Making Home with You

by Claire Raye

  I shake my head at him as I gather up my things. I’m not quitting.

  “Quitting doesn’t mean giving up. It means you can still pursue this, but at least you’ll be away from all of it.”

  I understand what he’s saying, but in order to see this through till the end, I need to be here, I need to be here for when it goes beyond harassment and I know it’s coming.

  “I don’t want to be away from it. I want to be in it and I want you here with me because we both know Andrew is going to fuck up. He’s going to take it further.”

  “If your brother knew what you were doing he’d kill me for allowing it.”

  “Then don’t tell him,” I say, smiling at Joe, but his face is a mess, his eyes wide and his lips set in a firm line. He hates every minute of this.

  “The only way I’ll let this continue is if you agree not to come in to work until the office is open, and there’s no staying late. Got it?”

  “Got it.”

  I’m ready to go, and feeling better about this place than I have since the day after I started. I want to skip down the hallway, I want shout it to everyone here, but I’ll gloat in private knowing I could be the only one who feels this way.

  “Let me drive you to the train,” Joe says, and I roll my eyes but agree knowing he’s uneasy with the whole situation.

  “Fine, fine,” I say back, laughing a little at the fact that no matter how hard I try I can’t seem to get away from these overprotective boys.

  We reach the ground floor and I’m rifling through my purse for my phone, but I keep coming up short. I need to text Finn and let him know I’m okay, but that I’m running a little late.

  I dig into my laptop bag but still can’t seem to locate my phone. And that’s when I realize I’ve left it sitting on my desk. In my excitement, I pulled it out to text Finn but never got around to it. I can actually picture it on my desk calendar where I always leave it.

  “Joe,” I say, my hand reaching out to stop him as he nears the exit doors, “I forgot my phone upstairs. I’ll just a be a few minutes, okay?”

  “I’ll come with you,” he insists, taking a step back toward the elevators, but is stopped by the ringing of his phone.

  He shoos me on as he paces the lobby, phone to his ear, and I hurry off to the elevators. It will only take me a second to grab my phone and be back down.

  When I reach my office, there’s my phone right where I knew it would be: sitting on my desk, at the top of the calendar and I laugh a little at my predictability and my forgetfulness.

  I shouldn’t keep Finn waiting any longer and I know he’s probably on his way home by now too. If he walks in and doesn’t find me at the house he’s going to lose his shit.

  Me: Hey! Running super late but I have something important I need to tell you about when I get home.

  His response is nearly immediate and I smile knowing that when I get home I get to tell him about my day.

  Finn: Thanks for letting me know. I’ll see you soon.

  His response is short and to the point and the stupid side of me is now worrying about what’s going on with him. Even though a big weight has been lifted off my shoulders, doesn’t mean the same has happened with him.

  We’ve kept things from each other and I’m realizing now that we should’ve been relying on each other, sharing with each other all the shit that’s been happening.

  I walk past Andrew’s office and the immature side of me flips him my middle finger even though I know he’s not his office. It’s something I’ve done a million times behind the wall of our adjoining office, but now something about it feels so much more satisfying.

  His light is on when I walk past, even though the office was dark just a little while ago. I glance in through the crack in the door and I watch the shadow of someone moving behind the desk.

  My heart begins to race and I question my overzealous behavior. Shaking my hands at my side, trying to rid them of the tingling that has taken over. My excitement is now overshadowed by the fact that Andrew was here the entire time and now probably knows what I’ve done.

  But, when the person behind the desk appears, it’s the cleaning service and he walks out of Andrew’s office carrying a bag of trash as he slips into mine to do the exact same thing.

  I practically laugh out loud at my overactive imagination. I’m not going to let some former-date-rape-frat-boy bully me into thinking I’ve done something wrong. He’s not going to incite the type of fear in me that he’s done up until this point.

  Joe’s still on the phone when I finally make it back to the lobby; phone in hand and ready to get the hell out of here.

  He motions with his head for me to follow him, and we head out to his waiting nondescript police issued vehicle that he conveniently left parked right out front of my office building. I guess that police placard is more useful than the badge sometimes.

  He drops me at the station, again either utilizing or abusing his police presence to park directly in front as he walks me inside and waits on the platform until I’m on safely on the train. All of this going down as he reminds me not to arrive at work before office hours and not to stay any later than necessary.

  Since the incident with Carla outside of Finn’s house, he’s started parking off to the side of the driveway. He gave me his garage door opener and has since insisted I park there rather than risk something else happening. So when I hit the button, it only takes Finn a second to whip open the door leading to the house and poke his head out. He watches me pull in, cut the engine and climb out as he hits the button closing the garage door behind me.

  He isn’t taking any chances, but something is different about today. He seems more on edge when I push up on my toes and press my lips to his.

  “Sarah, I gotta talk to you about something,” he says, pulling back and looking me straight in the eye. His expression is unreadable and for a second I wonder if he’s found out I’ve been lying to him about what’s going on with my boss.

  “Is everything okay?” I ask, stumbling over my words as I realize I should tell Finn everything.

  “Not exactly.”

