Crossing the Lines

by S. J. Hooks

  I shake my head. I can’t have him kissing me tonight. As far as I’m concerned, nothing has been resolved besides the fact that we’ll talk soon. Still, despite my best efforts, I can’t deny the tiny ember of hope in my chest. I’m such a fool for him.

  “Goodnight, Simon,” I say softly.

  “Goodnight.” He stops halfway down the stairs, looking back up at me. “Please apologize to your roommate for me?”

  I nod.

  “And … I really like your new place.”

  “Thank you.”

  “We’ll talk?”

  “Yes, I promise.”

  “Happy Valentine’s Day,” he says softly.

  “You too.”

  “Mommy! I have to tell you something really important!” Luke yells from his room.

  I tear my eyes away from Simon and go to my help my son with his dehydration, bathroom needs, and philosophical thoughts. And inside of me, the ember of hope ignites.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Nana!”

  Luke runs up the steps to my mom’s house and into her waiting arms. I wave at her as I unload the car, happy to see her. It’s our second visit since Christmas and she’s looking even better this time, with a healthy glow to her skin and newly dyed hair. Once we’re inside, she hugs both of us and takes us into the kitchen where the table is already set for dinner.

  “You made good time getting here,” she says, carrying several dishes to the table.

  “Yeah, hardly any traffic after we got out of the city. And Dad’s car is running great.”

  She smiles at me. “How’s school going, Luke?”

  “Good! I can write my name now. Oh, wait!” He runs out into the hallway and comes back a few seconds later, carrying his bag, already tugging at the zipper. “I made a Valentime’s Day card for Mommy, and here’s yours, Nana.” He pulls it out of the bag and hands it to her. I sit back and smile as my mom gushes over it, hanging it on her fridge, just like I did with mine.

  “Let’s eat,” she says, bringing her hands together.

  Luke carefully folds his own hands. He and I smile at each other as my mom says grace. It’s not something we do at home, but it makes my mom happy, so we join in here.

  “Any plans for this weekend?” she asks after dinner while I’m helping her do the dishes.

  “Not really.” I shrug. “Why?”

  “I was talking to the Hansons at church on Sunday. Their son Tim is home for the weekend too.” She gives me a quick glance.

  “Mom, whatever you’re thinking, no.”

  “It would just be a casual dinner, and I could watch Luke for you. He’s a very nice young man.”

  “I’m sure he is. But I’m not interested.” I hold her gaze when she looks over at me again, but I’m not backing down. I can’t imagine dating anyone, considering how I feel about Simon. That would’ve been true even if he hadn’t shown up at my apartment last night.

  “All right.” She sighs, turning back to the sink. “I suppose I’ll give his mother a call.”

  “You do that.” I put my arm around her, giving her a small squeeze. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate it.”

  “I don’t want you to be alone in the city,” she says.

  “I know. And I’m not. I have Luke and my two housemates, Garrett and Maxwell.”

  She stares at me, eyes wide. “You’re living with two men?”

  Oops. “Okay, about that, Mom. Please remember that it’s the twenty-first century, and not everyone is as conservative as you.”

  “I’m not that conservative,” she answers with a huff.

  “All right. Yes, I’m renting an apartment in a really nice house in a really nice neighborhood, and the owners are a nice married couple, who also happen to be men.”

  Her eyes dart back and forth as she processes this information, pursing her lips. “You like living there?” she finally asks. “And Luke?”

  “Very much. They’ve been nothing but friendly and helpful.”

  “Well, okay, then”—she continues washing dishes—“as long as you’re happy.”

  I smile widely as I take the soapy glass she hands me and wipe it off. “Thanks, Mom. We’re all moved in now, so you can come visit anytime you want.”

  “I’d like that. See where you live.”

  “Anytime,” I say again. “Let’s finish up here, and then how about a rousing game of Candyland before Luke gets too tired?”

