“That’s right. I want to see you finger-fuck yourself. Did you ever think of me while you were doing this?”
“Yes, Zach.”
“Are you thinking of me now?”
“Yes, Zach.”
“Will you come for me, Erin? I want to see you come all over your own hand while you think about how hard I’m going to fuck you as soon as you’re finished getting yourself off.”
I nod desperately, thrust my hips harder, wishing he were fucking me now, and change the angle of my hands to give better contact with my clit. That’s when it hits me.
“Oh, oh, god . . .”
“That’s a good girl.”
Then Shep’s on his knees in front of me, his hand covering mine as I rock the rest of my orgasm out. When I’m done, I rest my head against his shoulder. He rubs my back before helping me ease my fingers out of my body. Then he brings my hand to his mouth and sucks the fingers that were inside me.
“You taste so fucking good. When I get back, I’m going to strap you down on your bed with your legs spread wide and I’m going to lick your pussy until you come.”
I whimper, because the idea of coming again is overwhelming.
“But for now, I’m going to get you cleaned up so I can get you dirty all over again.”
And he does.
Shep
The next week in Florida with the guys is torture. I miss Erin like crazy even though I talk to her every night. Sometimes in the morning, too, if I wake up early enough.
It’s hard to tell from fifteen hundred miles away but she sounds unsettled sometimes and not just from missing me. I couldn’t quite put a finger on what might be wrong until I remembered Will used to go on Model UN trips. If the guy couldn’t keep it in his pants while he was on campus, I’m pretty sure he didn’t even try while he was in a different time zone. I wish Erin would trust me more than that, because I’d never cheat on her, but I get it. Will did a lot of damage and it’s going to take time to repair. I’m totally up for the job.
So I tell her about the grueling three-a-day practices, making sure the guys don’t get into too much trouble in their off-hours, shutting down a food fight in the making at a steakhouse, and what goofballs they are in the hotel pool. It makes her feel better to hear how busy I’ve been. Our conversations aren’t all work and no play, though. Oh, no. I gave her a homework assignment while I’m away. Every day, she reads one of her books and finds something she’d like to do. When I call at night, she reads it to me. She’s less shy about it than when we’re face-to-face and by the end of the week . . . Let’s just say Mordecai would be impressed.
She’s under strict instructions not to come while I’m away, and it’s killing the poor thing. I’m a terrible, horrible, very mean Master. She’s told me so. I delight in the pouty pleading and can’t wait to get home and put her out of her misery. Her horny, horny misery.
Also while I’ve been away, I called Headmaster Wilson to tell him Caleb wouldn’t be coming in the fall.
“I’m sorry to hear that. It would have been nice to have another Shepherd on campus.”
Yeah, it would’ve been. I thank him again for the opportunity and throw my cell hard against the bed, wanting to hurl something through the air but knowing I can’t afford to replace it. Especially after the present I’d given Erin right before I left. Caleb had helped me pick it out after we’d gotten him new sneakers at the mall.
She hadn’t wanted to accept the box I’d given her when she was dropping me off at the airport. “It’s too much,” she’d said.
“I want you to have it. It’ll make you think of me while I’m away.”
“I’ll think of you anyway.”
“I hope so.”
I’d looped it around her neck, fastening the clasp, and she’d sighed. Despite her protests, I think she liked it.
“Thank you. You didn’t have to do this.” I know I didn’t, but I’ve pictured her fingering the silver lock on the chain while worrying her bottom lip with her teeth and pressing her thighs together while she’s doing her homework. That’s more than enough in exchange.
“You’re welcome. I’m allowed to treat my pretty baby once in a while. I won’t do it often, I promise.”
She’d smiled her sweet smile and kissed me. Her eyes had welled with tears when she whispered, “I’ll miss you.”
I’ve missed her, this stupid plane ride interminable. She’d wanted to pick me up at the airport, but she has a meeting she can’t miss. I don’t mind hitching a ride on the school van picking up the guys from Logan. When I flick my phone on after landing, the voice mail icon is blinking. After I enter my passcode, the polite automated voice tells me I have three messages. Three? The first one I delete as soon as I hear the unnerving voice on the other end. The second one is Erin, telling me she hopes I had a good flight, and she can’t wait to see me. I plug my ear over the racket of people hauling their bags out of the overhead bins and listen to it three times. Her bright voice has that same moonlike effect on the blood pumping through my body it always does; pooling, pulling like the tides.
I hadn’t denied myself the way I’d denied her, but I’m aching for her like I had. I save her message—an audible reminder of good things in this world—and go on to the next message.
“Zach. It’s your mother. Call me when you get this. Love you.”
My mom’s not one for rambling, but this is short for her. I could wait until I get back to school to call her, but the only thing I want to think about when I get back is Erin.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Mom.”
“Oh, hi, Zach. I didn’t know how long you’d be. How was your trip?”
“Fine. What’s going on?”
“Your father and I have talked it over and we’ve decided if you’re still willing to have him, it would be in Caleb’s best interest to go to Hawthorn next year.”
I’m stunned speechless. This doesn’t make any sense. I was pretty sure they’d never let Caleb visit me again, never mind live up here and go to Hawthorn.
