Christine (Heaven Hill Shorts Book 2)

by Laramie Briscoe

  "Mornin' Chris," he greets, opening the door to my SUV.

  I love that he calls me Chris. All my friends do, and it sounds good coming from his deep baritone. He's a few years younger than me, but not by much. I'm not exactly sure what he does for a job, but he always has money and he's been known to help Heaven Hill out when they've needed it.

  "Morning," I smile when he offers his hand to help me down. "Thank you."

  "I brought breakfast," he reaches into his truck, pulling out a to-go bag from a nearby restaurant.

  "Thank you, I'm starving!"

  We walk to the back door and I put in the information to let myself in, turning off the security system and turning the lights on in the back. I'm not sure when it happened really. If someone were to ask me, I wouldn't be able to pinpoint a day, but somehow over the last few months, he and I have been having breakfast almost daily. I've even made a little nook in my office for us to eat our meal and have coffee together.

  "My favorite, thank you," I open the plastic container, seeing an omelet and an order of hash browns."

  "Brought the hot sauce too," he pulls a bottle of Texas Pete's out of his pocket.

  For some reason that gesture hits me right in the chest. He's done it so many times, but today, today it hits me. I do my best to hold the tears back, but they can't be held. They fall steady and fast, unyielding in their intensity. When I start sobbing, gasping for air, they increase.

  "Chris, honey, what's wrong?"

  I let him scoop me up in his arms, let him hold me tightly. I grip the material of his shirt in between my fingers, hanging on for dear life. For so long I feel like I've floated through this, in an abyss I can't shake, an orbiting planet with no place to land.

  "I have no place to land," I gasp for air, knowing full and well I'm having a fucking panic attack.

  "You do," he pushes my hair back from my face, his thick fingers brushing under my eyes. "You have a place right here if you want it," he whispers.

  My eyes search his face, noting how handsome he is for the first time. We aren't young by any means, but he has a boyish quality in the way the side of his mouth quirks, gray hair still peppered with a little bit of silver at the temples covers his head in thick tufts, and if what I'm feeling under his clothes is to be believed, he has a very strong body. "Do I?" I ask the question I've wanted to so many times. "Is there someone here to catch me? To bring me back into the land of the living? To stop me from going through the motions?"

  "Yes," he turns me around in his arms so that I'm straddling his waist. "I will bring you back."

  "I don't know if you can."

  "I will," the promise is in his words, right before his lips capture mine.

  I haven't been kissed in a long time, and I gasp at the sensation of it. His lips are soft, yet demanding as he pushes mine apart. When I allow him entrance, his tongue sweeps against the roof of my mouth. His taste is intoxicating, a mix of vanilla and coffee, plus something uniquely his. The callouses on his fingers rub against my smooth skin, making me moan at the sensation. Travis didn't have the hands of a working man; he did all his work behind a computer. Why the fuck am I even thinking about Travis in this moment? With every bit of mental fortitude I have, I open the box of my mine, shove all that crazy shit inside and lock that fucker. Travis has no place here, and I'll be damned if he ruins this for me.

  Our lips break apart and he leaves a trail of moisture down to my neck, nipping and kissing at the tendons there, giving me more of what I'm begging for.

  "Is this okay?" He asks as I start to move against the hardness in his jeans.

  "More than okay," I answer.

  More than anything, I want to forget, I want to feel, be the woman I am and forget about all the guilt I carry around. For one moment in time I want to feel good. "Make me forget," I let the words escape from my lips.

  Once those words are out in the open, he's on a mission, palming the cheeks of my ass as he eats at my neck and the upper part of my chest. I help him take my shirt off, giggling as we get tangled up in one another. Once my shirt is off, his gaze zeros in on the smooth skin above my bra, it's heaving as I try to catch my breath. My eyes track his as his dark fingers push the cup of my bra down, exposing the flesh to him for the first time. My nipple tightens under his watchful eyes, sticking out, begging to be worried and then soothed. Grasping his hair in my hands, I bring him to my chest, moaning when first his teeth, then his lips wrap around the turgid nub, giving me exactly what I want.

