by Freya Barker
“I love you, Gunnar,” I whisper into his shoulder.
“Love you too, Bird. So much.” His voice rumbles from his chest as he uses his other arm to pull me up so I’m laying on top of him. Stroking my hair from my face, he traces my features with his eyes. I can almost feel the touch on my skin. “It hits me how little we really know about the people that surround us. Viv was the first one to open my eyes to that. So much happened to her while she was under my nose, stuff still comes up from time to time and every time it hurts me to think I could’ve done something had I known. Then you came along and proved that point once again. I’d fallen for you long before I knew you—I mean, really knew you. And now this...granted, I didn’t care for the man, but in my hurry to control the impact he was having on my life, I failed to consider I might be having an impact on his.” Another deep sigh expels from his lips. “Guess we really don’t live in a vacuum, do we? Everything we do has a ripple effect, just like nothing that happens to us exists in isolation.” He smiles softly at me. “But you know all this already, don’t you? You live with that knowledge day in and day out. God, Syd. How you haven’t been scared out of your wits every day of your life, knowing that any control you think you have is an illusion, I don’t know. All I know is right now. Having kids to raise with the full realization I have no real control is more than a little daunting.”
I hurt for my man. He’s bruised and so I share his pain.
Leaning forward, I gently kiss his lips, brushing my own hand through his hair.
“We do our best, my love. You do your best every day. In the way you care for and protect your kids, and me. Everyone around you, actually. You just have to come to terms with the fact you can’t tuck us away, wrapped in tissue paper to ensure nothing bad happens to us. It doesn’t work that way. Took me a long time to figure out that to stop breathing for fear of choking kills you anyway. Breathing is the better option. Trust me on that one. Can’t close the doors and shut the windows to stop bad things from happening. Locking yourself away will only turn you to dust. This I know for a fact because I came from dust.”
In a sudden move, Gunnar rolls and takes me with him. Lying on my back with him on top of me is a weight I welcome.
“You’re remarkable, you know that?” he tells me, peppering my face with small kisses until he leans his elbow in the mattress beside my shoulder, his hand supporting his head.
“Can’t help but notice you called me pet names twice today,” he points out, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Is that so?” I feign innocence, knowing full well I slipped up. Twice, just like he says.
“U-huh. I believe it was ‘honey’ earlier, and just now you called me ‘love.’ Can’t quite believe it myself, but I’ve gotta say I kinda like it.” The smile is now at full wattage and the sight of it directed at me gives me a little shiver all over my body.
“Well that’s a relief. Since I’ll probably let something slip here or there again at some point. Besides, you call me babe and Bird.” I nudge his arm with my shoulder.
“I do at that. You’ll always be my Bird.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Syd
“Syd! Call for you!” Viv yells from the kitchen just as I am walking in.
“Hello?” I offer when Viv pushes the phone in my hand.
“Ms. Donner. It’s Matthew Simpson. Pam Hawkes contacted me this morning. She says you are looking for advice regarding some type of trust fund?”
“Wow, that’s fast. I just spoke to her this morning.”
Last night after Gunnar fell asleep from a slow, languid love-making session, I lay awake for hours thinking about that poor little girl—Winslow’s daughter. Must’ve been closing in on two in the morning by the time I had formulated an idea I was eager to bounce off Pam this morning, given that she has non-for profit experience. She jumped right on board and said she would contact her lawyer who might be interested in working with us pro bono. His firm offers free work occasionally on select charity projects. According to Pam, my idea might fit their guidelines. I’m excited about the prospect of doing something constructive that would not only help this family, but would also give Gunnar a certain peace of mind. Ah, who am I kidding? It would go a long way to dealing with my own inability to change the past. We’d be doing something productive for a little girl’s future.
A chuckle comes from the other end of the line. “Well, it just so happens that a complex case I was working on was just settled, so I actually have time on my hands and I’m due for my allotted hours of pro bono work. Your plan fits right up my alley, so in all honesty, we’d be doing each other a favor.”
“Works for me.”
I slip into the hall and look to make sure no one is within hearing range before outlining my idea for the foundation and my thoughts on raising funds. Until I have all my ducks in a row, I don’t want to share. Don’t want to look like an idiot if this isn’t gonna work. I talk for a good ten minutes, sitting on the stairs to the apartment, explaining what I’m hoping to accomplish before Matthew interrupts.
“Is this the officer whose name is all over the newspaper this morning? Winslow?”
“Newspaper? Erm...I haven’t seen it, but the father’s name is Winslow, yes.” I had only mentioned a family fallen on hard times and unable to afford the medical care their daughter need. I never mentioned a last name or the father’s profession, hoping to keep them anonymous. “How did you figure that one out?”
“The article mentions a sick child and your name comes up, as well as Mr. Lucas’s. I learned to read between the lines, Ms. Donner. It wasn’t that difficult,” he chuckles.
“Oh.”
I struggle to concentrate on what else he says. I’m too busy wondering what is in that article.
“Ms. Donner?”
“Sorry, my mind was wandering,” I offer, trying to focus. “Oh, and please call me Syd.”
