Recoil

by Max Henry

  Steph looked around where they stood, halfway through the office, and at the people who tried to look as though they were so engrossed in their work they couldn’t possibly be eavesdropping.

  “Can we go get a coffee?” She thumbed to the staffroom.

  “Sure.”

  Marcus followed close behind, and shut the door once they were both inside the empty room.

  “Spill,” he said, crossing his arms across his broad chest.

  “I did something bad, and it’s playing on my conscience.”

  “Like what?” He pulled a seat out, gestured to it, and took his own. “Bad, kinky? Or bad, bad?”

  Steph perched on the edge, hands clasped between her knees. “Bad, bad. I can’t say what exactly, and it doesn’t matter anyway. Nothing can be done to fix it, so I need to learn how to deal with it.”

  “Cryptic, yes. Useful, not so much.”

  With her fingers pressed to her temples, she squeezed her eyes shut to gather the swimming thoughts in her head. “Can we just, I dunno, sit or something?”

  “Whatever you need.”

  “Thanks, Marcus.” She opened her eyes, and fiddled with the hem of her skirt. “I need a moment to get my wits about me.”

  “Still want a coffee?”

  “Sure.”

  Marcus crossed over to the kitchenette, and started making their cups. Steph watched him go about the routine of measuring, pouring, and stirring. There was a strange calm in watching an everyday task be executed. Some sense of … normality perhaps.

  He brought the cups over to the table, and placed them down. “One question before we enter an awkward silence though. Does Pete know about this?”

  “Yeah.”

  He placed his hand over top of hers, and gave it a quick squeeze. “Well, there’s who you should be talking to. Don’t trap it all up in there—” He gestured toward her head. “—When you don’t have to.”

  “Yeah, I’ll talk to Pete tonight.” Maybe.

  ***

  Crows squawked their evening chorus while Steph walked along her street toward the ominous rod. Pete had text as she left the office, asking if she wanted to be picked up, but she’d declined, and told him a little white lie about already paying for the train.

  Truth was, the devil on her shoulder had set up residence after her brief talk with Marcus. The little guy had flicked out his bedding, and started a campfire while she’d finalized the afternoon’s work.

  Her gut told her to talk to Pete about her concerns, and her fears. But yet again, that niggle to her left said that she should keep it to herself. How many times would he stand by, and pat her leg while she whinged, and broke down with him? How many times before he said enough was enough, and left? And then what would she do? Blame herself. Take it out on herself.

  One more day. Maybe another day of ‘normality’ would wash away her regrets about Ivan. Maybe.

  She looked at her stilled feet, and realized that somewhere amidst her ministrations she’d arrived at her driveway. The rod sat parked in the middle, gleaning in the dying sun like it winked at her.

  Now you’re imagining cars have it in for you. Clinical, Steph. You’re bloody clinical.

  Still, her eyes never left it as she passed. Some ludicrous part of her expected it to spring a ‘Christine’ on her, and whip a door out to smite her.

  Fucking clinical.

  She pushed the front door open, and let her feet guide her inside when the smell of dinner drifted to greet her. The aroma of beef and vegetables alone could have filled her belly for a week. When was the last time she ate properly?

  “I was startin’ to worry about ya.” Pete rounded the corner of the kitchen, and stopped before her. He took her face in his hands. “I thought you would have been back a while ago.”

  Probably would have if she’d been on the train she said she was.

  “Sorry, babe. Dinner smells great.”

  “Agh, fuck dinner.” He ran his nose up the side of her face, and stopped in her hair. “You smell good enough to eat.”

  The stirring in her belly felt more like coming home than walking in her front door ever would. She smiled, and placed a hand on his waist.

  “Let me put my things away. You can turn that off before it burns.”

  He waggled his eyebrows at her. “You givin’ me a promise?”

  “How could I not?” She closed the gap between them, and pulled his lip ring between her teeth. God, he tasted divine.

  A sharp crack on the ass broke her spell, and she stepped back, giggling. “What was that for?”

