by April Lust
“Does this mean you’ll be my daddy now?” Sara asked Jace.
“Do you want me to be?”
“Yes.” She nodded her head enthusiastically.
“Then, I guess we’ll just be one big happy family,” he said. “Mommy, Daddy, Sara, and Mia.”
“That’s a good idea,” Sara said.
She crawled into her mother’s lap and Jace put his arms around them. Everything he loved most was right here, close to his heart.
THE END
***
Thank you so much for reading my story! I hope you enjoyed it. If you want to be the first to find out about my upcoming releases, special giveaways, and free bonus content, subscribe to my newsletter by clicking the banner below.
http://dl.bookfunnel.com/a4aicbpivl
And now, turn the page for a special surprise!
Bonus Content: SINNER’S LUST
My heart is as hard as my c*ck.
The day my wife left me, I swore I’d never love again.
I’d do one thing and one thing only: F*ck and leave.
F*ck and leave, f*ck and leave, over and over again.
Like a prayer, like a mantra.
As long as I could bury myself in some pretty little thing,
I could ignore the carnage she’d left in her wake.
But life has a funny way of forcing you to face that which you least desire.
A chance encounter, a woman in need of my help…
And of course, who is it?
Her.
That fickle b*tch.
That heartless whore.
I want to do to her body what she did to my heart:
Tear, plunder, destroy.
I want to wrench her hair back and make her scream my name.
I want to leave the imprint of my hand on her flawless skin.
I want to own her completely.
But she has shadows following close behind her.
Men who hunger for repayment in flesh.
They want her as badly as I do.
I have only one thing to say to them:
Too damn bad.
I will not rest until my lust is sated.
Chapter One
Tori
I woke up that morning, immediately wishing I could go back to sleep. Sleep was better. I could dream there. I lived a better life there. No worries, no shut-off notices for utilities, no creditors calling day and night. Just sweet, blissful peace.
I squeezed my eyes shut, willing the morning away. I wouldn’t wake up. I would sleep again. The last dream I’d been having was a good one, too. I was an actress on the set of my favorite TV show, and the actor half the world had a crush on was my boyfriend. I sighed happily, snuggling up in my cocoon of blankets, ready to go back to that world.
Then I poked my head out from beneath the blankets and exhaled. A cloud of vapor came out, hanging in the air before dissipating.
“No. No, no, no.” I flung back the blankets, shivering in seconds as the cold air hit my body. I pulled the top quilt off the bed, wrapping around myself as I rushed to the thermostat on the living room wall. One of those old-fashioned round ones, where the needle shows where the temperature sits. It was all the way to the left, meaning the heat had been turned off. They’d actually gone through with it, in the middle of February—I’d pleaded with them over the phone, too. I told them I had a seven-year-old boy living with me, that we needed the heat. If it were only me, I’d find a way. I couldn’t let him suffer.
It was only six o’clock. Still dark out. George wouldn't be up for at least another hour. I ripped the blankets from my bed, bundled them in my arms and went to his room.
The sight of him curled up in sleep on the little twin bed nearly broke my heart with a mixture of fierce, breathtaking love and soul-shattering fear. How could I protect my son? How could I care for him? The most pressing need at the moment was to keep him warm, so I slid in behind him, pulling the blankets over the two of us. The bed was so cold. His little body was cold, too.
“Mama?” His little boy voice was thick with sleep. “What is it?”
“Nothing, baby. Go back to sleep. I just wanted to snuggle with you, is all.”
“Mm-hmm.” It was all he got out before sleep grabbed hold of him again. The way I wished it would grab hold of me.
I curled my body around him, and within minutes the bed was toasty warm. That much I could give him. I didn’t know about anything else. I stayed awake, my head on the pillow, eyes wide open and staring at the window as the sky gradually lightened.
What was I supposed to do? Money had never been plentiful, but as long as I’d been working there was food on the table, clean clothes on both our backs, a clean apartment with the luxury of heat, electricity to power the TV and such, with money left over for the occasional treat. Treats for George, of course. Never for me. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had my nails done, or even gone to a movie that didn’t involve animated characters. It didn’t matter, though. I never needed much.
Then came the day when a pink slip arrived. I remembered staring at it in horrified disbelief. I’d heard rumors of layoffs throughout the company—we all had. Up until that day, they were only rumors. I’d worked extra hard to prove myself indispensable. I learned no one was indispensable, as half the investment firm’s employees were let go at one time. I had only been a lowly assistant, entering data and running reports, but I’d made a comfortable living. Enough for our apartment, enough to pay tuition for George’s private school and extracurricular activities. I felt it all slipping away as I realized I had no job.
