” She poked her head back out the door and mumbled something to someone about sending for the doctor on call, and stepped up to the bed.

Right about that time, Max started fidgeting where he slept in the other chair, waking up in an unfamiliar place and appearing somewhat rattled. He looked around, calming some when he saw his mom, then pointed at me.

“Dody,” he said. “Ooch.”

“Yeah,” Ilsa murmured as she picked him up and held him close, “Cody’s got an ooch, baby.”

“He sure does,” the nurse added. “A big ooch. I’m going to change the dressing, so you two should maybe step outside for a bit.”

“Right,” Ilsa replied, then paused before she continued in a shaky breath. “I should take Max to go get something to eat anyway, so, uh… I’ll be back in a bit.”

She stepped over to me, leaning over to kiss my forehead.

“I love you,” she whispered, and then turned and left the room with Max.

She didn’t come back.

I’d been back in Ophir for about two months, back to playing the drums for about half that time, although still not as much or as hard as before. My body was a little slow to recover. Having a bullet tear through your flesh will do that to a person. I was still tender, and I tired more quickly than I used to, but I needed to get back to my rhythm. I needed something to do, something to live for. Something to distract me.

Because Ilsa still hadn’t come back.

Maybe she was gone for good.

Sometimes at night, I woke up feeling like I was still in the hospital. I heard her quiet voice in my dreams. I felt her soft touch on my hand.

I didn’t know how to reach her. The cell phone number she’d had before was now out of service. I knew it was a pay-as-you-go, so that didn’t surprise me all that much that it wasn’t valid any longer.

I didn’t know if she was still in Indianapolis, or if she’d moved on. I wanted to go find her, to track her down by using the address she’d given me when Simon had taken her and Max. I didn’t know if she was still suffering some shell-shock after everything that had happened. Or if Max was. While the memories were sketchy for me, especially after being shot, it was possible the traumatic experience had messed with his tiny little kid head.

I didn’t know if I’d ever know.

I only knew that I missed them.

I missed Ilsa and her shy smiles. I missed her quiet presence at the Copperline. I missed her sweet lips and, even though we only had a good week or so where we were truly together, I missed holding her at night. I missed waking up and having ‘mook’ with Max or hearing him call me ‘Dody’ in that excited little chirp.

I even found myself listening to fucking K-pop. I had no idea what a majority of it said, but one song said something like ‘I want you back back back back back’… and I did. Totally. With every fiber of my being. That line echoed through my head pretty much nonstop, interchanging with one where some chicks said ‘baby, I’m so lonely lonely lonely lonely lonely’ over and over.

K-pop was rather repetitive.

Denny and Felicity, Brannon and Sophie, Drew and Maggie (okay, maybe not Maggie because she was kind of a bitch), and even Justin tried to keep my hope alive.

Yeah, even Justin.

As much as he told me I was a total lame ass for falling so hard and so fast, he almost started being nice to me. He mostly laid off the drummer jokes and wasn’t trying to throw pussy at me every time he turned around.

More than that, though, he was kinda there for me. He hung out with me and watched out for me. I’d always heard that the bass guitarist and the drummer tended to be the closest in the band.

I’d also figured the people who thought that had never met Justin.

But in the time after Ilsa had disappeared, Justin kept me from swirling in melancholy. He kept me up and out and about, dragging me with him to car shows or monster truck rallies. In very un-Justin-like fashion, he didn’t bail on me as soon as a chick tossed a suggestive wink his way. Like he didn’t want me to feel all alone.

However, he was still Justin, and tonight he was working his way into a bed with a couple girls who were out on the prowl with a bachelorette party. So I was on my own.

I stepped outside the back of the bar and walked to the far corner of the lot, leaning up against the split rail fence that bordered it. The night air was quiet and peaceful, even with muted revelry carrying over from the bar. Well into fall, the days were getting a little shorter, cooling off sooner with the crisp smell of falling leaves. I wondered where Ilsa was and what it was like there.

I wondered if she ever stared off into the twilight wondering about me.

