Conor Thames 2

by R. J. Lewis

  To my surprise, Locke answered within minutes… and did not offer anything insightful.

  No idea.

  Fucking Locke.

  I genuinely didn’t know why I bothered.

  I responded to him. I need some time off work. Obvious reasons.

  He didn’t answer. The guy was handicapped when it came to texting.

  I put the phone down and joined them on the couch. We went through a couple more photo albums before Penny was racing off again to fetch her iPad. She wanted Conor to see the world she’d made. Conor waited with a peaceful look on his face, holding his mother’s hand tightly as she rained kisses on his shoulder.

  “Did you think about me, hon?” she asked him quietly, staring up at her son’s face.

  He nodded, kissing the top of her head. “Every day.”

  Megan’s face brightened. “I thought of you every day, too.”

  My heart squeezed for them. Megan had enormous love for her children. She had endured more than one had to when it came to them. Conor with his violent nature and Ember with her reckless dependencies and endless financial drama. Megan had tremendous strength. It was hard not to admire her.

  When Penny returned, she climbed into Conor’s lap and held the screen up to him. She babbled forever, and he sat entranced, stroking her back, glimpsing at me randomly with enormous affection behind his gaze.

  I savoured every second.

  I knew it took every ounce of will power for Megan to leave. She wanted us to have alone time, for Conor to get acquainted with Penny, and while I insisted that she stay, she shook her head and told me, “I know how much he needs this. I’m in the way, but I know where to find him. He’s right here, a ten minute drive away, and that is enough for me. When he’s ready, I’ll be back with Ember and Lily.”

  She kissed him good bye and I walked her to the door.

  “Remember, be patient,” she told me as she stepped out. “He will have his moments.”

  I nodded. “I’m ready for them, Megan.”

  She studied me and smiled. “I’m happy he has you, Charlotte. You waited for him. It takes a strong woman to stand by a man through all his faults. Thank you for loving my son.”

  I smiled back, warmed by her words. “I’ll keep doing my best.”

  “That’s all anyone can do.”

  I watched her leave before re-joining Conor and Penny on the couch. Conor pulled me into his lap, and Penny smiled brightly at us. Her stare lingered on our joined bodies, and I swallowed the lump in my throat.

  She’d never seen her mom and dad together.

  I had a feeling this was finally it. Our new beginning. The three of us together at last, ready to be a family.

  We ordered pizza and Penny and I taught Conor how to play Catan. We sat at the dining table for hours, drinking soda, eating until our bellies popped out. Conor smiled more times than I’d ever seen when I’d been with him eight years ago. He couldn’t get enough of Penny, and I couldn’t get enough of watching them interact.

  No one showed up at the house. I appreciated the privacy, because I genuinely thought at least Jem would be pounding at the door. Seemed like everyone understood Conor needed time out.

  I let Penny stay up, and then I did her bedtime routine with Conor shadowing us. I spot checked her teeth after she brushed them, and because she’d still been in her pyjamas the whole day, she cuddled into bed with her stuffy to her chest. I read a chapter of Harry Potter, and she fell asleep half-way through. All the while, Conor was leaning against the doorway, watching every second like it was the most important thing in the world.

  Right before she fell asleep, she murmured, “This was the best day of my life, Mommy. I got to meet Daddy. I’m so happy. He’s staying, right?”

  I nodded, planting a kiss on her head while I saw Conor stiffen from my peripheral. “He is staying for good.”

  When we retreated to our bedroom, he was quiet. He undressed for a shower, and I stood at the door, watching him closely.

  “Are you okay?” I asked him tenderly.

  He nodded, giving me a reassuring smile. “Yeah, dove, I’m okay. Just thinking.”

  “Can I ask what?”

  He paused, tapping the counter of the sink a few times, thoughts blazing. “I missed all of this, Char,” he said. “I missed out on everything.”

  I swallowed thickly. “But you’re here now.”

