by L. B. Dunbar
“We were so disappointed when he divorced. Marriage is work, and Billy lacks ethics. Plus, Rachel was perfect for him. Kept him on his toes.” She pauses to sip her wine. Work, ethic. Has she not been to his business? Has she not seen what he’s done with the pub, for the community, for tourism?
“We’ve taught our children marriage is sacred. A vow before God of loyalty and respect.” There’s a warning somewhere in what she says. I’ve heard the rumors. He stepped out on his wife with another woman. Perhaps she thinks Theresa was the woman, the one whom Billy cheated with.
“Sadie is sixteen. Billy was divorced when he was with Theresa.” I defend both my sister and Billy. She nods, and I add. “My sister never married.”
Elaina blinks as if caught in thought. “Yes, your sister. So tell me about Sadie’s mother.”
“She was strict.” I hate that it’s the first thing I offer. “She was smart and witty, but she lost her easygoing nature when she became a mother. She worried. She always worried about Sadie, wanted her to do well in life. Sadie was an A-plus student in all honors classes. She studied hard, played piano, and practiced karate. All that’s gone now that she’s here with me. I don’t have a piano, and I couldn’t find a karate studio. I’m afraid she’s struggling in school and not making friends.” I leave out the questionable connection to a kid named Christian Grady and the possibility that Sadie stole from local businesses in town. I sigh. “I think it might be time to seek help for Sadie.”
Elaina’s head pops up, eyeing me before she nods with a weak smile. “Are you her guardian?”
“Things were pending until Sadie found Billy.”
“Sadie found Billy?”
It isn’t my story to tell, but as Sadie isn’t here to explain and I feel the need to defend my niece’s innocence, I break into a monologue of explanation. What Sadie didn’t know. What I didn’t know Sadie did know. And then how Sadie introduced herself to Billy.
“Well, I imagine that was quite a shock.” She chuckles softly. “And I’ll make no assumptions about your sister. As women, we all have our reasons for what we do, why we handle situations a certain way, whether it seems fair or right to an outsider.”
The statement of female solidarity surprises me, and my shoulders relax. She isn’t judging my sister. There’d be no point as Theresa is dead. She can’t be questioned. She can’t be reprimanded. The choices were made, and we move forward from there.
“So therapy,” Elaina states, and I cringe at the hesitation in her voice, not to mention I haven’t spoken with Billy about my thoughts. Not that I always value his opinion, but I’m trying to be respectful that he might have a say in Sadie’s well-being.
The other night still haunts me. What we did with one another and then his dismissal of it so quickly the morning after. I want to apologize if I said something wrong, but I haven’t found the time. Tonight came up without warning, and it’s been just short of a shitshow.
“Yes, possibly,” I try to retract.
“I can recommend someone who deals with grief. Both my daughter, Matilda, and my son Giant went through this. I’ll get her number for you,” she says but doesn’t move. “I have a piano.” It’s an odd statement until I realize what she’s offering. An olive branch in the form of eighty-eight musical keys.
“Thank you.”
She smiles, a more genuine grin, and I note Elaina might not be as tough inside as she looks on the outside. Seems vaguely similar to her son, Billy. “Maybe I should find Sadie.” It might be best if we leave and let the Harringtons process what they’ve learned. The problem is we came with Billy, and he disappeared.
“I’ll call over to Charlie’s house and have Lucy bring her back.” She winks at me, a twinkle in her eye for her grandchild. “Instead, maybe you should find Billy.” Her voice shifts, dropping a little quieter. “He needs someone like you. Try upstairs. Curve around the bannister and his old room will face you.” I have no idea what she means about needing me, but I take her suggestion and climb the stairs to the second floor.
+ + +
The Harrington home is large, but the second floor is tight. The hallway is more a square with a plethora of doors, and I curve around the bannister as Elaina mentioned. The room I face is the only one with a door that’s closed. I knock but don’t wait for a response. Turning the knob, I find a large, older male on his back across a twin bed, clearly too small for him. His feet rest on the floor, and he tosses a baseball into the air, catching it as it falls back to him. A desk lamp dimly illuminates the room.
