Indiscretion: A Standalone Forbidden Romance

by Lane Hart

  “No, but what if we are married now?”

  “It’s too late for that, Miss Elliott,” he says before getting to his feet. “Nice meeting you, and I’m sorry I’m unable to help.”

  Dammit.

  …

  Grant

  “Hi, I’m, uh, here to get registered,” I say into the speaker at the intake window when I walk up to it in the Wake County Sheriff’s Department.

  “You need to register for the sex offender list?” the lady on the other side asks through the microphone so loudly I’m pretty sure the entire town heard her.

  “Yes,” I answer, beyond embarrassed to be associated with child molesters, rapists, and other various creeps who committed truly heinous crimes. The only thing I did was fall in love and sleep with a consenting adult woman, who was still technically a student at the school I worked at as an athletic trainer.

  “Fill this form out and have a seat,” the woman says, shoving a clipboard with a pen attached to it by chain to me through the bottom slat of the widow.

  “Thanks,” I tell her as I turn around to try and find a place to sit.

  All four blue plastic chairs are currently occupied, so I rest my back against the wall and scribble out all my information. Sam said I could stay with her for now, so I put down her apartment as my current address.

  Then, I wait. And wait some more before they finally call me back, take my photo; and just like that, I’m added to the state and national database of sexually deviant criminals.

  My next stop is to walk across the street to the probation office where I also get to stand and wait until my new, grumpy, fat bastard officer can see me in his dirty, cluttered office.

  “Read the requirements of your probation and sex offender registry, initialing beside each one and sign the bottom of both sheets,” he says gruffly.

  Everything on the two lists are pretty much what I assumed. I can’t own a gun. Not a problem. I’m not allowed on school property. Well, that might be an issue in five years when Adalyn starts kindergarten. I have to attend all scheduled appointments with my PO, aka Mr. Wonderful. I can’t own any pornography. Wait, what? Why can’t I have pornography? Jesus. Fine. Pee tests are administered randomly and must be done in front of Mr. Wonderful. Excellent, I just love peeing while another man watches. Home inspections are spontaneous. Sorry, Sam, but I’m pretty sure you don’t have any drugs lying around the apartment, so we should be fine there. If I get arrested on new felony charges or violate any conditions of release, my ass goes back to prison. Awesome. Oh, and I’m supposed to get a job or seek some type of educational opportunity. Well, since I have a doctorate that won’t be worth a shit, maybe I can go back to school to be an auto mechanic or a plumber. That’s only if I’m allowed near heavy machinery or able to go into strangers' homes to fix their shitters.

  “There you go,” I say to my PO and place the papers on top of a stack of various other papers. How does he find anything in this mess?

  “We’ll schedule a home visit for Friday. Nine o’clock. If you have roommates or other tenants, I’ll need to meet them and get copies of their photo IDs.”

  “Got it,” I say before standing up to leave. Then, I smile to myself, wondering if he needs an identification for Adalyn.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Sam

  “Hey, how did it go?” I ask Grant from the kitchen when he walks into the apartment.

  “Just wonderful,” he replies sarcastically when he tosses my car keys on the counter. “I can’t complain since this is all way better than prison. How was your day?” Grant asks when he’s standing in front of me.

  “Not too bad,” I tell him. It’s definitely improving now that he’s here. Home.

  When Grant’s hands come up to my hips, I don’t mind the contact at all. It’s nice and familiar to have him so close again. The only problem is when his thumb brushes the skin underneath my shirt. Nausea instantly bubbles up from my stomach, so I quickly sidestep out of his grip and open the refrigerator, pulling out milk and eggs even though I don’t need them for the ravioli that’s cooking.

  “You okay?” Grant asks while I keep moving around the kitchen.

  “Yeah, of course,” I lie. “Will you see if Adalyn’s awake and, if so, change her for me?”

  “I would love to,” he says.

  “Great. Dinner will be ready soon,” I tell him as he walks down the hall.

