Ryan cracked up and pointed at me. “That’s a good one. How long did you practice to make that ‘I don’t think so’ sound convincing?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said as the dealer showed his hand. His beat mine. The house scooped up all the chips.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about. You should just look her up. Find her.”
“Yeah? That’s your advice? This from the guy who’s so deep in happily ever after he can’t even see straight?”
Ryan nodded vigorously. “Exactly. I want you to have that too. You’ll always wonder ‘what if.’ Better to try than to keep asking. Better to find your what-if woman than to wonder if she’s asking the same questions.”
It must be obvious she’d been on my mind, even though I hadn’t seen her in years. Not since I’d bumped into her at an airport in France, and we’d had an hour together on a layover. I didn’t think I’d hear from her again, and then she’d reached out to me a day ago.
But I pushed her out of my mind now as Mindy walked toward us—I’d asked her to join me for cards at the end of the party. I wanted to talk to her about something my dad had said way back when, about some trouble at his company. I wanted to see if it added up to anything. She waved when she spotted me, and I tipped my chin and patted the stool next to me.
I hoped I’d have more luck solving my dad’s reopened case than I was having with relationships, and one woman from my past in particular.
66
Elle
When Colin found me after his talk with John, we both had so much to say. But he insisted I go first.
I told him my plan, what I’d been processing since talking to my mom earlier, hoping he’d feel good about it too. “What do you think?”
“I think it sounds like a great way to spend a Saturday morning.”
I beamed, grateful that he was on board.
He ran a hand along my arm. “And now I have a great plan for Friday night,” he said, and the naughty glint in his eyes told me all I needed to know.
We rushed back to my place, and along the way, he filled me in on his conversation with John. I felt a huge surge of relief, but there’d be more time for talking later. After all the stress of the last week, and high on endorphins from the party, I wanted to lose myself in him for a little while.
“Just you and me now,” I said, taking his hand as I led him to my bedroom.
“That’s the way I like it,” he said.
I turned on some music, and he pulled me against him, kissing me and stripping me at the same time.
I did the same to him.
We were both pent-up, more than ready.
And he was a man on a mission. He moved to his back and brought me on top of him, so I was straddling him.
As he reached for my wrists and looped them around his neck, I felt only possibility. This week had felt like danger, I was ready.
And, oh hell, so was he. His cock was a thing of beauty—hard, hot, and heavy in my hand as I lowered myself onto him. Sensations rolled through my body. That delicious stretching. The intense depth. The way he moved. His eyes were dark, and I swore I could see all his desire written in them. His potent lust for me. I was sure two people had never wanted each other more.
Here he was in my home. Fucking me. Taking me. Owning me. Giving me more pleasure than I’d ever experienced, more passion than I’d ever known.
Every single cell in my body was comprised of ecstasy, because he’d done it again. He’d fucked me to the edge of reason. He’d ushered me to the far reaches of erotic joy, and I was breaking apart like a rainstorm, a gorgeous, brilliant summer rainstorm, as I came with no signs of stopping. My climax had no end in sight. It washed over me, it pulled me under, and it consumed me.
My whole body was an orgasm. There was nothing else but this endless rush of pleasure blasting through me and taking me captive.
I moaned and groaned and cried out, and I couldn’t stop, because nothing had ever felt so good. And then my words became nonsense, just the echo of the intensity raging in my body.
Soon he tossed me on my back, wrapped my legs around his waist, and fucked me until his own oblivion smashed into him.
This was what I’d needed tonight.
More of him.
More of us.
More of this deep, tender connection that was taking over my whole damn heart.
67
Elle
The next morning, as we’d planned, Colin and I went to pick up Alex at my mom’s. We wanted to talk to him together, about the scare this week with the threatening text messages, about the progress made on identifying who they were from, and about the future. Our future.
That was the plan. That was what my mom had helped me figure out and what Colin and I had decided together.
And as I left her house, she mouthed, “You’ve got this.”
I crossed my fingers, whispering, “I hope so.”
Then we returned to our apartment.
“Look at me,” I said to my son, taking the lead once we’d all settled in our living room.
He listened. “Yes?”
I took his hand in mine. “Life is hard,” I said, my voice confident. “Life is full of challenges. And we are going to face them together. We have made it through hell and back. We aren’t going to back down. We aren’t going to run. We will be smart and courageous. We will stand up and do the right thing.”
This was me setting a goddamn example. Because I’d learned something from the way my son’s father died.
I was titanium.
But that didn’t mean I had to be ice.
I was fire and love and strength.
I was courage and patience and guts.
I was a mother, a woman, a lover.
A social worker, and a person who faced her fears. Who confronted them. Who zip-lined through them.
Alex said nothing at first, then squeezed my hand back. “I know. We will. And I’m sorry,” he said softly, looking between Colin and me. “I got scared.”