“Billy.” He catches the ball with two hands, holds it over his chest and takes a deep breath as he closes his eyes. Then returns to tossing it in the air like a moody child.
“I can’t deal with you right now, Roxanne.” He doesn’t look at me but continues to toss and catch, toss and catch.
“I’m sorry they weren’t immediately receptive,” I begin, ignoring his statement as I close the door behind me. “Think about when you learned the truth. Weren’t you in shock? They just need time to process.”
He pauses, holding the ball in one hand when I finish.
“Don’t defend them, Roxie.” Surprisingly, I feel better that he’s returned to the abbreviation of my name. If I can rouse him, poke him enough, he might open up to me. Then again, my heart aches at the sadness on his face and the dull, lacking expression in those eyes of his. His eyes. Sadie’s eyes. I hadn’t seen it until Elaina pointed it out. They match perfectly in color, and there’s no denying she’s his.
“I’m not defending them.” I exhale, hands coming to my hips. “I’m on your side here. But I also need to think of Sadie. It will crush her if they reject her.”
Billy sits up, catching the ball as it plummets back to him, before it knocks him in the head.
“I’m only thinking of Sadie as well. Did you see my dad’s reaction? He couldn’t even look at her. And then, my mother’s comment. She has my eyes. I mean, what the fuck?”
“Well, she does,” I admit. He stares at me a minute, the brown tone near walnut versus rich bark in color. He falls back on the bed and resumes his mindless tossing.
“Roxanne, go home.”
“Well, that’d be difficult as you drove us here.” Irritation is evident in my voice. He halts pitching again and covers his arm over his eyes. I step up to him, slipping my feet between his which rest apart as his legs are spread while he lays on his back.
“Billy…I…I’m sorry for what I said the other morning. I didn’t mean to imply—”
He sits up so fast, I stop. His face could collide with my breasts if he wasn’t looking up at me, his face earnest. “You’re so…mean sometimes.”
“I’m sorry. You bring it out of me,” I tease as I reach for his cheeks, the feel of that stubble under my palms is like a live wire direct to a body part pulsing and wet when it shouldn’t be. I want to comfort him. I want to tell him this will all work out. His family will accept Sadie, and maybe it will help his relationship with them, but I don’t say anything. I just hold his face, stroking my thumbs over his jaw and staring at those soulful eyes. His hands cup the back of my thighs, pressing upward just under my backside, and I lower to kiss him.
The intention was to be soft, tender, and sympathizing, but Billy crushes my lips. With anger and frustration written on them, he instantly takes control. His fingers dig into the back of my thighs as his mouth opens, his tongue rushing forward to tangle with mine. Not a drop of delicacy is in this kiss, and I easily fall into it, loving it. His knees come between mine, and the next thing I know, I’m straddling his thighs. Then he falls back, keeping our mouths attached as he draws me over him. His hands come to my hips, positioning my lower half to rest over the length growing harder underneath me. Fistfuls of my skirt get readjusted until it’s only my underwear against his denim. I’m wet and worried I’ll leave a mark, but I moan into his aggressive lips, enjoying the mouth-spar.
“Billy,” I mutter against his mouth after he moves me, and I
drag over his thickness. “Billy, this isn’t a good idea. Not here.”
“No one misses me,” he mutters. “With this full skirt, I could unzip and slip into you. No one would know the difference.” It’s crass but a little thrilling to consider. Then it hits me. He’s hurting. He’s hurting, and this is what he does. He seeks a distraction through physical connection.
“Billy,” I groan, pressing at his shoulders and removing my mouth from his, pushing myself upward as best as I can, but still distracted by the thick presence of him wedged against the heat of me.
“Fuck,” he moans, closing his eyes and pushing his fingertips into my hip bone, forcing me to rock over him.
“Not here,” I whisper. “Not like this.”
