2
Cave
* * *
I shiver the moment the chilly Colorado air brushes my bare forearms. I should have brought a sweatshirt with me.
Despite it only being about fifty degrees in Colorado Springs, it’s a drastic difference from what I’m used to in sunny Texas. Fall in Texas is just an extension of summer. It’s an extra few months of brutal heat and oppressive humidity, although I’m used to it by now. It’s only the newbies that suffer, but here, I’m the newbie. This cold has goosebumps rising, and I wish once more for a jacket.
Walking along the airport sidewalk, I stare at the signs above me to try and locate a decent, average-priced cab service. Dodging the crowd, as well as the insanely slow walkers, I finally locate a couple yellow vans that will take me to the restaurant where I’m meeting Holly and Greta in just a half hour. I’m looking forward to seeing my gorgeous daughter in law, but my ex is another story. Ugh.
I hop in the van, throwing my carry-on duffel bag on the seat and direct the driver, a middle-aged man with an indistinguishable accent, to a restaurant across town. He begins to drive and I feel a sudden sinking feeling in my chest, like a weight has dragged my heart down to the pit of my stomach.
My eyes well with tears and I press my lips together while I stare out the window, remembering the last time I was in Colorado Springs. It was for my son’s funeral. I remember stepping out of the airport and planting two feet on the sidewalk, before almost staggering from grief. I was here to bury my son. I wouldn’t see Lenny’s smiling face welcoming me with open arms at the airport. Instead, I would see his pale face in a casket.
I shudder at the memory of that moment, and a chill runs down my spine. Yes, my son wasn’t a perfect person, but I loved him. He was my flesh and blood, and I still remember when he was a chubby baby in a onesie, toothlessly drooling while waving his arms about. No one should have to attend their child’s funeral.
But now, I’m here again. It’s been a long time since I’ve been back to Colorado Springs. Why would I want to? I’m still processing my grief, even if now, it’s subsided to a steady thrum in the background, as opposed to constant stabbing pain. Of course, there is some guilt on my part. I should have stayed to be with Holly and Greta in the aftermath of Lenny’s death, whether to be their moral support during such a tragic time or to help deal with the emotional baggage of moving Lenny’s stuff out of the house. But I just couldn’t do it.
After all, remaining in Colorado Springs after Lenny’s death would have been pure torture. Every restaurant, every sandwich shop, every shopping center, every park I went to, I would wonder if Lenny had been there himself. If he had made memories here without me by his side. I hated myself already for moving to Texas after his mother and I got divorced when he was an infant. Despite infrequent visits and occasional phone calls between the two of us, there was so much of Lenny’s life that I’d missed, and now, I’ll always wonder.
His depression was one of the things I was aware of because for a while, it was debilitating. We paid for therapy as well as medication, but Lenny never talked much about it. Never did he go into detail, nor did he divulge the reasons why he was sad. Never did he tell me just how dark his demons were. Looking back on our phone calls, I feel guilty because it was partially my fault too. I didn’t ask him about how he was doing mentally, even if he sounded a bit unlike himself on occasion.
I should have. I should have done something.
That’s why I’m in Colorado now. I’m going to make a difference in the lives of people like my son who struggle with depression and sadness in an indescribable and painful way. The illness took my son’s life and I had to bury my child as a young man. No parent should have endure what I have, and I want to make sure no one suffers if I can.
I came up with the idea of Lenny’s Lights about a year ago. It’s a twelve-step program for youngsters struggling with depression. I hired the best professionals, and we’ve been fine-tuning the program for a while now. After all, depression often starts in a person’s teenage years, and we want to begin treating it before it gets out of hand. My son’s battle with the illness started when he began high school and it seemed to get more serious as he got older. There were bright spots, definitely, but this kind of sickness is lifelong, and Lenny’s Lights will provide on-going support for people in need.
So yes, I’m here to implement Lenny’s Lights for the children and teenagers of Colorado Springs. My dream is to make Lenny’s Lights a nationwide foundation for people struggling with depression and battling thoughts of suicide. I make a decent amount of money as a financier, but it’s not my passion anymore. My passion is making a difference, and remembering my son. I’ll always love him, even if he’s no longer with us.
