by Freya Barker
A corner of his mouth pulls up and his eyes crinkle with his lopsided smile.
“Let’s get you fed, and then in the shower.”
He has already turned away when he adds the last, and a shiver of anticipation runs down my back. Visions of wet skin and droplets caught in the coarse hair on his chest. Soap-slicked hands exploring freely and bodies sliding together.
“Drink?”
I have to blink a few times to clear my vision and feel my face heating. Gray is watching me over his shoulder with heat in his eyes.
“Ice water,” I blurt out and he laughs.
A hearty, genuine laugh that seems to come from his toes. It’s a beautiful sound, and I file it away like one of those treasured moments Gray was talking about.
Determined to live in the moment, I pull a few candles and matches out of a drawer of the armoire and set them on the table. While Gray slides the plates on the table, I light them.
“Nice.”
“It’s Christmas, we should have candles.”
“Yeah,” he grins, sitting down at the table. “Nice.”
I pick up the kitten and drop him on the couch before taking the seat across from Gray.
We eat in silence but manage to hold an entire conversation with our eyes, and the moment I put my fork down, Gray is already on his feet.
Leaving the dirty dishes on the table, I follow him to the bedroom. He’s already taking off his dress shirt and the T-shirt underneath. I follow suit, stripping down and tossing everything in the direction of my hamper. I’ll worry about laundry tomorrow.
His erection springs free when he pushes down his jeans and boxer briefs and I can’t help staring. He slowly straightens, his eyes taking me in as well. I’m not sure who moves first but the next moment our bodies are plastered together, his mouth devouring mine.
“Shower,” he mumbles against my lips, before grabbing my hand and pulling me behind him to the bathroom, where he bends down to turn on the shower.
“Lean your head back,” he instructs when we step under the stream, and I do as he says.
His hands are heaven on my scalp as he washes my hair with more care than it usually receives from me. My eyes are closed as I take in the fresh scent of my shampoo and the sensation of his massaging fingers. He rinses it and I almost whimper when he pulls his hands away. Then it’s my turn to do his hair and he groans with his eyes closed.
“Feels so good, Sunshine.”
Gray
“Merry Christmas to me.”
A little smile forms on her lips at my words as she lies back on the bed, her body and hair still damp from the most sensual shower I’ve ever taken. My hands have run over every inch of her, slicked with soap, discovering her body with my touch.
My own skin still tingles from her strokes, my dick is painfully hard, but what takes my breath away is the trust in Robin’s eyes. Fucking makes me feel like a whole man instead of a shadow of one.
“Come here,” she says, her hand reaching for me.
I put a knee in the mattress and crawl up between her legs. I kiss the tight nest of curls at the apex of her thighs, the scar running across her lower abdomen, the soft skin of her belly, the swells of her generous breasts, the heartbeat at her throat, and finally her luscious lips. Her arms and legs wrap me tightly and with our mouths fused, I slide into her.
Time doesn’t exist, only the feel of her welcoming body enveloping me.
“Mom?”
The house is silent when I push open the door.
“Mom?”
From the hallway I get a glimpse of the kitchen where the cordless phone is in pieces on the floor, in front of the stove.
I can feel it, I can even smell it, and my feet seem frozen to the floor. I force myself to move, my eyes locked on the black plastic shards of the handset, unwilling to scan any further.
My last connection with her. She was talking to me, whispering to me that my father was home and angry. She was packing and I was getting ready to pick her up when she called. I can imagine the scene, he’d have been drunk, would’ve found her with her suitcase, and gone ballistic.
She’s rolled on her side and for a moment I think maybe…but then I see the blood. So much blood.
“Mom…”
I drop down on my knees beside her, sliding in the cooling puddle. If not for the earring my sister gave her last Christmas, shimmering in her earlobe, I might have been able to convince myself this is not her.
“Gray, honey…”
Looking away from what is left of her head, my eyes catch on the cast-iron pan Mom always has sitting on the stove. The one she uses to cook eggs in, except now it’s sticky with her blood.
Something snaps inside me at the sight of that pan and I scramble to my feet, only to find my father standing behind me, a dripping baseball bat in his hand and his own head misshapen and bloody.
“Please, honey, wake up.”
I shoot up, sucking in lungfuls of air as I blink the lingering visions from my eyes. It takes me a second to recognize my surroundings and glance at the woman beside me in bed. Her hand is stroking my back firmly, anchoring me in the moment, as I rub my face with my hands.
Jesus.
“Come here.” She softly echoes her words from last night and I lower myself in her arms.
We lie like that for a while, my heart slowly returning to its normal rate, and the last strands of the dream evaporating under her gentle touch.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
“Don’t be. Want to talk about it?”
I don’t—not really—but somehow the words start flowing and I find myself telling her about my dream.
I can feel tension in her body as I describe the scene I walked in on so many years ago. Her body tenses up and I immediately feel guilty, but she encourages me to get it out, so I do. I tell her everything, about the earring, the cast-iron pan, my blind rage as I tracked down my father stumbling out of the Dirty Dog, and how I took it upon myself to mete out justice with the baseball bat I grabbed from the sports bag in the back of my truck.