“It’s okay to be scared. I get scared. But you need to know that whatever scares you, whatever worries you, we can talk it through. We can figure it out. Whatever challenges come our way, we’ll tackle them together. You have me, and you have Colin,” I said, turning to Colin.
He nodded solemnly. “You do, Alex. I’m here for you, for you and your mom, always.”
Alex smiled at him. “I’m glad. Because I have an awesome mom, and I want her to be happy. And I know you make her happy,” he said, his voice choked with emotion.
“I’m so happy,” I said, absorbing the moment, then shifting gears. “And those messages? That stalker? He was sending me messages because of my work. Because of my job. Because I am trying to help kids make brave choices. Not because of Colin. But we do need to look out for others. We need to keep an eye on Marcus. I don’t know what’s going on, but he needs our support right now.”
“I like Marcus. He’s one of the good ones.”
I ruffled his hair. “He is, and we will. And so are you. And so am I. And so is Colin. I love you. And I will look out for you always.”
“I love you too, Mom. And I need you to know – it wasn’t the zombies and the games that helped me before. It was you.”
My throat tightened, and tears sprang in my eyes. “You’re my strong boy.”
“And you’re my strong mom. And I’ll look out for you too,” he said confidently, like the grown man he was becoming. And in this moment, I was so grateful. Grateful for the son I had, and how far he’d come. Grateful for the man by my side. And grateful that the three of us were forging this bond. Almost like a family.
68
Colin
More than anything, I felt honored to be part of this conversation with Elle and her son. That I was included, entrusted, in their lives like this made me want to be a better man, made me want to be a good example for Alex too.
And now that we’d cleared this hurdle, and I offic
ially had the stamp of approval from the son of the woman I was in love with, I couldn’t wait to tell her. So when Alex had gone to his room to play video games, I turned to Elle, cupped her cheeks, held her gaze, and said, “I’m so in love with you.”
Then I kissed her.
So much was still up in the air.
I didn’t know when the case would close.
I didn’t know what would happen to Lee Stefano or my mother or anyone.
All I knew was this woman had my heart in her hands, and I would fight for her. Like she would fight for me.
“And I’m in love with you,” she said. “I’m done living out of fear. I trust you, and I want you to be a part of our lives. I want to be with you and love you and protect my son, and I’m a good enough mom and a smart enough woman to do all of it.”
I ran a hand through her hair. “And that’s another reason why I love you. You’re so damn strong and tough, you know what you want, and you love hard and fiercely.”
“That’s how I want to love you, Colin Sloan,” she said, and we kissed again.
It felt like a promise.
Like we were sealing a vow to each other.
It said we were in this together.
No matter what.
And when we were done, we knocked on Alex’s door, and the three of us killed zombies, cheered each other on, and faced our fears.
Well, zombies are terrifying and always will be.
69
Colin
When I woke up at dawn on Sunday morning, the sun streaming through the open window in my house, I didn’t embark on my usual routine. The mountains called to me, but I ignored them. The lake wanted my company, but it would survive without me today. No gym, no workout, and no quiet contemplation.
There was one thing I had to do, so I lobbed a call to my youngest sibling and suggested a road trip.
Marcus was game. “I’ll be ready in twenty minutes.”
I suspected this was why Marcus had wanted to get to know my siblings. Not necessarily for a trip like this, but to be invited. To be included.
Two hours and one hundred miles later, we were drinking slushies and arguing over whether rock music was better than hip-hop. Marcus kept trying to take control of the radio, tuning in to stations I didn’t want to listen to. I gave Marcus a hard time because that was in the how-to-be-a-brother handbook, and the hazing made the kid laugh.
At the next gas station, we added Doritos to the haul. I ripped open the bag. “I think this might make my system go into shock. It’s the first true junk food I’ve had in ages.”
Marcus scoffed. “Dude. You drink soda all the time. Your body’s not a temple twenty-four seven.”
“Touché. I just can’t give up the hard stuff, I guess. Me and Diet Coke—we’re like this,” I said, twisting my index and middle finger together. “Diet Coke has gotten me through many moments of temptation.”
“Then you need to keep worshipping the almighty beverage,” he said.
We returned to my car and plowed through Doritos, Peanut M&Ms, and more Diet Coke as we drove.
By one p.m., we pulled into the lot at Hawthorne. I froze momentarily at the gate as I showed my ID. It was as if all my systems simply stopped functioning for a few seconds. Not because I was nervous. Not because I was scared.
I didn’t feel either of those emotions.
Instead, astonishment gripped me.
I was amazed that the woman who had given birth to me had lived nearly eighteen years behind this fence, past that barbed wire, beyond the concrete walls.
Ryan had told me that today was a visiting day, but Dora Prince wasn’t expecting us. Didn’t matter. I wasn’t here for her, though, or for the investigation. I didn’t come to question her, or obtain evidence. I had nothing to ask her. That wasn’t my job. That wasn’t my role.
I was here for the healing.
As much as I’d tried to dismiss Elle’s suggestion, it had hovered at the front of my brain for the last week. To keep moving forward in my life, I had another step to take.