  “Carry on like that Love, and there won’t be anything left of the house by the time I’m finished. Get.”

  He moved to the stove, adjusting his jeans as he went. How could she spring her insecurities on him at a time like this? The guy had made her dinner, and cleaned the house. Her eyes drifted over the immaculate surfaces, and neatly stacked cushions on the sofa.

  Why spoil the moment?

  Curiosity got the better of her, and instead of turning right for her bedroom, she steered left and headed for the garage door. Swallowing back the building anxiety, she turned the handle, and eased the door open.

  “I got rid of the smell for ya,” Pete called from the kitchen.

  The concrete floor was spotless—not a singular stain, or mark.

  “Thank you,” she called back, moving to the spare room.

  Again—spotless. Not a single sign. The guy was a fricking miracle worker.

  Pete looked up at her as she passed by the doorway to the living area. “Hurry up woman,” he growled.

  “Aye, aye, Sir.”

  Steph stopped in her tracks, realizing what she’d said.

  Pete’s eyes grew wide. “Now you’ve done it.” The utensil he’d been holding fell in the sink with a clatter.

  Steph squealed, pushing off as he swung himself around the end of the island. Her heart beat like crazy, adrenaline pushing her forward while he chased after her. She giggled like a little kid, hurling her bag into her room, and swinging herself around to lunge at the door.

  It stopped in its tracks so suddenly reverberations shook up her arm, into her shoulder.

  “Now, now, Cutie. Play nice.” Pete pushed the door open, removing his foot from where he’d jammed it in the way.

  The devious smirk Pete wore damn near melted her underwear off. She took two steps back. Recognition of the situation being too similar to one she’d ben in earlier in the week crept up her spine. Not now. She tried her best to quash the feeling, but the more he stalked toward her, the worse it got.

  This is Pete. It’s Pete, your boyfriend. It’s the man you love.

  He shot a hand out, and pushed her back onto the bed. Fear at being trapped, of being the weaker out of the two of them caused sweat to break out over her brow.

  “Pete …”

  “You run from me, Love, you know I’m gonna chase.”

  Steph shut her eyes, and saw Ivan. She opened them again, but the sight of Pete did nothing to diminish her panic.

  “Pete. Please.”

  “Jesus, baby. You beggin’ already?” He crawled onto the bed, covering her with his weight.

  Air.

  Where had it gone?

  There wasn’t enough to breathe.

  Shit.

  “Pete, stop!”

  He sprung off her, and backed away into the wall with his hands raised. “Shit, Love. What did I do?”

  Tears coursed down her face. When did I start crying? She swiped uselessly at them with the backs of her hands. “You didn’t do anything.”

  “Then why are ya cryin’?” He edged toward her, testing the water.

  “I can’t do it. I can’t pretend with you. I can’t pretend anymore.”

  Even through the blur of her waterworks, she could see the colour pale from his face. “What do ya mean?” He cocked his head, staring intently at her.

  “Pete, no—“

  Too late.

  “I told
ya if I left it would be too long.” He moved away again, fisting his hair. “Shit, who is he? That guy at ya work?”

  Could this go any more wrong?

  “Marcus?”

  “The limp dick with the fucking chain and shite.”

  “Marcus,” she repeated more resigned. “He’s gay, Pete. Why do you always assume I’m cheating on you? What is wrong with you?”

  He pinned her with a glare. Completely the wrong thing to say.

  “Everything is wrong with me, Love. That’s why I always assume you’ve got another fella. So, who is it?”

  Damn. Was he crying?

  “Who is he?” he roared.

  Steph scooted back on the mattress, placing the length of the bed between them.

  “Do you trust me that little?” she whispered. “Do you think I’d do that?”

  He shook his head vigorously. “I trust myself that little. You’re too good for me, Love. Why could you last? Why would you stay? Why would you choose … me?”

  Well wasn’t this a turn of events. Here she was, worried about her insecurities, worried she could never be enough, when all along he felt the same way.

  “Babe. There’s no-one but you.”

