And that there was a strange zipping sound coming from the back room.
I stood up, patted the dogs, and urged them to follow me as I went in search of the sound.
When I got to the open bedroom door, it was to find Wyett trying to zip a very overstuffed suitcase.
She was making very little progress, seeing as she had to sit on the suitcase to zip it.
“What are you doing?” I asked curiously.
She looked cute all frustrated, and my raging hard-on that hadn’t gone down once today after seeing her pulsed with excitement.
She looked up, then promptly fell off her suitcase.
It burst back open with what looked like a spring inside of it, and all her clothes started to spill out.
“Dammit,” she grumbled, trying to shove everything back into her suitcase. “And to answer your question, I’m packing my stuff. Why?”
“Why?” I echoed.
“Why what?” she wondered as she started to stuff things back inside before closing the lid once again.
There was no way she was getting that zipped.
“Why are you packing?” I repeated.
She looked at me curiously over her shoulder, and the stubborn frown on her face made me want to smile.
I didn’t.
But barely.
“Because you’re home, and I don’t want to intrude,” she explained. “I’ll go stay with Six tonight. Her and her man have a rather large house out in the middle of nowhere. I won’t be a burden.”
I frowned at her use of words. “You won’t be a burden here either. Why would you think you’re intruding? I hate to break this to you, but we’re married. You’re allowed to be here just as much as I am.” I paused. “In fact, you’ve spent more time in this house than I have. I literally just moved into the place about two months before all that shit went down.”
All that shit being self-destructing my life.
She opened her mouth, and then closed it, letting her battle with the suitcase go as she turned and faced me fully.
“At least give me a couple of months before you move out,” I urged. “I have so much to do it’s not even funny. Reintegrating back into society is going to be rough for me. Not only do I have to learn to deal with everyday people again, but I have to go get all of my shit renewed. License. Insurance. Cars. I have doctor’s appointments galore to go to. Not to mention there’s all the work that I now have to do with Lynn. But I can let you know in about ten minutes if you allow me to get to a computer and promise not to leave.”
She opened her mouth and then closed it again.
“Give me a few months, please?” I urged. “Then, if you still want to leave, I’ll draw up the divorce papers myself.”
She frowned. “Are you asking me to stay married to you, and possibly continue to stay married to you, past the two months?”
It’d never been discussed before we’d gotten married just how long we would stay married.
But what she didn’t know was that I’d wanted it, and I wanted it to stay that way, from the very beginning.
I just needed to do some convincing. I needed her to fall in love with me.
I needed her to love me as much as I loved her.
Yet, she had no clue.
From the moment that she allowed me to touch her—even if it was her eyelash—I’d wanted her. And over the course of the years that I was in jail, I’d fallen in love with her.
She was the one bright spot in my dark days. She was the one thing that I’d come to look forward to. What had pushed me to make it from one month to the next.
See, most people wouldn’t know it by the looks of me, but I seriously did not like being touched.
And you know what was inevitable in an over-crowded prison?
Being fucking touched.
All the goddamn time.
I’m talking, brushing elbows with my neighbor all the goddamn time.
Hell, even before this had all happened, I’d always been very careful about how close I got to anybody.
Being in the same room with someone was acceptable. Being in the same hallway with someone was acceptable. Being within arm’s reach, however? Not acceptable.
The first day there, I’d been frisked by the guards.
I’d had to grit my teeth through the entire process as they searched me bodily to make sure I wasn’t bringing anything into their prison that wasn’t acceptable.
The first hour after the bars had closed behind me? I’d had to fight my way out of not one, not two, but six fights.
The first time someone came up behind me while I’d been in the bathroom?
I’d lost my absolute shit, and they’d put me into solitary confinement for three days.
It’d been the best three days that I’d had in that place for a solid three years.
Needless to say, I’d been touched so much that one would think that I’d be accustomed to it by now.
Let me be the first one to tell you… I wasn’t. Not even close.
When I’d been a kid, I’d first realized that I didn’t like being touched at a really young age. The moment that the choice was given to me about giving hugs and such, I’d just refused to give them. Not my mom. My dad. My brother nor my sisters.
None of them were allowed to touch me. And that was the way I wanted it.
It wasn’t that I didn’t like my parents—I did—but it was better to like them from a distance.
There hadn’t been one single person that I’d liked being that close.
Hell, the first time that I’d had sex, I’d hated every second of it because of all the touching and groping.
I’d learned the best way to do it was from behind, so that the women that I was having sex with didn’t reach back and touch me without me being able to anticipate the move.
I hadn’t found one single person that I liked being around.
Not until Wyett had come into the picture.
Now her? I wanted to touch her all the time. I still didn’t want her to cuddle with me for long periods of time, but the thought wasn’t abhorrent to me, either.
Holding her hand today had actually been quite pleasant.
