by Freya Barker
I know Gunnar brought me upstairs to his bedroom to lay me down, and even stayed beside me for a while with his arms securely around me, but I was too busy fending off the pull of the dark gravity that once again had me in its hold. I don’t know who dealt with Winslow or how he was dealt with, but between Viv and Gunnar, I’m sure they had him handled.
I killed a man.
This feeling is horrifyingly familiar, and yet not nearly as excruciating as I remember. But he’s dead just the same, and by my hand.
I stare at the far wall, listening for sounds in the house, but all appears to be quiet. From the light outside, it would seem it’s late afternoon and I would’ve expected the kids to have come home from school. The kids. Jesus. Gunnar won’t ever let me be around them again. A killer.
My heart hurts. I thought I’d managed to freeze my emotions again—I’d done it before—but even the thought of Emmy and Dex puts a crack in the coldness I wrapped myself in. Tears roll down my face and I don’t seem to have the power to stop them. A sob escapes me, and immediately the door opens.
“Syd?” Gunnar pokes his head inside his bedroom and although I vaguely remember him checking on me every once in a while, I hadn’t dared face him. This time though, I turn my head to look at him. Expecting him to be repelled by who I am, I’m surprised to find his eyes warm and full of concern, not accusatory or horrified—both reactions I have plenty of experience with, but kind and caring, no. The warmth radiating from him breaks the dam.
In two steps he’s on the bed with me and rolls me onto his chest where I cry out everything I’m feeling, hoping maybe he can help me make some sense of it. Strong hands hold me together; one cupping my head and pressing it into his chest, the other banded around my back, tethering me to him. The pain in my ribs is sharp but clean, and I welcome it. It seems to ground me in the here and now instead of back five years ago when my life disintegrated into dust.
I don’t know how long I cry, but eventually the tears seem to dry up and my breathing slowly returns to normal, save the occasional hiccup. I lick my lips that are chapped from all the crying, I guess.
“Wh...where are the kids?” are the first words I’ve spoken since this morning.
“At Mrs. Danzel’s. Viv dropped them off.”
“You stayed?” I raise my head and look at him questioningly. His eyes are still warm but his jaw is clenched.
“Of course I stayed,” he almost growls. “You had a massive shock and you disappeared for a while. Had me worried.”
My hand mindlessly strokes his chest and I can feel the friction of his chest hair under his shirt. When my fingers inadvertently brush over his nipple, he hisses and I quickly go to pull my hand back, but he places his hand on mine to keep it in place.
“Even when I shouldn’t—when I know it’s wrong to think of all the things I’d like to do to you—the slightest touch of your hands, a whiff of your scent, can almost make me lose control.” His voice is gruff and low, but his eyes are bright and alive. I can feel the heat radiating off him. His words have that flicker of hope I had almost extinguished again, flare to life. He still wants me. Me. Despite what I had told him already last night and the news this morning, for him it didn’t appear to make any difference.
I have to fight to stave off a new wave of tears and instead, reach for his lips. Soft and tentative on his part, but I won’t have it. I want that flame of hope to stay alive, hope that despite the negative spin cycle my thoughts want to swirl in, I am redeemable, so my lips and tongue take. I don’t think I’ve ever kissed this hungrily before. It’s as if I want to absorb some of him. My tongue licks along his and although I can feel the struggle he wages to stay in control, his mouth responds to mine with equal hunger, making my body hum.
Too soon he disentangles himself on a groan. “Honey, we need to talk.” Right. That’s never good news. Not in my experience anyway, but when I move to roll away from him and get up, he holds me back with a hand on my hip. Sitting with my back to him on the side of the bed, I can feel the mattress dipping as he leans towards me, and very softly kisses the small of my back.
“I’ll have you soon, little bird. Very soon. That is, if you’ll have me.”
Gunnar
It about fucking kills me to pull away from those soft lips, but there is no way in hell I’m able to hold on to my control with her mouth plastered to mine. Her body is battered from the attack and the emotional impact of it’s all invisible.