  He dropped onto the bed at her feet. “Then why did you say you couldn’t pretend with me?”

  “I meant I couldn’t pretend to be okay. Pretend everything was all right after what Ivan did. After Richard, even.”

  “Love,” he crooned, taking her ankle in his hand. “Are ya sure?”

  “Why would I need anyone but you? It’s me who’s scared you’ll leave me. I didn’t want to tell you that I was struggling with things in case you left. In case you, well, wanted something better. Easier.”

  “Easy ain’t fun.” He slayed her with his lop-sided grin. “Am I easy?”

  “Well, no, but—“

  “Nothin’.”

  She gasped when with one hard tug, he yanked her down the bed towards him. Steph righted herself, and sat beside him, leaning on her hands.

  He wrapped his fingers around the back of her neck, and pulled her in until their foreheads touched. “Love, you tell me when you’re not doing okay. You always tell me.”

  She relaxed a little at the sweet, soft kiss he gave.

  “I don’t want ya to ever think you can’t tell me when ya need help. I don’t care how fucked up it is, whatever’s going on in your head, you tell me. I’m never—“ He slipped his hand around to grip her chin. “—Never ever going to leave. You’d have to kill me first.”

  “You know I can do that now, right?” Nothing like a little humour to deflect the seriousness of the situation.

  “No jokin’,” he scolded. “I’m not leavin’ you.”

  Steph smiled, and tried to drop her face, but he held firm.

  “Look at me, Love.”

  Steph met his sincere gaze.

  “Will you marry me?”

  Heat prickled across her skin. Way to ratchet up the anxiety levels there, Pete. “Did you …”

  “Ask ya to marry me? Aye.”

  Her inner voice screamed ‘yes’ until her throat felt raw despite having not physically said a thing. For whatever reason, the words wouldn’t come. She sat there, mute, staring like an idiot.

  “I’m hangin’ here, Love.”

  A nod formed, looking more like a sporadic twitch, but a nod none-the-less. “Of course.”

  The smile that graced his lips was the single most beautiful thing she’d ever seen. All this time together, and only now did she realize she’d never seen him truly smile.

  “Jesus, you have no idea how happy I am,” he said.

  “I think I know,” she replied, tracing his lips with her finger.

  “While I was gone, I did a lot of thinking. And the same thing kept coming back around; I don’t ever want to wake up without you by my side, or go to bed without ya there as well. I might be a little fucked up in here—“ He tapped his head. “—And you might have been through the mill as well, but who said two wrongs don’t make a right?”

  “I couldn’t expect anyone else to understand the way I am.”

  He pulled her in for a kiss, whispering, “I wouldn’t change a single thing about ya.”

  Their lips met, slow, and gentle, as though they explored each other for the first time all over again. But they kind of were. So much had changed, and so much had happened since they first met.

  When she laid eyes on him at the bar, he was over-bearing, intimidating, and dominant as hell. But they’d settled into each other. She’d accepted who she was, and not who the world expected her to be. She’d grown more confident in her decisions to get tattoos, have piercings, and wild hair to set her apart. And all because he’d taught her that being different wasn’t meant to be a burden. She had no reason to feel bad that her mother disapproved of her lifestyle. She had no reason to think that being the odd one out in a family photo meant she was doing anything wrong.

  She simply embraced who she was. Broken, different, sick, or unstable. Whatever the label, she wore it with pride.

  And in showing her these things, Pete had changed. The guy who was afraid to get too close, afraid to show his true emotions, now sat before her sharing his deepest feelings for her. He accepted that his past was a tough one, and one that had sent him into the world with a skewed view on loyalty, and relationships. But here he was, ready to change, ready to start again with her.

  So what if they’d both done things that if discovered could land them both in jail? It was the reasons behind their actions that mattered.

  He understood why she did what she had to Ivan, and as long as he stood by her side, holding her hand and telling her everything would be okay, she had every confidence it would be.

  They could move past this.

  They could do it together.

  “Thank you,” she whispered against his lips.

