* * * *
June wished she could wave her hand and the next chapter of this story occurred several weeks later, jumping past the emotionally painful parts.
But that’s not how life worked.
Besides, she really did want to be with Mark tonight, even though she wished the circumstances were far different.
Tonight she knew the only thing that could soothe her fevered mind and wipe the image of her dead sister from her memory for a little while was Mark.
And she needed that brief mental respite in a desperate way.
With him, she always felt calm, soothed. Everyone thought Mark was bouncy and hyper, but nothing was further from the truth. She was the high-energy one, and he kept her tethered to Earth.
Now, he’d be keeping her tethered to sanity, even if he could never know it.
Taking his hand, she led him back to his bedroom, where they’d spent hours playing around before. They knew how to make each other feel good, but they’d always stopped short of going all the way.
Not tonight.
So June closed her eyes and focused on the feel of his hands, the sound of his voice, even the scent of his shampoo and deodorant. Everything. She tethered herself to his anchor and held on tight.
A couple of hours later, as she lay safely nestled in his arms, she knew she’d marry him.
Without a doubt in her mind.
His fingers lightly stroked her arm. “I love you,” he whispered. “I hope you and July kick ass in Indy. I wish I could be there to cheer you on.”
She was glad for the room being dark so he couldn’t see how she struggled against her tears. “I love you, too. And thanks. I wish you could be there, too.”
“I’m so proud of you. I know how hard you’ve worked for this. Both of you.”
Okay, now she wished he’d stop talking. She thought about rolling over and kissing him to shut him up, except she caught sight of the clock on his dresser. “Oh, man. I didn’t realize how late it is. I need to get going. I still have laundry at home.”
Outside, rain thundered against the roof. “Let me drive you. Please? We were going to ride together tomorrow anyway. I can bring you back to get your car tomorrow afternoon after we leave the gym. Please?”
She hesitated for a moment, as if considering it. Part of her hated herself for using him like this, knowing he would offer to drive her.
Part of her loved him more than she could ever tell him. “Okay. Thanks.”
They dashed through the rain to his car, then he drove them back to her parents’ house first. “I’ll have to finish the laundry tomorrow,” she said, silently noting the time as she disarmed the alarm.
“I’ll help you. Want me to take it home with me and do it for you tonight?”
She picked up Zorro, who’d come to greet them. “No, because you have to get up even earlier than we do.” Already it was hard to remember to speak like July was still alive. She’d have to remember that and be careful.
He helped her gather the clothes from the dryer. As she followed him back into the house, she couldn’t help but glance toward where the tarps had lain.
Nothing out of place.
Maybe it’s a weird fugue and I imagined it?
Not likely, but she’d console herself with the lie, if she had to.
He helped her fold the clothes and towels and she set the alarm before they returned to his car. The rain worsened, and now June really was thankful for Mark driving her.
The slow journey allowed every nerve in her body, and hundreds she didn’t even know she had, to jangle, rubbed raw, on edge. When he pulled in next to July’s car, he left it running.
“Go ahead and unlock the front door. I’ll leave the headlights on and bring the laundry in for you. I’m surprised she didn’t leave the front light on for you like she always does.”
Her hands shook as she unbuckled her seat belt. “That is weird.”
Slinging her purse over her shoulder, she dashed up to the front stoop and stood directly in front of the lock so Mark couldn’t see that with her trembling hands it took her four tries to get the key into the doorknob.
She’d left the deadbolt unlocked, as Matt had.
With the door open, she reached in and flipped on the porch light. Mark shut the car off and a moment later was joining her in the entryway with the basket of laundry.
He set the basket on the sofa. “Why’s it so hot in here?”
“I don’t know. Maybe the AC died? The deadbolt wasn’t locked either.”
“Okay, that’s strange. July?” His voice echoed through the apartment.
She started turning on more lights, working her way down the hall. “The AC’s not even on. That’s odd.” She bumped the thermostat down and seconds later, it kicked on.
Her gaze kept travelling to July’s bedroom door.
Mark joined her in the hallway. “There’s no note. July? Are you okay?”
“Maybe she’s asleep.”
“She’s a lighter sleeper than you.”
June walked down to her bedroom door and stopped in front of it. “July? Sis?” She knocked, waiting.
Part of her hoped July would open the door and June would find, haha, elaaaborate hoax, combined with hooorrible nightmare.
“July?” Mark called out again, louder this time, more forceful.
Finally, June reached out and tried her knob. Of course it turned in her hand.
If it hadn’t, she would have really freaked out.
She pushed the door open, stepped inside, and turned to flip on the light, trying not to steel herself for the sight and also hoping that any inconsistencies she might have left behind earlier could be explained by her and Mark stumbling into her room to check on her.
When she turned, she didn’t have to fake her scream. “July!” She started to step toward her, but Mark grabbed her arm and dragged her back out into the hallway.
