by Anna Brooks
“Sure.”
After taking a piss and brushing my teeth, I meet her downstairs. She’s looking out the kitchen window, deep in thought. Over her shoulder, I see Courtney playing catch with Ben.
“Ready?” I ask.
She jumps a tiny bit and turns. “Yeah.” She dumps the coffee in the sink and grabs her purse before following me outside to my truck. We get in and pull away. Once I turn the corner, she begins talking.
“Your neighbor seems nice.”
Nice isn’t a word I would use. Maybe incredible, beautiful, or strong. “Yeah.”
“Cute kid.”
“Yeah.”
“Sorry about last night. I had drunk a lot before you got there. You can come over tonight if you want.”
Something in her voice makes me pause. At the next light, I catch a glimpse of tears in her eyes.
“You all right?”
She sniffles and exhales. “Yup. Fine.”
Obviously, she’s closing the subject. “I don’t know about tonight. I’ll call you.”
“Cool.”
When I pull up to the bar, she says thanks and hops out. I put the truck in park, waiting until she gets into her car and drives away. James’ beat up station wagon sits on the side of the building. He wasn’t tending bar last night, so I go in and make sure everything is okay.
“Hey, old man.”
He peeks his head out from the back room and throws a rag over his shoulder.
“Samuel. What brings you in so early?”
“Ehh.” I shrug. “Just dropped Lisa off. Saw your car and thought I’d stop in. You weren’t here last night.”
His hands shake slightly as he hands me a cup of coffee. When I raise my eyebrows, he chuckles. “It’s Irish. Do you want cream on top?”
“No. This is great, thanks.”
“Why was her car still here?”
“She was wasted last night. Took her to my place.”
“Hmm.” He comes around the bar and sits a couple of stools down. “You two have been spending a lot of time together lately.”
“It’s not like that,” I snap. “She doesn’t think it’s ever more than it is.” Bringing Lisa to my place was a dick move. Seeing the confusion and hurt on Courtney’s face hit me in the gut.
“Ahh. I see.”
I eye him speculatively over the rim of my coffee mug. “Where were you last night? Can’t remember the last time you weren’t here on a Friday.”
“I’m getting old, son. My body don’t work like it used to.” He holds up his wrinkled hand and wiggles his crooked fingers. “Gotta start cutting back some. How did the new fella do?”
“Good from what I saw. I left pretty early, though.”
“He’ll probably be around a lot more. My arthritis is getting worse.”
“Why don’t you retire? Sell the place?”
The skin around his eyes wrinkles in amusement. “Can’t wait to be rid of me, can ya?”
“All I’m saying is you deserve a break.”
“Like your grandad took a break?”
I laugh and set my mug on the counter. “Point taken.” My grandpa had worked until a week before he died. He taught me everything I know then gave me the business. He and Jim were buddies.
“Want another?”
“Nah. You need any help around here before I take off?” This visit is also a step in avoiding Courtney. The less I’m home, the less tempted I am to touch her, hold her, fuck her.
“Actually. The leg on the pool table is a little wobbly. Someone shoved a book of matches under it, but if you wanna take a look, it’ll save me from having to do it.”
“No problem.”
I grab my toolbox from my truck and tighten some screws on the pool table before making sure it’s level. After finishing up, I drive home and take a shower. It’s still pretty early, and I haven’t eaten yet, so I make an omelet and watch some sports highlights. I hide in my house all day to avoid running into Courtney after the shit I pulled last night.
Late the next morning, I have an old vintage clock on my workbench in the garage. I’m in the middle of trying to get some rust off the screws so I can get to the gearbox when Courtney’s timid voice interrupts me.
“Sam. Umm, there’s something wrong with the shower. Or the water heater. But either way, there’s no hot water.”
I have to school my features and continue to pretend she doesn’t etch herself deeper into my chest every time I get a glimpse of her. When I turn my head to look at her over my shoulder, the rest of my body slowly follows. Standing only a few feet away, her scent of roses fills my senses, and I clench my fists as I take the rest of her in. She’s wearing a little pair of black shorts and a light purple sweater, her wet hair still has small drops of water on the ends.
