Anything For Them

by Lola StVil

  “Baby, you can take your time with me. You know that. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere,” I promise. She brings her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around herself. She looks so small; my chest tightens, and I try to prepare for what she’s about to say.

  “It started three years ago. I was living in Hartford, Connecticut. It was just after Tom and I split. I had just bought my first house. I had worked my ass off to make it happen. It was a small starter home, but it meant the world to me. It was the first step in Aaron and me starting our new lives.

  “It was hard because I had to come to terms with the fact that Tom and I were officially over, in addition to the fact that I was now a single parent. But eventually, things got easier, and we started to adjust to our new situation.

  “One day, Aaron got sick—strep throat. We went to the doctor and got the antibiotics he needed. I didn’t have the heart to leave him with a sitter, so I worked from home. Later that day, my Internet went down. I called the company, and they sent someone over to fix the problem. His name was Mark Gorman. He was a lanky, unassuming, middle-aged guy with glasses—the kind of guy that people tend to overlook.

  “It was nearly a hundred degrees the day I first met Gorman. He was sweating, and his face was red. I offered him a bottle of ice water, and he took it. He remarked that none of his other customers had ever done that, and thanked me. I said, ‘anytime.’ And then I showed him to my office.

  “I went to check on Aaron; he was sound asleep. Then I took a call from a girlfriend of mine. We talked about our misguided attempts to ‘find ourselves’ back in high school. I had a phase where I wanted to be a Goth girl. I remarked that while seeing those pictures made me shudder, I still had a thing for black roses. We talked for another ten minutes or so, and then I hung up and went to check on Gorman’s progress.

  “He said he was almost done. Aaron woke up and heard a male voice and came running into my office. ‘Dad?!’ he said, still half asleep.

  “‘No, sweetie, it’s not your dad. This is Mark Gorman. He’s going to fix Mom’s computer.’ Aaron waved hello and then went back to bed. Gorman asked where Aaron’s dad was, and I didn’t say anything. He guessed by my expression that things were over between us. It was kind of awkward, so I said that I would leave him alone so he could finish his work in peace. When he was done, he thanked me for the water again and waved good-bye.

  “A week later, the black roses started to appear. I found one on my doorstep. It was followed by a call. The person on the other end didn’t say anything. I dismissed it and went on with my day. But soon more roses would appear: on my car window, at my office downtown, and as always, at my front door. The calls increased as well. They were coming in at all hours now. The person never spoke, just breathed into the phone. It was off-putting and frustrating, but I tried to dismiss it as just some stupid prank.

  “Then the emails started. It was from an anonymous account. The person wrote that I was their soul mate and that we were meant to be together. I deleted it and blocked that email account. But the person created a new account and sent more emails. It got to the point where I was receiving up to a hundred and sixty emails a day, all from the same person, professing their love to me.

  “They demanded that I reply, and even though I knew better, I wrote back. It was a stupid thing to do because stalkers thrive off interaction with their victims. But I couldn’t face the fact that I had a stalker. And I certainly did not want to be seen as a victim. So I made myself think this was just a person who was misguided. So I wrote back that I wasn’t interested and that I did not want any further contact.

  “It worked. Things went back to normal—for a while. But two weeks later, the calls started again. And now he was texting me. I fought changing my number because I didn’t want to let this asshole change my life. But soon, I had no choice. He would text me these obscene things that he wanted to do to me. He’d send me disgusting pictures, and I started to feel dread any time my phone rang. So, I gave in and changed my cell number. I also closed my Facebook account because he began to message me there as well.

  “I thought that would help things, but it only made it worse. His not being able to contact me sent him into a tailspin. He showed up at my job one evening, demanding to know why I had cut off contact. It took a while to place him as the repair guy. He was so angry; I thought he was going to attack me.

  “He motioned towards me, and I flinched. Gorman said, ‘Mia, I would never hurt you. You’re my life. My love. My only soul mate. That’s why you have to behave. You have to be good to me because we’re going to be a family. You. Me. And Aaron.’