  “What for?”

  “Being you.”

  “As messed up as I am, eh?”

  “Easy ain’t fun.” She smiled. “I spent so long worrying about the fact that I didn’t fit the mould of what’s ‘normal’, that you didn’t fit the mould of what every parent wants their daughter to date, that the things you’d done, I’d done were so questionable, that I forgot what the point of life is.”

  He ran the backs of his fingers along her jaw, and grinned. “What would that be, Love?”

  “To be happy, and you make me that.”

  “Come on, Cutie. Be honest. I’ve made you equally as unhappy these past weeks.”

  “Only because I care. Because I love you. I want you. I need you in my life.”

  “Which is why I want you to be my wife. I need to know ya will always be there with me, too. You remind me that I can have a slice of normal in me messed up world.”

  “I’m not normal, baby.” She leant her face into his hand.

  “What is normal anyway?”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  Pete pushed forward, forcing her to lean back until she lay on the bed below him.

  “Enough talkin’ for now, Love. I believe we have an engagement to celebrate.”

  “Sounds like fun.”

  The way he looked her over with desire, not trying in the slightest to disguise the thoughts running through his head, damn, whatever they were about to start, it couldn’t last long.

  “How am I going to tell my parents?” The thought spilled from her lips before she had time to stash it away for later.

  He placed a finger over her lips. “I said no more talkin’.”

  Steph grinned, and took his finger into her mouth. She sucked on it, swirling her tongue around the tip before letting it go with a pop. “Sorry, baby.”

  “Jesus. Do that to somethin’ else and we’ll be back to talkin’ before ya know it.”

  “Just shut up and show me how you’d treat your wife.”

  Pete pulled his lip ring between his teeth, and let out a low, rumbling growl. “With pleasure.”


  The damn woman worried far too much.

  Pete ran his gaze over her splayed out beneath him; her back arched that little bit to press her breasts into his chest.

  Fucking perfection.

  What kind of selfish prick would leave her because she shared her weakest moments, and darkest thoughts with them? Oh, yeah, that jerk of an ex he still had to deal with—Dave.

  Just one more reason he wanted a ring on that finger of hers; to clearly mark that she was his, and warn every other fucker who looked at her twice what was in store if they crossed the line.

  He may have taken out the immediate threats to their future, but that didn’t mean he wouldn’t kill again to eliminate any competition.

  “Love, I missed ya so much this past week. I know I’ve been back a day, but I can still feel where that space was in me heart.”

  Her slender fingers caressed the side of his face. “I’m here now. Now, shush.”

  Her lips twisted into a smirk, and he fed his desire to kiss that look right off her face. He was the cheeky one, not her. She moaned as they kissed, her tongue fighting with his for dominance.

  Fiesty, huh?

  “Get ya collar.”

  She looked at him for a split second, before springing to action. Steph wiggled out from beneath him, and dashed to the opposite side of the bed, pulling her studded collar from the nightstand.

  “Would you like the honours?” She held it out to him.

  He grinned, and took it from her waiting hand. “Of course.”

  Steph drew her hair to the side, and held it in a loose ponytail as he scooted closer to her side of the bed. The milky skin on her neck sung to him, and within a flash he had the collar in one hand, and her throat in the other, licking her like a melting ice cream in long lines from her collarbone to her jaw.

  She groaned, and clutched at his hair as he peppered kisses along the damp flesh. Pete brought the purple, and pink collar up to her throat, and gently latched the buckle to secure it in place.

  Fucking, amazing.

  “Do ya think anyone would mind if ya wore one on our wedding day?”

  She chuckled, and placed her hands on his chest, pushing him off balance. “You wouldn’t last the ceremony.”

  “Aye. I don’t think I will anyway.”

  Steph straddled him, and he looped a finger through the rings of her collar to tug her closer. Her mouth smashed into his, her teeth drawing his lip-ring into her mouth. He groaned at the sweet pain, and reached behind her to unzip the dress she wore. How it had lasted this long, who knew. He had to work on that.