  She chuckles, nodding her head. “Sounds good. I’m really glad you’re here, Abigail. That you let me into your lives.” She blinks a couple times, her eyes on the glass in her hands.

  I put my arm around her again and give her another squeeze. “Me too, Mom.”

  The following afternoon, I get an unexpected text.

  Can I see you?

  It’s him. He’s texting me. My heart seems to skip a beat, and I have to take a deep breath before I can write back.

  I’m at my mom’s house. We won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon.

  His reply is instant.

  Can you get away for a little while? I’m parked at the diner.

  My heart jumps in my chest. He’s in Pinewood, and wants to meet right now? I’m not prepared for this, and I can’t believe he drove all the way here.

  Is everything all right?

  Yes. I just couldn’t wait.

  He texts again immediately.

  But I will if I have to. It’s up to you.

  “Mom? Can you watch Luke for a little while?” I call out. She’s in the living room with him.

  “I already am,” she replies cheekily.

  I grin, walking into the room. The two of them are curled up on the couch, watching some kids’ show on TV. “Is it okay if I go out for a little bit?”

  “Mmhm,” she hums. “Where are you off to?”

  “Oh, uh, just a drive … to clear my head.” I’m such a bad liar.

  She looks at me, and I remind myself that I’m an adult and I don’t have to tell her everything.

  “Okay, drive carefully,” she says.

  “I will. I’ll be back before dinner.”

  “Bye, Mommy,” Luke says, eyes glued to the screen.

  I text Simon back, asking him to meet me down the road from the diner. It’s not that I don’t want to be seen with him, but Pinewood is a really small town, and word would undoubtedly get back to my mom if I go into the diner with him. In the bathroom, I quickly brush my hair and put on a touch of makeup. I didn’t think I’d be seeing him today; I didn’t bring any nice clothes, so the jeans and black, fitted sweater I’m already wearing will have to do.

  I don’t know why I’m so nervous when we’re just going to talk. But that’s exactly it—we haven’t ever really talked. Not like this, at least. I inhale through my nose and let my breath out slowly. I can do this.

  I spot his car easily enough, parked in a rest area, and pull up behind it. Both of us get out at the same time, and we stare at each other for a few seconds.

  “Yours or mine?” he asks, giving me a tentative smile.

  “Yours is probably warmer,” I say, returning the smile before walking over to the passenger side.

  He hurries around his car, opening the door for me to slip inside. It is warm, and I unbutton my coat, trying to relax as he joins me.

  “Do you want to drive somewhere,” he asks me, “or just stay here?”

  “Someone might see us here,” I say, looking around. “I didn’t tell my mom I was meeting with you. I know where we can go.”

  Twenty minutes later, we’re parked again, looking out over the water. Simon exhales, turning the engine off but leaving the radio and the heat on.

  “It’s nice here,” he says quietly. “Did you come here a lot when you were growing up?”

  I laugh through my nose, and he turns his head to look at me. “This is, um, the local make-out spot.”

  “I see.” He chuckles. “And you brought me here. Interesting.”

  My gaze meets his, and
I blush. That wasn’t why I asked him to drive us here. Well, not consciously, at least. We sit in silence for a few seconds. I don’t know what to say to him, where to begin.

  “I almost forgot.” He reaches into the back seat and produces a tote bag. I watch as he pulls out a silver thermos and a travel mug, handing me the latter. “Would you like some hot chocolate?”

  “Why did you come here?” I blurt out, completely ignoring the question.

  “I was”—he draws a quick breath—“I was worried you might change your mind about talking. I guess I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

  “I haven’t. We should talk.”

  He nods, pouring me some of the chocolate. I take a sip. Neither of us says anything.

  “This is weird,” I finally say. “We’ve never really done this.”

  “I know. I like being here with you, though.” He looks out over the water again. “It’s peaceful,” he adds.

  I lean my head on the seat, studying his profile. He’s a beautiful man. I never dreamed I’d find myself in this situation with him, drinking hot chocolate at the beach in wintertime, with so many unspoken things between us.

