by Shey Stahl
No, Aly looks like a mother. One who puts her kids first. It doesn’t make her less beautiful, and if you ask me, it makes her sexy as fuck. I’d much rather fuck her than any of those pretentious bitches with their hands in their sugar daddy’s bank account.
“Is he okay?” Aly asks, nodding down to Grady, her tone breathless and fueling my fantasy I can’t seem to control around her.
I turn away from Grady, for obvious reasons, and lean into the door frame. “He’s fine. Just needed a change of clothes. Spilled his lunch on his pants.”
She looks to Grady, then me. “Oh, okay.”
I wink at Grady, who gives me that expression of “thank God you lied to my mom.” I remember being eight, kind of. The last person you want knowing you peed your pants is your mother.
“How’s Cash feeling?”
Aly smiles. “Much better today. He’s in the car playing his DS.” Her voice lowers, breathy, and my thoughts of her laid out before me on the floor of my trailer surface. Damn it. I need to sit down. “Thanks again for taking care of him. . . and Grady.” Her stare moves to him, disappearing into the bathroom behind us. “Austin never did things like that.”
The mention of his name hits me like a rock to the head. I hate it. Nodding, I dip my head and wait for her to look at me. “I’m not like Austin.”
Aly’s eyes cloud with emotion and her nose wrinkles in an innocent way. “I know. You couldn’t be more different.”
Cash stays home from practice on Thursday night. The flu really kicked his butt. I offer to take Grady and then walk him home after practice.
Aly agrees, but guess who fucking shows up at practice while I’m on the sidelines?
I’m sure you guessed right.
Dickbag.
“I know you think I’m the biggest piece of shit around,” he starts off by saying, like he actually cares what I think about him. Maybe at a time when we were younger, he did. He doesn’t, so I’m not exactly sure why he’s talking to me.
I shake my head, trying to suppress a sarcastic laugh.
I don’t think it, dude, I know it.
“Maybe I am for the decisions I’ve made over the years. . . but you weren’t in my shoes. You weren’t trying to make it through law school and up at 3:00 a.m. every morning with your infant sons.”
Do you notice the way my fists tighten and my jaw clenches? It’s all an attempt to not lay this fucker out for placing the blame on anyone but himself. “So because you manned up to your responsibilities back then you should be forgiven for cheating on Aly with her best friend?”
Austin’s murderous eyes sweep to mine. He swallows hard. His jaw twitches. “I never said that. What I’m saying is you have no idea what it was like. We were fuckin’ kids, man. I never had the chance to grow up until I was forced to and yes, I fucked up a lot along the way, but don’t you think for one second I don’t love my boys and Aly.”
Can I punch him? No, seriously, can I?
Probably shouldn’t. He’d sue me.
“You loved her enough to destroy her,” I spit, my breathing increasing to the point that it sounds like I’m fucking panting. I hate that he’s drawing this reaction from me, but seeing his face as he tries to make these bullshit excuses is like hearing all the shit my mom used to spew to me. Excuses. That’s all they are. “I left her here, let you have her, and you fucking destroyed it.”
Austin steps toward me, the sunlight behind his back all but gone now. I know he has me on size, a little bit, but I know my anger for life in general has me not backing down to him. You know enough about me now to know it’s not an option.
“You don’t think Aly played a role in any of it?” Austin’s brow raises, and I can’t help but notice the disgust he holds for her. He honestly believes it has something to do with her. “You think she’s innocent?”
I know where he’s going with this. I do, and I’m not about to let him.
“Are you really going to be the guy who says if she gave it up more, you would have never cheated?” I lift an eyebrow, a smile ghosting over my lips. “Is that the card you’re going to play?”
Do you notice his face? He wants to tell me I’m right, but I don’t think he has the balls to do it. Instead, he says, “We hadn’t had sex in months.”
Should I tell him Aly and I had sex multiple times the other night?
