“The driver,” Finn says.
I nod. “He was the ultimate bad boy. Every girl in school wanted him, but oh my God, when he asked me to the winter formal—me—nobody could believe it, least of all me.”
“I find that hard to believe,” Finn says. “I’ll bet you were the perfect package and never knew it.”
“I wasn’t. I was an outcast, Finn. Bobby was the first guy to take me out. We dated a short time before the dance. I even cut one of my semester finals. I didn’t care, but my parents did, and they banned me from the dance. So I snuck out, and Bobby picked me up down the street. It was the craziest night I’d ever had. I lost my virginity to him.”
“While he was drunk?”
“Yes.”
Finn watches me closely. He inches closer until we’re almost touching. “He sounds like a piece of shit.”
“In hindsight, he was. Anyway, he drove me home later that night, or by that time, it was early morning, three thirty-seven to be exact. My mom had found me missing from my room. My dad called the cops and she got in the car to look for me. She was less than a mile from the house when . . .” A lump forms in my throat, and I try to breathe through it. I’ve told the story enough times—to my psychiatrist, Dad, Rich, law enforcement—that I can do it without getting emotional. Just the facts. But it isn’t working at the moment. “Less than a mile when . . .”
“You don’t have to say it.”
“I killed her.”
“You didn’t kill her.”
“I’m the reason she’s dead. Same thing.”
He cups my face. I think I hear a lump in his throat when he says, “You made a mistake. You were a kid.”
I cry. I haven’t cried for my mom in a long time. Too long. I’m not even sure it’s her loss I’m mourning.
Finn strokes my hair. “That’s it. Let it out.”
“It happened the weekend before Christmas. Bobby’s dad was a politician and my parents had been regulars on the social scene. They tried to keep it quiet, but it was too juicy. Some local tabloids picked up the story. They claimed I was an out-of-control, sex-crazed teenager who’d seduced the senator’s son and disgraced her poor, widowed father. That’s part of why I’m adamant about staying anonymous.” My classmates were sensitive to my mom’s death until a certain point. Many of them also believed what they read, as if I’d led some kind of secret life that’d killed my mother and made Bobby into a real live bad boy. “I was institutionalized for depression by mid-January.”
Finn stops playing with my hair. “Like a psych ward? Jesus.”
“My dad had to carry me to the car and then into the facility because I couldn’t get out of bed. I was there less than a month, even though I wanted to leave from the moment I stepped in the door. He told everyone I went to stay with relatives.”
“That’s wrong, Halston. You were grieving, not mentally unstable.”
At the time, they were one in the same. At least, that’s how it was put to me. I didn’t get to grieve as hard as my dad, because I’d caused it. Nobody at the institution was compassionate toward me about the accident after they’d heard how I’d been involved.
“My dad didn’t know what to do with me.” I shrug one shoulder, and more wetness leaks from my eyes. “Still doesn’t.”
Finn wipes it from my cheeks with his thumb. “I know what to do with you.”
I can’t help smiling a little. When I look up at him, moonlight and tears make little crystals in my vision. “You do?”
“Mhm.” He pulls the hem of my t-shirt up my belly, just under my breasts. “Turn over and take this off.” Then he adds, sternly, “In that order. Whatever you do, don’t flash me.”
I switch sides so I’m facing his bedroom door, and together, we get the shirt over my head. He smooths my hair out of the way, then begins scratching my back as I’d done for him.
I close my eyes and shudder as I release a few silent sobs. “That feels nice.”
“Just relax,” he murmurs.
I haven’t been touched so lovingly in over ten years.
After what I just confessed, it’s not the reaction I might’ve expected from him.
It confirms what I think we both suspect.
Finn was meant to find that journal. To find me. To be a salve for, and perhaps even heal, a heart I’d worried was destined to ache forever.
16
While I scramble eggs, Marissa makes a case for owning a horse. Thing is, it’s not so far-fetched. She has friends with them. Kendra had one growing up. One of the many reasons I had to get out of that family—horses shouldn’t be standard pets.