His eyes open, and the color shimmers, dancing gold and brown and a hint of green. “But you want me, right? You can feel me, feel how much I want you?” The question is desperation, not passion, and I sympathize, but I’m not giving in. Not like this, I said, and I mean it.
“Billy. Stop.” He stills, his hands releasing my hips and falling disinterested to the outside of my knees. He rolls his head to the side, gazing off at something on his teenage walls. I lower, boxing him in with my arms on either side of his shoulders. My hair falls forward. “Tell me about Rachel.”
His eyes blink shut. “I’m not doing this with you, Roxanne.” My full name is the lash of a whip, but I take the sting.
“I want to understand what happened between you two. It’s not my business, but I want to know all the same. I want to understand you better.” Because like it or not, he is Sadie’s father, and I should know him. Because like it or not, my feelings for him are strong.
“My mother said something, didn’t she?” He still doesn’t look at me.
“She might have suggested her disappointment and something about the disloyalty of sacred vows.”
He shakes his head. “And you believe her. Everyone knows it’s my fault.” He looks up at me, defiantly. The one who covers his feelings with a playful mask. I stare down at him a moment, us seated in this precarious position.
“I don’t believe you. I don’t believe it’s your fault.”
His eyes widen only a touch and then narrow, assessing me. “I’m not telling you anything.”
“Okay.” I sit back, still resting over him, my center balanced on the swell of him still evident and hard.
“Fuck,” he groans, scrubbing both hands down his face, the stubble scratching under his palms. “Do you know how sexy you look right now, with the glow of the light behind you and your hair. Shit. I feel like I can’t deny you anything in this position.”
I stare back at him, stunned beyond words. “What?”
“You’re so stunning, Roxie.”
If he’s attempting to butter me up in hopes to butter my biscuit, it might work with those pretty words. No one calls me stunning, least of all him. Then I recall he did once, in the heat of a disagreement in my office. Stunning is one of those words on a whole different level than beautiful or pretty.
“That’s sweet of you,” I say, tucking hair behind my ear.
“I’m not being sweet. I’m being honest. I can hardly look at you without wanting to take you to the floor and devour you.”
What? “What?”
“Roxanne, has it ever occurred to you that the reason we fight is because we’re attracted to each other?”
Well, I know I’m attracted to him, but… “You’re attracted to me?”
“From the first moment I met you. Even though you called the cops on me.”
I stare down at him, flabbergasted. “But you…you always mock me.”
“Flirt.”
“Tease me.”
“Sexual frustration.”
“No,” I gasp. “You don’t even like me.”
He presses upward, the evidence of his attraction pressing into me. “I very much like you, Roxanne.”
He sits up again, and I almost fall back, but he catches me with two hands on my ass. He squeezes the globes as his eyes peer up at me, devilish and mischievous. “Admit that you like me, and I’ll tell you everything.”
“I like you,” I mutter, and the playful gleam returns to his eyes. What’s with this man? He seems so desperate to be liked. Is he desperate for love as well? I don’t get it. I hadn’t seen it, but his player reputation is a cover-up for something deeper. Acceptance. He wants people to like him. He wants me to like him.
“You’re a bad boy, Billy Harrington,” I tease, clapping his cheeks between my palms.
“And you might love it.” He smiles. I shake my head as his mouth crushes mine again. He kisses me hard but not as suggestive, not as desperate. More hunger, more devour, and more plea to give in to him. I feel myself fall forward, him tugging me down over him once again. My chest rests on his as I catch myself with my hands on the bed. The kiss only lasts another second before he stops, and I pull back, peering down at him, just as his bedroom door opens.
29
Caught in the act
[Billy]
“William?”
“Dad,” I choke, my eyes holding Roxie’s whose are wide and mortified glaring down at me. Kill me, they say before she closes them and then she shifts. Only I have a problem, and I don’t want her to move. My hand comes to her hip, keeping her in place. I’m certain she’s left a wet smudge on my pants, and my dick is so hard there’s no mistaking what she’s done to me.
What is she doing to me?