For the sake of making a scene in front of everyone, I’ll leave that part out because I assure you, he’d fucking deck me if I said that. So I don’t say anything, for now. Unless he shoves me. If he does, fuck him. I’ll tell him in detail how I ate her fucking pussy on my table the other night.
“All right, let me get this straight.” I reach up and turn my hat around backward, like I’m actually interested in anything he’s saying. I’m not, but then again, I am in some twisted way. “By her not giving it up every night because she was busy raising your kids while you were out doing God knows what”—like how I put emphasis on you? He doesn’t—“that gave you permission to cheat on her?”
Austin doesn’t say anything, at first. But his facial expression gives me an indication as to what he’s thinking. Do you see the twitch in his jaw? The fire in his eyes? Anger. I bet that’s one of them, but you know, I’ve been wrong a time or two. He doesn’t like what I’m saying, does he?
Guess what he does?
Shoves me.
“That’s none of your business.”
I drop the clipboard in my hand and shove him back. “You’re right, it’s none of my business, but you seem hell-bent on convincing me you’re the good guy here. I’m just letting you know I have my own theories on who you really are. And while we’re at it, shoving seems to be your answer for everything, doesn’t it?”
Look at him trying to be intimidating.
Ha. Ain’t he cute. I bet he thinks he can stop me from fucking his wife.
Too late.
Austin glares at me, his eyes narrowing into daggers, but he backs up, glancing around at everyone. “Fuck you.” And then he starts to walk away. Just like that.
I wink, grinning when he turns his head to glance over his shoulder. “Why? I have your wife’s pussy for that.”
While I feel good about what I said, I shouldn’t have said that because guess who’s still watching us?
Grady. I’m an idiot.
He waits, about a minute, maybe and just about the time I’m picking up the clipboard, he smiles at me.
“I know what “fuck you” means.” Yep, he air quoted it. He smiles and watches Austin walk away. As soon as his dad’s out of sight, he looks up at me curiously and whispers, “What’s pussy?”
Aly’s going to murder me.
“It’s pie,” I tell him, never hesitating. “Come on.” I motion him forward with a flick of my wrist. “Let’s go practice some throws.”
Grady shrugs, following me downfield. “I like cherry pie. It’s my favorite.”
I bite back laughter, tossing the ball in the air carelessly as we walk. “Me too.”
I should have been nice, seeing how Aly’s son was watching us, but I should have been a lot of things I’m not. I’m angry and furious at Austin, and maybe a little at Aly for choosing that tool over me back when we were kids. I can’t say I wouldn’t have fucked up along the way, but I would have never cheated on her. I would have never put anything before her or our kids.
Our kids?
I’ve lost my mind.
After practice, I walk Grady home, and thankfully he says nothing about the words I shared with Austin. Though, as you expect, this will come back to haunt me.
He does, however, rattle off facts about elephants. “What’s with you and elephants?”
“I think they’re cool.” He shrugs, holding a football in one hand and his cleats in the other. He’s making me carry everything else. “They’re the largest land animal.”
I’ve done some research on elephants in the last few days so, like I know what I’m talking about, I pop off with, “Did you know
elephants have six sets of molar teeth. When they lose their last set and they can’t eat, they die.”
Grady stops walking. “I have a loose tooth.”
Then he sticks his dirty hand in his mouth, and I have to hold back a gag. People touching their teeth grosses me out. Unless you’re a dentist and wearing gloves, I don’t like the idea of someone touching their teeth. Kids included.
“Let’s hope you don’t die when you lose them all.”
His hand drops from his mouth, and he starts walking again, kicking fallen leaves as he drags his feet. “I doubt I will. I’ll probably live forever.”
I laugh. “Pretty confident there.”
“Kids don’t die when they lose their teeth. Only elephants.” He’s quiet for all of two seconds and then asks, “When did you leave your parents’ house? Like. . . um, how old were you? Male elephants leave the herd between the ages of twelve to fifteen. Did you leave home at fifteen? I figure I have just a few years left with my mom. I don’t know where I’m going to live yet.”