  "Yes, Stephen," I grind against him harder. "Please don't stop"

  I'm not sure how, but we somehow get naked with only his boxer briefs and my panties separating us. No one has seen my body naked in so long, I want to hide it from him. I'm not as young as I used to be, but his green eyes eat me up as if I'm some model posing just for him. "You're beautiful," he wrenches out as he settles back down with me straddling him.

  Unexpected tears spring to my eyes. "Thank you for saying that."

  "Just the truth Chris, wish you could see yourself the way I see you. Wish you could know how I feel for you and feel for me the same way."

  Before I can respond he’s somehow slipped two fingers deep into my core, and he's making me feel things there I haven't felt in a year. Anything I was about to say is gone as I scream out my pleasure.

  Chapter Four

  We're loud in the silence of the building. He helps me ride him by putting his hands on my hips, pushing me up and down. My head is thrown back, eyes closed, body clenched as I wait for the orgasm to overtake me. If I'm being honest, the last few times Travis and I did this, it wasn't great, probably part of me knowing he wasn't the man I married, and him knowing I knew. But this? It feels amazing. I don't have to censure myself or pretend like I'm having a great time. The truth is I am.

  Bringing my head back up, I watch his face, loving the way his mouth hangs open as I clench around his invasion. Running my hands down his chest, I let them stop at his waist, digging my nails into his flesh. One of his hands snakes up from my hip, going behind my hair to hold me around neck. The movement is hot as it forces me to show him all the emotions running through my body, there's no hiding how I feel. He physically won't let me dip my head down.

  "Stephen," I moan, sighing with the deepest pleasure I've felt in months.

  "Fuck yeah," he answers, thrusting faster, stronger, and deeper into me.

  The hand behind my neck comes around to cup my cheek, and then he sneaks a thumb into my mouth. Instinctively, I run my tongue around the flesh, circling it with the enthusiasm of someone who hasn't been laid in a long time. When he extricates it from my grip, he moves it down my body to rub my clit.

  "Come with me, Chris. I'm close. Can you get there."

  I haven't gotten there in so long without a vibrator, but I feel like I could this time. I nod, mumbling something under my breath as I speed up my hips. The chair we're sitting in is moving but neither one of us seem to care. We pick up the pace even more and just as I don't think it can get any better, I come.

  "Oh my god, oh my god," I chant as I ride out the rest of my pleasure.

  And just as I get done, I feel the warmth of him inside me. "Fuck," he gives a guttural moan, as his hips slow down against mine.

  We're catching our breath when he whispers something in my ear. "I'm sorry about not wearing a condom. I'm clean."

  "I believe you," I rest my head on his shoulder. "I don't know why, but I do."

  Lord knows I shouldn't believe anyone. My life has been filled with so many deceitful people. It's literally been turned upside down more times than I can count, but there's something about Stephen. Maybe it's the sweet way he's met me here, maybe it's the way he's never pressured me to talk about Travis. I'm unsure, but instinctively I know he's not doing anything purposely to hurt me. My eyes catch the clock on the wall, and I know I need to put an end to this.

  "I gotta open the shop," I whisper. "I have an appointment in twenty minutes."

  "Yeah
," he says softly. "Not the best place, not the best time."

  "For sure, but I don't regret it."

  The surprise flashes in his eyes. "You don't?"

  "No, I don't regret it for a second. There's been a lot of things in my life I haven't been sure of, but this isn't one of them."

  He gives me a grin, the edges of his mouth and eyes crinkling with the passage of time that we all carry, but on him it's cute. "See you tomorrow, Chris."

  "See you."

  I watch as he tucks himself back in, cleaning up the best he can before I head to my own private bathroom. When I look in the mirror, I don't even recognize the person looking back at me. The person staring back at me, has for so long been unsure of herself, she's had a sag to her shoulders, eyes that didn't sparkle with the enjoyment of life. That's how she looked this morning in the mirror.

  Right now?