I like you. She admits it, and I feel like the kid who found the golden ticket in a chocolate bar. She apologized for what she said the other morning and then said she didn’t believe things were my fault. What does she know? I internally snarked before accepting she sounded sincere.
“I can come back,” my dad mutters, but he doesn’t move, and I feel like a teenager all over again. Actually, James was the one caught in the house with plenty of women; Dolores Chance, our neighbor most often.
“I think I’ll just…” Roxie sits back, again attempting to move, but it forces her heated center one hundred percent over me, and while my dad’s interruption should be a buzzkill, I haven’t softened. I want this woman. I want her comfort. I want her warmth, but most of all, I want her heart.
Could she love me?
Fuck, my mind screams as I scrub a hand over my face before sitting up and letting Roxie slide off my lap.
She chuckles hesitantly. “This is so embarrassing, sir.” She addresses my father, swiping back her long hair—wild and white curtaining her face as she leaned over me. Illuminated in the dim light, she looked otherworldly, and I want to enter that world…within her.
“It happens,” my dad states, lessening his tone a bit as he opens the door wider, suggesting she leave. I don’t want her to go. I want to hold her in my arms as a shield against the onslaught of attack from my father. Billy fucks up again. Huzzah! Party of one.
Roxanne doesn’t look back at me as she excuses herself, and my father leans on the doorjamb as she exits.
“So, you’re a father,” my dad begins, once Roxanne heads for the stairs.
“I am.” The obvious has already been said, so I wait, knowing disappointment is coming from him.
“Now what?”
“I had a paternity test.” My father waits for more explanation, but I promised Roxanne we’d work it out. Only Jordan’s been pressuring me. I don’t need guardianship, he says. I’m Sadie’s father, but I should seek residential custody. Sadie should live with me. I’m opposed, it’s just what I have arranged with Roxanne’s seems to be working. Financially, though, Jordan says we need things in writing. A formal agreement of responsibility, which just seems cold to me. I’ll take responsibility for my child however she needs it.
“I want Sadie to live with me,” I blurt, although I haven’t settled the decision with Roxanne. It’s something I haven’t been able to bring up yet. I don’t want to rip Sadie from Roxie, which is one of Roxanne’s fears, but I also want my turn at parenting.
I want my child in my home.
“And what do you know about raising a teenage daughter?”
“What did you know before Mati?” I sass back. Mati is the baby girl of four brothers. I have no doubt she was a different kind of handful than us boys, but she’s also daddy’s princess.
“I’d already been a father. I had some practice.”
“Fine, then before Giant?” I question.
“Let’s not split hairs,” my dad snaps back.
“Then what should we split? You’re here to tell me I’ve eff-ed up…again…and remind me of all the things I didn’t do well before. College. Rachel. But you don’t see what’s right in front of you. The pub and the amazing success it’s had for the past fifteen years. Fifteen. And now, I have a daughter, who I’ve missed out on for sixteen. I don’t want to miss any more time with her.”
George Harrington Jr. falls silent for a moment, weighing his words or calculating them, I’m not certain.
“Where did you ever get the idea we weren’t proud of the pub?”
“Because you’ve never said it,” I shriek, exasperated with the man I admired and hated a little growing up. I wasn’t going to conform. I wasn’t going to fit in the puzzle, but then again, neither did James. He just walked away.
“William, I’m proud of all my children. That includes you even if I don’t agree with all your life choices.”
Life choices. I snort. He means Rachel and what he thinks he knows. And now, possibly Sadie.
“What’s with Roxanne?” He nods toward the bed, and my face would have heated in embarrassment if I wasn’t already steaming mad, slowly trying to decode his words.
“We were just fooling around.” As soon as I say it, the words taste bitter, the label incorrect. I need to stop fooling myself. I like her a lot. I care about her. And I want to fuck her again.
Shit.
“This is playing with fire, William. She’s your daughter’s aunt. She has temporary guardianship. If things go south, she could ruin you in a character testimony.” I don’t know how my dad knows such things, but I know enough to realize Sadie has a say in things. She’d have the final say in where she lives, if I push, but I don’t want to push her.