“Hunt, are you even listening to me?” Wyett asked, interrupting my thoughts as she placed her hand on my forearm to get my attention.
I turned my head to stare at her.
“Yes,” I answered. “I am. I’m just thinking about how your touch isn’t repugnant to me.”
Her brows rose. “What?”
“I don’t like being touched,” I told her.
She yanked her hand back as if she’d touched something scorching hot.
“I’m sorry,” she winced.
I reached forward and grasped her hand with both of mine.
“I just said that I don’t mind your touch,” I repeated. “For some reason, it doesn’t make me feel like my skin is crawling. I think it’s because you have man hands.”
Her mouth dropped open. “What?”
I flipped her hands over to show her her hands. “You have small, compact hands that are very strong. You don’t have a light touch. It’s all heavy and even. I don’t like touches that are light. Like tickling touches. When you touch me, I don’t feel like something creepy and crawly is whispering over my skin.”
She blinked, and once again her lashes drew my attention. “Okay.”
“And the thought of you cuddling with me isn’t abhorrent, either,” I continued. “Your eyelashes are really long again. They’re still real, right? I’ve heard that it’s all the hype nowadays to have lash extensions.”
Her lips quirked up at the corner. “The thought of cuddling you isn’t abhorrent to me, either. And to answer your other question, they’re still real.”
My lips twitched up at the corners as amusement flittered through my system. “I want you to stay here. I want you to continue to live here however long you want to live here. I want you to also realize that I’m going to have trouble reintegrating into societ
y—at least that was what I’d heard from other inmates who’d been let free and then come back—so I’m going to need you to keep me in line. Also, you’ll be a suitable buffer between my family and acquaintances.”
She was smiling then. “When’s my first assignment?”
She was teasing, but I had one for her anyway.
“I have to go talk to my parents,” I admitted. “They’ll want to know that I’m home. Not that they ever came and saw me in that place or anything. Then again, I’m fairly sure that they might’ve self-destructed if they had.”
Her hands went to her hips.
“I don’t mind doing that with you,” she confessed. “But you’ll have to schedule it around my work, and my schooling.”
I nodded once. “I think I can make that happen.”
She finally let the suitcase go, and the bag popped open all over again.
My lips twitched when I saw how hastily the bag was packed.
“I really like the idea of you being here,” I said. “Because, now, we can take care of your aunt problem.”
“My ant… oh!” She paused. “My aunt! And yeah, she’s definitely a problem. But, saying that, She’s not too big of a problem. Just an annoyance at this point. She’ll die eventually and it’ll revert to me out of default. I have a steady, good paying job. I also have no bills, thanks to you, and a steady flow of cash that goes straight into my 401K or my savings. I can live off of scraps. Her, on the other hand? She’ll get desperate eventually. And when she does, she’ll cave.”
I didn’t like that answer.
She shouldn’t have to wait.
And I would make sure that she wasn’t doing it any longer.
Anticipation for what was about to come started to hum through my veins.
I hadn’t had my hands on my own computer equipment in years.
“I’m going to take a shower. Do you think you can order pizza? Or something delivery? I’m not picky on what. While we’re waiting… I’m going to go get on the computers.” I rubbed my hands together in anticipation.
“I’m surprised you’ve gone this long,” she admitted. “That computer room looks like it was constructed out of love and care. The rest of the house pales in comparison. But, lucky you, I was able to have it all tuned up by your friend, Mordy, just last week.”
I grinned wickedly, and her face went slack with shock.
Or worry.
“What?” The grin fell off my face.
She shook herself free of her blank stare.
“Nothing.” She smiled tightly. “I’ll order pizza. You go get your shower and head into the Bat Cave. I’ll let you know when the food is here.”
I winked at her. “Thanks.”
With that, I headed to the shower.
It was quick.
I was in and out in under five minutes—I learned not to linger in the showers because that invited touch—and was dressed in sweatpants and nothing else two seconds later as I went to my computer room.
I pushed the door open and felt something lift off of my chest at the sight in front of me.
“Do you want something to drink?” Wyett hollered from the kitchen just as I stepped foot inside.
I looked all around me before answering. “Whatever you happen to have that’s cold, I’ll gladly take.”
Then I dove in.
CHAPTER 9
Anything you can do, I can do better. Unless it’s whoring. Then you win hands down.
-Text from Wyett to Six
WYETT
They hated me.
Absolutely, no doubt about it, detested me.
I should’ve known that they would hate me based solely on the fact that I was showing up married to the baby prodigal son.
It hadn’t all started out bad, of course.
When we’d first walked into the mini-mansion on the lake, I’d been worried because of Hunt.
He hadn’t looked like he’d wanted to be there at all.
That was, I think, why I hadn’t pushed him about seeing his family over the last two weeks since he’d been home.
Then again, every time he said he was thinking about going the next day, I’d had to work.
