by Maya Rossi
He laughs easily. “I swear I hate farming. Don’t get me wrong, I like the fresh sweet things that come with it. But the dirt?” He makes a face. “Where did she go?”
“Who?”
Rick kicks my feet and rolls his eyes skyward. “She went off with Peter and that his friend.”
“You mean Terry?” Rick grins wolfishly. “You don’t seem too happy about that Mr. Brogdan. Does it have anything to do with the boy’s good looks? Fear not, your woman cannot be taken by flights of fancy, she’ll surely run back into your arms.”
“Fuck off,” I say, suppressing the urge to laugh at his over the top tone, “but who names their kid ‘Terry?”
Rick looks at me in mock horror. “Have you heard your name, ‘Griffin?”
“What’s wrong with it?” I shoot back defensively.
“It’s the name those jobless Viscounts and Earls bear,” he says dismissively.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
“No, no.”
“Yes, yes.”
It’s a silly game and we’re still playing it, increasing the number and frequency of our replies until Clark starts barking loudly. Not a minute later, Peter’s truck come careening with speed to the house. I jump out of my seat ready to let lose on the fucker for putting Olivia’s life in danger. Then I recognize the Sheriff’s car.
Two minutes later, Olivia, Peter, Terry, Lily, my parents and the apologetic looking Sheriff Watson stood on my front porch. I’ve never had so much visitors is my first thought.
Lily points at me. “That’s him, I want him arrested for raping my daughter.”
Her announcement drops like the report of a fired gun. Mom and dad are chuckling, enjoying their own private joke. Terry blinks, and says, “What?”
I’m thinking I want to punch the punk with his perfect hair when Olivia matches to my side and says, “It’s not rape, not that we’ve had sex. But if it happens it won’t be rape. I love Griffin.”
Sheriff’s looks from Olivia to me and back again. Now, his apologetic expression disappears and he frowns.
Dad chuckles some more. “Eric also loved him.”
“This has nothing to do with Eric,” Olivia says, standing up valiantly for me as always.
“Who needs a beer?” Rick shouts cutting through the tension.
The Sheriff throws his hat on the table and sits with a weary sigh. “If you don’t mind.”
My parents are still laughing, Lily is fuming. Between that and Olivia’s concerned looks I’m drawn out like a tensed wire about to snap. Only Rick and Peter are themselves, chatting and laughing as they pass out beers and refreshments.
Lily and my parents refuses.
The first thing Sheriff does after drinking up his beer is to ask if I want my parents there. The answer’s easy. Amidst curses and threats, they leave the property. Next to leave is Terry, but not without giving me a barely veiled look of disgust.
After that, I tell the Sheriff Rick and Peter can stay.
The questions are fast and simple with Olivia answering clearly and succinctly. Peter and Rick speaks up for me. Obviously, Olivia fell in love with me first, and then I followed and we’re living happily ever after now.
Lily is furious and agitated and determined to see justice done. But Olivia stubbornly sticks to my side. It’s the first time anyone other than Eric will stand up for me. It brings a lump to my throat.
The Sheriff replaces his cap on his head. “Mrs Newcomb, the age of consent eighteen years. You’ve heard your daughter--”
“You don’t expect her to say otherwise,” Lily snaps.
Sheriff Watson shuffles his feet, casting desperate glances at his car. “I’m sorry, there’s nothing to investigate here.”
He gives me a nod and leaves much to Lily’s displeasure. She points a finger in my face. “When I’m done with you, you’ll wish you’ve never been born.”
“Mom, please,” Olivia begs.
Lily crumbles, and her eyes fill with unshed tears. She points a shaky finger in my direction. “I won’t let him take you away from me.”
Olivia rushes into her mother’s arms, hugging her tight. She turns her face so her mouth is against Lily’s ear. Lily scrunches her eyes shut, nodding and crying.
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she cries.
I shoot Rick and Peter a questioning glance and they reply with noncommittal shrugs. Immediately Olivia releases her, Lily turns without a backward glance and stumbles to her car.
With more than half the day gone, I’m only able to plow the left fields. Dusty and grimy from the events of the day rather than the day’s work, I walk into my room to find Olivia naked and waiting.
I pause in the middle of the room with my hands on the button of my jeans. “Olivia.”
She sits up and reaches for the glass and a bottle of her atrocious orange juice set on the bedside table. “My father, Anthony Lee-Sterling raised me because mom didn’t want me, not at first. But that’s not the reason I chose you today.”
“I know.”
With a mysterious smile curving her full lips, Olivia shakes her head. “You don’t. We both know how this is going to end. You’ll never let me love you.”