“My real name is Isabelle.”

The voice sounded behind me like a dream. That voice. Her voice. I was afraid to turn around, to see nothing there. I wanted so badly to see her.

I took a deep breath and slowly looked back to see her standing a few feet away. Her eyes were full of tears. She was shaking, trembling there before me.

“I didn’t know if you still wanted me to come back,” she whispered. “The longer I was gone, the more I thought… you’re so much better off without me. I realized, though, I never told you my real name, and it felt wrong that I still had that one secret.”

Without a thought, without even realizing I was doing it, I strode over to her, grasping her cheeks in my palms, and brought her lips up to mine.

She let out a choked sob at the first touch, then threw her arms around my neck and kissed me back. The touch of her, her warm scent of sunshine, everything rushed through me, swelling in my chest with a beautiful ache. She melted against me, and I could taste the salty wetness on her tender lips. I didn’t want to stop kissing her. Ever. I was halfway afraid that if I did, she’d disappear. That I would find she was only an apparition.

Oh God, don’t let her leave me again. I wanted so badly for her to stay.

I pulled away a bit and touched my forehead to hers, trying to make my voice work. The wonder of seeing her, though, of feeling her in my arms, made it an impossible task for a second. My own eyes burned, and I kept them tightly closed while I tried to sort through the thoughts whirling around in my mind.

Ilsa spoke instead.

“My birthday is April twenty-sixth,” she whispered against my lips. “My maiden name is Phillips. I’m twenty-three years old. I've been married once, and he hurt me a lot. He made me afraid to love you because I knew that I couldn’t have you. I didn’t deserve you.”

“Ils—” I started, but she didn’t allow me to interrupt.

“I knew it was wrong to be with you.” Her breath caught in a pained sob. “And then he hurt you. I’m so sorry he hurt you.”

I shook my head just faintly, not wanting to do or say anything to push her away. I wanted her right where she was forever.

“I don’t give a fuck what happens to me,” I said, still somewhat dazed that she was here, “not with what he was doing to you.”

“I know that, too.” She smiled through her tears and her fingertips trailed down along my shoulder where I’d been shot. “But he could have killed you… because of me.”

I shook my head. “Not because of you. Because of me.”

She shook her head. “Cody—”

“I love you, Ils… or Isabelle, or whatever the fuck you want me to call you. I wasn’t about to let him hurt you or Max. I sure as fuck wasn’t going to let him take you away from me.” I gave her a lazy grin to cover the rapid beating of my heart against my ribs. “It was purely selfish of me.”

Ilsa didn’t smile at my sad attempt at humor. Instead, she swallowed hard and looked down at my chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t be,” I urged, pressing a firm kiss to her forehead, holding her tight against me.

“I don’t know if it means anything,” she whispered into my chest, “but I won’t ever lie to you again.”

“You didn’t really lie to me. You didn’t give me a lot to go on, but you didn’t lie.”

“I wasn’t honest.”

“I think you did what you had to do to protect Max, even to protect me. That’s pretty valiant, actually.”

“But Cody—”

I tipped her face up to mine and pressed another quick kiss on her lips to quiet her argument. Then I kissed her just a little longer because I had missed her and it felt so incredibly wonderful to have her close to me.

And I kissed her another moment more because I really, really wanted her and Max to stay.

“Where’s Max?” I finally asked when I pulled back a bit, touching my forehead to hers once again.

“Inside. Sophie’s got him. She said she needs practice.” She pulled back to look up at me, slightly shocked. “Is she…?”

I laughed. The baby fever talk hadn’t really died down much over the last few months.

“Not that I know of, yet… Brannon finally talked her into marry him first.”

Ilsa’s eyes softened. “Awe, they’re getting married? When?”

“Probably pretty quick,” I replied. “I think they were hoping you’d come back soon, so you could be here.”

“Me? Why me?” The confusion in her eyes made me smile down at her.

“You’re part of us, a part of our little group. You and Max.” I shrugged, “Plus, I’ve been kind of miserable lately. I think they felt bad doing something so happy with a wet blanket like me around.”