“Zach?”
“Yeah, Mom, I’m here. What the hell—”
“Language, Zach.”
“You know for Caleb to go to Hawthorn you’ll have to make me his legal guardian. He can’t just come live with me.”
“Yes, I know. That’s what we’ll do. I told you. We talked it over.”
Talking’s never been my dad’s strong suit, nor my mom’s. I shouldn’t care and it’s not my business, but curiosity compels me to ask. “What did you say?”
“I told your father if he didn’t let Caleb go to Hawthorn I’d divorce him and take Caleb up there anyway. He could lose Caleb to a better place with more opportunities where he’ll be well provided for or he could lose us both.”
Holy shit.
“Mom, I—”
“It’s not too late, is it?”
“I’ll call the Headmaster as soon as I hang up with you.”
There’s a sigh of relief on the other end. “You tell Erin I say hello, and thank you.”
“She loves Caleb. It was no trouble—”
“Not for that, although he’s been raving about her since you left. It was seeing her stand up to your father. I’m sure you don’t remember because it was a long time ago, but I used to do that. Somewhere along the line, I got tired. I got tired of fighting and tired of his bullying and I figured if I could lie down in front of him, he wouldn’t be able to get to you boys. Not enough to do real damage, anyway. I stopped pushing back. I held him where he was. But when Erin was here, I remembered some things are worth fighting for. You boys are worth fighting for. You never needed my help much, but Caleb does. So I fought back.”
I duck my head and mash my palm against my chest because it aches, but she’s not finished.
“Or if that’s, what do you kids say, TMI? Jus
t tell her the cookies were delicious.”
“I will.” I’m choked up and my neighbor is looking at me funny. We’re going to be able to walk off the plane soon, so I should go. “Look, Mom, I’ve gotta go, but thank you.”
“No, thank you, Zach. You’re a good man, like Erin said. I’m proud of you and I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Then I click off my phone and walk off the plane in a daze. Caleb’s coming to Hawthorn.
Chapter Twenty-one
Erin
Spring is crazy. My allergies are back, although not as bad this year. Maybe I’m building up some desperately needed immunity? Shep’s been buzzing like some heat-maddened fly. Paranoia whispers horrible things in my head, that maybe he’s feeling guilty for something he’s done. But that’s so unfair. It’s echoes of Will that I hear, not Shep. And running into Lana Davis at another dance last weekend hasn’t helped matters. The way she looks at him . . .
No. I won’t let that distrustful part of me take over. He deserves more than that from me. He’s just overwhelmed, that’s all. Half with being crazy busy with wrapping up classes and coaching and half with excitement that Caleb’s going to start here in the fall. Caleb’s going to come up a few weeks before the rest of the boys get in so he can get settled. We’re going to take him school shopping and let him have some fun before he has to buckle down and work his butt off as Shep’s told him he’ll have to. A dozen times.
“He knows. Give him a break. If you keep talking like that, he’s going to stay in Shamokin.”
“I don’t want him to think he’s going to be walking on easy street because I work here. I can send him home at the drop of a hat.”
“Don’t you dare say that to him.”
“I won’t, you know I won’t. Because I wouldn’t. But that makes it all the harder to put the fear of god in him.”
“I think fear of disappointing his older brother is enough.”
I push at the chicken marsala on my plate with my fork and it takes Shep a few bites of his veal picatta to notice I’ve stopped eating.
“What’s the matter, Erin? Is it not good? Do you want something else?”
“No, it’s delicious. Everything here is always delicious.”
We found this Italian place right off Main Street in Hawthorn. It’s small and cozy and not too expensive, so we’ve become regulars.
“So what’s wrong? You’ve been distracted all through dinner.”
I could say the same to him. For more than dinner. He’s been distracted all spring and that paranoid voice inside my head tells me it’s not just about Caleb coming or his heavy faculty load. But Shep’s given me no reason to doubt he’s faithful so I try my best to silence the irrational fears Will left in his wide wake. Shep loves me, worships me, belongs to me, and I love being his. I’ve never been so at peace. Everything seems easier now that we’re together, like how life should be.
“I’ve been thinking.”
“About?”
I wrap my ankles together under the table, pulling at them, and fiddle with the fork I’m holding. “About applying for the Chair of the department.”
Shep had mentioned it months ago and it’s been gnawing at the back of my brain since then. If there was an obvious candidate, I probably wouldn’t dare, but with Dan’s departure, the math department is split a bit oddly: Skip Connelly and Elliott Gunderson will be retiring in the next year or two, and Matt Brinkley has made no secret that he has far more interest in being the head coach of the football team than anything else. That leaves Shep and me, and Shep just got hired as faculty.
“I think that’s a great idea.”
“You do?”
“Of course. You love the department and I know how much help you’ve given Dan this year and probably before that. You do half the work already. You should get the title and the pay bump, too.”
“Are you sure?”
“Why wouldn’t I be sure?” He smiles and I purse my lips, nudging his foot under the table. If Shep is anything, it’s confident. Of course he’s sure. But has he really thought this through?
“Because I would kind of be your boss.”