  “Hearing him say my son’s name made my blood run cold. I screamed at him to get away from me. I quickly got into my car and took off. I went to the cops, but they said there was nothing they could do unless he actually laid hands on me.

  “It turns out changing my cell number was pointless because he found my new number. I didn’t know it at the time, but it turns out he had placed a virus on my computer. He had access to my cell records and other bills. He also had a webcam and could turn it on at will from wherever he was.

  “Argo and I talked almost every night, and he begged me to move to New York City. He said he’d help me find a place, and that we could start fresh. But I held out. I had just bought the house, and the market was bad. And I didn’t want us to leave our home. Also, somewhere deep inside, I still believed that I could handle things.

  “Gorman began to follow me around. He kept enough distance to make the cops think I was crazy. He never came to my door, but he’d stand across the street with a black hoodie on and just watch the house. He’d stay there for hours just watching me. After weeks of this, I was finally able to get a restraining order. That gave me some peace of mind for a while. I even allowed myself to think it was over. I went to dinner with a guy friend of mine, Cory, and actually had a nice time.

  “When I got back home, I paid the sitter and put Aaron to bed. An hour later, Gorman was pounding on my door. He was calling me a whore and said that he would kill me for betraying him. Aaron was terrified and came to my room crying. I called the cops and held him in my arms. I promised him that everything was going to be okay, but knew I was lying. Nothing was ever going to be okay anymore, not with this lunatic coming after me. He ran away before the cops could get him. And when they went over to his place, he was gone.

  “A few days later, the guy I went to dinner with, Cory, was attacked in the parking lot. I know it was Gorman. He disguised himself with shades and a hoodie. He walked up to Cory screaming, ‘She’s mine. Not yours. Mine!’ and then attacked him with a bat. Gorman put Cory in a coma for six weeks.

  “And Gorman said it was my fault, that I had broken the rules and hooked up with another guy. He said I soiled our love, and he would make me pay. Things had gotten so out of hand; Tom offered to take Aaron. But I knew Tom couldn’t handle Aaron full time. And I didn’t want to be separated from my son. But I didn’t know what to do.

  “Gorman was playing the system. He knew exactly how far he could go to stay within the limits of the law. And even when he did break the law, he’d come to court pretending to be crazy. They would find him guilty, but not competent to stand trial. They’d send him to a psych ward. He’d take his meds for a few weeks, and then when they let him out, he’d be right back to it. He started having mail delivered to my house—pictures of me at home, pictures of me in the parking lot at work. He wanted me to know that no place was safe.

  “It got to the point where even when he wasn’t following me, I still felt him. He got in my head. I became a nervous wreck. I wasn’t eating, I could barely sleep, and my hair began to fall out. I couldn’t pay attention at work; I had to take a leave of absence. It got so bad, the only place I felt safe was in the closet. I would stay there for hours. Aaron was so scared; I had to send him to his grandmother—Tom’s mom. Argo kept begging me to move, but I had worked so hard to start a new life after Tom.

&n
bsp; “I wondered what I said, what I did to make this madman think that we were in love. I knew that it wasn’t me. I knew that he was mentally unstable and that it didn’t require anything on my end for him to become obsessed with me. But knowing it on a professional level didn’t ease my mind.

  “I started blaming myself. Why did I let him into my house? Why did I give him the water? Did I smile the wrong way? Did I lead him on?”

  “That’s bullshit; this had nothing to do with you! You did nothing wrong,” I plead as I take her hand in mine.

  “I knew that in my head, but it didn’t stop me from blaming myself.”

  “Mia…” I can’t find the words. I can’t begin to imagine living in that kind of hell. Her eyes fill with tears, and I swear my fucking heart is going to burst. I wipe her tears and tell her she doesn’t have to continue if she doesn’t want to, but she insists.