As she lightly runs her fingers through my hair, I tell her how Frank pulled me away from my father and had to pin me against the wall until the cops came. How I waived my rights and told them everything.
“Is this a recurring dream?” she asks softly, her breath brushing against my forehead.
“No. I don’t dream, ever.”
“What do you think triggered it?”
I push up and brace myself on an elbow, looking down in her sleep-swollen eyes.
“Christmas, maybe. You,” I offer, registering shock on her face. “Learning to feel again can be painful. Like a muscle you haven’t used in forever suddenly called into action. The last time I let myself feel anything was on that kitchen floor.”
“I’m sorry.” Her eyes are shiny in the shadows of the room.
I pick up her hand and flatten it against my chest.
“I’m not. If it hurts, it’s healing.”
I roll on my back and take her with me, settling her head on my shoulder and pressing her body close. Her lips brush my chest and I sigh with contentment.
“You okay?”
I press a kiss to her forehead.
“Yeah. I really am.”
My head shoots up when I feel something climbing up my legs. The kitten walks casually up my body, his eyes bright.
“Hey, Zeus, can’t sleep either?” Robin gives the cat a scratch behind his ears, as he curls up in the middle of my chest.
“Zeus? For that little thing?”
She tilts her head back and I can see the white of her teeth when she smiles up at me.
“I’m sure he’ll grow into his oversized attitude.”
Seconds later, I hear her breath even out as the cat’s purring vibrates against my chest. Moments later I feel myself drift off into a dreamless sleep.
Chapter Twenty
Robin
It’s been mild these past few days. Whatever accumulation re
mained on the ground after the early snowfalls has since disappeared.
The diner has been busy, not uncommon for the week bridging Christmas and New Year’s, with people returning to the small town to spend time with family. Over Easy has always been a gathering place to catch up with friends and neighbors.
Our staffing issues have been resolved since Jess is back on the schedule, and I’ve happily slid back in my regular day shift. That means that out of the past five nights, I was able to spend four with Gray.
Last night he finally took me back to the Dirty Dog, where I had a single glass of wine before reverting to water, and watched the three musketeers—John, Eddie, and Enzo—play pool. I passed on the offer to try the game again, mostly instigated by Bunker, and instead chatted with him while Gray swept the floor with a very grumpy Enzo.
“No pie for you,” had been his comment after, sending both Bunker and me into fits of laughter.
It had been a fun night ending with a very brief tour of Gray’s apartment that never got farther than his bedroom. For two people who have hit their midlife, our sexual appetite only seems to grow. I always thought by this age I would be slowing down in that department, but the opposite is true. Maybe we’re catching up for years lost, or perhaps we’ve simply found the right partner, because I’ve never experienced this kind of insatiable hunger.
This morning I was touched to find, sometime in the past few days, he picked up a bottle of my favorite shampoo—which was sitting on the little shelf in his shower—a spare toothbrush, and a package of disposable razors.
“It’s going to be another nice day,” I comment, as he pulls his truck up to the diner to drop me off. My SUV is still parked in the same spot I left it yesterday.
It’s still mostly dark, but the moon and stars are clearly visible against the cloudless sky.
I lean over the console and slide my hand along his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.
“Thank you.”
“No problem,” he mumbles against my mouth before I reluctantly let him go. “I’ll drop your key off after I’ve fed Zeus.”
Since I was running a little late, after he joined me in the shower for the kind of exercise I’m going to feel for days to come, he offered to go feed Zeus. Poor cat has been home alone since yesterday morning and I feel a little guilty, despite the extra dry food I always put out.
“Appreciate it.”
“Small price to pay for that kind of wake-up call.”
He grins lasciviously and I roll my eyes but can’t help grin as well, as I get out of the truck.
I’ve noticed him smiling more these past few days. More easily. I’ve been wondering if perhaps that dreadful nightmare and subsequent talk Christmas night has somehow provided some release. He seems more relaxed and less guarded.
I open the door to the diner, closing it behind me right away as I flip on a few of the lights. We don’t open for another half hour, but I’m always early to help Jason with prep. He usually parks in the back and comes in through the back entrance, but the kitchen lights are still off.
My phone rings in my pocket as I’m hanging up my coat. It’s Jason.
“Morning.”
“Hey, Robin, I’m running a bit late. My car isn’t starting and Kay just jumped in the shower. She’ll drive me when she’s done. Can you crank up the griddle? That way it’s ready to go when I get in. Pull the eggs from the cooler as well?”
“Not to worry, I’ve got this. I bet you, between Donna and I, we can even manage to fry a couple of eggs,” I tease him. Donna should be here at six.
“Just don’t poison the customers,” he fires back, chuckling before hanging up.
I shake my head and grab my apron, tying it around my waist. I slide my phone in my pocket and head for the kitchen first, flipping on the lights in there.
I fire up the griddle so we won’t have to wait for it to heat once the orders come in, and head for the cooler to pull out the eggs and bacon. Then I dive into the pantry to grab the vegetables and potatoes.
I’m just rinsing the peppers under the tap when I hear something. Shutting off the faucet, I listen carefully.