This kid is something else. “First of all, that was like three questions in one. Slow down.”
He chuckles. “I ask a lot of questions. Sorry.”
“No kidding.”
“Do you like my mom?”
I nod. “I do. I’ve known her since she was three.”
“Why didn’t you marry her?”
“Someone beat me to it.”
“My dad?”
I nod again, wishing he’d shut up already. “You could say that.”
“How old were you?”
I shoot him a confused look. “When?”
“When you left home.”
“Oh.” I wasn’t about to tell Grady I basically got kicked out of my dad’s house for being a shit head. “When I was fifteen.”
His blue eyes brighten. “Just like an elephant.”
And just like that, we’re back to elephants. I gotta get this kid a new animal to like. It’d be cooler to like a panther, or hell, a gorilla. But an elephant? They don’t do anything but stand there.
“Have you ever seen an elephant in person?”
He frowns. “Yeah, a long time ago though. My dad said he was going to take us to Safari West but never did. I really wanna go.”
What a fucking dick. Austin. Not Grady. Safari West is a private wildlife reserve that’s basically ten minutes from Calistoga. The fact that Austin can’t take his kids ten minutes away makes me wish I would have hit him today.
I don’t promise I’m going to take him. I don’t promise kids anything. But I make a mental note to take them soon. Maybe Sunday after the races.
Grady pushes open the front door, drops his shoe and football by the door and goes running for the couch where he sees Cash sitting with his DS in his hand.
It’s only five minutes, and both boys disappear into their room when Aly tells them it’s time to give up the DS and get ready for bed. I’ve seen this game they play, the one where Aly tells them it’s time for bed and they get another hour of the night out of her.
In her defense, she tries pretty hard to get them to stick to a schedule.
“Cash needs to practice math, and then I have to get the kids ready for bed,” Aly tells me when she notices I’m giving her the look that screams need. I mentioned it’s been four days, right?
I’m ready to pick her up and take her into the bathroom and fuck the need away.
I wink, crossing my arms over my chest. “I’ll wait.”
Aly bites her lip nervously. “You can’t stay here, Ridge. You’re their teacher, and I’m not sure I’m ready to introduce them to whatever this is.”
I don’t budge and sit down on the couch. “They love me.”
And then I see it in her eyes. She knows they do. “That’s the problem.”
Leaning forward, I rest my elbows on my knees. “Stop trying to push me away.”
Sighing, she sits next to me. “You scare me.”
“You scare me too. I saw your hair the other morning,” I tease, twirling a strand of her blonde hair around my finger.
She knocks my hand away, twisting to face me. “Be serious.”
“I am. I was terrified.”
She grabs me by my shirt, fisting the fabric in her tiny fist. It does nothing for the raging hard-on I have now. “You’re not staying the night.”
I’m getting to her. Taking her hand from my shirt, I kiss it seductively and then drop in on her lap. “Ohh. . . just a booty call. Nice.” I lay back, tucking my hands behind my head. “I like it.”
Aly stands and kicks at my foot. “Shut up and help Cash with his math.”
“He has homework? I didn’t give him that. What kind of prison are you running here where eight-year-olds have homework?”
I watch her walk from the living room to the kitchen until she pauses by the kitchen counter. “Ask him what two plus two is.”
She has a point. Cash is absolutely horrible at math. “I did. He told me twelve.” I laugh, though I know it’s not funny.
“He’s awful at it. Help him.”
Cash is shy. You wouldn’t think he is judging by the orneriness he usually displays, but when it comes to math, he’s entirely different.
“Are you good at math?” he asks as we sit at the table, the same table I’m wondering about its sturdiness for feature reference.
I grin, not for the reason he thinks. “Not sure. What’s two plus two?”
Cash drops his pencil, his eyes cloud with anger. “You’re making fun of me.”
“No, making fun of you would be pointing at you and laughing because you asked a stupid question. Of course I’m good at math, dummy. I’m a teacher.”