“You’re still wet.” I step closer, and she stiffens.
“I . . .” Shifting her feet, she takes a breath before squaring her shoulders and looking directly at me. “There’s something wrong with the water. My guess would be the water heater, but I don’t know. If you can’t look at it, I’ll call a plumber and take the bill off next month’s rent.”
“No. I’ll come over.”
She nods and I follow, checking out her ass.
“Sam!” Ben jumps up from the floor and runs over. He grabs onto my leg, and I take a step back to balance his weight.
“Hey, buddy.”
“Wanna play a game with me? Mommy’s not good with racing games.”
“Not now. I’ve gotta see if I can fix her pipes.” I laugh at my lame joke.
“Oh. Okay.” His lips turn into a frown, and my heart cracks a little. Courtney’s looking at him with the same expression I feel. Sad. Christ, I feel bad for the kid. No dad around, and a mom who tries her hardest to be both, but it’s not the same.
“Maybe after he figures out what’s wrong he can play a game.” Her pained voice and pleading eyes cause the crack to spread a little farther.
“Sure.” I nod. “Set it up and I’ll play as soon as I’m done.”
“Yay! This is gonna be so fun! Thanks, Sam!” He jumps up and down before running back to the game console and switching discs.
Courtney has tears in her eyes when she turns and runs upstairs. I give her a second before following. It’s like a natural thing to want to comfort her, to protect her. I hate it because I don’t want to care. But fuck me if I can leave her right now. Her door is shut, but I quietly open it anyway. At her window, her shoulders shake as she silently cries.
I shut the door behind me and stand behind her. She turns and buries her head in my chest, and I wrap my arms around her stiff frame. Her sobs are muffled and that crack has suddenly turned into a full-on split right down the middle.
“Shh. It’s okay, baby.”
I stroke her damp head and hold her tight. After a couple of minutes, she pushes away and wipes her face. “Sorry.” She sits on the end of the bed. “He’s been asking a lot about his dad lately, and I don’t really know what to say. I know he’s missing that male figure in his life, and it tears me apart.” The last words end on a whisper as she tries to control her emotions.
“Where is his dad?” I sit next to her and force my hands to stay put, when really all I want to do is hold her again. She fits in my arms, and I’d gladly let her stay there.
“Dunno. He found out I was pregnant and kicked me out of our apartment. Haven’t heard from him since.”
What a piece of shit. “Nothing?”
“Nope.”
“What about child support?”
She whips her head and glares at me, and I hold my hands up in surrender. “Sorry. Not my business.”
“No. It’s not that. It’s caused a huge strain on my relationship with my parents because I refuse to take him to court.”
“Why? It’s the least the bastard could do.”
“Because,” she growls in frustration, “I don’t want shit from him. I don’t want the reminder every month. And I don’t want his money. I wanted him t
o be a part of his kid’s life. But he didn’t want that so he can go fuck himself.”
She’s so hot all riled up. I hate that she’s upset right now, but I can’t deny how hot she is with that raspy voice and her tits bouncing while she flails her hands around.
“Remind me never to piss you off.”
“Too late,” she laughs.
“Touché.”
“You eat lunch? I was gonna make grilled cheese.”
My favorite. It was actually the only thing my dad ever cooked for me. The few happy times I remember with him were when I watched him make me one of those sandwiches. They were rare, but I clung to those memories like a lifeline. I swallow deeply. “No. I mean I haven’t eaten lunch.”
“All right. I’ll make you one while you check out whatever it is you need to check out.”
For a brief moment, I stay seated on her bed to get this shit in check. These feelings should not be happening. I’ve worked too hard to remain impassive. I can’t—I just can’t go there again.