“Do you need one to be happy?” I ask her.
“No, Dad, and I knew you’d say that. But a horse would make me more happy.”
“How?”
“I’d get to ride it. You’re always telling me to go outside more. And some girls are so good, they’ll go to college free.”
“Is that so.” I scrape some eggs from the pan to a dish and try not to think about Halston sleeping down the hall. I want to focus on my time with Marissa. “Where are you going to keep this horse?”
“At grandma and grandpa’s.”
I serve Marissa her breakfast. Without my prompting, she’s already packed, dressed in jeans and a sweater with her blonde hair in a neat ponytail. Sometimes I think she’s got it together better than her mother or me. “Look, you know I’d buy you a pony if I thought it was a good idea.”
“Not a pony, Dad. I’m not five years old.”
“Sorry. My mistake.” I turn back to the stove to make myself a plate. “Pets require a lot of upkeep. Are you going to go straight to Gran’s every day, right after school, to take care of the horse? Then go home and do your homework? You won’t have time for friends or fun or anything else.”
“It won’t be that hard if we’re living there,” she says.
I set my plate on the table and sit across from her. “Where?”
She chews, shrugging. “Gran’s.”
“Why would you be living with your grandparents?”
“Mom said maybe. She hates the apartment.”
I shouldn’t be surprised. It’s not news to me that Kendra thinks she’s too good for the place I helped her pick out earlier this year. Moving in with her parents, though? Kendra’s beyond help, but Marissa still has a shot at growing up well-rounded and cultured—not sheltered and spoiled like her mom.
And since Kendra’s family is loaded, any job Kendra’s ever had has been for pleasure. I never cared what Kendra did with her days until the divorce went through and left me paying alimony and child support to a woman who has over a million dollars in her trust fund. Marissa needs a dose of reality, and Kendra obviously isn’t going to give that to her. That’s why I wanted to bring her to the city in the first place. But that was before the divorce.
I pour us each a glass of orange juice as I formulate my argument. “Horses cost money,” I say. “A lot of money.”
She picks up a piece of bacon. “Never mind. I’ll just ask Gran.”
“Why?”
“She has money. You’re broke.”
I slow-blink, sliding her juice across the table to her. “Why do you think that?”
“Mom and Gran. I heard them talking.”
I rub my jaw. I can sugarcoat the truth for Marissa like Kendra does, like I used to. Or I can be honest and teach her a valuable lesson she’s never had to learn—money doesn’t appear from thin air. It has to be earned. “Marissa, I don’t want you to worry about me. I’m not broke.” Not yet anyway. “I will always take care of you.”
“And Mom?” she asks, peeking up at me.
“And Mom,” I agree. “At least as long as it’s court mandated.”
“What?”
“Never mind. My point is this: Gran and Grandpa have money because Grandpa worked very hard to earn it. He was good at what he did and he went to work every morning until nighttime.” I have to pause to keep from gritting my teeth. It’s al
l true, but I have little respect for Kendra’s father, who reminds me of my old boss when I worked on Wall Street. Anything for a buck, no matter who it affected. “So,” I continue, “that hard work made him money, and that’s why Gran and Gramps are rich.”
“You work hard,” she says. “I know you do. I saw you go to work every day when you lived at home and it was always nighttime when you got back.”
I put my elbows on the table. “Yeah, but I didn’t like my job. For most people, that’s okay, but I want to love what I do. So I started over, which means it’ll take me longer to get back to making money.”
“I’m sorry,” she says.
I smile. “You’re not in trouble. I’m just trying to explain to you about money. You’ve always had it because of Gran and Grandpa, and I know your friends have it too. But not everyone does, babe. Some kids, most kids, would never even dream of owning a horse. When I was your age, I had to mow lawns in my neighborhood and give my parents the money I made to buy groceries.”
She widens her eyes. “You didn’t have food?”