  When he’s out of sight, I let out a sigh of relief as I fold my arms on the counter and rest my forehead on top of them. After all this time, I didn’t think being touched by a man I care about and have missed would make me physically ill. Grant’s never hurt me; logically I know that, yet my reaction to having his hands on my body was still…unwelcome.

  I can’t avoid him forever, and I don’t want to. But I can’t explain to Grant my dilemma. He’ll just blame himself for not being there or stopping them when it was completely out of his control. If anything, I blame myself. I can’t help but wonder if I had come forward and admitted to Grant’s attorney what the officers did, if it would have helped get his case thrown out. The fact is I was too ashamed to tell anyone. I still haven’t, not even Hunter.

  After I woke up, alone, untied and still naked in Grant’s bed that night, I frantically got dressed and left. I staggered home, my mind still reeling, my memory fuzzy, trying to make sense of what had happened. Everything around me felt so strange and surreal. The worst part was there was no one I could turn to. Grant was gone, and the police were responsible.

  I was thankful that, when I walked into my front yard, Hunter was just pulling in his driveway. He let me cry on his shoulder for hours before he tucked me into bed. It was more than just the trauma from the night that had me distraught. I knew that nothing would ever be the same. That whatever happened, Grant and I would grow apart because of it. How could we not?

  Now, having him here with us, there’s finally that sense of hope filling me up again inside. Despite what hell he’s been through, he’s still the sweet, caring man I fell in love with.

  So maybe it’s just me who’s changed. And the saddest part is, even with Grant back in my life, I’m not sure if I’ll ever find my old self again.

  Chapter Thirty

  Grant

  “Hi, Mr. Morris,” I say in greeting to my PO when I open Sam’s apartment door to let him in Friday morning. “Welcome to our humble abode.”

  Not even a twitch of a smile appears below his graying mustache.

  I can’t say that I’m in the best of moods either. This morning Sam kicked me out so that Hunter could come get his things. I didn’t like leaving her here with him, but she’s probably right. It was safer for everyone if that asshole and I aren’t left in the same room together again.

  “This is my…girlfriend, Samantha Elliott,” I start the introductions. “And our beautiful daughter, Adalyn…Ah, what’s her last name?” I turn to ask Samantha, who is standing next to me holding our girl.

  “Matthews,” Sam replies. “Matthews is the name on her birth certificate, along with your name as her father. I didn’t think you would contest that.”

  “No, of course not,” I say with a smile, happy that she gave her my name and included me on the birth certificate.

  “Samantha Elliott?” the PO mutters, his first words since walking through the door. “That name sounds familiar from your file.”

  “Oh, well, that’s probably because you’re a smart man who can do simple math and conclude that Samantha must have been my lover a little over ten months ago and that she’s sort of the reason I was sent to prison,” I reply as pleasantly as possible.

  “You can’t live here,” the big man says gruffly to me.

  “I’m sorry?” I ask in confusion.

  “If she’s the victim, that’s a liability; and you can’t live here,” he clarifies.

  “First of all, she wasn’t a true victim, and secondly, what liability?” I ask with my hands on my hips in frustration.

 
; “If she calls the cops for even a single domestic disturbance allegation, you end up back in prison, and I get chewed out by my supervisor for not avoiding the situation altogether.”

  “You can’t be serious,” I mutter, scrubbing a hand over my face in frustration.

  “You have three days to find a new residence,” Mr. Sunshine says before he walks out the door, leaving it wide open.

  “Great,” I grumble; but when I turn to Sam, she’s looking out the door thoughtfully.

  “Sir, wait!” she calls out after Morris, handing Adalyn over to me so she can chase after him.

  I stay just inside the apartment door since it’s a chilly spring day outside and I don’t want Adalyn to get sick; but from the doorway, I can see Samantha on the sidewalk talking to my PO. He scratches his head before he shrugs his shoulders and walks away from her.