A flash of guilt crossed her features. “You’ve been miserable?”

“I’ve missed you,” I said honestly, and the emotion in my voice made it sound rough.

“Why? I kinda wreaked havoc on you,” she murmured regretfully. “You shouldn’t even want me now that you know everything.”

“I realized something while you were gone. I may not know much about your life and your past, but all that is just… I don’t care… because I know you. I know who you are inside, and I love you.”

“Cody…” she trailed off breathlessly.

“Just tell me if there are any other big things coming,” I grinned, and she smiled tearfully in response. “I can handle it if I brace for it. You’re worth it.”

“No more skeletons in my closet. Nothing else to hide. I’m an open book now.”

Relief flooded through my body, making my knees turn weak as I lowered my lips to hers once more.

“Good,” I said, placing a short, firm kiss to her lips. “I can’t wait to read you.”

Ilsa had given up her apartment before she left, so she and Max stayed with me at the Mofos’ house for a bit.

Honestly, I tiptoed around the idea of getting a place, like I had suggested right before things had gone to shit before. I was somewhat hesitant to bring it up again, though. Everything was so new and a bit fragile. I didn’t want to send her running.

So, as much as I didn’t want to be without her, not even for a minute, I tried to give her some time to adjust. To come to terms with the horror of Simon’s psychotic episode. To find closure in his death.

After she disappeared from the hospital, she went to Indianapolis and essentially sold everything she suddenly solely owned. She set aside a little money to start fresh, just enough to leave Indy behind her.

She donated the rest to the women’s shelter that had been too packed to take her in. Her endowment turned out to be a pretty hefty sum considering the house, cars, and other belongings. When she gifted the money, she set strict parameters for them to use it to increase the capacity of their facility. More beds so more women could find their way out of their own nightmares.

While she was in Indy, her parents came to see her, apologizing and saying they thought she had just been overreacting. They tried to ease their own guilty consciences by offering her support. They claimed they wanted to bond with their grandson, a child they’d never shown any interest in before.

But it was too little too late.

Ilsa more or less told them to fuck off before she drove out of Indy… and headed for Montana.

She came to see me in spite of the self-reproach festering in her heart, the staggering and suffocating awareness that Simon could have killed me. If his aim had been just a little bit better, or if he’d only been a little bit faster or stronger.

She shouldered that guilt, unable to imagine that I wouldn’t blame her, that others who loved me—my parents and my friends—wouldn’t blame her as well. So much that she almost didn’t come to see me at all.

In the end, though, she simply had to.

She loved me.

As much as I wanted to fix everything for her, to magically make it all better, I knew she needed to deal with the traumatic events that had taken place. More than ever, she needed patience and understanding. She needed me to love her like nobody ever had before. She sure as hell didn’t need me turning into a chick and demanding all kinds of commitment.

As it turned out, I didn’t even have to. I had a little help.

She’d been back in Ophir for about a week when, one day while I was at work, my mom stopped by.

At the hospital after I’d been shot, Ilsa had stayed beside me until she knew I’d be okay. From what the doctors and nurses and my friends said, she didn’t leave my side.

Not long before my parents got to the hospital, though, she panicked and ran. She disappeared into the night, unable to bear witness to the pain she’d caused. She thought my parents would hate her.

She thought my parents should hate her.

Because she still thought that way, she damn near had a heart attack when my mother pulled up to the house. With an ominous weight in her chest, she took a deep breath, opened the door, and, as she told me later, things sorta went down like this…

“Hi, sweetheart,” my mom said.

Sweet. Concerned. Worried.

And Ilsa was all like, Wait, what?

Not the greeting she’d had been expecting. She stood there gaping at my mom, feeling like her jaw had hit the floor.

“Can I come in?” my mom asked, seeming a bit nervous herself.

Ilsa nodded dumbly and stepped back.

Mom walked through the kitchen and into the great room, looking around before turning back to Ilsa.

“So where’s that sweet little boy of yours?” Mom asked with a soft smile.