When she suddenly turns away, I know she needs my reassurance. Her body stiffens under my hand when I tell her my intentions and I’m suddenly unsure, knowing she’ll likely be unhappy with me after I tell her what I’ve done.
“Okay,” she whispers under her breath.
Taking that for what it is, I slide my legs down to sit beside her. “I asked Viv to contact Pam at the Florence House.” I keep my eyes on her to check her reaction. Her lips are thin and when she turns her eyes on me, I can see anger.
“Why?” she asks in a clipped voice.
“Because the doctor’s right. Between what you were subjected to last night and the shock of this morning, anyone would be traumatized. Add to that what you’ve already lived through—and I have a feeling I still don’t know the full story—you’ll need some help processing. Viv said Pam had been amazing with her. So be mad at me all you want, I don’t give a rat’s ass, not when it comes to your well-being.”
She doesn’t say anything but sits still beside me with her head down, eyes focused on some spot on the ground. Wanting to bridge the distance, I reach for her hand and am relieved when she curls her fingers around mine.
“There are things I can’t ... I won’t talk about. Not with you, and not with Pam.” Her voice is soft but her determination evident.
“Then don’t. Talk about things you do want to talk about. See where it leads.”
“Okay. I’ll see her.” She gives my hand a squeeze before getting up to go to the washroom and I look at her small retreating frame and have to clench my fists to contain the rage that comes surging back. A useless emotion at this point since the man is dead, but still.
Not wanting to allow time for Syd to change her mind, first thing I do is call Viv to see if she can get Pam to come here. I’m all for molding the iron while it’s hot. Viv says she was waiting for my call and she’d already spoken to Pam. She doesn’t think coming here will be an issue.
Now I need to sort the kids out and get some dinner going.
When Viv announces herself over an hour later with a knock on the door, we are just finishing up dinner. The kids agreed to stay at Mrs. Danzel’s for the night, albeit under protest. I’m picking them up early tomorrow morning so they can get ready for school at home. Didn’t think it would be a good idea to have them around when Pam is coming to talk.
Syd seems to shrink in on herself when I get up to get the door.
“Hey,” Viv says as she walks through the door, a tall black woman with a stern expression, but warm eyes right behind her. “This is Pam. Pam, meet Gunnar.”
I grab the hand she points in my direction and I’m surprised at the strong grip. Pam’s eyes are assessing and I feel like a fucking bug under the microscope.
“You got somewhere to be?” Pam asks me in a rich, deep voice.
“Nope. Not planning on going anywhere,” I answer a tad curt.
“Well, I suggest you find somewhere ‘cause having you hovering over her isn’t gonna make this any easier.”
Wait a minute ... am I being dismissed?
“You kicking me out of my own house?” I look between Viv and Pam. Viv’s mouth is twitching and Pam is just staring me down. “Can’t fucking believe this...” I mumble as I walk back into the kitchen where Syd still sits at the table and crouch down in front of her.
“Pam’s kicking me out of my own goddamn house, but I’ll stay. All you have to do is say the word, even though she scares me a little.”
The sound of Syd’s soft chuckle makes me feel a little
better about leaving her. She’s obviously not quite as intimidated by Pam.
“Okay, if you’re sure. I’ll head over and do some work at The Skipper, so just call me when you need me, or whatever.”
“I’ll be fine,” Syd says, putting her hand on my face. I lean in and give her a quick kiss on the lips before grabbing my keys and a jacket, ignoring Viv’s pointed looks when I walk out the door. How about that, three women in my house and I’m standing outside. Fucking hell.
I’ve spent the last hour going over the pub’s finances. Business has been decent, despite the lingering cold. Usually at this time of year, we already have the small patio open, but the weather has been too cool. In previous years, I haven’t added summer staff until we set up the tables and chairs outside, but given that we are still short a full-timer, and the fact that I want to be able to take more time for the kids now that they’re with me, I’m checking to see if we have anyone on file who’d fit in. Summer staff mostly consists of students, but I do have one or two who might be interested in doing a full-time rotation. I pull their numbers and in the next ten minutes have two interviews scheduled for tomorrow morning. The thought of leaving Syd alone tomorrow to tend to business here sticks in my craw, but I have shit to take care of and can’t put more on Viv than I already do. I’m fucking tired. The e-mail from my lawyer stating they haven’t been able to locate Cindy to serve her with papers just adds to the worries. I hate the bitch, but she’s the kid’s mom and for their sake, I hope she’s okay.