  “What was that about?” I ask Sam when she comes back inside, her forehead creased in thought and eyes lowered to the ground.

  “I just wanted to ask him a question,” she says. “Because I don’t want you to have to leave us.”

  “Jesus, sweetheart. I don’t want to leave you either,” I tell her, pulling her to my chest with my free arm, holding both of my girls.

  Sam mumbles something into my chest before stepping out of my reach, but I don’t catch her words.

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “Would you marry me?” she asks with sad, green eyes.

  “Would I marry you?” I repeat, and she nods. “Of course I would marry you, but only if you were sure that’s what you wanted too. You’re so much younger than me…”

  “He said that you could stay here if we were married. The probation office couldn’t make you move,” she tells me, filling me in on the conversation with Morris that just took place.

  “Really?” I ask her with a smile, amazed by her quick thinking. “Because I would do anything to stay here with you two.”

  Rather than a happy response, Sam storms past me; and I realize how that statement must have sounded to her.

  “No, Sam,” I grumble when I grab her arm to stop her. “What I meant was, I would do anything to stay with you. But marrying you, making you mine, that would be the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

  “We don’t have to –” she starts, but I cut her off by covering her lips with mine.

  When I pull away, I tell her, “I want to. You’re all that I've thought about for the past ten months. I convinced myself that it would be best for you to move on. But I hoped you wouldn’t. Marry me?” I ask with another soft kiss. “Not because you think you have to but because you just want to? Be my wife, take my name, and promise to love me forever?”

  “Yes,” she whispers against my lips.

  “I’m sorry, what was that?” I ask, just to hear her say it again.

  “Yes,” she says louder and this time with a smile.

  “How soon?” I ask as I keep kissing her softly with Adalyn still sleeping on my shoulder.

  “I’ll have to check my schedule,” she replies with a smile, using the same line she gave me the first time I asked her out.

  “Well, mine is wide open, so you tell me when and where and I’ll be there,” I assure her.

  “In a few days?” she suggests.

  “Hell yes! I don’t want to wait if you’re sure you’re ready.”

  “I’m sure,” she says, reaching up to rub Adalyn’s back. “There’s just one thing…”

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “I can’t…be with you again. Not yet,” she says, her fern-green eyes shimmering with unshed tears.

  “Baby, I understand,” I tell her, sweeping a lock of her hair behind her ear. “If you’re not ready to take that step with me, then you’re not ready. I would never rush you.”

  Honestly, I’m disappointed that she doesn’t want to sleep with me, not because it’s been ten months since we were together, but because it means she doesn’t trust me yet. I hate that and wish I knew how to fix it.

  “You’re sure?” she asks.

  “Yes, of course I’m sure. We’ll go slow. However long it takes,” I assure her. “I would wait for you forever.”

  “That’s good to hear because I can’t make any promises…”

  I cut off her worries with another swift kiss. “Don’t even think about it, okay?” I tell her.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Grant

  I’m in the kitchen with Adalyn on my shoulder, warming her up a bottle since Sam’s in class when the front door opens.

  “Hey, you’re home early!” I call out; but when I turn around, it’s not Sam.

  Fuck. She must have forgotten to get the asshole’s key back.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” I ask Hunter when he walks in the apartment like he still lives here.

  “I came to take back what’s mine,” he says as he storms over toward me.

  “Did you leave some clothes or something, because I know you’re not talking about Sam,” I tell him.

  In the next blink of an eye, the idiot pulls a gun on me. A fucking gun! The black metal semi-automatic is steady, and I realize he’s dead serious, holding it in a two-hand grip as he points the barrel directly at me. At Adalyn and me.

  “Whoa!” I tell him. “This is between you and me, so just let me go put her down,” I say as calmly as I possibly can given the way my heart is threatening to thump out of my chest.

  “No!” Hunter yells, his forehead is noticeably sweaty. His hands begin to tremble slightly, causing the gun to wave unpredictably. “If you move even an inch, I’ll put a bullet through both of you.”