“He’s upstairs, napping.”

Mom looked around the room again, decorated in beer signs and not much else. “This house…” she murmured, “it probably isn’t the best place for him.”

Ilsa’s heart sank, even though this was more or less what she had expected. She knew my folks were nice, that my mom wasn’t going to come in screeching at her or something. My mother’s words, albeit polite, compounded her self-condemnation.

“I know,” Ilsa replied sadly, and she steeled herself for what was to come. “It’s great for twenty-something-year-old guys. Not so much for an almost-toddler guy. I’m just figuring out… where to go next.”

My mother gave her a long, considerate look. “Do you love my son?” she finally asked.

“I do, very much. So much it hurts. Enough to—” Ilsa’s voice cracked, “—enough to leave.”

She waited for my mom to deal the crushing blow, to hear that she wasn’t wanted. That she would never be accepted. That she should leave and let me go if she loved me so much.

But my mom tossed a curveball her way.

“There’s a small house a couple blocks down from us,” my mom began. “It has two bedrooms and an adorable kitchen. There’s a park nearby. The neighborhood is wonderful. I raised my boys there.”

Ilsa frowned in confusion, unsure where my mother was going with this.

“You’d probably grow out of it pretty fast,” Mom said thoughtfully, “especially if you have more kids. It could get pretty cramped.”

Ilsa remained quiet, completely at a loss, but still sort of waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“But,” Mom continued, “it is a really cute place. It would be a wonderful house to start out in, and you’d be right down the street from us. Far enough to give you some privacy, but close enough that… well, I could help out with Max.”

“You could help with Max?” Ilsa repeated in wonder.

“Well, if you needed me to. I didn’t know if you were planning to work or maybe to go to school again since you weren’t able to finish before.”

“So… you want to be Max’s babysitter?”

My mom stepped closer and shook her head with a warm smile.

“Honey, my son loves you. That boy is kind of a carbon copy of his dad, so I know what I’m talking about when I say he loves hard… with all of his heart. There’s not a doubt in my mind that you are the one for him. He wants to marry you and spend the rest of his life with you. So, no, I’m not thinking I’m going to be Max’s sitter. I’m thinking I’m going to be Max’s gramma.”

Ilsa stood in shock while my mom’s words sank in.

And then she burst into tears.

When I got home, I found her sobbing on my mom’s shoulder.

“Sooo… what’s going on?” I asked cautiously as I walked in the door.

“Well, Cody,” my mom answered, “don’t be mad, but I think I sorta proposed to your girlfriend for you.”

“You… um… what?”

“She needs some time though, you know. She’s been through a lot lately, so don’t push her into doing anything too soon. When the time comes, we will help with the wedding and everything.”

I was starting to think my mom had cracked.

She smiled and used her thumb to wipe the tears from Ilsa’s cheeks, followed with a sidelong glance in my direction.

“Don’t take this the wrong way, son,” she said, “because you and your brother were my entire world, but I always wanted a girl.”

I raised an eyebrow and feigned insult. “Yeah, Mom… that doesn’t hurt my feelings at all.”

She scoffed at me. “Oh, you know what I mean. I just… you boys didn’t do anything fun.” She wrinkled her nose. “No, wait. That’s not right either. You guys liked cars and music and were fun in your own ways. It’s just…” Her hand came up to brush the hair out from Ilsa’s tearstained cheek, and my mother gave her a tender smile. “I didn’t get to buy pretty dresses or fix anyone’s hair or paint little fingernails.”

Yep, she had cracked.

She frowned back over at me. “You guys don’t even have a real appreciation for sparkly stuff.”

“Mom, you know Ilsa’s not a little kid, right.”

Mom looked at Ilsa with mock frustration. “He doesn’t get it at all,” she sighed with a roll of her eyes, making Ilsa giggle through her tears.

It was the most beautiful sound.

“Well,” Mom said, “I better get going.” She reached in her purse to pull out a slip of paper, handing it to Ilsa. “Here’s the address of that house, and there’s a phone number if you want to call about it.”