My heart jumps when I see the restaurant sign in the distance, my pulse quickening as the cab speeds to the parking lot. The sign blinks brightly even in the middle of the day, reading Flo’s Diner in gaudy block lettering. I sigh, trying to calm my irregular heartbeat, but it’s no use. Being back in Colorado Springs is traumatizing enough, but there’s something else as well. It’s not just about Lenny and my new foundation, although it should be. It’s about seeing my beautiful daughter-in-law again.
It’s fucking wrong, and I berate myself mentally as we pull up to the restaurant. What kind of asshole am I? What man buries his son, only to fantasize about his daughter in law? Yet, I’ve always been attracted to Holly. From the minute Lenny brought her to Texas to meet me for the first time, my body craved hers in a way that I’ve never experienced before. My hands longed to traverse her curvaceous body and to sample those perky, bouncing breasts for myself. I wonder what she looks like in the throes of ecstasy. Does she toss her head back while letting out a melodious moan? Will she clutch my shoulders, her sweetness pulsing with released tension?
I shake my head quickly, trying to rid myself of those filthy thoughts. Holly is related to you, I think to myself. You can’t think of her in this way.
Oh, but I can and I will. My thoughts belong to myself, and I treasure them, even if it’s necessary to keep them buried.
We pull into the almost empty parking lot in front of the restaurant and I pay the cabbie. Then, the door swings open and the gravel crunches beneath my feet as I step out, the door slamming firmly shut behind me. The roar of the cab’s engine echoes as it pulls out onto the road once more.
I throw my bag over my back, wiping my sweaty palms on my blue jeans as I approach the restaurant’s entrance. It’s a greasy spoon type of place, but that doesn’t help me relax. Holly’s waiting, and I need to appear normal.
The door to the restaurant opens, and a loud chime signals my arrival. The hostess immediately smiles, tossing her hair behind one shoulder.
“Hello there,” the blonde girl coos, leaning her elbows on the hostess podium. “Can I help you?”
“I have a reservation for Pierce,” I say, ignoring her blatant flirtation.
“Wait just a moment,” she says as she scans the list of reservations in front of her. “Cave Pierce? As in this Cave Pierce?”
She pulls out a shiny magazine with my name and face plastered on it, my white grin dazzling and my black hair neatly combed. My blue eyes seem even more blue, given that I’m wearing a slick navy suit. The headline reads, “Dallas Magazine’s Top 10 Bachelors.”
Fuck! Why do they have a copy of Dallas Magazine here in Colorado Springs? I fight the urge to roll my eyes. I hate that I agreed to do that stupid photoshoot. My success as a businessman means I get a decent amount of publicity, so much so that the infamous Dallas Magazine wanted to include me in this year’s lineup of eligible bachelors. Reluctantly, I agreed. My PR person told me it would be good for business, but little did I realize that the result would be women recognizing me from a mile away. I can’t even go to the damn grocery store without a baseball cap and sunglasses when I’m home.
“Yes, that’s me,” I say a bit sourly.
“Wow, a real celebrity!” the
hostess coos. But then she stops once her manager shoots her a death glare from across the restaurant. She slams her mouth shut and grabs three menus from the tray and escorts me to my table without another word.
As the woman sashays down the aisle, she turns around and holds her hand up to her face, mouthing Call me with a bat of her lashes. Ugh. I smile wanly and sit down, nodding as she slips me her number. But then I ball the piece of paper up in my fist, and discreetly tuck it into the cushions of the booth. I’m just not interested.
Then, the door chimes and I sit up. I can’t see exactly who it is, but then I catch a glimpse of brown curls, and my heart begins to race. Oh shit, Holly’s here. Unfortunately, my ex is here too. Greta’s the same as far as I can tell. Her dirty blonde hair is pulled into a tight bun at the base of her skull, and she’s wearing a pink shirt that perfectly matches her pink cardigan. My ex has aged decently well, with only a few wrinkles, even if she’s no match for the woman right behind her.