Just as I shut down the computer and prepare to head upstairs to grab Syd some stuff from the apartment, the phone on my desk rings.
“The Skipper.”
“Guns—Viv told me you were there,” Tim says. “There’s some stuff I heard at work today and thought you might want to know.” As project coordinator for the City of Portland, he’s privy to information on new, planned developments.
“What have you got?” I ask him.
“Demolition permit was issued on Friday for the old warehouse at the other end of the wharf. One guess who’s behind it?”
“Graham Bull of Soul Filets would be my guess.”
Tim chuckles. “You would be correct. The application for permit came with proposed plans for a complete gut of the building. Nothing but the walls will be standing when they’re done. Looks like you’ll have a new neighbor by spring next year.”
“At least they’re not throwing some shiny new building on the wharf. I’d have hated that. I don’t mind a little competition; I think it’ll be good for business in the long run. Just not happy with the way Graham Bull sent a lackey to gather information. I’d have gladly talked to him if he’d had the decency to contact me directly. No need for this covert shit.”
“He been in again?” Tim wants to know.
“Not since I had a little sit down with him last time. Got the feeling he was being a little overeager in his pursuits ’cause the moment I brought up calling the big boss, he paled a little. Anyway, I’m glad their intentions are public record now. Much easier knowing what I’m dealing with.” I can’t hide the yawn that escapes me and Tim is quick to react.
“I just wanted to give you the head’s up. I can hear you’re tired, but before I go, how’s Syd doing?”
“She’s tough. That cop, Winslow? He came this morning to inform her that the guy had died overnight. It almost did her in. Totally spaced out on hearing that bit of news, but she’s almost too casual about it now. That worries me. Viv called in this counselor she had met at the shelter we found her at. They’re at the house now, trying to get Syd to talk some.”
“Must’ve killed you to leave her.” I can hear the smile in Tim’s voice and call him on it.
“Fuck off. Went against my nature, to be honest, but I’ve gotta be careful with her. She was violated, Tim. Fucking guy had her bent over a table and was ready to stick his dick where his fingers had already done damage. If it hadn’t been for Syd bleeding in my arms, I would’ve gone back in there and fucking castrated the motherfucker.” It feels good letting some of my pent-up anger out; a little bit of pressure off.
“Son of a bitch,” Tim hisses. “That poor girl. Give her my best and I’ll let you get home. Need anything in the coming days?”
“Nah, if you have a chance, pop in for a drink.” I suggest.
“Will do, and Guns? You sound pretty gone for her.”
My instinct is to call bullshit, but I’d be lying, so I answer honestly. “Seems that way.”
It’s nearly eleven at night when I pull in my driveway. I grab the bag of clothes and toiletries I grabbed from Syd’s apartment and head inside where I find Pam already gone and Viv sitting on the couch by herself.
“Hey,” she says as I walk in.
“Hey yourself. Where is everyone?”
“Pam just left. She’ll be back tomorrow and I just finished tucking Syd in your bed.” Viv’s eyes fill with tears. “God, Gunnar. That woman has been through hell and back, and not just once. It’s a miracle she’s still standing.”
I knew that. At some level, I knew she’d seen hell and then some, but I seem to have pushed that down. And for good reason. With Viv’s words, a wave of nausea hits me and I just manage to get to the can before dinner makes a reappearance. Viv comes in behind me, hands me a wet kitchen towel and rubs her hand over my back.
“Sorry ‘bout that,” I mumble.
“No worries. Had to leave the room a few times myself. She’s so fucking contained, I can’t stand it. Said a few times that she really doesn’t deserve any better, which pisses me off as much as it worries me. I offered to leave her and Pam to it, but Syd just kept hold of my hand, willing me to stay on the couch beside her. She carries some heavy load that I don’t think we’ve seen the full extent of yet.”