I’m sure the first rule of teaching is not calling a student a dummy, but it’s not like I’ve followed a single teaching rule yet, why start now?
Cash stares at me, then drops his eyes to the paper in front of him asking him to break down the number into ten frames. “I don’t get it.”
“Okay, here.” I grab his hands holding up both his fists and prying his fingers open. “Each finger represents ten. You know how to count by tens, right?”
He nods.
“So if you have four ten frames, how many is that? Count on your fingers using each one as ten.”
Cash sighs, like he can’t believe I’m making him do this. “Ten, eleven. . .”
I stop him. “Nope. You’re counting by ones. If you’re counting by tens, next one would be twenty, right?”
Defeated, his hands drop. “I don’t get it!”
I grab his hands and hold them up. “And you won’t get it until you make an effort.”
“It’s not easy for me. You’re a teacher. It’s easy for you.”
“No, it’s not. I didn’t learn this way. I learned math a completely different way.”
“How?”
“By basically counting my fingers, and anything past ten, I was screwed until I realized a calculator told me the answers.”
His eyes light up. “Can I have a calculator?”
“Nope. Pretty sure they don’t make them anymore once cell phones came out.”
I think he’s learning not to take me seriously anymore. I wouldn’t, but he does hold up his hands and begins to count again. “Ten, twenty, thirty. . .” His blue eyes raise to mine, and I nod, so he continues. “Forty, fifty. . . .”
“Okay, stop there.” I tuck his thumb down. “So if I asked you how many was in four ten frames, what would be your answer?”
He stares at his fingers, biting down on his bottom lip. I can tell he’s nervous to give the wrong answer, but I also know he has the right answer; he’s just afraid to tell me what it is.
“Forty?” His voice is so small it’s hard to believe it’s coming from Cash, the same kid who punched a fourth grader for tackling his brother last week.
I hold my hand up, waiting for the high-five. “Dude, you got it right!”
He high-fives me. “Please tell me we’re done. My brain has cra
mp.”
Aly comes in and gives a tip of her head to the kitchen. “I made pie for dessert.” Her tender eyes land on her son, who has barely eaten anything this week. “You feeling well enough to have some?”
He nods and follows her into the kitchen where she’s set out a pie, and four plates at the booth tucked away in the corner of the kitchen. “Would you like some pie?”
“Is it pussy pie?” I whisper in her ear, growling and squeezing her ass discretely.
She laughs and wiggles away from me.
Grady appears again, hair wet and in his pajamas, his eyes gleaming at the pie.
So we all sit down and eat pie.
All’s good, right?
Not a fucking chance.
“I love my mom’s pussy,” Grady says conversationally, taking a bite of the cherry-filled pie.
Fuck. I knew that would come back to haunt me. No good deed goes unpunished.
Aly’s eyes dart to mine, and I grin, slowly pulling the twines of the fork through my lips. “Me too.”
Aly chokes on the bite in her mouth, her cheeks a bright shade of what-the-fuck Ridge.
I shrug. “He likes pie.”
“Cherry,” Grady corrects, taking another bite. “Only cherry pussy.”
I can’t keep a straight face any longer—as if I couldn’t before—it’s a mute effort now. There’s just something funny to me about the word pussy coming from the mouth of an eight-year-old. Can you blame me?
Leaning in, about the time Aly looks like she’s going to choke on her pussy pie, I whisper, “I’ll set ‘em straight when they’re older.”
Take a look at her face the moment the words leave my lips. She’s hoping I do, mostly because that was my first indication I plan to be around when they’re older.
And I do.
Despite the cherry pie incident, Ridge is good with the boys. He even helps me get them into bed that night, and I think the only reason he does is so he can get some. He’s like an eager teenager.
Do you see the way he’s looking at me? No? Oh, right, he’s not. He’s standing in the hallway with his arms crossed, shaking his head and refusing to step foot in my bedroom. “I’m not doing it in his bed.”