  “I know, but…it feels like I’m grieving what could have been. It feels like a death somehow. I’m…angry at myself.”

  “Why are you angry at yourself?”

  He turned to look at me, standing in only his briefs. His eyes looked haunted, the pain from before creeping back in. “I didn’t have to kill him.”

  I stiffened from surprise. “Conor…”

  “It’s true, pup. Our lives would be vastly different right now.”

  “Billy was unhinged.”

  “He didn’t deserve to die.”

  I felt gobsmacked. I gave him a peculiar look. He wouldn’t meet my eye now as he turned around, fetching the towel from the back of the door and throwing it over the shower stall. Then he stood there, awkward, looking like he was out of his depth.

  I approached him, lightly touching his arm. He peered down at me, shutting his eyes briefly at my touch. So starved of affection, he didn’t know how to handle these little moments.

  “This is a slippery slope you don’t want to go down,” I told him softly. “It is self-sabotage wondering what would have been. I went down it for the longest time, Conor, and it is endless. It does nothing for your soul. You must let go. You can’t change what happened, but you can start new every day.”

  With a frown, he listened closely to my words, nodding once at the end. I traced the lines of muscle down his arm, trying to comfort him. He twitched slightly when I reached his wrist. I glanced down by reflex, wondering what the numbered tattoo meant. I wasn’t going to ask because of the way he flinched.

  I realized getting to the bottom of what happened in prison was going to be a very long journey, and I might never fully know. It was too soon to ask, and I was sure he didn’t need to be reminded.

  “Shower with me, Charlotte,” he said, taking my hand into his own. “Keep me grounded. I’m not feeling right.”

  We showered, holding each other. He drew the lines of my face, of my body, learning me slowly. Then he dried us off, picked me up and carried me to the bed. His body was my cocoon, covering me whole as we lay on our sides. He nuzzled his face into the back of me, holding me tightly, shaking as he overrode whatever horrible feelings he was under.

  He didn’t initiate sex, nor did he kiss me. He just kept me pressed to his chest, his breathing broken and shaky.

  I stayed up most of the night with him. After three in the morning, his body gave out and he slept hard, relaxing his hold on me. I managed to squirm around to face him. I traced his face, worry etched in mine. Pressing my forehead against his, I kissed his lips tenderly and let a tear slide down my nose.

  I just wanted him to be okay.

  Because I knew, despite his words, he was lying when he said he was.

  Thames

  There was no greater contentment than waking up to his love wrapped in his arms. It was not something he could ever take for granted, and it left him crazed.

  His cock was rock hard and pressed against her back. He pulled away before she woke up to feel it. He didn’t trust himself not to be too punishing, especially in the dark place he was in.

  To be frank, every time she touched him it spurred him closer to the edge. Just the soft caress of her lips and he might tear her clothes apart and fuck her without mercy.

  It was why he needed to be careful.

  He slipped out of bed and followed the sunlight to the window. One of these days some poor soul was going to look up from the street and find a naked dude in the window of an innocent suburban home. Thames wondered if that would be the scandal of the decade in this cute fucking street where everyone
owned a dog and stopped to talk to one another, lattes in hand.

  Thames thought of himself becoming one with the locals. He pictured himself mowing the lawn and talking golf with Paul across the street and stifled the laugh bubbling up his throat.

  That was so fucked.

  He heard the sheets rustle and turned to look at Charlotte. The blanket was down to her waist, and she was on her back, and the swell of her breasts from under her gown looked goddamn spectacular.

  Thames groaned deep in his throat.

  There would never be another woman for him. He was ruined for good. This woman had waited for him – the fuck-up, the bully, the town asshole. He almost didn’t believe it.

  He wanted to crawl into bed and bury his head between her legs. He wanted to taste her, cup her tits while she came in his mouth. He wanted her to look down at him when she did. He wanted his name to rip from her mouth as she pulsed around his tongue.

  The desire was there, and he didn’t even need her touch to push him off the edge.