There it is again, a slight shuffle. It sounds like it’s coming from the hallway to the bathrooms.
Maybe Donna is early.
I wipe my hands on my apron and head out of the kitchen to say good morning, but the hallway is dark and empty.
Except for a faint strip of light coming out from under the office door.
“Donna?” I call out, simultaneously opening the door.
I barely step a foot inside when a hand clamps around my wrist, yanking me into the dim room, the door slamming shut behind me. I can just stay standing and swing around.
“Mike?” I’m stunned finding Shirley’s husband, who immediately shines a penlight in my eyes. Anger hits me immediately as I pull my arm free from his hold. “What the hell are you doing here? How did you get in here?”
“I need to find her. I need to talk to her.”
His hands are waving with frantic urgency. The light is no longer blinding me, but his behavior is concerning and fear starts to penetrate my initial burst of anger.
“Whatever you’re looking for you won’t find it here. You should leave, Mike. Jason will be here any minute.”
His wild eyes come to rest on me, and I know I have to get out of here.
“Where is she, Robin? Where is my wife? Did you know she’s out to ruin me? I’m facing jail time because of her!” His voice grows more irate with every word, and I fish around my apron pocket for my phone.
“You need to leave,” I repeat, but I already know he won’t listen. He can’t hear anything.
I curse my iPhone and wish I had my old Nokia so it would be easy to blindly punch in numbers. I try to free my phone from my pocket inconspicuously but he notices right away. Even as he takes a threatening step toward me I try to unlock my screen, but to no avail.
He slaps the phone out of my hand before backhanding me in the face.
I barely hang onto the edge of the desk and gasp as the pain vibrates through my skull. Eyes blurred by the sting of tears and fueled a surge of rage, I grab on to the first thing I can find and throw my arm back as I swing around. He curses loudly as I catch him in the face. When he grabs for his cheek I aim for his crotch, my fist still clutching the stapler. When he howls, bending over, I don’t hesitate and dart past him into the hallway.
I aim for the door, but don’t get farther than the coffee station when a fist closes in my hair. I’m jerked back hard and can’t keep my footing. I hit my head on the edge of the counter before I land hard, ears ringing and seeing stars.
A sharp kick lands in my ribs and I instinctively curl into a fetal position as a heavy body lands on mine. Blows land on my head and my back, when I hear a loud crash followed by an inhuman roar.
The next moment the heavy weight is lifted off me.
Gray
All I hear is the roaring of my blood and the thuds of my fists.
I just got out of my truck when I spotted Robin inside the diner, rushing toward the door. I was already running when her head jerked back and she disappeared from view. When I got to the door, all I could see was someone sitting on her, fists flying.
I never slowed down and dove right through the window in the door.
“Gray! Stop…”
I barely register the voice, lost in the heavy rhythm of my punches until hands start tugging at my coat.
“Gray! Stop! You’re killing him!”
Robin.
My fists freeze in midair and the blurred face of the man on the ground slowly comes into focus.
Not my father.
I jerk back and land on my ass, caught in arms banding tightly around me, a soft body cushioning my back.
“It’s okay. I’m okay. It’s okay…” She chants the words over and over again with her lips pressed against the shell of my ear. “I’m all right, Gray. I’ll be okay.”
I pull from he
r hold and turn, taking in the swelling of her face, the trickle of blood escaping her hairline.
“Robin,” I breathe out, my fingers wiping at the hair hanging in her face. “Oh, God, Sunshine.”
I manage to switch places with her, pulling her onto my lap and resting my back against the base of the counter. My arms encircle her as she grabs fistfuls of my jacket.
“What the fuck?” Jason walks in from the kitchen, confused at the scene in front of him. Then his eyes get caught on the man’s prone body on the floor and he drops to his knees, pulling a phone from his pocket.
I listen with half an ear as he talks to the 911 dispatcher, concentrating on the chest of the man on the floor. It’s moving, barely, but moving. My eyes don’t waver until I hear the sound of sirens outside.
“He’s coming with me,” Robin says firmly, when the EMT tries to block me from the ambulance. “He comes or I’m not going.”
“Let him go.”
The unexpected support comes from Officer Derek Francisi; first cop on the scene. Robin started talking to him the moment he showed up. She told him what happened, how she tried to get away but that motherfucker caught her. She explained how I crashed through the glass of the door and fought the guy off her. She swore high and low I was protecting her and that’s how he got hurt.
She didn’t leave me a chance to speak.
Derek’s large hand lands on my shoulder.
“Looks like a pretty clear case of self-defense to me. I can catch you later for your statement. Go on.”
I climb in the back and sit on the narrow bench beside the EMT, with Robin on the stretcher in front of us. Immediately she reaches her hand and I grab onto it.
Unlike the other ambulance, which already left with lights and sirens on, our trip is silent.
The entire time I’m trying to come to terms with the fact I almost killed another man—at least I fucking hope I didn’t succeed—if it hadn’t been for Robin pulling me off. Robin, who also jumped to my defense, conveniently leaving off she’d had to hold me back or things might’ve ended differently.