I’d told myself to buck up. Five years at the firm meant a fairly comfortable severance. I could rely on that, plus unemployment, to carry me through the first six months or so. I hoarded every last penny in those months, desperate to make the money last. But then my car broke down, needing a fix. George had a bad fall in the school playground, resulting in a trip to the ER, an X-ray and stitches to his forehead. When that bill came through, I actually called the hospital to make sure there was no mistake. How could a few stitches be so ungodly expensive?
Before I knew it, I was down to next to nothing in savings. After pounding the pavement every day looking for work, too. Times were tight, as though I didn’t know it after the layoff. The job market was practically nonexistent, except in the restaurant industry. I couldn’t work a hectic schedule, though. I needed something with set hours so that I could create a steady, dependable schedule for George. I couldn’t afford daycare even with a job, not with tuition costs always on the rise.
By the time the heat cut off, my severance had dried up, and the unemployment kicked, too. I had no money coming in. Just bills. Lots of bills.
And my boy. I leaned closer to him, taking a heady whiff of his little boy smell. I hoped he never got too old to mind when I needed to bury my face in his neck and try to capture a little bit of his youth by inhaling that strange scent only little guys seemed to carry. No matter how many baths he got, he always smelled to me like chocolate chip cookies, pennies, and dirt. The dirt I could understand, since he seemed to find it everywhere—even living four floors up. Pennies I could understand, too. He collected change in his piggy bank, hoarding it like an old miser. The cookies were totally him, though. Unless he hoarded them, too.
I couldn’t lose him, but there was no way for us to keep living the way we were. I’d done everything I could to keep our dire circumstances from him, making a game out of all the fun and unusual ways to prepare ramen noodles, cereal-for-dinner night, that sort of thing. I was fairly sure he didn’t know the trouble we were in. A child should never know that. There was only so long I could keep up the charade, however, and it scared me to death to think the state might come for him. God knew I’d told enough bill collectors over the phone that I had a small child to care for. Word was bound to get back to somebody, eventually. Then what would I do?
No way I would let anybody take my boy from me. My arm tightened around him at t
he thought, stirring him to wakefulness.
“Sorry, honey,” I whispered. “Go back to sleep.”
He rubbed his eyes. “It’s morning, mama.”
“I know, but it’s Saturday. That’s the fun of Saturday, isn’t it? Staying in bed all day?” I was desperate to keep him under the blankets, warm, comfortable.
“Yeah, but I wanna watch TV.” I groaned softly. Of course he did.
“I have an idea. Why don’t we spend the day in my room? We can camp out in bed, watch TV, eat popcorn. What do you think?”
“Can we really?” His eyes widened.
“Yeah! It’ll be so fun! You take all the blankets to my bed and get them ready. I’ll make oatmeal and hot chocolate for breakfast.”
“Breakfast in bed?” He giggled. A rare treat, indeed.
“Yes, sir. What do you say?” He answered by giggling again, jumping out of bed and yanking the blankets from me. I laughed at his enthusiasm, even as I shivered. He didn’t seem to notice—too excited.
That would be the day, then. Watching TV, huddled together in my bed. I knew I’d have to come up with games to keep him occupied, too, since there was no way he’d sit still for that long. Still, it was better than freezing all day.
# # #
Later that night, I brushed the golden hair back from my little boy’s forehead. He was fast asleep, a day of sugary treats giving him a burst of energy before leaving him hopelessly exhausted. While he had the energy, we played exciting games such as “How long can you run in place?” and “How many jumping jacks can you do?”. Anything to keep him moving, distracted from the bitter chill in the air. He asked once or twice why it was so cold. I told him it was a very cold day, and he seemed to accept my explanation without a second’s thought.
I slid out of bed, tucking him in before tiptoeing out to the living room. It was so cold—colder than outside, probably. I picked up my phone before going to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. Anything to warm my hands.
While waiting for the water to boil, I called my neighbor in the apartment below. Carla was always good for a little help when I needed it. She didn’t have money, but she had a warm apartment with plenty of snacks.
“Hey, Tori. What’s up?” I heard voices in the background. She wasn’t home. I could’ve smacked myself—it was Saturday night. Of course a girl in her mid-twenties wasn’t home. When was the last time Saturday night actually mattered to me?
“Hey, sorry, I didn’t think you’d be busy. I’ll call you later.”
“No, no, it’s fine. Really. What’s going on?”
“I wondered what you were doing tomorrow. If you’re busy, I totally understand. I just need a few hours to get out and run some errands.”
“Of course! You know I love it when my favorite guy hangs out with me.” I closed my eyes and thanked whatever higher power brought Carla into my life. She didn’t have money to lend me—not that I would have asked in a million years—but she had a giving heart and was always happy to watch George when I needed to go out.
“Thank you so much,” I murmured. I felt the sting of tears behind my eyes. Emotion colored my voice.