  I look alive. I feel alive, and I know the person I have to thank for that just left my salon without even knowing where we stand. For some reason that gives me anxiety, but not enough to try and track him down. Fixing my hair and makeup takes a little time, more than I thought, but when I'm done, I look like my normal self. At least I hope I do. Turning off the light and closing the door, I see that our breakfast has been cleaned up, and there's a note left.

  Let me take you out on a date. You don't have to call me; I know you hate the phone. Just text me and let me know. I'm not pressuring you, Chris, but we'd be stupid not to explore what happened here today - Stephen

  He's right, and I know it, but giving my heart to someone else? Just about everyone I've given my heart to in my life has ended up fucking me over and leaving me to pick up the pieces by myself. I'm not sure if I want, or need that in my life. It's stupid, and I wonder how I'm supposed to answer this question. As I go to the front door, I see the van from Doc Jones' retirement home parking in the handicapped spot in front of my salon.

  I'm excited to see her, but Jesus, she's going to have one look at me and realize what's gone down here. It's exactly how she is.

  "Have you been seeing anyone lately?" She asks as I finish setting her curls.

  Doc Jones gets her hair done the exact same way every week. We do curls, sometimes a trim, but always the tight curls that every older woman who should be a grandmother baking cookies has. I've tried to get her to let me dye her hair, but she wants it white.

  "Seeing anyone?" A small smile plays on my face. "What makes you ask that?"

  "You look different today," her keen eyes meet mine in the mirror as I continue to work on her. "And you have a little bit of beard burn on your neck. Can't say I've seen that in the past two years - at least."

  Damn her for being so attentive to every single thing around her. "There's this guy..."

  "Stephen," she supplies. "The guy who does work for Heaven Hill? He does maintenance at the retirement home too."

  Now this I didn't know, but it makes sense because they got her in there fast. Word had it there was a waiting list, but Doc Jones was accepted within twenty-four hours. "Yeah, Stephen."

  "He talks about you, to me," Doc Jones smiles. "He thinks very highly of you, but worries that you won't be able to see past what Travis has done. I'm glad you finally gave him a chance."

  But have I given him a chance? All we did was screw in my office. "He's nice," I'm purposely noncommittal.

  "He's more than nice, you and I both know that."

  "I just don't know, Doc," I start taking her curlers out, spraying it with the hairspray she likes. "How many times do I put myself out there and look like a dumbass? Every single time I've been burned."

  "You keep going until the one time you don't get burned. There are people who never get a chance to put themselves out there, and here you're being given another chance, Christy. Why not take it?"

  "I don't want to hurt again."

  The answer should be clear.

  "But aren't you hurting right now by being alone? I know you. You need your family, you need your friends, and you haven't been hanging out with Heaven Hill lately. They're worried about you."

  To be honest, I'm worried about myself. "I feel guilty."

  "Guilt will only eat at you, Christy. You've got to work on letting it go."

  "Yeah and how am I supposed to do that?"

  She grins. "Put yourself out there and see what happens. Don't shy away from men who care about you, and little girls who love the hell out of you. Justice needs you, whether you want to admit it or not, and she can't understand why you don't need her just as much."

  Those words are a kick to my throat, and as I wave her off, I think harder than I have in the past ten months about where my life is going.

  Chapter Five

  Tonight, I've poured myself a glass of wine as I reflect on what Doc Jones said at the salon today. There's a part of me that knows she's right, and I need to let go, there's another part of me that's scared. I lay back down on the couch, moments of my life run through my head. The day I met Travis, the day he asked me to marry him, our wedding day, little moments that were just ours. Those times, those supremely happy times I miss with every single fiber of my body.

  The sobs start, and for the first time since all of this happened, I cry, I mourn. I mourn the loss of the husband I loved, the life we loved, and the person I used to be. Unbeknownst to everyone else, I found paperwork after he died that he'd been seeing a therapist. They'd diagnosed him with an illness that had probably been plaguing him for longer than even I knew. That's the secret I hold so close to my chest, but it's also my biggest regret. How had I not noticed? Or had I noticed and just not done anything about it. I chose to believe he was evil, that he had changed so much from the man I knew because he was greedy.