  “I want you to know,” she says. I slowly nod and watch her go back to the hell of her past.

  “I started seeing a therapist to learn how to cope with what was happening. I turned my cell off for a session, and when I turned it back on, Gorman had sent me a video of him pleasuring himself—in my bed.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” I couldn’t stop my outburst. I also can’t stop my fist from clenching. I swear to God I’m gonna kill this asshole.

  “I called the cops. When they got there, he was gone, and all he left behind was a black rose. I didn’t even stop to think. I packed my stuff and headed straight for Argo’s apartment. I sold the house. I took a major loss on it, but I didn’t care. I changed my last name from Avery to my mom’s stepfather’s name—Samuels. I cut off most of my ties and didn’t tell anyone where I had gone. I wanted to be free from Gorman. I wanted my life back. But now I know I will never be free,” she sobs. I take her in my arms and hold her firmly.

  “There’s no fucking way Gorman is getting to you or Aaron. You hear me? There’s no way. I’ll cut him in half before he gets anywhere near you.”

  “I don’t care about me, Jackson; I can’t uproot Aaron again. He’s just started making friends; he’s happy here. But if we stay and something happens to him…”

  I pull her away from my chest so I can look into her eyes.

  “Mia, listen to me. I will die before I let anything happen to you and Aaron. I swear on Rose’s grave, I will keep you and Aaron safe.”

  ***

  Jackson asked a lot of questions. It’s easy to see how concerned he is and how upset this makes him. He asks how Aaron has been dealing with things. I tell him that I took Aaron to see a friend of mine who specializes in kids with traumatic experiences. It took some time, but Aaron finally started to feel safe.

  Right now, the thing that’s making me feel safe is Jackson’s powerful, protective embrace. I don’t know how long it took for me to stop sobbing. Once I started, I found that I couldn’t stop. He didn’t judge my actions or my complete breakdown. He just held me and let me openly weep until I was finally all cried out.

  At some point in the evening, I exchange my clothes for one of his roomy T-shirts. We end up spooning on the sofa as he holds me firmly against him. The events of the last few days and the memory of all that’s happened leaves me drained and exhausted. My eyelids grow heavy, and I give in to sleep.

  Tapping on the windowpane wakes me. I open my eyes. There’s a light, steady rain falling on the city. The clouds are drained of color and brooding. It’s just after six in the morning, and it’s hard to believe, but Manhattan is actually still. It’s as if all of New York City has been paused so the rain can speak.

  I turn to face him. He hasn’t slept at all. He’s spent the whole night watching over me. His eyes are dark with concern. It’s such a heavy story to hand over to someone. I can see it weighs on him. And even though we are lying on the sofa, face-to-face in the most intimate position, he hasn’t let his guard down. He’s in “protect” mode. He’s looking off into the distance, thinking like a cop.

  “Where are you?” I softly ask as I look into his face.

  He shakes his head in disdain. “I can’t believe the things this guy has gotten away with. I can’t let that ever happen to you and Aaron again. Gorman can’t continue to terrorize you. There’s no fucking way,” he says in a quiet, steely voice.

  “I don’t want to think about him. Not right now,” I reply as I place my hand against his chest. “Will you do something for me?” I ask.

  “Anything,” he says, meeting my eyes.

  “Make it better. Make this all better…”

  He knows what I mean. He knows what I need to be healed right now. He helps me take his shirt off of me. I unbuckle his belt and strip his jeans off. I slide his shirt off him and for a moment, we just stare into each other’s eyes. The tenderness he kisses me with rocks me to my core. He nuzzles from my temple down to the nape of my neck. My pulse races as his kisses go from the crux of my elbows down to my wrists.

  He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses my palm. He grazes my fingertips along his lips and suckles on my fingers one by one. He causes a warm tingle down my body when he travels to places most men miss—along my collarbone, the curve under my breasts, and the space just above my waist. He brushes his lips along my spine and leaves me shivering. When he strokes the back of my thighs and nuzzles behind my knee, I pant.