“What house?” I asked.

My mom continued on talking to Ilsa like I wasn’t even there. “I may have, um… already told them you might possibly be interested,” she said nonchalantly with a flip of her hand.

“Mom, what house?” I repeated, looking back and forth between the two of them.

“Ilsa will fill you in, darling,” she murmured, heading for the door and stopping to kiss my cheek on her way out.

I contemplated Ilsa as she stared at the piece of paper with the most incredibly hopeful expression I’ve ever seen.

“Oh, and Cody,” my mom said, “just to clarify, I wasn’t thinking of Ilsa as my own personal doll. I was thinking more along the lines of dressing up my future granddaughter.”

Leaving us with that little nugget, my mom smiled and closed the door behind her.

One year later…

I lightly tapped the drumstick on the snare, and again.

Pop. Pop.

“My turn!”

From my lap, lacking a bit of my coordination, Max did the same. Sorta.

Pop. Pop.

I reached up and lightly hit the cymbal.

Pshp!

Max squealed. “Aaaaahhhh! Me! Me! Meeeee!” And he wailed on it.

Pshhhhhhhhhppppppp!

Then I did a quick single stroke roll. Right-left-right-left followed by another right-left-right-left. Rapid and smooth. Max parroted his version, which meant banging on both drums as hard and fast as his little arms could go.

I went for the money beat—hats on eighths, kick on one and three, snare on two and four. Max’s focus tried to follow my movements, then turned his wide blue eyes up to me with a giggle. I did it again, and he giggled harder. I did it a third time, and he just kinda went nuts, wailing on my set with his sticks flying.

He needed a little practice.

He had a couple months before he turned three yet, though, so we had plenty of time. We had years.

I tapped on the double foot pedal.

WHOOF!

His eyes went wide and he looked up at me, wondering how I’d managed the deep thump of the base drum when I hadn’t moved my hands. I watched him closely and did it again. He grinned up at me like I was magic. One more time and he had me all figured out. He wiggled down to floor in a flash, putting all his little boy weight on the pedal as he tried to make it WHOOF, too.

God, I loved this kid.

Life was changing, but for the good.

The darkness of the past behind her, Ilsa came out of her shell, became more than I ever thought she could be. She was never going to be outspoken and in-your-face. It simply wasn’t in her nature. However, nowadays she easily smiled and laughed and chatted. Once a quiet shadow, doing everything she could to not be noticed, she suddenly felt free to show people the amazing, sweet soul inside.

She felt free to live.

Best of all, she felt free to love me.

And love me she did. That spark between us survived the trauma and the time apart. The embers stayed alive, burning inside our hearts while she was gone. When she came back to me, when we touched, it was like fireworks lighting the world around us. It was beautiful and awesome and even better than I had ever imagined.

We did end up moving into the house my mom had discovered. In fact, Ilsa got so excited telling me about it that we woke Max up from his nap and went to see it almost immediately. I wasn’t about to pass up this opportunity, and I made a mental note to buy my mom some fucking flowers for stepping in.

The house really was perfect.

A little craftsman style bungalow with a wide front porch and a picket fence.

No shit… a fucking picket fence that had Ilsa tearing up again and face-planting into my chest. Ilsa face-planting into my chest had Max face-planting into my chest with a giggle, thinking it was some kind of game.

The yard had daylilies growing along the front, and tall shady trees. There was an awesome man-perk, too. It had a huge garage—almost bigger than the house itself—that was insulated and heated, with enough room to park two cars and fit a drum set off to the side.

With the privacy and commitment of our place, Ilsa truly came alive and, quite honestly, I couldn’t imagine things getting any better. Yet every day, when I came home from work to what had truly become my family, the awesomeness surpassed what it had been the day before.

Through it all, Ilsa stayed Ilsa in name.

She told me Isabelle was a frightened, fragile creature who hid from the pain of life. A child of overbearing parents and a wife to a monster of a man.

Ilsa, though… Ilsa was free. Strong. Undaunted and full of hope. Occasionally afraid of the unknown, but brave enough to push through her fear to the reward on the other side.