  He ushers me into the house, taking my laptop bag from me and setting it down on the floor by the kitchen table.

  Finn paces the room, running his hand through his hair over and over, but I stop him, wrapping my arms around his waist, I press my body against him. He’s struggling and I don’t know why, but I need him to talk to me.

  “What’s going on?” I murmur, my voice quiet as I run my hands up and down his back. I feel him rest his chin on my head and let out a slow breath of air.

  “Something happened with Carla today, but I don’t want to you to worry about it.”

  I pull back from him before he can continue, and I feel his racing pulse when I run my hands along his neck and up to his cheeks. Taking his face in my hands I silently implore him to continue.

  “She broke into my house, but again, don’t worry.,” he says, as I gasp out loud, and it doesn’t matter how many times he tells me not to worry; I’m fucking worried. “I’ve contacted the guy who’s investigating everything and it’s in his hands now.”

  I pull Finn closer, until I’m practically climbing his body. This is so out of control it’s not even funny. Right now what’s happening at work has nothing on this. This fucking woman has violated Finn’s privacy, something he values above everything. She’s come into his home… And that’s when my thoughts come to a screeching halt.

  “What did she do?” I ask, fearful of his answer. My imagination runs rampant as I picture her in his bed, her stealing anything she could get her hands on, trashing his house. Whatever she felt would get his attention.

  “Not much,” he replies, shaking his head. “She broke in through the back door. Used a rock or something to bust the window and then unlocked the door and let herself in.”

  He hasn’t answered my question. He’s talking around it, giving me the logistics bec
ause he thinks I’ll forget that I asked what she did. I don’t fucking care how she got in here. My concern is for Finn and how much this is fucking with him.

  Again he pulls a hand through his hair and takes my face in his calloused strong hands as he kisses me hard.

  “Fuck, Sarah,” he whispers in my ear, his hands now wrapped around my head pulling me as close to him as we can get. “She…” he starts, swallowing hard as he struggles to continue. His breathing growing more rapid as the seconds float by with neither of us speaking. “She went after you. She trashed your stuff,” Finn finally breathes out and the grip he has on me tightens.

  While his words startle me, it’s the relief I feel that has a bigger impact.

  Finn is safe.

  I couldn’t give a shit about my clothes or my bathroom products or anything else for that matter. As long as she didn’t go after Finn and his privacy, his quiet life that he has built for himself here in Rockport, things will be okay.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Finn

  Sarah says nothing as her arms tighten around me, pulling me closer. I’m struggling to stay in control; pissed off at everything that has happened and scared of Sarah’s reaction to it all.

  Why the hell would she stick around with all of this shit going on? How could she possibly want to stay involved with me when I have a fucking crazy person coming after me, coming after her, for fuck’s sake?

  “I’m so sorry,” I repeat knowing no amount of apologizing is going to make this any better.

  “Finn,” she says, pulling back a little. She stares up at me, a small smile on her face as she brushes a hand across my cheek. I feel myself leaning into her touch. “It’s okay,” she whispers. “Truly, I couldn’t give a shit about my things,” she continues. “It’s just stuff, stuff that can be replaced. What I do care about is you. How this is affecting you.”

  My heart pounds in my chest at her words, my brain barely processing what she’s telling me. “Fuck, Sarah,” I say as I haul her against me, kissing her hard and deep.

  She moans into my mouth and I deepen the kiss even more, needing to be close to her, needing to show her how sorry I am that all of this shit is happening to us.

  I feel her hands slide lower to the bottom of my sweater, where she grabs the hem, yanking it up my body and over my head, her mouth returning quickly to mine before I have a chance to say anything.

  My hands find the bottom of her shirt, tugging it from the pants she’s wearing. I want to rip it from her body, tear it open, but I don’t, forcing myself to undo the buttons carefully, knowing the last thing she needs is another destroyed piece of clothing.

  I eventually get it undone, the soft material falling to the floor at our feet. I slide my hands down her back, her skin soft beneath my fingers. Sarah pushes herself closer, her breasts against my chest as I slide my hands under her ass and pick her up.

  She wraps her legs around my waist as I walk us out of the kitchen and down to the bedroom. Thankfully I had time to change the sheets and clean up the worst of the mess before she came home. The last thing I want to do is be with her like this in a room that’s been tainted by Carla’s presence.

  Inside my room, I lower her to the floor, my hands immediately fumbling with the belt at her waist even as she hungrily shoves my sweats down my hips. When both of us are finally naked, I drop to my knees in front of her, my lips pressed against her stomach.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whisper against her soft, warm skin.

  “Hey,” she says, her hands cupping my face as she tilts it so I’m looking at her. “It’s okay,” she whispers.

  I stare up at her, my eyes searching her face, desperate to believe the words she’s telling me.

  She smiles. “Come here,” she whispers, pulling me to my feet.

  Urging me backward, she pushes me back onto the bed, moving up my body so she’s straddling my hips. I stare up at her, watch as she gently rakes her fingernails down my chest, tracing a path over my stomach and sending shivers all through me.