There were no words in me to deny that. “You deserve better.”
Flicking her wrist casually, she waves off my reason like they mean nothing. “You know what I think? Mom married you because she thought a male figure in our lives will make our relationship easier.”
I sit on the bed, resting my elbows on my knees. “Easier?”
“My father just died. I was four and this woman walks in and says she’s my mother. I wouldn’t talk to her, not to anyone. Not even my nanna and I loved her. Or so mom says.”
“You seemed…normal when I married Lily.”
“I was. Mom says having you around to play with helped.”
An unpleasant row of well placed dots forms in my mind. “Is that why she married Richard?”
“Bingo.”
Her soft hands lands on my shoulders. Dainty and still cool from her orange juice, her hands are both familiar and foreign, sending shivers down my spine.
“Olivia.”
“You’ll send me home, after this?” she asks.
I don’t tell her life won’t be worth living. The words to describe the drabness of my existence without her I swallow down. Suddenly, she pinches my nipple hard.
“You’ll throw my love in my face?”
It’s too much. I fling her off and spin around, shouting, “What the hell do you want from me? My reputation is gone.”
“You never had one.”
“Only-- only God knows what gossip my parents have spread about me in town already.”
“It can’t be any different from what they’ve done before.”
She’s right. The fights goes out of me. “What do you want, Olivia?”
“Make love to me.” She smiles at my shocked look, chin tilted up in challenge. “You can do that much, can’t you?”
Later, I will look back to this moment with absolutely no shame. I fall on Olivia, ravenous in my hunger, thirsty for my last chance at sweetness. She welcomes me with open arms and legs, baring them wide enough for me to fit in. I run a hand up and don her smooth thighs, savoring the satin like feel.
Eyes dark with desire, Olivia reaches up, scoring her nails through my scalp. It sends tingles through my body, electrifying every nerve ending. My hands on either side of her head, give out. I land on her, capturing her lips in a sizzling kiss. She meets the onslaught head on, giving as much as she’s receiving.
It sends my blood sizzling. Pushing up to my elbows, I pull back the sheets, enjoying the moment. I want to go slow. If I’m going to give her up, I want to make this moment last.
Like she can guess what I’m thinking, Olivia smiles, running her hands up to my shoulders and back down. “We’ve got all night and tomorrow, and the next day, and the next.”
There’s a promise and a plea in those words. I kiss her roughly, sucking on her tongue hard, courting the roof of her mouth, drinking her in if it was possible.
Her nipples are dark cherries on top the rounded fullness of her bosom. She arches her back, lifting them, showing them off.
They are beautiful. She’s beautiful.
“Grif, please.”
I lean down to take a nub in my moth, suckling strongly. Her waist is tiny, her hips flares widely from it in a graceful curve that drives me crazy. She writhes beneath me, begging, shouting her love without shame or fear of the consequences.
It’s more than I can take. When I enter her body, it’s both a relief and a conflagration. I lose it, using her body recklessly, dangerously. Her shocked gasps, moans and cries only spur me on towards completion. The end when it comes is not a relief, I don’t want this to end.
It’s heaven and hell when I let go. I come down to end to find Olivia wrecked and writhing from the after shocks.
“I love you,” she whispers and tumbles into sleep.
Chapter seventeen
The next few weeks are a dream. We can’t get enough of each other. There’s no part of Lizanne where we haven’t made love. We sleep together, start the day together and end it slaking our pleasures in each other.
I never want it to end, but like a suspense-filled book, I see the end behind every corner.
“Hey,” Griff calls.
The muscles at the heart of me thrum and ache as I turn over. I wince. Grif frowns, rushing to my side. “Christ, I know I was too rough last night.”
“I enjoyed it,” I glance at the clock and grimace, “how have you worked for five hours straight and I’m still in bed?”
He kisses me lightly, careful to keep his dusty hands and chest far away. I resist the urge to laugh. He’s broken every stereotype I ever had about men. Grif doesn’t have a housekeeper. He cleans the house religious every Wednesdays and Saturdays. There’s also his nipple piercing, my new favorite toy.
I draw his shirt down and lap at the metal with my tongue. Grif hisses, his opposite nipple tightening in reaction. With a low curse, he jumps out of reach, panting.
“I’m dirty,” he accused.
“You should have washed at the tap before coming in.”
“Jesus, Olivia.”
“You’re all clean now,” I reply mischievously.
“You cleaned the dust with your tongue,” he says in a strange tone.
“Are you coming up here or going out?”
His eyes drifts over my face like a soft touch and he sighs regretfully. “I need Rick’s help with the plow, dammit.”