“No. Wait.” He walked in, carefully kneeling next to July’s body and checking her pulse. “June, go get the phone and call 911 from outside on the porch.”
“What—”
“Go! Now!” He stood and yanked open the closet, peering inside.
Now she knew what he was afraid of, that there might still be an intruder in the house. But spurred by his tone, she bolted from the room and snagged the cordless handset from the kitchen counter before hitting the porch.
Behind her, she heard Mark opening the hallway closet door.
She knew she should stop him, that logic should tell him to get out now, before he possibly ruined evidence, but she couldn’t make herself do it.
She was supposed to be a distraught sister.
When the operator spoke in her ear, she realized she’d already dialed without realizing she had.
“911, what is your emergency?”
“My…” Her tears started now, for real. “My sister. We just came home and found her…she’s…she’s dead. I think someone attacked her…”
Chapter Twelve
Now
Mark stared down at his wife. He’d just arrived home from work and June had greeted him at the door, still dressed, even though she’d been kneeling and wearing her collar as per usual when he walked in. He didn’t know what she’d prepared for dinner, but it had filled the house with a delicious aroma that made his stomach growl.
She’d set the table, him at the head, her to his right, as they always ate. On weekends, unless they were having guests, they usually ate in the living room in front of the TV. But now that she wasn’t teaching kids in the evenings any longer, he’d added this particular weekday protocol to the list, liking the formality.
Reminding him of how his parents ate dinner when he was growing up.
“Are you all right, honey?” he asked after taking her hand and helping her to her feet.
She forced a smile that didn’t fool him in the slightest. “Feeling a little crampy.”
“Really? This soon? Didn’t you have your period two weeks ago?”
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In fact, he knew she had, because she kept track of it on the calendar per his order so if she ever needed to know the dates for her doctor, she had them. After his mother’s bout with ovarian cancer, he’d tightened medical protocols with June, making sure she never missed a regular checkup with her ob-gyn and that she made an appointment if there was even a hint of an irregularity.
He spotted her mentally wincing and carefully gauged her response.
“Happens sometimes. Might finally be getting close to menopause. I was working on a migraine earlier before my class. Or maybe this crappy weather is messing with me.”
“Sorry you don’t feel good, sweetheart.” He leaned in for a kiss, waiting until after she’d relaxed to drop the bomb.
It might finally help him learn the answer he’d long wondered about and suspected, but had never outright dared to ask.
“Did you see the news today? About those bones they found in the river not too far from your parents’ old house? That’s crazy, huh? I saw the news alert on my phone before I left work.”
She’d already started turning away from him to head to the kitchen and he saw how her step faltered just a fraction. “Yeah,” she said as she continued on. “Crazy, huh? Dinner’s ready, Daddy. Did you want to change first?”
“Yeah,” he said, watching her disappear into the kitchen. “I’ll be right back.”
He headed down the hall, already loosening his tie and pulling it off. One day, he would force the issue with her. Tell her what he suspected, what he knew.
His part in the events.
The bones might not even be Matt’s, but it’d be awfully fishy if they weren’t.
Still, only time would tell.
Until then, he’d have to keep on doing what he did best, and that was love and care for his wife and their daughters. Because without them, nothing else in life was worth living.
Some guys needed to be Doms. He didn’t need to be a Dom—he needed to take care of his family. If he took away no other lesson from his father than that one, it was all he needed to be a true success in life.
The kinky stuff he and June did was a fun bonus. A fortuitous foray into BDSM that worked to help give June what she needed, the safety, the structure.
A secure anchor so she didn’t spin off out of control and self-destruct.
It quieted her mind and restored her sanity.
That? To him, that was what got him off. That she was satisfied.
Ever since that night, he’d sworn she would always be first in his life, no matter what, and he’d die to protect her if that’s what it took.
He’d lie to protect her.
Even if he had to die in the process.
And it was as true today as it was over twenty years ago.
Meanwhile…maybe nothing would come of it.
* * * *
June was glad Mark had gone to change clothes before eating. She’d needed a minute to stop shaking.
Lying to Mark was forbidden, and not just as an agreement between them.
She’d never lied to him, not once.
Omissions weren’t lies. And the only time she’d ever done that was in the immediate aftermath of that night.
She had, however, lied her ass off to the police, to her parents, his parents, May, and everyone else. That Mark had overheard some of those lies wasn’t exactly the same thing as lying to him.
But since that night, she’d made a vow to herself to always be honest with him. She’d been able to avoid talking directly to him about the events because he’d been there with her.
He didn’t have to ask her details about how she’d found July. As far as he knew, he’d found her with June.
She’d really hoped he hadn’t seen that news story. Except crazy shit of that level didn’t usually happen in their relatively quiet neck of the woods.
And it hit close to home.
Literally.
Once Mark had returned, dressed in shorts and a T-shirt, she served him and slid into her chair to await his cue for her to eat.