  He ran a ragged hand down his face and disappeared into the bathroom before she opened her eyes to look at him.

  One look from those brown eyes and he would not be able to hold back.

  Retreating inside the room, he washed his face with ice cold water and told himself to breathe through the urges.

  He would not be gentle.

  Charlotte deserved gentle.

  His touch was filthy.

  She didn’t know how filthy it was.

  But Holden knew, and the crew too. And Dominic’s eyes had followed him in passing, lingering long and hard at Thames. Damning him.

  Dominic had always been the best of them, and for that reason, he’d suffered the worst. Thames wished he could go back there and hold him. To tell him he was there for him, and he would be waiting for him when he got out.

  All he kept thinking about was the day he learned his parole had been stripped from him. That was the day Dominic said, “You fucked up. You’re going to come right back here when you’re out, Thames, unless you change the gears in your brain.”

  Later, when Thames bloodied his knuckles after he’d punched the cement wall thirty times in his cell, he went to bed shivering. He dug his nails into his arms and he scratched so hard at them, he felt the blood oozing from his skin. He attacked his stomach next, then his chest, and finally his neck. He clawed into the flesh, feeling the searing sting, and then he dug deeper. He dug so hard he wanted to feel his soul so he could rip it out of him.

  That was the moment he enjoyed the idea of dying.

  It was the moment he began to let his old life go.

  He said goodbye to Charlotte.

  He said sorry to Locke for not finding him.

  Sorry to Jem for disappointing him.

  Sorry to Dominic for leaving him to rot in this hellhole.

  He smeared blood along his neck, tracing the perfect line.

  He wasn’t going to survive prison. Not at this rate. Not when Holden was making him do the most unbearable things. There would be consequences. It was only a matter of time someone was going to jump him in some dark corner, like the way he’d done.

  So, if he was going to die, he would rather die by his own hands. He wasn’t going to die pleading at the mercy of some scum fuck.

  He was going to die remembering the love he once had – from his brothers, from his woman – and holding on to it as his breaths grew shallow around the noose.

  THE HOLE

  If he could just find a good hiding spot this time, maybe Jem wouldn’t give him such a hard time. He wanted to be like the guys. He wanted to fit in and be cool and be a little bigger too. It was why he’d stopped complaining when Dominic urged to play the game. Max’s voice was never heard. Jem liked to call him the Great Whiner, and he didn’t want to annoy them. They might not want to play with him anymore.

  Who would play with him if not them?

  The thought panicked Max. He was tired of being alone. In his short life, all he’d known was neglect. He’d gotten so used to being invisible, and just when he learned to live with that aching loneliness, Conor noticed him and everything changed.

  He couldn’t ruin it now.

  The moment Conor turned and closed his eyes and began to count, Max didn’t waste a second. He fled, this time in the direction of the bush. He saw Dom not far from him already dropping to the ground to gather at the leaves.

  Jem was circling the park, eyeing the slide. Max slowed down and, for a brief moment, their eyes connected, and Jem looked a little smug. He’d laughed at Max before when he’d refused to tread into the bush out of fear of getting lost.

  Max felt the sudden urge to prove him wrong.

  He would find a good spot.

  He would.

  His legs carried him into the dense bush. Straightaway he felt the sharp sting of the tall weeds and thorny bushes, but that didn’t stop him. Shaded and cool, heart thudding in his chest, he spun around, deciding what bush to hide under.

  It didn’t have to be big. He didn’t have to venture deep into it, either. He could circle it as Conor ran in, looking for him.

  He was certain Conor would be proud of him for finding him here. Max couldn’t wait to see that proud smile on his face when he did. His body shook from excitement.

  As he spun, dizzied, he tripped over the uneven ground and fell hard. Knocked breathless, he jumped back to his feet, shaking his head to clear his vision.

  As the world spun, he saw the trees, the vibrant green colours meshing together, the sun poking through a spot between the branches.