  “That night, when you picked me up on the street …”

  He turns his head to look at me.

  “Was that the first time you’d done that?”

  “No,” he says simply. He places the thermos in the cup holder. “I’ve done a lot of things I’m not proud of. I won’t try to deny that. I’ll do my best to be honest with you even if you might not like the truth. I want you to know who I am.” He gazes at me, his eyes wider than usual as he scans my face before visibly relaxing. I wonder if he thought this confession would scare me off.

  “What is it you want, Simon?”

  “I want you back—but not the way things were. I don’t want you to work for me. I just want you to be with me.” His voice never wavers.

  “What changed?” I whisper.

  “Nothing. Everything.” He lowers his gaze, taking the mug from me before holding my hand in his. “I knew how I felt about you. But I did my best to ignore it, treating it—treating you—like it was just about the arrangement. Although I don’t think I did a very good job at that.”

  My heart feels like it’s swelled up to double its size, making it hard for me to draw breath properly. I was right all along. It wasn’t just an arrangement for him, either.

  “It was like you wanted me to feel for you,” I whisper.

  “I did. God, I did.” His voice has a rough edge to it, sending pleasant shivers up my spine. I still want him as much as ever. “I wanted you so much, it scared me shitless. The thought that I might actually get you, it thrilled me and it terrified me.”

  “Why?”

  His head snaps up, and he pins me with his gaze. “Because I could lose you again. I’m not easy to live with on a good day, and in case you haven’t noticed, I’m pretty fucked up, Abigail.” He leans closer—so close I can smell him and sense the heat coming off his body. “But it was like you never saw any of that. You accepted my ways so easily, indulged in my kinks so willingly, embraced it all so openly. I never thought I’d get to have … that I’d feel …” His nose bumps against mine, and I startle at the contact, my eyes fluttering closed. I’m breathing just as hard as he is.

  “You pulled the rug out from under my feet,” he says, exhaling against my lips. His hand lets go of mine, traveling up my arm to settle on the back of my neck, tilting my head back. I can’t suppress a moan as he sucks my lower lip into his mouth, grazing it with his teeth before letting go.

  “You have no idea”—his voice is raw, a harsh whisper—“how it feels to cherish you so much, but at the same time want to do such completely filthy things to you. You think we’ve done a lot now? It’s nothing compared to the things I’ve fantasized about since meeting you, all of the positions I want to put you in, all of the ways I want to use your body and have you worship me as I worship you in return.”

  I whimper at his words, clutching the thick material of his coat between my trembling hands. My body is a live wire of burning desire. I want everything he says. All of it and even more.

  “And knowing that you want all of that too? Look at me.”

  I draw an unsteady breath, opening my eyes and blinking rapidly to focus. He strokes the apple of my cheek with his thumb, and the intense look in his eyes softens.

  “It seemed too good to be true. I was waiting for it all to get ruined, for you to get fed up with me and my demands, and then I ended up ruining everything myself.” He brushes his nose against mine before pulling back, giving me some much-needed space. “I’m sorry. I’m getting carried away.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “It isn’t just you. None of it was just you.”

  He smiles. “I could use some air,” he says, nodding toward the beach.

  “It’s freezing outside,” I protest softly.

  “That’s the point.” He chuckles. “I think we need to cool off.”

  We really do, or we’ll end up naked right here in this car. God, I want that so much. It still startles me how willing I am to let common sense fly out the window when it comes to him.

  We walk by the shore, close together but not touching.

  “Things were going really well for us,” I say, “And then … Luke’s birthday.”

  “It wasn’t his fault,” he says quickly. “His wish—for a split second after he said it, I felt happy. But the very next moment, it was replaced with complete fucking panic.” He shakes his head, wetting his lips. This makes sense to me. I understood why Luke’s wish shocked him, but I didn’t know the full extent of it, why he reacted so strongly, until I found out he had a son.