I look at the tears rolling down Viv’s face and pull her in for a hug. “She’s got a good friend in you, honey.”
“Yeah, well, I wish I could do more,” she mumbles against my shirt.
“Me too, honey. Me fucking too.”
Viv decides to stay the night in Emmy’s room, not wanting to be alone, and I try to go to sleep in Dex’s bed, but I’m restless. It isn’t until I slide into my own bed behind Syd, my arms tucking her to me, that I finally find some rest. The little bird in my arms doesn’t even wake up.
Syd
When I wake up, instant panic seizes me when I feel arms banded around my body. I struggle to get free until I hear Gunnar’s voice in my neck.
“Easy does it. It’s me, and you’re safe. Gonna let you go now.” Slowly he relaxes his arms from around me, but I don’t move. I take a minute to catch my breath before gingerly turning my body to face him. Stiffness has set in overnight, but I feel clearheaded now. His eyes are heavy lidded with sleep still, but completely focused on mine.
Rolling over on his back, he slips one arm behind his head and with the other, rolls me on top of him. My hands find the soft bristle of hair on his chest and I push off to take him in. Thick salt and pepper hair that is never quite in place is now sticking out in every direction. The perpetual scruff on his jaw, framing his strong, full lips. Heavy eyebrows that accentuate his deep set observant green eyes and a mostly straight, rather prominent nose that seems to have seen a bit of abuse, judging from the bump about halfway down. Not a beautiful face, but a striking one.
He doesn’t say anything, but a little smile curves his lips as I slide my eyes down the strong column of his neck to the greying chest hair that starts at the base. I follow the trail my hand makes over his pecs and skimming his nipple, until it rests on his toned abdomen. There is no way I can ignore the thick head of his erection trying to escape the confines of his boxer briefs, but oddly it doesn’t scare me. No. I’m surprised to find myself turned on, and although Gunnar hasn’t moved during my exploration, his breathing is a bit more erratic and he appears as affected as I am. Tentatively, I slide my hand down to where my fingers are lightly stroking the head of his cock. A light twitch and his s
harp intake of breath is evidence he’s well aware of my touch.
It’s powerful, this ability to freely explore a man’s body without feeling any threat. To feel it responding to your touch—reacting to you. A stronger and much bigger man allowing you control over his body. How very different it is ... and arousing.
When my fingers slide under his waistband and wrap around the soft steel of his cock, he groans softly as I carefully pull him free. My thumb slides over the broad head, rubbing the moisture leaking from the slit. Gunnar takes a deep breath in and releases his other arm from around me, slipping it behind his head as well. His eyes are shiny slits and his jaw is clenched as he looks down at me, giving himself over completely. With one hand working down his sweats over his hips and the other slowly pumping his shaft, I lean in for a taste. I was never big on blowjobs, but I want him in my mouth—at my mercy. My tongue traces around the ridge and along the slit and my lips close around the tip, sucking lightly and eliciting another groan from Gunnar’s lips. It encourages me to take as much of his cock in my mouth as I can with one hand firmly at its base and the other seeking out his balls to roll in my hand. The musky taste of him on my tongue and the girth of him stretching my lips has me moan deep in my throat.
“Keep that up and I’m gonna come in your mouth.” He grunts out in a strangled voice.
So I moan again before sucking hard as I let him slide back out of my mouth, causing him to hiss. Looking up at him, I see his mouth has fallen open and his eyes are on fire, and I realize I want to make him come, to make him fall apart at my will. With renewed vigor, I work my mouth and my hands in tandem, hearing the effect I have on him in his erratic breathing.
I can feel when he is almost there; the tightening of his balls in my hand and the rigid feel of his cock in my mouth. When I take him as deep as I can, I swallow on the tip while at the same time tugging on his balls. My eyes never leave his as he jerks in my mouth on a loud grunt and pulses streams of his seed down my throat. Mouth now wide open and eyes barely visible, he twitches and shudders under my hands. I swallow everything he gives me before letting him slide out from between my lips, laying my head on his hip to face him.