After all, Holly is breathtakingly gorgeous. She’s curvy and voluptuous with wide hips and big breasts that strain at her dress. Her skin has a glow to it, milky and smooth like silk. Her chocolate brown curls bounce as she walks to the table, her hands occasionally going to her face to brush the strands away. I think she’s gained some weight, but good Lord, it looks amazing on her.
“Cave?” Greta’s voice breaks me of my trance and I start.
“Hi Greta,” I say smoothly. “Good to see you.” I stand to give her a hug, but it’s stiff and uncomfortable, so I pull away quickly.
She arches an eyebrow and slides into the chair across from me.
“Nice to see you too.”
Meanwhile, Holly gives me a shy smile and envelops me in a hug immediately, her jasmine scent wafting up my nose and causing me to close my eyes. I could breathe her in all day. My hands instinctively go to her waist and the little red sundress she’s wearing is extremely thin. So much so that I feel like I’m touching her bare skin.
“How are you, Cave?” she murmurs as she pulls away, tugging her jean jacket across her chest. I have to fend off my disappointment when her body leaves mine, trying my best to keep a neutral expression. She takes a seat next to Greta and settles in with a smile.
“I’m doing okay,” I reply. “Just trying to get this foundation started in Colorado Springs.”
Holly flashes me a genuine smile. “I think it’s great what you’re doing. Lenny would be so happy, and Greta and I are here to help too. We’ve really been looking forward to it.”
I nod. “I think it’s going to be really great.”
Greta interrupts.
“Speaking of the foundation,” she begins, “I was thinking that we could start by…”
My ex lists off all of her ideas for pitching Lenny’s Lights to the multiple public school systems in Colorado Springs, but her words fall on deaf ears. Even as I attempt to listen to my ex-wife, I find myself stealing glances at Holly. The curvy girl is so beautiful, so irresistible, and so deliciously forbidden.
Against my better instincts, I know I have to have her.
3
Holly
* * *
“I need a new job,” my best friend, Noreen, complains from her seat on my couch in the living room. “The yarn store is getting a little boring.”
“What?!” I exclaim from my spot on the other side of the same couch. I roll my eyes while giggling. “But you love working at the yarn store! You were making yarn animals when we were barely out of the cradle!”
“I know, I know,” Noreen murmurs ruefully, sighing in exasperation. “It’s just that there are no hot guys that come into yarn stores. It’s just women who are obsessed with knitting and crocheting, and most of them are sixty-five at that.”
She reaches forward and grabs a handful of popcorn from the bowl in between us and stuffs it in her mouth while looking back at the TV screen.
I laugh and shake my head at her. “Noreen, you love knitting and crocheting, and you get along great with the sixty-five year old grannies. That’s why you were Employee of the Month last month.”
She rolls her eyes.
“Yes, but knitting and crocheting are just hobbies of mine,” she argues. “I didn’t know it was going to become a profession. Plus, there are only three employees at the store, so me getting Employee of the Month doesn’t really mean anything.”
I merely giggle.
“It’s okay, girlfriend. Don’t pretend. You love working there and you were ecstatic to be named Employee of the Month. I know it.”
My best friend chuckles a bit herself. “You’re right. I guess Yarn-A-Wheel is good most days. I can’t complain. Besides, we’re lucky to turn our passions into actual jobs. You love to read, and that’s why you’re a librarian.”
I smile. Noreen isn’t wrong at all. I love being a librarian at the local public library. I have a degree in English from Colorado State and I was going to become a writer, but I fell into becoming a librarian, and it’s really rewarding. I get to gush about all of the amazing books I read to anyone and everyone who will listen, and they’ll actually take my thoughts and opinions into consideration. It’s hard to find someone who cares about literature the same way I do, but the library has been a personal Heaven for me.
“I guess you’re right,” I say, and my friend’s brown eyes light up with victory. She uncrosses her arms and does a small fist pump.
“I know I am,” she says and gives me a wink.