  He also saw a dark figure moving in the distance.

  Chapter Eleven

  Charlotte

  I was aware Conor had slipped out of bed at some point in the morning. I was just too damn tired to chase after him. I was vaguely aware he was banging around in the bathroom. I wrapped the sheets around my body and cocooned myself, burying my face in the pillow because the sunlight was savage.

  I was beginning to drift back into sleep when I heard it.

  The knocks were so loud, they may as well have been outside the freaking bedroom door. My eyes whipped open in alarm. I slid out of bed and quickly threw on my robe, hoping Penny wouldn’t wake up. Tying it around my waist, I hurried out of the bedroom, down the stairs and to the front door.

  The door rattled from the pounds. I had to wait for a pause in between to peek through the peephole. The face staring back at me sent a jolt through my body.

  The furious face belonged to Paul, my stepdad.

  I took a moment to gather myself. This was unexpected. I had to swallow down my irritation. Then, just as he began to pound another series of times, I whipped the door open and stepped out. At first, he didn’t step back straight away. Perhaps he was stunned to see me out. He took a few steps back, almost tripping down the steps behind him before the shock wore off. Then his expression darkened.

  “I want to see that son of a bitch,” he seethed. “You bring that cunt to me now, Charlotte –”

  “Get the fuck off my property,” I interrupted, moving to him now. My heart sped in my chest, adrenaline surged as I came face to face with the drunk bastard.

  He wavered, looking at me in awe now. “After everything I did for you –”

  “What did you ever do for me?” I cut in again, growing louder. “What, Paul?”

  He didn’t like being put on the spot because he hadn’t done shit for me. He allowed what he thought was his son to bully me around in that shithole house. He’d never done a thing about it. And if I was being fair, I’d have to admit Billy had been a sweet kid that I could figure was extremely altered along the way because of Paul’s abuse. And when he wasn’t beating on Billy, he was beating on my mother. Not that she was any better, either, but Paul wasn’t a pillar of righteousness. He had no business being here. Billy wasn’t his biological kid in the end, and through the grapevine, I’d heard he hadn’t responded kindly to that news. He’d gotten thrown out of Dave T
hames’ auto shop after he showed up throwing his drunk fists around.

  That was all Paul was good at: starting trouble. Maybe one time in his life he was stronger than everyone else. But that time had fled him years ago, and now he was just a drunk jerk with too big of an ego.

  I looked past him real quick, expecting to see my mother trailing not far off behind him. I spotted her small figure in the passenger seat of the truck. She wasn’t looking out at us. Her arms were crossed and she was looking forlornly into her lap. She actually looked like a picture perfect abuse victim if you didn’t know her, but I did. I knew this horrible bitch well to know she played the act, pretending to be meek and twitchy when anyone advanced in her direction really quick.

  But where was this bitch when I told her Billy was terrorising me? Where was she when she passed by my bedroom as I screwed the locks in as a way to deter the guy from breaking into my room? I still remembered her snicker as the lock fell apart when I tried to screw it in too quick.

  “Fucking idiot,” she’d whispered.

  Paul was violent, but he’d never physically touched me. He’d just been flat out negligent, which I’d have preferred over the verbal abuse this woman put me through.

  Jesus, what a nightmare that house was. I felt a slew of unwelcome emotions as I stood before Paul, realizing I’d put up with a lot when I’d lived there. If I was so scarred over such a short time, I couldn’t imagine a lifetime of it, and that just made me sad for anyone out there that had endured so much worse than I did.

  My face twisted in anger now as I looked at this douchebag. “Still waiting for you to tell me what I did for you, Paul.”

  He looked past me now, ignoring me entirely. “He’s out. I know he’s out. Everyone’s been talking about it. I want to see the asshole that took my son’s life away. I want him to know he’s not welcome here! Y’hear?!” He shrieked over me. “You ain’t welcome here, Conor Thames!”

  “And you’re not welcome at my door.”