  He starts kissing along my inner thigh and my eyes flutter with ecstasy. Every inch of me longs for him. My hardened nipples ache for his attention. He doesn’t leave them waiting for long. Soon he’s suckling and kneading them with his mouth and hands. There are so many sensations going through me; I dig my nails into the skin of his massive biceps to anchor myself.

  I want to make him feel as whole and as loved as I do. I flip over so that I’m the one on top; I’m the one with the control. I flick his nipple with my tongue, and he catches his breath. I bathe him with warm, passionate kisses all over. When I reach his inner thigh, his already stiff, large cock stands even more firmly. I tease, kiss, and lick my way towards his member, but I never actually touch it. He groans with anticipation when I make my way towards his cock for the third time. This time, I kiss the head gently over and over until his eyes are glazed with lust and longing.

  When I lick the space between his cock and balls, he latches on to me. I slide my tongue down his member and take him inside my mouth; he swears under his breath. The speed, pattern, and rhythm of my tongue sends him so far over the edge that he groans, “Christ baby…”

  I move my tongue in unbroken spirals along his cock while I cup and knead his balls. The suction and depth of my mouth causes him to let out an animalistic growl. A growl that damn near shakes the room.

  Without warning, he switches position; he’s on top. He spreads my legs. His cock grazes my opening. All my nerve endings have been ignited. He doesn’t enter me. Instead, he glides his tip against my clit, and it fills me with so much desire, tears spring to my eyes.

  He’s turned me on so much and made me so wet that I lose touch with reason. I don’t wait for him to enter me. I impale myself on his cock. He’s a lot to take in. He begins to split me open. My breathing is uneven; my heart is pounding. It hurts. The only thing that would hurt more is if he stopped. I need him. I need all of him.

  I demand my body to open up to him, and it does. It opens up in a way it has not done with anyone else. He watches my breasts bounce up and down as he sinks inside me. I gasp and curl my fingers around his shoulders. With every thrust, he’s fucking me, loving me…healing me.

  I turn around so that I get to be on top. I don’t last long. I come so hard my eyes roll to the back of my head. My legs shake, and the wind is ripped from my lungs. I propel forward and fall onto his chest. He wraps his arms around me, and I hold on for dear life as he climaxes. When it’s over, we hold on to each other. It’s a silent promise we make—no matter what, hold on to each other.

  In the days following the car explosion, everything changed. Jackson wouldn’t let Aaron and me retur
n home. He asked that we move in with him. I suggested a hotel because I didn’t want to invade his space. But while I was still thinking it over, Jackson and Aaron were already going shopping for his new room.

  The number one thing on their list: fish tank. Aaron has wanted a fish tank for a while now, but our old place didn’t allow it. Moving in is ordinarily a huge chore, but with the Hunter brothers and their wives, we were settled in no time. I mentioned something about not having enough time to fix everything once we got in the house, and the next thing I knew, I got a visit from Shelby.

  She cut her vacation short to come help out. She made a few well-placed calls, and within a few days, the townhouse was decorated and felt like home. On one of our shopping days, Shelby arranged to meet at my office. That’s when she first encountered Argo. They hit it off right away.

  “Oh honey, those shoes are giving me life!” Argo said to Shelby once he spotted her red heels.

  “Well, that makes sense; half of New York City has been dying to get them.”

  The two of them laughed, and ever since then, they’ve had a “fashion” shortcut. He looks her outfit over as soon as she walks into the office.

  “Bag?” he says.

  “Prada.”

  “Shoes?”

  “Christian.”

  “Dress?”

  “Stella.”

  “Yes!”

  “Yes!”

  When the three of us are together, we laugh a lot more than I ever thought we would. I wasn’t going to decorate at all at first, but then Jackson suggested it. I reminded him we were only staying until they found Gorman and he said, “You came here because of him, but I want you to stay because of us.” And so Aaron and I are here to stay.