  “Can we talk about Valentine’s Day?” I ask.

  He glances at me, giving me a hint of a smile. I take it as a yes.

  “What happened? After I went to your office, I didn’t think I’d ever see you again.”

  “You would have seen me even if you’d never gone to my office.”

  “I would?”

  “I’m getting some help with my issues. I have a therapist. After you said no to me that night after the funeral, I made a decision. I knew you were right, that it couldn’t just be an arrangement anymore, but I wasn’t ready. I’ve talked to her about you, about wanting you back, but she advised me to wait, to give you some space. Obviously, I didn’t listen.” He chuckles, shaking his head. “I’m in for an earful the next time she comes by.”

  Same time next week. The woman in his office. She’s his therapist. I feel like an idiot for being jealous.

  “What made you come by, if she advised against it?” I ask.

  “My assistant. I heard what you said when he asked you out, that you were already seeing someone.”

  “I lied.”

  He nods, continuing. “Andrew told me you were living with a young man, and I couldn’t afford to wait any longer.”

  “So you barged in and proposed marriage.”

  “Let’s head back,” he says, changing direction. “You’re getting cold out here.”

  I do my best to keep up with his brisk pace until we're at the car again, and he opens the door for me. Inside, it’s nice and warm, the radio still playing softly. He’s quiet, tapping on the steering wheel, seemingly lost in thought.

  “What’s wrong?” I finally ask.

  With a deep breath, he turns to me. “I want you in my life. I want you, Abigail. And I was afraid I’d lost my chance. Obviously, I hadn’t thought it all through.”

  “Simon.” I take his hand in mine. “You don’t have to marry me to have me in your life.”

  “I know,” he says, playing with my fingers. “Realistically, I know that. All I can hope for is a chance. To do things differently this time.” He draws a breath. “I know I don’t deserve it, but I still want it. Will you give me a chance?” He lifts his eyes to mine.

  “Things will have to be very different,” I say, still being cautious.

  “I know.”<
br />
  “We’re not moving back in, and we have to leave Luke out of this—for now, at least. I don’t want him getting his hopes up if this doesn’t work out between us. I’m not ready to just pick up where we left off before his birthday.”

  He nods, watching me. “All right. That makes sense.”

  I smile at him. “You’re being very … accommodating,” I say.

  He grins. “And you’re being very commanding. Quite a change of pace for us.”

  “You don’t seem to mind.”

  “I don’t. I’m taking my cues from you this time around.” He leans closer, caressing the side of my face. “I meant what I said. I want to do things differently with you. Will you give me a chance?”

  That’s all I’ve ever wanted from him. I know he isn’t perfect, but neither am I. I want him with all his quirks because they make him Simon, the man I love.

  “Yes, I will.”

  His smile is radiant. “What do you want, Abigail? What do you need from me to make this work?”

  “Just you,” I whisper, blinking back a rush of tears. “You said you’re hard to live with, that you’re fucked up. Well, you’re not. Not to me, at least. I didn’t indulge you.”

  He raises his eyebrows, his gaze warm.

  “I loved doing everything you asked me to do: dressing up, cooking, serving you, the, uh, spankings, and all the other things we did. You were right about me all along. I feel it whenever you look at me, whenever you touch me. We fit together.”

  “We do,” he says in a gentle voice.

  “I want a real relationship with you: talking, sharing, doing things together, and the kind of sex we both like. I don’t want that part to change. You can cherish me, like you said, and still want to do really dirty things with me.”

  He smiles. “I do like the sound of that. But before we start anything, I know I owe you an explanation for how I’ve been, for why I’m like this.”

  “It doesn’t have to be now,” I say softly. “We have time.”

  “I don’t want to wait. You should know everything.” He reaches into his inner pocket and fishes out a picture, creased and wrinkled around the edges. “It was a very different time back then,” he says, handing it to me. “I was very different.”