“What’s wrong? Tori, do you need me to come home? Do you need to talk?”
“Oh, God, no. Don’t come home on my account. Please.”
“What is it, though?” The noise behind her abruptly cut off. Her voice echoed. She’d escaped to a bathroom.
“They shut off the heat today.”
“Jesus Christ! Why didn’t you call me sooner?”
“I didn’t want to bother you. I managed, anyway. We stayed in bed and watched TV. It was warmer there, you know? He didn’t seem to mind.”
“Of course he didn’t. You’re raising an awesome kid. You’re an awesome mama.”
“I don’t feel that way. I feel like a failure. I hoped I could go around and put a few applications in tomorrow. Retail, that sort of thing. I need something.”
“Honey, bring him over first thing. Jeez, I wish you had a key to my place, I’d have you go down there right now. I’ll be there in a few minutes, I’m only a cab ride away.”
“You’ll do no such thing. We’ll be fine tonight. I promise.”
She made a sound which told me she didn’t believe me for a minute. “Fine. Bring him over first thing in the morning, then. He can stay all day. You, too. I’ll make dinner for us. It’ll be a good day. And we can talk it over. All right?”
“Are you sure?”
“Abso-freaking-lutely.”
I couldn’t help it. Tears spilled onto my cheeks. “Thank you so much.”
“We’ll find a way out of this. Okay? Don’t worry about it. Get some sleep.”
“Will do. Have fun.” I hung up, wishing I were out there, having fun along with her. Twenty-seven years old, and I felt like I’d lived twice that long. I caught a glimpse of myself in the reflection off the window above the kitchen sink. Who was that old woman with the messy bun, bulky sweater, haunted eyes? I tucked a strand of straw-colored hair behind my ear, then turned my attention to the tea. I couldn’t think too much about everything I’d missed out on.
Besides, I wasn’t exactly missing out. I had George. The light of my life. We’d done a lot of growing up together. Funny how I’d seen myself as such a grown-up before I found out I was pregnant. Twenty years old and full of myself. I was jaded, not grown up. It took years of hard knocks to learn the difference.
I didn’t regret my decisions, not for a minute. Even if they left me in a freezing apartment with a growing boy and an increasingly bare cupboard.
I hoped Carla had an idea for what I could do to get by, because I certainly didn’t.
# # #
George jumped on me within three seconds of my walking through Carla’s door the following evening.
“Mama! Me and Carla had such a great day!”
“You did? What did you do?” I picked him up—it wouldn’t be much longer before that wasn’t an option anymore. The kid was growing like a weed.
“We colored and watched cartoons and ate soft pretzels with cheese. Did you know they sell them in boxes at the store? You can just put them in the microwave.” His eyes were wide, as though he’d made a major discovery.
“No kidding! I’m glad you had such a nutritious lunch!” I winked at Carla. She stuck her tongue out at me.
“He enjoyed it,” she informed me. “He also enjoyed the hot fudge sundaes.” For a girl so slim, she ate like a pig. At any given moment there was a veritable smorgasbord of junk food in her kitchen just waiting to be devoured.
“Careful now,” I said to my son, “or you’ll end up with a tummy ache. Like you did the last time you spent the day with Carla.” I cast a doleful eye in her direction, raising my voice for emphasis. She blushed, turning back to the stove.
I put George down, telling him to watch some more TV while I talked with our hostess. She was fixing roasted chicken—I could smell it in the oven—and pasta. A big salad sat on the table, ready for us to dig in.
“This really is too much,” I protested. She answered by handing me a glass of wine.
“Shut up. You know I love helping you when I can. I only wish I could do more.” I knew she wasn’t much better off than I was. Rent was no joke, and she was up to her neck in college loan debt. Like so many people our age. One of the perks of not going to college, I thought bitterly before taking a healthy sip of my wine. It went straight to my head, my empty stomach putting up no resistance. I sank into a kitchen chair.
“Where did you go today?” she asked.
“Everywhere. My head is killing me. Four supermarkets, five drugstores, four retailers. I filled out applications with all of them. The only problem is I’m limited to the morning shift. I can’t work nights. I got the feeling most of them were looking for somebody with a little more flexibility.”
She sat down across from me with a sigh. I could tell she had something on her mind before she even opened her mouth.
“How much money d
o you need? I mean, immediately. To get the heat turned back on and keep the wolves from the door.”
I did the math in my head, estimating. “Five thousand dollars?”
Her eyes bulged. “That much?”
“I’m two months behind on rent, too.” I stared into my wine glass. “Vinnie’s been a gem about it, though. I know he’s going to want his money eventually. And that also covers a few weeks of groceries and George’s tuition payment. It’s all going to come to a head, very soon. I feel the noose tightening around my neck.”