He leaned in for a kiss. “Thank you, baby. It smells delicious. Please, eat. Although I wish you’d have texted me you weren’t feeling good. I would have brought a pizza home or something.”
She shook her head. “No, Sir. I like you to eat healthy.” She forced a smile she didn’t feel. “You won’t eat salad unless I make you.”
“Well, there is that.” He tucked into his baked chicken. “You take good care of me, baby. Thank you.”
“Well, you take good care of me.”
“Can you trim my beard for me tonight, please? It’s getting scruffy.”
The only reason he had a beard and mustache was because their second year married, he’d taken a week off from work during a break in his classes, and they’d spent it cuddled up together at home. He hadn’t shaved, and as it’d started coming in, she’d loved how it felt when he went down on her.
From that point on, he’d grown it in and kept it neatly styled.
For her.
Even little things like that he did for her.
She knew how damn lucky she was.
Which was why she always wanted to hit someone who even so much as hinted at saying anything derogatory about him and their dynamic.
“Yes, Daddy. I’ll be happy to.” She reached out and stroked it. “I love you.”
He set his fork down and brought her hand to his lips, kissing it. “I love you, too. Have you decided where we’re going on vacation this year?”
She thought about it. “Can we stay home? Order the girls to stay away and lock the door and stock the kitchen so we don’t have to go anywhere?”
“Your choice, sweetheart.” He released her hand and picked up his fork. “Whatever makes you happy.”
* * * *
Once they’d finished dinner, and while June was cleaning up the kitchen, Mark went to his study to use his laptop. After twenty minutes of careful searching, he couldn’t find any additional news about the human remains that’d been found in the river. If there were any suppositions about who they belonged to, authorities weren’t saying yet.
It’s been over twenty years. There’s no evidence tying her to the case. It’ll be fine. They probably aren’t his bones anyway.
As he shut down his laptop, he hoped he was right and decided not to bring the topic up again unless or until June did.
It would be inviting problems to find them, and the last thing he wanted to do was make her worry.
Friday afternoon, Mark was able to get out of work a little early, giving him plenty of time to come home, spank and fuck June, and then grab a shower with her before arriving at May and John’s right before seven.
Being an only child, June’s family had become his, even before July’s death. He loved May and Jim and their two girls, who were only a year or two older than their own daughters. As Mark settled into a camp chair on their screened lanai next to Jim and they manned the grill, he noticed Jim looked pensive.
Like him, Jim had met May before July’s murder.
Like him, he was devoted to his wife.
Like him, he’d secretly expressed a desire to have a few minutes alone with Matt Gorsky, with a heavy, blunt instrument in his hand.
Unlike Jim, Mark knew his desires could never come true when it came to that.
And that’s the way he kept it.
“Did you see the news the other day?” Jim asked, his voice low. “Those bones they found in the river not far from Paul and Susan’s old house?”
Mark nodded. “Yeah.”
“I always kind of hoped after he did it he killed himself that night.” Jim sighed. “Then again, he had rich, shitty parents. I never believed that bullshit about his truck being stolen and them not recognizing the guy on the video. Come on, it got left in Tampa? A quick cab ride from TIA? Well, Brandon, but still close if they took the Crosstown. How convenient was that? That was well before 9-11. You know damn well they gave him a fake name and put his ass on a flight to
the Caymans or Costa Rica or somewhere. His father was always traveling to Central America on business. They had connections.”
Mark nodded and sipped his beer.
It wasn’t the first time Jim had voiced these same opinions. Similar to opinions other friends and family had also stated. It was easy to blame Matt’s parents for his disappearance, and Mark suspected from what the cops said at the time that they weren’t entirely too sure that wasn’t exactly what happened.
The men never talked about it around June and May, though. Not unless the women brought it up first.
Mark wished they weren’t discussing it now, except to rudely cut off the conversation would look suspicious.
Through the years, the two of them had been united in solidarity, supporting May and June and their parents, and later supporting May and June through the loss of their parents. Jim’s siblings and parents had also stepped in to “adopt” May, June, and Mark.
Family was everything.
In a way, Mark hoped the bones weren’t Matt’s. It was better not knowing for sure, in some ways. Because then he could pretend, engage in the same what-if speculations Jim enjoyed.
Jim had never been hunting, had never taken a life of any kind that wasn’t an insect.
He’d also been spared the horror of seeing July’s lifeless eyes staring up at them from where she’d landed on the floor.
Fortunately, Jim also hadn’t been there to see how June briefly closed her eyes before opening July’s bedroom door, as if she already knew what lay behind it.
How even in her mental condition June hadn’t reacted nearly as much to the news of Matt’s disappearance as he thought she would.
As if she wasn’t surprised that they couldn’t find him. Everyone else assumed she was in emotional shock.
He wondered exactly how much she knew.
Like why the apartment AC hadn’t been turned down when July arrived home.
And he wondered if he’d ever know everything.
Or if he even wanted to.
Walk Between the Raindrops Page 10