“You wouldn’t kind of be my boss, Erin. You’d be my boss.”
I flush and something flutters in my chest. “You don’t have a problem with that?”
“What we do behind closed doors has no bearing on our professional lives. You can assign me four sections of calculus and I won’t blink as long as when we get home I can tie you up and paddle your ass until it’s bright red because you didn’t follow protocol before we left the apartment. And then fuck you until you beg for mercy, of course.”
“Of course,” I mutter, turning precisely the shade of red he’s talking about, I’m sure.
“You getting a job you deserve shouldn’t impact anything we do. If it does, we’ll figure it out. You’d be a great Chair.”
I toy with the napkin on my lap, twisting it between my fingers. “You don’t think it’s too . . . ambitious? I haven’t been here for long, and I don’t want—”
“There’s nothing wrong with ambition. If Headmaster Wilson doesn’t think you’re ready, he won’t give it to you. Simple. Do you want this?”
“I do.”
“But you’re afraid?”
I nod and he reaches across the table, palm up, waiting for me to slip my hand into his.
“I know, love. But I think you should do it. You do, too. You just need a nudge. So will you promise me you’ll apply?”
I roll my lips between my teeth and bite down. If I make a promise and don’t follow through, there will be consequences. But maybe that’s what I need. I haven’t gone after too many things I wanted because I spent too much time talking myself out of them and no one ever bothered to talk me into them.
“I promise.”
“Good.” His satisfied smile makes me glow inside and wish for the millionth time we didn’t both live in the dorms. But then we wouldn’t be on the Hill and then we wouldn’t be together. That fit of pique loses its steam very quickly.
That aside, what I do wish is for Shep to make me his forever. He’s young and for that matter so am I, but I want to come home to him every night, curl up in the same bed as a matter of course and not just on special occasions when the boys are away. I want to wear his ring on my finger and have everyone know I belong to him. It’s possible I’ve had to shred more than one piece of notebook paper on which I’d written Mr. and Mrs. Zachary Shepherd, Zach and Erin Shepherd, Erin Elizabeth Shepherd and pretty much any other variation you can think of.
I hadn’t taken Will’s last name when we got married, but I never felt like I belonged to him. Shep and I? We belong together.
When we’ve finished dinner, we take a walk down to a little gallery that opened a few weeks ago on Main Street. It’s not much to look at, just a couple of white-washed rooms with some track-lighting aimed at local artists’ work hung on the walls, but it’s fun. We hold hands as we move from piece to piece and I ask him to tell me about them. It’s hot when he talks art.
After he’s explained chiaroscuro to me, I nudge his side. “You should see if they’d put some of your drawings on display.”
Shep shakes his head. “I’m not an artist, Erin. I’m a math teacher.”
“And you’re a lacrosse coach. And a hockey coach. And a soccer coach. You don’t have to be just one thing. Your work is just as good as theirs. Maybe better.”
My gaze darts involuntarily to a sizable watercolor featuring frogs that I hope was done by a local kid but the little placard underneath hadn’t indicated anything of the sort. I catch Shep eyeing the same painting and we laugh.
“I appreciate your vote of confidence but I don’t think so. Even if I wanted to it’s not like I have time to put anything decent together.”
That’s fair. He doesn�
��t have a ton of leisure time to sit around with his paints and brushes or even his pencils and paper. He hasn’t given it up entirely, though. I’ve seen his supplies on a shelf in his bedroom even if I haven’t seen him use them. I still think he should do it but I’ll let it drop for now. Maybe over the summer when he’ll only be working at the lacrosse camp Hawthorn hosts, and not teaching, too. There’s no way he’d do something if he can’t give it his all, and I love that about him.
“Fine.” I tow him over to a picture that’s been drawing me in since we got here, probably because it reminds me of Shep’s work. It’s a kitchen still life and the artist did a really wonderful job showing all the different textures and materials: brass pots hanging from a wrought iron ceiling rack, wood cutting boards resting on a stone countertop and a window you can practically feel the sun pouring through. “Then tell me how they made this look like glass.”
Shep
Good. Erin’s going to apply for the Chair. I’ve mentioned it a few times, hoping she would. She’d be great and there isn’t anyone better suited. She’s young and relatively new, and if the department weren’t so small she’d have a rough go of it, even if she is the best fit for the job. But as things are, there’s no way she won’t get it.
She’s worried about being my boss, but honestly I find it sexy that she’s so . . . organized. Administrative tasks don’t appeal to me. I’d rather teach an extra class or tack an hour onto practice than deal with all that paperwork. But I love how she sets out all her color-coded Post-its and pens, making her tidy notes with that handwriting: pretty, round and neat, like her. It does something to me.
Office supplies sexy? Yup, total perv, right here. What I could do with those binder clips . . .
But we’re back at school and the guys are all wandering back to the dorms from study hall, so there’s no privacy for a kiss, never mind what I’d really like to do to her. I pull my car up behind Sullivan and walk her to the entrance, taking the chance to slip my little finger around hers at the door before the guys see.
“Have a good night. I’ll see you tomorrow morning. Go work on your application. It’s due by six on Friday, right?”
School Ties Page 24