So it’d been a very good excuse not to go.
The only problem was, the longer his mother knew that he was out, the more persistent she became in demanding that he come.
Now, there we were two weeks after he’d gotten home, and I was spending the entire day with him.
It was nerve-wracking.
I’d done my level best to stay out of his hair over the last two weeks, going out of my way to make sure that I didn’t bother him in any way.
At first, I thought it was going to be hard, but then I realized that it wasn’t hard at all because he was always in one of two places. His room, or his office.
He didn’t come hang out in the living room, which was where I liked to spend my time reading, studying, or watching television.
He didn’t go to the kitchen unless it was to throw away his trash or grab a quick bite to eat, and even then he always took his food back to his office.
Honestly, it was quite comfortable being where I was with him home.
I had the ability to talk to him—because he seriously didn’t mind when I came to talk to him about random stuff I’d remembered he should probably get taken care of—but I also had the ability to just be by myself. Which was what I really liked.
Being by myself had always been my default setting.
The funny thing was, I hadn’t realized how worried I’d been about losing my freedom to do that until I’d realized that I still had it.
The thought of marriage or dating had never really been a big deal to me.
I’d always liked the idea of independence.
That was why, I think, I allowed myself to get married to Hunt the way that I did.
I had the best of both worlds. I was married to an attractive man, and he left me alone.
Though, lately, seeing him walking around in his incredibly tight sweatpants was beginning to really work my nerves.
And definitely not in a bad way.
“Oh, good!” his mother said as she opened the door. “You’re here!”
She leaned forward to hug Hunt, and he tensed, his eyes squeezing shut as if he would rather not touch her.
I frowned.
That was another thing that I’d come to understand over the last couple of weeks. His aversion to touch.
It’d all started out when we’d gone to the DMV to get his driver’s license. The lady had handed him his new ID, and he’d asked her to put it on the counter so he didn’t get near her hand when he’d reached for it.
Then it’d been a checker in a grocery store trying to hand him cash. Again, they had to place it on the counter before he would touch it.
It was little things, here and there, where he avoided touch in any and all ways possible.
In fact, I hadn’t witnessed him purposefully touching anyone over the last two weeks but me.
His mother squeezed him hard, and a look of panic crossed over his face.
Instinctively, I reached forward and held out my hands. “Hello, I’m Wyett.”
The woman let go of her son so abruptly that I would’ve laughed had this been the least bit funny.
She whirled around and stared at me as if I’d startled her. Except I’d been standing beside Hunt the entire time, in plain view. So it shouldn’t have been a surprise at all.
“Who are you?” she barked.
My brows rose, and I was about to say my name again when Hunt said simply, “This is my wife, Wyett.”
Her mouth all but fell open.
“What?” she shrieked.
“My wife, Wyett,” Hunt repeated as if that was seriously why she said what.
It wasn’t.
But he answered her as if it was anyway.
“A wife? What? How?” his mother continued to shriek in a very loud, very pissed off voice.
“A wi
fe,” Hunt confirmed. “We’ve actually been married for years now. We celebrate our fourth anniversary soon.”
Soon as in five months. But I was sure that he was embellishing, so they didn’t think that we started dating while he was in prison.
Though it wasn’t while he was in prison, it sure wasn’t by much. Hours, more like it.
“That’s… that’s ludicrous!” she wailed.
“What the hell is going on, Lora?” an older man asked, coming up behind his wife with his computer in his hand. “Oh, you’re here. Can you fix my computer? I got onto a, uh, website last night and it was, uh, bad I guess? I can’t get it to turn on anymore. It’s a good thing you finally can stop by. It’s been a while.”
It’s been a while.
Umm, it’s been like years.
From what I understood, they’d never visited him while he was in prison.
Not once.
“This, this woman is claiming to be his wife, Fred!” Lora pointed at me as if I was the one to make the declaration.
“Well, maybe she is?” Fred shrugged. “I mean, that wouldn’t surprise me. A marriage of convenience, obviously.”
I stiffened.
Was he implying that I wasn’t worth anything more but convenience?
What the absolute fuck?
“We married each other because we loved each other,” Hunt lied as he pushed past both of them. On the way, though, he’d grabbed my hand with one of his, and the computer out of his father’s other hand. “Were you on a porn website, Dad?”
There was a moment of silence at our backs and then, “Yes.”
Hunt sighed. “I showed you the safe ones you could go to. They won’t cause you to have any pop-ups or viruses. Do we need to talk about those websites again?”
“No, I remember them,” Fred answered sheepishly.
His mother came by in a huff and walked past us, not stopping to make any more small talk.
She walked right up to a group of three woman and started gesturing wildly with her hands.
They all turned at once to look at me, and I realized rather quickly that I was the topic of conversation.
Yay.
“There,” Hunt said three seconds after opening it. “You just had to end task, Dad.”
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