After I had moved out of my dad’s house and into my grandparent’s place at eighteen, I lived a pretty normal life. Quit the drugs, which was only something I had only done to piss my dad off. Since I wasn’t under his roof anymore, a lot of things changed. I had a relationship with him until I was twenty-three. Not a good one, but I talked to him a couple times a month. Met him at the bar. He was my only living parent, and although I loved my grandparents, I didn’t know them. My dad is a prick of epic proportions, but at least he was familiar.
I wouldn’t think that a man who degraded, abused, and used me would be one I wanted to continue any contact with, but you don’t get over some things. Or some things you always want. I always wanted normal.
The day before my twenty-third birthday, a woman who meant everything to me ripped me to shreds. I went to my childhood house looking for a picture of my mother, thinking for some reason that seeing her face would make me feel better. In the basement, there was a box marked ‘Sam’s favorite toy.’ I was curious, so I opened it.
Pictures of my ex-fiancée, the one who had just crushed my heart the day before, fell out. The last one I looked at was of her sucking some guy off while my dad watched. There was also a written and signed contract outlining everything—the date she would dump me, how much money she got from my dad, a no contact agreement for after.
It all came down to money and my father’s hatred for me. I didn’t understand it . . . I still don’t. Why you would pay a woman to rip your son’s heart out? He set me up. Somehow, he got to her. I wasn’t enough for her so the greedy bitch threw away everything with me because of money.
To this day, I don’t know details. I don’t want to know details. I do know, though, that my father is a rat bastard, and I’d rather stab my own eye than talk to him ever again. And that people can’t be trusted. Even those who tell you they love you and want to spend the rest of their lives with you.
After I had picked myself up from the cold basement floor that day, I swallowed the vomit in my throat and drove with fury to his downtown office. Marching past his secretary, I slammed his door shut hard enough to knock a painting off the wall. He looked up from his desk, and before he could open his mouth, I punched him in the jaw. I threw the pictures at him and fought for words to come out. But nothing came. I was speechless looking at him, his ice-cold blue eyes staring back at me—empty.
He picked up the photos and laughed, wiping away the blood trickling out of his lip. “It’s amazing what you can get with diamonds and some cash.”
I swallowed and whispered the question on my mind. “Why the fuck would you do that to me? I’m your son.”
“Ehh,” he shrugged, “’cause I can.”
“Fuck. You.”
Those words were the last I spoke to my father years ago. The betrayal I felt walking out of his office was immeasurable. I vowed to myself from that moment forward never to let another person in.
7
Courtney
AFTER CONFIRMING THE HOT water heater is broken and ordering one for delivery on Monday, Sam took a seat on the floor next to Ben and they’ve been playing video games for a couple of hours. I’m pulling the chicken out of the oven when their laughter filters to the kitchen.
“You cheater!” Sam yells.
“I did not. Mom says nobody will play with me again if I cheat.”
I shake my head and smile, loving that my kid actually listens to me.
“Hey guys,” I shout, “wanna come eat?”
“Yes! I’m starving.” Ben barrels into the kitchen and sits at his place at the table.
“Go wash your hands first. But the water’s gonna be cold, so do it quick.”
He almost knocks his chair over because he gets up so fast.
Sam chuckles then says, “I’ll be back Monday to change out the water heater. I’m home for the rest of the weekend if you need hot water.”
“Oh. Okay. I’m sure we’ll be fine.” Disappointment courses through my body at the thought of Sam leaving. I like having him here. It was a relief to cook a meal without Ben ‘Mom-ing’ me every five minutes. And just his presence makes me feel safe.
“Bye, Court.” He takes two steps away from me before I stop him.
“Wait.” He stops and turns around. I bite my lip before continuing. “Stay. Eat some chicken.” Idiot.
“You sure you have enough?” Those sexy lips of his turn up in a grin.
“Ha ha. Yes. I have plenty.”
“All right. Thanks.” He walks right up to me and cups my face with one hand. “You better now?”
I lean into him and reply, “Mmm hmm.”