  Fuck.

  “You would hurt her? An innocent baby? The most precious thing in the world to Sam?” I ask him, although I’m not sure if any reasoning can get through to him now as far off the deep end as he’s gone.

  “I don’t give a shit about your kid. Not when she should’ve been mine!”

  “Well Sam cares about her, and she would never forgive you if you hurt her. So please, just put the gun down or at least let me lay Adalyn down…”

  “No! You don’t get to tell me what to do!” he shouts causing a hungry Adalyn to fuss even more. “I’m the one giving orders now. Sam is mine, always has been, until you came along. I waited for years to be with her, and then I waited while she was pregnant and refused to let me touch her. But now I’m tired of waiting! So, you are gonna leave, walk out the door, and never come back.”

  “And then what?” I ask him. “What if Sam meets someone else? Are you going to threaten them too? I think you know this will never work between the two of you.”

  “Here’s what I think…you’re gonna give me the baby, and then you’re gonna disappear and never contact her again!”

  There’s no way I’m going to hand our daughter over to a crazed asshole with a gun. I try and think fast to figure out a way out of this fucked up situation. The only thing I know to do is to keep him talking. The more upset he gets, the more his arm shakes. But I can’t walk out the door and leave Adalyn with him. I would never forgive myself if he hurt her.

  “Even if I’m gone…she’ll never love you,” I tell him.

  “She will. She does! We’re meant to be together, and I will have her again,” he says, his face turning red.

  He can’t actually mean what I think he’s saying…

  “You’re lying. Sam would never sleep with you…”

  “Oh, we did,” he says with a smirk. “Twice.”

  It couldn’t have been before I went to prison because Sam was a virgin, so it must’ve been…

  “I have the video to prove it if you don’t believe me,” Hunter says. “Not a night goes by that I don’t watch it, remembering how damn good it felt to be inside of her. It was all I could do not to take her again these last few months…”

  “I don’t care,” I tell him, even if it feels like he just gutted me with the butcher knife that’s lying on the counter behind him. The weapon is so
close, but completely out of my reach and worthless against a gun, so I keep talking. “It was my fault for hurting Sam, avoiding her when she needed me…”

  “No, it was your fault for tying her up,” he says. “The night the police arrested you, well, my buddies Craig and Todd were supposed to release her and take her home, but they gave me an hour with her first.”

  “No. They wouldn’t have –” I start, unable to believe that a police officer would let him hurt Sam.

  But then, Hunter lowers one hand from the gun and pulls out his cell phone from his pocket. A press of a button later, and he shows the screen to me. Nothing could prepare me for the images before my eyes or Sam’s screams…

  “You son of a bitch!” I yell at him so loudly that Adalyn begins to cry louder. “You…you raped her?”

  “I took what was mine!” he bellows, drowning out the sound of the front door opening as Sam walks in. She freezes as she takes in the scene before her, her best friend holding a gun on me and our daughter while the soundtrack to her sexual assault plays loud enough for her to hear it from across the room.

  From the corner of my eye, I know as soon as recognition hits, because Sam slaps a hand over her gaping mouth before any sound comes out of it.

  I can’t even begin to imagine how painful what he did was to Sam or how horrible it is for her to hear about it in detail again. Since I was released, she hasn’t once even hinted at what she went through that night because of me, but I can tell by the horror on her face that it still haunts her. And while I thought she had doubts and trust issues with me, now I know it was so much more that prevented her from letting me touch her.

  “She never knew it was me, and Craig was nice enough to record it,” the asshole continues to confess to me without having the slightest idea that Sam is listening. “She was better than I ever imagined. And after it was over, guess who she came running to. Me.”

  I cut my eyes to the knife on the counter, hoping Sam notices before I tell him, “You’re a sick, fucking bastard.” Adalyn continues to wail, and I’m thankful for the distraction. I want to keep him talking and unaware while Sam starts creeping closer to us.