  This is the shit I need to work out, and as I cry, I start talking.

  "I'm sorry, Travis! So sorry I failed both of us. You'll never know how much I wish I could go back and change what happened that night. It's my fault," I hiccup, wiping my nose with my hand. "I should have noticed something was wrong with you, I should have been the person you told. Why didn't you come to me?" I scream. "Why didn't you tell me so we could work through it together? I was your partner, was supposed to be the person you shared everything with, and you kept this a secret. Why did you keep it a secret? Why did you ruin our lives?"

  And there it is. The blame. I can't get over the blame. I may feel guilt, but I blame him for all of this. That's my secret shame too, because now I know he honestly couldn't help it.

  For hours I cry, asking questions, begging the world to give me answers, wanting that God that my parents prayed to so fervently to tell me what the fuck I missed, but no answers come. It's late, and I should go to bed, but I can't make myself move from the couch. I haven't slept in the bed since he died. Can't bring myself to do it.

  Hours later I wake up, but it's as if everything is different. I hear someone in the kitchen, whistling a song.

  "Travis?"

  Getting up, I wipe the smeared makeup from under my eyes, shuffling to where I hear the sound. And there he is, looking as young as he did when we first met. He's leaning in the fridge, grabbing out eggs. "You want a bacon and egg omelet, or sausage today, love?"

  God my heart breaks as I hear his carefree voice. This is the man I know; this is the man I love and miss.

  "Sa..- my voice breaks. "Sausage today, if you don't care."

  He turns around a big smile on his face. "You know it makes my day to start yours off good."

  It's been years since he said those words to me, and the tears pool, but I refuse to let them fall. I hang on his every word as he talks about what he's going to do today in his cave, the plans he has to set up a remote server, and then he turns, putting our plates down. He comes to sit next to me, putting his hand on my thigh. I don't know what to say to him, so I mumble. "Thank you."

  He takes a huge bite, as he always did. It drove me insane; I don't know how he chewed so fast. "Nah babe, I should be thanking you. You've kept this all
together since I've been gone."

  Those words pierce my heart sharply because it lets me know this is a dream, it's not real life and he's not back. "I've done the best I can."

  He sets the fork down, turning to gather up my face in his hands. "You're the best part of me, babe. You always knew how to handle me until I just didn't let you in anymore. I never meant what happened to club or to Justice. I'm sorry for the pain I've put all of you through, especially Caelin, I know he's not been dealing well, but I see he's redoing my cave."

  "He's got big shoes to fill," I cry softly.

  He wipes at the tears. "No, he doesn't. Not for me anyway, maybe with Tyler, but Caelin already knows more than I ever did. He's smart too, he won't let himself be diagnosed with something he can't handle and let everyone turn against him. I'm sorry for the way I treated you, babe," his voice breaks now, and tears start streaming down his face. "My biggest regret is that I left without you knowing how much I love you, what a difference you made in my life."

  I grab hold of his forearms as tight as I can, digging my fingernails into them. "I knew."

  "No, you didn't. You wondered where you'd gone wrong, how I could have changed so much. I know you questioned whether I loved you at the end, and please know I did. I do, with all my heart, but you're not mine to hang on to anymore. It's okay for you to go and live your life. I want you to, I want you to do all the stuff we used to do together, and have fun. Please, don't let what I've done hold you back. I know about the other guy."

  Shame washes over me like a thick blanket.

  "Hey," he tilts my chin up. "Just make sure he treats you better than I used to. That's all I want. Make sure the guys in the club know what was wrong with me, please don't let my legacy be one of an asshole who flew off the deep end because he was jealous of money. Help Meredith help people like me. Let Justice know I wasn't in my right mind, and you Christy," he leans in kissing my lips softly. "Fly like the beautiful bird you are, don't let anyone or anything cage you. If Stephen is what you want, go for it. I'll be here waiting for you. This is the me you'll see, and who knows maybe by then you'll have forgiven me enough to give me another chance."