“We did,” I say. “Because your Grandpa Frank had a steady job, and I pitched in.” Marissa doesn’t see Kendra working, and Marissa’s grandpa is recently retired. I pinch her nose with my bacon-greasy fingers to ease the wrinkles in her forehead. “Don’t worry. I promise, we’re all going to be fine. I just want you to go home and think really hard about whether or not you need that horse, and if you can’t live without it . . .”
She bounces in her seat. I guess she knew I’d give in one way or another.
“Ask Gran for one for Christmas.”
She giggles. “All right.”
Once Marissa’s fed, I put her in front of Netflix. “I’m going to make sure all your stuff’s packed,” I tell her.
“It is,” she says, eyes glued to Fuller House.
I head down the hall to my room and knock softly before opening the door. Halston is seated on the edge of the bed, her knees drawn up to her chin. Thankfully, she’s pulled my t-shirt over her legs, blocking anything of interest, or I’d be in trouble.
“You’re awake,” I say. “How do you feel?”
“A little hungover.” She glances behind me. “I was going to shower, but I didn’t want to make noise.”
“Kendra’ll be here any minute, so I’m going to get Marissa’s things and take her downstairs. Get some water from the fridge. You know where the shower is.”
She smiles with closed lips. “Is it still okay that I’m here? Or do you want me to go?”
I close the door behind me and walk over to her. When her text woke me last night, I’d panicked. I was sure she’d come in here, find Marissa, and run for the hills. Halston is only twenty-five. She doesn’t need to get involved with a man who has an eight-year-old kid. But, selfishly, I didn’t want to turn her away. Luckily, her drunkenness had given me an excuse to make her stay.
“The weekend’s just starting,” I say. “If you go now, I’ll be extremely upset.”
She bites her bottom lip. “Extremely?”
“I’ve slept next to you twice and kept my hands to myself.” Lifting her chin with my knuckle, I free her lip with my thumb to lean in and kiss her. “I don’t want to keep my hands to myself anymore. When I get back up here, be ready.”
She shivers, actually shivers, and grips the hem of the t-shirt in two fists. “I’ll be waiting.”
Her words go directly to my cock, her gaze even dropping for a split second. I leave the room to avoid a boner that’ll make my encounter with Kendra very awkward.
With her overnight bag in tow, I take Marissa out front. A shiny, black Audi S3 idles at the curb. Kendra gets out of the passenger’s side. I give Kendra’s boyfriend a cursory wave. He’s been a source of contention between us since Kendra introduced him to Marissa five weeks after their first date. Seemed to me Marissa shouldn’t’ve been meeting anyone I hadn’t met. But I have no problem with him as a person.
“How was the show?” I ask.
She takes Marissa’s bag. “Fine. I just can’t believe you forgot.”
“Oh, okay. We’re still on this.” I squat down to Marissa’s level. “Thanks for coming over, sweetie. I’ll see you in a couple weeks?”
She frowns. “Did you forget, Dad?”
“Of course not.” I glare daggers up at Kendra. “Mom’s just teasing. Go get in the car.” I kiss her on the forehead.
When she turns and walks away, I stand. “I’m not naïve enough to think you don’t make me the bad guy when I’m not around, but don’t ever do that to me while she’s standing here.”
“I show up at your door last night, and you look completely shocked. What father forgets one out of the four nights a month he gets with his daughter?”
“Five nights,” I correct.
“No. Last night counted as one of your days.”
“When you asked for this favor, you called it an extra night.”
“That was when I thought I was doing you a favor by giving you more time with your daughter. Apparently, I was just shitting on your weekend plans—”
“That’s bull.”
“So I changed my mind.”
“Come on, Kendra.” I rub my temples with one hand. I don’t need this headache right before I spend my first weekend with Halston. “You’re going to make me split up my weekend with her? You’re turning me into a deadbeat dad against my will.”
“Don’t start that shit again. I’m not the reason we got divorced. This victim act is getting old.”
“I’m just saying, you’re punishing me for wanting to spend time with my daughter. That’s not fair.”
“And you’re the authority on fair, Mr. Fucking Adultery?”