So she stayed Ilsa, which totally worked for me. She was always Ilsa to me anyhow.

Ilsa was the love of my life.

Fast forward a few months, through winter and into spring. Christmas came and went (when we spoiled Max silly), as did Valentine’s Day (when I spoiled Ilsa silly). Things were perfect.

Except maybe for the whole K-pop thing.

I was outvoted there, though. Max loved it even more than Ilsa did. Something about the electronic beat really got his little toddler groove going, and he was so fucking cute it was hard not to get all warm and fuzzy watching him.

I still tried to steer him towards other music that was more to my taste. I played him AC/DC (he totally rocked out to Thunderstruck) and Nirvana (he wasn’t so crazy about them). Some he dug, some he didn’t. Sadly, I don’t think he liked any of it as much as K-pop.

In the grand scheme of things, though, I could live with K-pop if it meant I got to live with them.

Max and I had resumed our morning man time, although this morning we decided to do it out in the garage. Me with my coffee, him with his ‘mook.’ Sitting in front of the drum set while we played around with the beat that seemed to pulse through life around us. The kid was a natural.

I looked up to see Ilsa standing in the doorway watching us. Wearing flannel sleep pants and one of my old hoodies, her hair mussed from sleep, and holding a steaming cup of coffee cradled in her hands, she glowed with a contentment that warmed the air around her. The crisp spring morning shone in through the doorway behind her, the light catching in the facets of the rock on her left ring finger. A ring I’d placed there a few months before.

A year to the day from that night I had driven her up Pipestone Pass, I had gotten my mom to babysit, covered Ilsa’s eyes with a scarf, and put her on the back of my bike. As the sun set, we rode up the winding road, her arms wrapped around my waist and with her body pressed firmly up against me, holding me tight.

She didn’t look the slightest bit surprised when I pulled off the blindfold to reveal our spot. Nor did she look surprised when I pulled the ring from my pocket.

She knew me entirely too well.

Yet, when I slipped the delicate solitaire on her finger, she still burst into tears.

Then she threw her arms around my neck and tugged the clothes from my body, and we sort of reenacted that same scene from a year before. This time, though, the tears were happy tears… because we were together. We were staying together. Forever.

And we both knew it.

After worshipping her body in our own pine-forested version of Eden, we went home together and, since my folks had Max, we had naked night in our perfect little house. Naked dinner. Naked dessert. Naked wild monkey sex on every horizontal surface in the place. Up against some of the vertical ones, too.

It. Was. Awesome.

We decided naked night needed to become a monthly thing… if not weekly.

So once again, life was like an easy little lick, a signature flourish of my drumsticks to make a song my own. Something I could do in my sleep. Effortless and smooth. No drama…

…because I had her.