“Very well, Syd. I was just saying that between what you’ve told me and what the article revealed, I can probably start laying the groundwork on the statutes for your foundation. I should have something for you early next week?”
Just as I’m walking into the kitchen, having thanked Matthew and ending the call, I hear the back door followed by the chatter of the kids. Gunnar is back, and how perfectly timed. As the kids settle in at the kitchen table for their after school snack, my mind starts working on how to tell Gunnar now that my idea seems a valid one.
Walking in behind the children, I can still see a shadow over his face. Despite the good talk we had last night—among other things—I can tell this whole situation is wearing him down. It’s when I snake my arms around his neck for a sweet kiss that I notice the newspaper tucked under his arm.
“Is that today’s? Can I have a look?”
I indicate the paper and almost reluctantly, Gunnar hands it over.
“Not much good in there today,” he grumbles with a surreptitious glance at the children.
“Can I talk to you in the office for a minute?”
Grabbing his hand, I ignore the question on his face and pull him down the hall behind me. I hadn’t planned on telling him before I had some more ideas on paper, but I can’t stand seeing him dejected like this. Besides, I want to have a look at that article.
“Babe, all you had to do was ask,” Gunnar jokes, some of his dark mood lifted with what he thinks is the promise of a quickie on his desk.
“I did ask, smartass,” I shoot back with a grin, liking this mood much more, but once in the office, when I close the door behind us, the atmosphere turns dark again.
“Sit, please. I have an idea I want to talk to you about, but first let me quickly scan this article.”
Sitting on the opposite side of the desk, I fold open the newspaper, cringing at the title: ‘Skipper Central In Corruption Scandal’.
“Well that’s inflammatory, if anything,” I point out. “Clever play of words though. Could easily be interpreted a number of ways. You’d h
ave to read the article to find out which one is correct.”
“Don’t bother. I already did. Aside from some minor innuendo, he basically sticks to facts. Problem is you’re named several times in the article. I’m just listed as owner of The Skipper, but your name comes up as the victim of two crimes committed in relation to the pub,” he admits gloomily.
“But only the fire was technically related, right? The other really had nothing to do with all of this.”
“Yeah, but sick as it is, violence sells and I’m sure they’ll justify it’s mention by saying it was used to provide context. My concern is that this is the kind of story that won’t be limited to local events. This’ll likely go state-wide at some point, if it hasn’t already.”
He looks at me, appearing to wait for something.
And then it hits me. My name could bring my past barreling back if seen by the right people. Fucking hell.
“Come over here,” he says softly, turning his chair and gesturing with his hand. I don’t hesitate, I’m around the desk and on his lap in an instant. “Whatever happens, we’ll deal with it head on, okay? I’m not going anywhere and I’m not about to let you go either.”
I only nod with my head tucked under his chin. For a few minutes we just sit, each lost in our own thoughts.
And then I’ve had enough.
“You know what? I’m not gonna worry about what might be. I’ve spent years living in the past I no longer had control over, I’m not about to start living in the worry of a future that may or may not evolve.”
In the heat of my diatribe, I’ve got up and find myself flailing my arms about, standing in front of Gunnar. A slow smile morphs on his face and leaning forward, he grabs me by the hips and pulls me back onto his lap.
“You know it’s hot as fuck when you get yourself riled up?” he growls against my skin, burying his face in my neck.
“Well, I was making a point.” Is my feeble defense for my perhaps slightly erratic behavior.
“And a good one it is.” His laughter rumbles in his chest and I nestle in deeper against the vibrations.
“Exactly.”
Pushing me back a little, he regards me, a smile lingering on his face. “How is it you manage to make everything better?”
“Ditto, big guy,”
‘Big guy?’ he mimics soundlessly, at which I lightly punch his shoulder.
“Oh!” Suddenly reminded of my reason to drag him into the office in the first place, I jump right in. “I still have something to tell you.” I try to convey my ideas for financing Abby Winslow’s medical care, watching Gunnar’s face close down further and further. Fuck—I may have miscalculated here. Nervous about his apparent displeasure, I ramble on about checking things out through Pam and having just spoken to a lawyer. His silence when I run out of steam is unnerving to say the least. When he finally takes a deep breath and opens his mouth to speak, he takes me by surprise.
“I know I’ve said it before, and I’ll probably say it again, but fuck me, Bird. You. Are. Remarkable.”
A warm feeling blooms in my chest and spreads to the tips of my fingers and toes. A big smile cracks my face wide open. “Yeah?”
I get a twitch of his lips and a headshake before he cups my face and rubs his nose along mine.
“Fuck yeah.”
Gunnar
This day sure turned around. I’m smiling into my beer when I catch Tim’s elbow, causing me to spill beer all over myself.
“What are you grinning like an ape for?” He chuckles at my attempts to dry the front of my shirt with a stack of napkins from the table. “Do I even have to ask?” He looks pointedly in Syd’s direction, who is serving a booth at the other end of the pub.