I take a step back. Kendra has too much control over this situation, and engaging her in an argument can only hurt me. “I’m not going to fight with you again. I’ll see you next time.”
I head back into the building. Kendra just wants to hurt me, but Marissa suffers too. If Kendra really thought I didn’t want time with Marissa, she’d probably have Marissa here every weekend. If I hadn’t worried how the judge might take it, I’d have considered asking for no time at all to get the reaction I wanted from Kendra.
I left that Connecticut life behind because I felt helpless going to a job I hated every day and returning to a wife I didn’t love. But I’m just as helpless now. I don’t have a steady income or much say in how my daughter’s raised. When I tried to tell Kendra it was too early to introduce Marissa to her boyfriend, she threw Sadie in my face. Marissa met Sadie once in the hallway between our apartments. Kendra was there; she knows it was an accident and that Marissa had no idea who Sadie was.
The sliver of light in all of this is Halston. It’s the first time I’ve had someone to revive me after one of Kendra’s soul-sucking sessions. Halston doesn’t treat me like a pawn or an ATM. The way she looked up at me from the bed moments ago, eyes wide, cheeks pink, lips parted, is what it means to be a man. Her man. She’s a girl I want to turn into a woman, and I want to start now. I’ve been aching for this since I opened her journal.
I burst into the apartment and head straight for my bedroom. The shower is on. Perfect, since I plan on doing dirty things to her.
I stop at my nightstand for a condom, nearly breaking off the handle when I yank the drawer open. I peel off my t-shirt and step out of my sweats before entering the bathroom.
Halston turns quickly, covering her breasts. “Finn? What—”
I tear the condom packet open with my teeth. “I told you to be ready.”
She keeps her hands where they are. “I’ll only be another minute.”
“I can’t wait that long.” I strip off my underwear and start rolling on the condom.
“I’m not ready,” she says. “I thought you’d be longer.”
I open the door, and she backs into a corner.
“I have no makeup on, my hair’s all tangled—”
I step into the shower, shaking out my mop
when water beats it down, and close in. “This is exactly how I want you,” I say when I’m standing over her. “Stripped down to nothing. Nowhere to hide.”
Her smooth, white throat ripples when she swallows. Her eyes are huge and gray. Any fog from the night I met her is gone. She’s open right now. For so long, I’ve just wanted to connect with someone. Not someone—the one. And now, she’s here—soaking wet, looking a bit petrified—but here. I forget about the last ten minutes downstairs. Those minutes, months, years of making mistakes? They were leading me to this, my girl. I can’t be mad about that. I can only be happy and grateful to finally have her. Not to mention horny as fuck to finally claim her. “I want you raw. Just you and me, Halston. Nothing else.”
She drops her hands, and I take her face in mine. I kiss her so hard, she squeaks. Her back is glued to the tile, but I can’t seem to slow down. I grope her breasts, squeeze her ass to bring her even closer. I shouldn’t fuck her right off the bat. I shouldn’t. I can’t wait, though. I’ll take my time later. I hook my hand under her left knee and lift her leg until her thigh is pressed against her breast. Reluctantly, I stop kissing her, but I don’t move a millimeter from her mouth. “Want me to slow down?”
“No.”
I line my dick up with her opening and thrust halfway in. She sucks in a breath. “How about now?” I ask.
She squeezes her eyes shut and shakes her head. I need to be all the way in, rooted to the base of my cock. But I enlist all my patience and stay where I am while she adjusts to my size. I’m big, and I might’ve guessed she’d be this tight. “Look at me.”
She opens her eyes, and they’re full of fire. “Do it,” she says.
“Do what?” I urge. I want to hear her.
Her voice wavers adorably when she says it, even though I can tell she’s trying to sound confident. “Fuck me.”
I squeeze her leg, lifting it even higher so she inhales sharply. “I changed my mind,” I say, easing into her inch by inch. “I want you to feel as tortured as I am.”
Tempt Me: A First Class Romance Collection Page 15