“Good.” His fingers trail down my cheek and across my jawline before reaching my neck. He applies a little more pressure when he grazes over my collarbone, and I have to grip his other arm, which is now squeezing my hip, to keep from falling. The tips of his fingers slide between my breasts and down the front of my shirt.
“Sam.” I actually moan from him touching me outside of my shirt.
“Yeah.” His voice is huskier than normal, and his eyelids heavy, as the piercing blue of his eyes assess me.
Those magical fingertips play with the waistband of my shorts, and then slide up under my shirt. He runs his thumb along the underside of my bra, and my knees become even weaker. His lips suck on my neck, and he massages my heavy breasts one at a time.
I squeeze my thighs together and tilt my head back, granting him better access. His knee nudges my legs open, and I cry out when my throbbing center collides with his denim-covered thigh.
“Fuck.” He lifts his head from my neck and grips my hair before slamming his mouth to mine and pressing me against the counter. The hard length of him is rubbing against my stomach, and I unabashedly grind myself onto him.
“God, Sam,” I mumble around his tongue, that’s reaching every inch of my mouth, unhurried, but hard. So damn hot.
“I know.” He releases my hair and uses that hand to pinch my nipple through my shirt.
I press harder on him, and he nips at my lower lip, tugging, teasing. My nails dig into his arms, and his groin presses almost painfully into me. I feel like we’re in high school, and we’re both about to come in our pants.
“My hands are clean! I washed them extra long!”
“Shit.”
“Fuck.”
He practically pushes me away and turns his back to Ben as he runs into the room. I swear the kid never walks.
“Good. Nice and clean. Sit down.” With a hand to my rapidly beating heart, I try to appear calm. I can’t believe I just let that happen.
Ben jumps in his seat and spills half of the corn trying to get it on his plate, but I don’t have it in me to care right now. I’m trying to catch my breath, and with shaky hands, cut the chicken.
Sam’s stubble tickles my ear, and his winded voice shoots straight between my legs. “What the fuck was that? I almost came in my pants.” My suspicion was correct then. “Damn, Courtney.”
>
“I don’t know,” I whisper.
“You all right?”
“Yeah. Fine.” Liar. I’m not fine. I’m so horny right now. So damn turned on by him. And I know what he can do, too. I think about him fucking me against the wall all the time. I want him to do it again. But I can’t be just another whore to him. He had a girl over last night, and I know that’s all it would ever be between us. He’s made that perfectly clear. “Sorry.”
“Why the fuck are you sorry? Feel this.” He presses against me, and I squeeze my eyes shut at the sensation of his still hard length against my backside. “This is what you do to me. All the damn time. I want inside you again so bad. Christ.” He pushes away and I turn to face him, frustration clearly written on his face. He scrubs his hands down his cheeks, and looks over his shoulder at Ben, who is attempting to stack corn kernels. “This isn’t over.” Then he presses a kiss to my forehead, takes a few deep breaths, and sits down to eat.
A dinner that should be awkward and filled with sexual tension is anything but. Ben asks Sam nonstop questions about fixing stuff, and I hold in my laughter at Sam’s obvious frustration over the rapid fire from a five-year-old. He reaches under the table and squeezes my thigh, asking me to save him. It’s nice. It feels so natural for him to be here.
“Why don’t you go up to your room and play with the new cars you got the other day?”
“Can you play, too?”
“I’ll come up after I clean the dishes. Then Mona is coming to get you for a sleepover.”
“Okay.” Ben pushes away from the table and heads upstairs. The novelty of Sam must have worn off because he doesn’t even say goodbye to him.
“Why is he sleeping at Mona’s?”
“I’ve gotta work tonight.”
I stand and grab some of the dirty dishes. He puts the rest of them in the sink while I scoop leftovers in a container.
He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and quietly says, “Come over after.”
I want to. I shouldn’t, though. “I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“Listen,” I shut the fridge and lean on it. “You. I.” I blow out a breath and try to compose my thoughts. “I want more. You can’t give that to me. And I’m sorry I let my hormones get the best of me, but-”