I fight the urge to roll my eyes again. I tend to do that a lot when I’m with Noreen because ever since we met our freshmen year at Colorado State, we’ve been glued to one another. I find myself constantly rolling my eyes at her witty comments and sarcastic remarks. One time, I rolled my eyes so hard that I was afraid they’d gotten stuck staring at my brain.
But Noreen is always a pleasure to have around. She was so sweet and thoughtful while I was grieving after Lenny passed away. She baked me so many desserts and yummy casseroles that I gained more than a few pounds. I still haven’t lost that extra weight, but Noreen says it looks great on me and I believe her. She’s brutally honest, so I know she’s telling the truth. My friend has no filter, but that’s why I love her.
“What did you do yesterday?” Noreen asks while we watch a movie on the flat screen television mounted on the wall. The rain outside pounds against the windows, loud and angry like ocean waves. Thunder rumbles above us and I sink deeper into the couch, enjoying the stormy weather.
I shrug my shoulders. “I met up with Greta and Cave to talk about getting Lenny’s Lights off the ground. It’s pretty cool that Cave is starting a foundation in memory of his son, and I admire him for it.”
Her eyes widen when she hears Cave’s name and she reaches for the remote, turning the television off completely. I furrow my brow and give her an odd look, but say nothing since she’s staring at me with wide eyes.
“Cave is in town?” she asks incredulously, leaning closer to me with each word.
“Yeah,” I reply casually. “I thought I told you that already.”
She scoffs. “You most certainly did not, you big traitor.”
I laugh. “I’m sorry, Noreen. I’ll be sure to tell him you said hi the next time I see him.”
She practically pants.
“Yeah, and can you tell him I want to have his children, while you’re at it?”
I giggle again, even though I shouldn’t. Back in college, Lenny, Noreen, and I were all best friends, so she’s met Lenny’s dad a few times. Noreen’s been obsessed with my father-in-law and his good looks ever since then, even though it’s totally inappropriate.
“Oh, yes. I’ll be sure to include that,” I joke.
“You better,” she murmurs, shaking her head. “That man is so freaking hot. I’d let him lather me with peanut butter and slowly lick it off. Mmmm!”
The thought of Cave doing something sexual with Noreen makes my blood boil and my stomach turn with jealousy. If she only knew about my thought
s with Cave, but I couldn’t possibly tell her seeing that we’re basically related. Instead, I cover by making a joke.
“Would it be smooth or creamy peanut butter?”
Noreen acts like she’s thinking about it, tucking a curl behind one ear.
“Creamy, definitely,” she dreams out loud. “He’d be so good with his tongue, ooooh!” Then she turns to look at me with a sly smile. “Did you know your father in law was on the cover of Dallas Magazine recently, by the way? They did an interview with the top ten most eligible bachelors in Dallas and he’s one of them.”
Damn, I think to myself. Top ten? I’d say number one.
“You really read those magazines, Noreen?” I ask in a wry tone, taking a handful of popcorn and nibbling on a piece.
Noreen giggles like a silly schoolgirl and nods her head emphatically. “Yes, I do! Colorado Springs is such a small town, Holly. There are no cute guys here, let alone guys that look like Cave Pierce. Dallas is where all the hot, sexy men live. I want to move there. Maybe Yarn-A-Wheel will open up a satellite store in Texas. Why not? There have to be crafters there.”
I smile. “I guess you’re right, but there are some cute guys here. Come on, give Colorado Springs a chance.”
She arches an eyebrow at me. “Oh, really? When was the last time you went on a date, Holly?”
My shoulders drop slightly. The truth is that I haven’t been on a date since before Lenny and I got together and that was back in college. Ever since my husband died, I just haven’t had any desire to be with another man. Even if Lenny wasn’t my one true love, it just doesn’t feel right. I’d be betraying his memory, even if Lenny’s been in the ground for two years now.
“Holly,” Noreen starts, reaching forward and gently grazing my hand. “It’s been years since he passed away. It’s okay to go out and date. You’re still young and attractive. Do you feel guilty or something?”
My Filthy Father In Law Page 2