The End

Look for Drew’s book

scheduled for release in November of 2015

Available on Spotify: *Easy Little Lick ~ Sibylla Matilde

- What Makes A Good Man? – The Heavy

- I Blew It Off – Punch Brothers

- Ride On – AC/DC

- Closer To The Edge – Thirty Seconds To Mars

- Everlong – Foo Fighters

- R-Evolve – Thirty Seconds To Mars

- Give Me Something – Jarryd James

- Let The Night In – Prime Circle

- Apparition – Troy Baker

- Another Lonely Night – Adam Lambert

- Tonight - Matthew Mayfield

- Adore – Jasmine Thompson

- Turn Me On – The Fray

- Lay Your Cards Out – Poliça, Mike Noyce

- Night Of The Hunter (Shannon Leto Remix) – Thirty Seconds To Mars

- Kiss The Sky – Shawn Lee, Nino Moschella

- The Kill (Bury Me) – Thirty Seconds To Mars

- I Forget Where We Were – Ben Howard

- Firestone – Kygo, Conrad Sewell

- The Pretender – Foo Fighters

- Dream Girl – SHINee

- Mr. Mr. – Girls’ Generation

- Trap – Henry

- The Mission – Thirty Seconds To Mars

- Do You Remember – Jarryd James

- Sweet Surrender – Sarah McLachlan

- Figure It Out – Royal Blood

- Savior – Thirty Seconds To Mars

- Halfway There – Soundgarden

- Standing On Top Of The World – Prime Circle

- Take Me Home – Fedde Le Grand, Patric La Funk

- Am I Ok (Feat. Milk & Bone) – Rivver

- One Day – Kodaline

- Be Still – The Fray

- Nitesky Feat. John Lamonica – Robot Koch

- Busy Earnin’ – Jungle

- Shut Up And Dance – Walk The Moon

- In Or Out – Matthew Mayfield

- Move Together – James Bay

- Shelter Me – The Outfield

- A Beautiful Lie – Thirty Seconds To Mars

- Brick By Boring Brick – Paramore

- Fallen – Thirty Seconds To Mars

- Decode (Live At Red Rocks) – Paramore

- Hunger – Of Monsters And Men

- Frail Love – Cloves

- Monster – Paramore

- Northern Lights – Thirty Seconds To Mars

- New Rush – Gin Wigmore

- Birth – Thirty Seconds To Mars

- Runaway – Maroon 5

- Was It A Dream? – Thirty Seconds To Mars

- Flashlight – Jessie J

- The Race – Thirty Seconds To Mars

- White Knuckles – Boh Doran

- Fight Song – Rachel Platten

- Misguided Ghosts – Paramore

- Stay – Thirty Seconds To Mars

- Back – Infinite

- Lonely – 2NE1

- Love Is… – CNBLUE

- Eyes, Nose, Lips – Taeyang

- Cold Part Of Town – Concrete Blonde

- Let The Night Fall – Dragonette

- Under Control – Calvin Harris, Alesso, Hurts

- Come As You Are – Nirvana

- Smells Like Teen Spirit – Nirvana

- Thunderstruck – AC/DC

- Happy – Pharrell Williams

Way before I self-published, I started doing a little editing for some indie authors I’d met on Goodreads. The first I worked with was Amy Rachiele with her Mobster Series. Amy was my first taste of the indie world, and I can honestly say, I’m not sure if I’d have ever had the courage to put myself out there without knowing her. Amy, I hope I am able to meet you in person someday! (And, to everyone else, if you’ve not read Mobster’s Girl… you should. It’s an awesome book!)

As always, thank you soooooooooo much to my Pimp Michelle Campbell and my Brit Ho Beth Ashworth because they keep me writing, even when I’m feeling like it’s complete and utter shit. I love you guys to Orion and back. #HPH4eva

To my fantabulous beta readers – Chris Finzio, Dawn Edwards, Diane Dalgity, Emily Smith-Kidman, Erica Duvall, Heather Lanfear-Delafuente, Jennifer Kreitz, Jennifer Moon Desulis, Jessica Keith-Thomas, Laura Scranage, Lily Wallis, Lorena Garcia, Michelle Pryor Amos, Nicole Baylor, Pamela McGuire, Sarah Peterson, Tammy McGowan, Tara Lynn, Teri Maxwell, Terri Thomas, and Taylor Bellitto. Life and technical difficulties got in the way with a few, but you guys were willing to read my jumbled scribbles and help me make sense of them! And extra thanks to Nicole and Taylor who kick ass at proofreading!

To my a-fuckin-mazing Flannel Squad – Adrianne, Alexis, Amy, Angela, Arabella, Ashley, Beth, Carrie, Catherine, Chantal, Cherry, Chris, Clare, Danni, Dawn, Diane, Ecaterina, Erica, Jane, Janina, Jen O., Jen S., Jennifer, Jill, Joan, Kelly, Laura, Lily, Lisa, Lynn, Michelle, Nancy, Nicole, Nikki, Pamela, Rhian, Sammy, Stacy, Tammy, Teri, Terri, Tina, Tonya, and Tracy. You ladies are the fuckin’ bomb!

As always, thanks to the peeps out there who respond when I need new musical inspiration – Jane Page Deeney, Odette Bowes, Belinda Wallis, Laura Scranage, and especially Jane Baron for her fantastic Foo recommendations!