“You can be back in time if you don’t play that ‘yes, no’ silly game,” I rise out of bed and wince as pain pierces through my middle, “shit.”
“I’m sorry,” he leans over, anxious and angry with himself, “I shouldn’t have taken you last time, now you’re about to--”
“Die of sex?”
“It’s not funny.”
“Run me a bath, a soak and orange juice and I will be good as new.”
He does one better, bringing some chocolates and my latest read along. We kiss goodbye and he’s off, phone to his ear.
Enjoying the soak, I drift from reading to sleep within minutes. Shouts from the front door forces my eyes open and I blink at the ceiling, wondering if it’s just a dream. A crash follows and I get out of the tub, shivering at the now cool water.
I pick my phone to call Grif, clucking at the time. I spent almost an hour in the tub. When Grif doesn’t pick up, I decide to see what the commotion is about.
Downstairs, Grif is seated on his usual spot on the couch while his parents go on and on about something. Tucking away my surprise at finding them in the living room for another date, I rush to Grif’s side.
He doesn’t move, just stares into space.
“You slut,” his mother spits. “You’re shameless.”
Grif moves for the first time, his eyes focuses on his mother. Peter rushes from the kitchen, looking harried with his hair all over the place, he pushes a shaky hand into his hair.
I narrow my eyes in question but he looks away.
“...you’ve got no shame,” his father’s lips curl in disapproval, “carrying on with a girl young enough to be your daughter like a fool.”
“Maybe if you weren’t busy with the slut, he’ll still be alive,” his mother says.
“Get out of my house,” Grif says softly. “Never come back. Sign it somewhere, denounce me or something. I’m sure there are fancy ways of doing that today.”
His mother sputters. “She’s--”
“She loves me,” Grif claps his hands and rock back and forth, “she loves me.”
His father scoffs. “Does she know what happens to those you love?”
Grif moans. “Stop.”
“Eric and Rick committing suicide,” his mother shakes her head, “no coincidence at all.”
My heart drop to my toes. Oh, God. Then his mother’s words sink in. “Grif had nothing to do with it.
”Are you sure?” His father throws back a glass of Grif’s favourite whiskey. “Eric was fine and the next thing--”
“He killed himself because he was fucking Lily while his wife and four kids were in an accident,” Grif says tonelessly. “I found his body and you blamed me.”
I didn’t wait to hear more. I run to the library, opening the drawers until I located Grif’s gun. Without waiting to check if it’s loaded, I run out.
“Get out,” I order, aiming the gun at their heads. “Get out of this house.”
After they left, Grif moves upstairs to his room. I turn to Peter, needing answers and a bit of clarity for the events of the past hour. “How did it happen?”
Pasty white and trembling, Peter reeled back on the feet. “He-- hanged himself. Grif found him and called the police.”
“And his parents heard and tagged along,” I say slowly, fighting to think past my grief. “Why? He’s been doing so well.”
Peter sighs, covering his face with his hands as he cried. When he lowers he hands, they are red-rimmed and wet with tears. “I don’t think he was doing so great. I think he was just holding on for Grif.”
“For Grif? This will devastate him.”
“He told me once,” Peter began haltingly, “he said he’ll never forgive himself, for not being there when his wife and children died. They died in a fire.”
“While he was having an affair.”
“You know about that?” he asks.
I shake my head, going to put the gun away. “But from bits and pieces heard, I had my suspicion. It’s so weird how similar his story is to Eric’s.”
“Grif’s twin?”
“Yeah.” I glance at the stairs. “Let me check on him.”
Grif’s just rounding up a call. He sits with his shoulders hunched forward, age lines bracketing his mouth and eyes. I want to pull him into my arms and assure that things will be alright. I sit beside him on the bed and place my hand on his knee.
“Hey.”
“I wasn’t enough for Eric.”
A ragged intake of air. “I wasn’t enough for Rick.
He turns his head and our eyes meet. “I’m not enough for you.”
My fingers tighten on his thigh. “If I wanted enough, I would have remained in Richard’s huge mansion, alone and unhappy. I would have gone with mom. This is my home now, with you.”
“I called Lily.”
My blood runs cold. I stop breathing. “Grif--”
“You deserve more than me, you deserve more than this.” He grabs my hand. “If I can’t help my friend, how can I help you hen you need me?”
“I don’t want your help, I want your love.”
He turns away, pulling his fingers back. They’re trembling and his shoulders shake with emotion. It doesn’t help this is difficult for him. I want my happily ever after.
“Lily should be here any minute.” He gives a gutt
ural laugh. “Seems she never left.”
Chapter eighteen
“I heard about your friend,” Vetty slides a bottle of beer his way, “I’m sorry.”