After a memorable make out session in my office chair, one I’d be happy to repeat, but naked when the kids aren’t around, I walked around the pub with my own ideas forming. She totally floored me with her ideas. Hearing her explain how she wants to run a foundation in the name of The Skipper, raising funds through donations and events here in the pub—all to benefit families with children suffering from life-threatening diseases like Abby Winslow, who would be the first, had me stunned. If I didn’t love her so damn much already, I’d have fallen in love with her right there and then. With her large heart and endless compassion, she’s managed not only to offer those families some solace, but me as well. She’s offering me a way to make some restitution of sorts to the Winslow family, and I’m just now realizing that there is some peace to be found in this venture for her as well. Her plans are solid, which I wouldn’t have doubted with her financial background, and her ideas for fundraising manageable. The part she wasn’t sure about was how to handle the requests for assistance and how to determine which family qualifies.
That’s where I have some ideas.
I look around the table at the faces of my baseball team, representing just about every walk of life. Tim, who works for the city of Portland. Paul, who has an excellent grasp on social services available due to his stint on the street and now has a successful construction company. Douglas, who is a busy family doctor and Murray, who despite his non-stop foul mouth in his down time, is an acknowledged family therapist. Add Pam to the mix and you have the makings of a working board with connections to local government, local businesses, healthcare, and social services.
“Syd’s got a plan, and it’s a good one,” I tell him in response before turning around just in time to catch Syd, who is just passing by.
“Babe, come sit and talk to us.”
With a little blush staining her cheeks and a shy smile for all the guys, she perches on the edge of the chair I pull up.
“Guys,” I quiet down the welcoming hello’s around the table. “Syd is working on a project and I’d like to have her explain it to you. Better listen up, ‘cause I have plans for some of you. I let my eyes run over the guys I have in mind, giving them a silent head’s up.
Syd’s almost jumping off the chair, looking at me with panic in her eyes. “But...” she starts in protest, but I silence her with a hard kiss to her mouth, instigating various catcalls and whistles from the guys.
“Just tell them, like you told me earlier. And trust me?” I smile what I hope is an encouraging smile before I sit back, letting her take the lead.
For the next hour and a half, supplied with pitcher after pitcher of beer and a couple of orders of wings, we have jointly hammered out a tentative board for the foundation and plan of action for at least three fundraiser ideas that popped up around the table. Syd’s face is beaming at the response she’s getting, having lost her nervousness about two minutes into giving her impromptu presentation.
“Purpose looks beautiful on you,” I lean over and whisper for her ears only, and when she turns that beaming smile on me, I fucking feel on top of the world.
I mean it too. Seeing her eager and interactive, listening to every word of feedback and forgetting all about her initial awkwardness, opens my eyes to the full scope of Sydney Donner.
Fuck, I’m a lucky man.
“Come for me baby. Let me see your face.”
My fingers deep inside her and my mouth hovering over her hard little clit, I wait for her to turn her head and face me.
I’m eager to finish what we started on the couch the moment the babysitter left. If Syd hadn’t reminded me of the kids upstairs in their beds, I’d have had her stripped down and riding my cock in seconds. The alternative was upstairs in the sanctuary of our bedroom with a lock on the door. With Syd wrapped around me like an octopus, I took the stairs two at a time, while she was giggling all the way.
Now I have her at my mercy and seeing those big luminous eyes glaze over as she comes apart under my hands and mouth leaves me breathless. I slowly lower her down from the wall, where I had her perched on my shoulders, her legs wrapped around my head. Sliding her down, her hands firm on my shoulders and her eyes on mine, I pause with her pussy aligned with my cock.
“Ready, Bird?”
Biting h
er plump bottom lip with her teeth, she nods her head, eyes burning hot for me. Slowly I drop her more, easily slipping the head of my cock between her lips before dropping her the rest of the way on my throbbing erection.
“Fuck! Jesus holy motherfucking Christ,” spouts from Syd’s pouty little mouth, followed by a deep groan, freezing me with a stunned look on my face. Never have I heard that shit come out of her mouth.
“Don’t stop—don’t you fucking dare stop!”
Her head thrown back against the wall beside the door, mouth open in abandon, she’s as beautiful as she’s ever looked. With her hands clawing at me, doing certain damage to my back and shoulders, I let go. Her words have broken any control I had. Gripping hard onto her hips, lifting her up and dropping her on my cock again and again, I thrust up to fuck her as deep as I can reach.
It doesn’t take long for her pussy to start pulsating around my cock and I know it won’t be long before she comes again. This time, I want to come with her.
“Mouth...” I need the taste of her on my lips, but she’s lost in the preamble of what promises to be an explosive orgasm. “Bird! I need your mouth on me.”
Her eyes clear and dart between my mouth and my eyes before her lips and tongue attack mine in a furious duel. My hips pump in rhythm with my tongue and I swallow her whimpers. With her taste in my mouth, her orgasm clasping my cock and her name on my lips, I thrust up one last time before spilling myself to completion inside her.
Lungs sucking in air like bellows and knees rubbery with my lingering release, I sink down on the floor, Syd’s body languid and heavy on top of me. I try to get up, but she stops me.
“Don’t move.”
“Babe, gotta get rid of the condom and in bed,” I try, but I feel her head shaking floppily on my chest.