Thanks to my husband for being willing to be a single dad every couple months while I run away to sign books and meet fans. I love you, baby! The best feeling in the world is to come home and be wrapped up in your arms.

Thanks to my kids who turn into little vampires in the summer, awake all night and sleeping all day. You guys are pretty awesome. I think your dad deserves the credit for that, though.

Thanks to Milton Hershey for making the best damn chocolate in the world, but also for being an amazing philanthropist. I didn’t think I could love Hershey’s chocolate any more than I did, but a visit to Hershey World knocked my socks off.

Thanks to Sara Eirew for being an amazing photographer and phenomenal to work with, and thanks to Jonathan and Valerie for bringing Cody and Ilsa to life.

Thank you to all the authors and bloggers out there who have been incredibly awesome to work with. For all the drama that comes down the pike from time to time, I have found that I actually love meeting new people, which is kind of a weird concept for a massive introvert like me.

Most of all, thanks to the fans. Some of you have been with me from the start and some are a little newer to my novels. I write because I’ve got these constant stories floating through my head, but it takes a lot of work to get it to the end. YOU guys are what make me pull through.

Conversations

Little Conversations

Littler Conversations

Snowcreek

In the Firelight

Bitterroot

Because of Kian

Always Conall

Copperline

Post Breakup Sex

Wild Irish Envy

Sibylla Matilde grew up in the mountain valleys of Southwest Montana, and grew up exploring the alfalfa fields on the back of a horse. She attended a two-room schoolhouse 1st through 6th grade where she had same teacher the whole time. Beginning at about age 12, Sibylla discovered historical romance, feeding off of work of Jude Devereaux, Lisa Kleypas, and Karen Robards. She loves a book that can make the reader run the gamut of emotions, from the sweet glow of new love to gut-wrenching heartache. She always has stories floating around in her head, living in some fantasyland until she writes them down to free them. She is a true romantic, a bit of a Pollyanna, and a deeply emotional soul.

Music is her emotional trigger. Growing up with a Wagnarian-opera-loving mother, Sibylla grew up with music that digs deep into her soul and pulls out emotion. The soundtrack to her life includes different genres and generations. She looooooooves Thirty Seconds to Mars (rather obsessively, actually) with a little Kings of Leon to mix things up, and pimps them out regularly to all her friends through Spotify. She also enjoys watching Met Opera HD broadcasts at her local movie theater, and hopes (listening Met?) to someday see Diana Damrau reprise her role as Mozart’s Queen of the Night in Die Zauberflöte—The Magic Flute.

Sibylla lives with her husband, Mike, a man who she firmly believes saved her from her self-destructive, hot mess self. He makes her laugh every day, even when things seem to be falling apart around them, and has proved to her that love really can heal a shattered soul. In almost 21 years, they have never had a fight, but argue regularly with their two teenage kids who have, unfortunately, inherited their father’s quick wit (unfortunate as it is a quick wit that Sibylla, herself, definitely does not possess—there is a reason she is a writer and not a stand-up comedian), and live a quiet life with their two weird little rescued Chiweenies. Wait… teenagers and little yap-dogs? Okay, maybe not so quiet. :)

She kinda likes it. And, if you enjoyed Easy Little Lick, be sure to let others know. Reviews mean the world to indie authors!

Website:

www.SibyllaMatilde.com

Email:

Siby@SibyllaMatilde.com

Facebook:

Friend me https://www.facebook.com/sibylla.matilde.5

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Twitter:

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Amazon:

http://www.amazon.com/Sibylla-Matilde/e/B00HHISEQ0

Goodreads:

http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/7226522.Sibylla_Matilde

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Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Epilogue

Songs that inspired Easy Little Lick

Acknowledgments

Other Novels by Sibylla Matilde

About Siby

Stalk Siby

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Epilogue

Songs that inspired Easy Little Lick

Acknowledgments

Other Novels by Sibylla Matilde

About Siby

Stalk Siby