  Inching backward on my hips, she moves lower, her hands circling my dick and gently stroking my already hard shaft. It doesn’t take much and soon she lifts up, positions me against her before slowly lowering her body onto mine so I’m buried deep inside her.

  I groan loudly, the sound filling the room. Sarah’s head falls back as she slowly starts to ride me, my hands on her hips and gently guiding her, as my thumb circles her clit.

  We fuck slowly and for what feels like forever, but it can’t last and eventually, I feel Sarah clench around me, a loud moan falling from her mouth as she comes undone. It’s enough to tip me over the edge too and pushing up off the bed, I drive myself deeper into her before I let go and come, my body shaking with desire and something I can’t identify.

  Sarah collapses on top of me, her head resting on my chest, my heart pounding beneath her ear and my dick still buried inside her.

  “You okay?” she eventually asks, brushing her fingers across my shoulder.

  I shrug. “Better,” I say, knowing that as good as that was, it doesn’t change any of the shit that went down today.

  She lifts herself up, both hands planted on my chest. “Better?” she asks, mock surprise on her face. “Not great or fantastic or totally and utterly satisfied?”

  I know she’s trying to make me feel better and it works, despite everything that’s happened.

  I grin, flipping us over so she now lies beneath me. “Satisfied, yes,” I growl, nipping her ear.

  “Utterly satisfied?” she asks teasingly.

  I lift my head. “With you, always,” I say. “But hey, I’m always happy to try and top that.”

  Sarah grins up me, her hand sliding around my neck as she pulls me to her mouth. “Come here cheeky boy.”

  The next day, Detective Greenwood calls just as I’m finishing lunch.

  “So, I’ve got good news and I’ve got bad news,” he says, not bothering with pleasantries.

  “Okay,” I say warily.

  “The good news is we know who took the video,” he says. “My guy spotted it straightaway, as soon as he enhanced the image, there was a reflection in the glass of your front window.”

  I swallow hard at the knowledge that not only has someone else now seen the video, but they’ve seen it in all its enhanced high-definition glory. “And?” I ask, impatiently.

  “You were right, it’s Carla Robinson.”

  “Fuck,” I breathe out. “I knew it.”

  “Hmmm,” is all he says.

  “What?” I spit out, the word harsh. “You still don’t believe me, even though you now have proof that it’s her doing these things to me?”

  I can feel my blood pulsing as a wave of anger crashes through me. How can he possibly still believe her story about me sexually assaulting her when he now has proof that she’s the one who’s been stalking and harassing me?

  “It’s not that, Finn,” he says. “But this is only proof she took the video, nothing else.”

  I shake my head, even though he can’t see me. “Right,” I say, my jaw tight. “So it’s not enough to get her for breaking into my house then, is it? Or harassing my girlfriend or sending those pictures?”

  “We can still get her for harassing Sarah,” he says. “We just need to take her statement. We also managed to lift a print from your house, but when we ran it through the database, we didn’t get a match. Obviously, if she’s not in the system, this isn’t surprising.”

  “But you’re going to ask her for her prints, right?” I immediately ask, knowing that if this gives us a match, then there’s no way she can deny that she was the one who broke into my house.

  Because despite having known her since high school, Carla Robinson has never set foot inside my house under my invitation. I’ve never once had cause for her to come over, so the only possible way her prints can be inside my house are if she’s the one who broke in.

  “Well,”
Detective Greenwood says, bringing me back to the present. “That’s the bad news,” he adds.

  My heart sinks as my brain runs through all the possible scenarios for what he’s about to tell me. “What?”

  He lets out a long breath. “We can’t find her,” he says.

  “What? What do you mean you can’t find her?” I practically shout. “This town is fucking tiny, you must be able to.”

  “She’s not at home, she’s not answering her phone, and she hasn’t shown up to work for the last two days,” he says. “No one has seen or heard from her.”

  “Fuck,” I murmur, shoving a hand through my hair. “So what the hell do we do now?”

  “Well, you don’t do anything,” he says. I open my mouth to speak but before I can, he continues, as though he senses I was about to interrupt him. “But, given the new evidence from the video and the fact your girlfriend is willing to go on record about her interaction with Carla…”

  “And my house getting trashed,” I add.

  “And,” he says, the tone in his voice suggesting he doesn’t appreciate the interruption. “The coincidence with your house and the photos we found, which would appear to corroborate your story.”

  He pauses and I force myself to not say anything, even though his words still imply that what I’m saying is only a story and not fact.

  “I’ve taken it to my boss,” he continues. “And he’s agreed that we have grounds to execute a search warrant on her house.”

  All at once my body sags in relief, a long breath falling out of me as a weight feels like it’s being lifted off my chest. Even though there’s no reason to suggest they’ll find anything at Carla’s house, the fact that everything is now being taken seriously enough that they are willing to look is enough to reassure me that I’m finally being believed. That all of the things she’s said about me and what I supposedly did sixteen years ago is complete and utter bullshit.

  Never in a million years would I ever treat a woman that way. Never would I do the things she’s alleged I have done. Because while I might not have ever been looking for a girlfriend, it doesn’t mean I’m the type of guy who treats a woman like that. Who disrespects her in that way as though she means nothing.