Recovery was a daily practice. It didn’t end. I would always be unfinished, but this was part of coming to peace with my unfinished self.
Before we entered the visiting room, I turned to Marcus and said, “Bet you didn’t think you’d be here with me visiting our mom today, did you?”
Marcus shook his head. “Nope. But is it weird to say I’m glad we’re here?”
I managed a small smile. “It’s not. Let’s go see her.”
“Let’s do it,” Marcus echoed as we entered the cold concrete visiting room.
A minute later, a woman in orange walked through the door, a corrections officer at her side.
I felt nothing, and I felt everything.
She was the woman who’d raised me for thirteen years, and she was the woman I’d hated for eighteen years. She was the mother and the murderer. She was everything I never wanted to be, and then I’d become like her in ways I never wanted.
She was a prisoner, and she was a human being. One who still felt emotions, because oceans poured from her eyes, and they were tears of joy, as if all she’d ever wanted was to see her kids.
Despite all my efforts to remain stoic, a lump rose in my throat.
“My babies,” she said, crossing the distance in a nanosecond and wrapping her two youngest kids in the strangest hug I had ever experienced. That was no small feat for her to hug two grown men, considering we both towered over her tiny frame. “My babies, my babies, my babies,” she sobbed.
She couldn’t stop weeping, or saying our names.
Eventually, the corrections officer made her let go. The front of my shirt was wet from her tears.
“Colin,” she said with a crazed kind of joy as she looked at me. Then she shifted her gaze. “Marcus.”
“Hi,” Marcus said, and his voice seemed horribly dry as he added, “Mom.”
I couldn’t bring myself to call her that. But I had something else to say to her. I clapped Marcus on the shoulder and met my mother’s eyes.
“You don’t have to worry about Marcus anymore, because he has brothers and a sister who will look out for him. He has a good family on the outside. And I want you to know we’re going to do everything we can for him. He’s part of us.” I swallowed and raised my chin up high, girding myself for the hardest part of the visit. For the reason I drove to the prison for the first time in years.
A piece of my heart had been metal, an alloy of shame and guilt. With words like a scalpel, I cut it from my body. “Because I’m a good man,” I said, letting go of the hate, letting it crumble to the ground. It couldn’t weigh me down any longer. “I had a good father, and you have good kids. All of them.”
Then, because it was the compassionate thing to do, I sat down with her and spent the next hour listening to her talk.
On the ride home, just as Marcus and I stopped for a bite to eat, John Winston called.
70
Dora
My dream.
My kids.
They were here, and to see them together was a riot to my senses. A carnival of lights and sounds. Two of them together. This was Christmas and my birthday all at once.
I couldn’t stop looking at them, couldn’t stop memorizing the features of their faces. It had been so long. The one I’d had to protect all those years ago when he was growing inside me. Marcus, my youngest. My surprise secret baby.
And Colin. Oh, my sweet Colin. I hadn’t seen him in years. So handsome. So smart. So much like his father.
My shoulders shook, and I choked up. How so very similar he was to his dad.
As I talked to them about my shows, and the other girls in here, and the books I’d read in the prison library in the last few weeks—500 Spanish Verbs, a James Patterson book, a biography of Martin Luther King Jr., Anne Frank’s book—all I could think was at least someone I trusted was looking out for my youngest.
It was Luke’s job.
Maybe he was. Or maybe he wasn�
�t. I didn’t know. He didn’t come. Once upon a time, he had. He’d made promises to me. But then, he’d stopped showing up. And I had no idea what had happened to him, till I found out this summer that he’d gone and married someone else several years ago. He’d told me he’d wait for me, till I was free.
But clearly he’d lied about that.
What else had he lied about?
Maybe someone would figure that out.
Enough about him. Enough about men. They were nothing but trouble.
My boys though?
They hadn’t forgotten me.
Today I felt like the luckiest woman in the world to see them both.
The hour went by too quickly.
In the blink of an eye, it was gone.
No.
Dammit, no.
This wasn’t fair. I wanted to rewind time. I wanted my hour back. I wanted it to last all day and into the next and the next and then more and more and more.
But they stood, they started walking, making their way to the door. I grabbed them both. One more hug. One more moment. Just to feel them in my arms.
I shook as I hugged them, my chest rattling with the wish to keep them close, but then, that was impossible.
Time once more slipped away as they left.
My heart screamed to see them retreat, to watch them fade. I watched till they were gone. And then I watched longer just in case.
But the time was over, and Clara set her hand on my shoulder. “Back to the Ritz, Prince,” she said.
She walked me back down the concrete hall, down, down, down.
“They came to see me,” I said, and I heard the wonder in my voice.
“They did.”
“They’re good boys.”
“Seems that way.”
I stopped and looked at her, the woman who was in charge of my comings and goings. “They are good, Clara. They’re good,” I said, insistent.
My Sinful Longing (Sinful Men Book 3) Page 21