When she’s gone I lock the front doors and spend our lunch hour brooding in my office. Between our therapy session and the meeting I’m stressed, anxious, and on edge. Aside from the tension tugging at my shoulders, I feel a headache creeping up the back of my skull, which irritates me more since I have plans with Grady tonight.
“I hear Eddie in there,” Jai calls across the hall when she leaves.
I smile to myself that Jai knows I play Joni Mitchell when I’m feeling up and Eddie Vedder when I’m feeling down.
Jai appears in my doorway and sighs. “What did she do now? Besides the obvious.”
“She told me I have to apply for the job and they’re still doing a search.”
Jai holds his tongue, but his face says it all.
“I expected it,” I say with a shrug. “It’s just a bit hurtful that she hasn’t acknowledged that I’m already doing the job, and doing it well, I might add.”
“Don’t waste your time trying to squeeze blood from that stone,” he says, his voice gentle, and I realize he’s right. She’s never going to change her mind about me. She’s beyond reasoning with or trying to impress. She wants Cal in my position, and I know she’ll fight the other board members tooth and nail on it. Frankly, I’m probably crazy for even wanting to stay here.
I pass the afternoon planning an upcoming volunteer fair we’re co-hosting with the local technical and community college. At four o’clock my eyes are bleary and my neck is aching, but I’m supposed to head to Grady’s for the night. Both kids are at sleepovers and we have some alone time which we’re spending at his house so I can help him pack.
Grady’s not moving in just yet, but we have doubles of a lot of stuff and Grady has tasked me with making decisions about what stays and goes. He only cares about his tools, media collection, and music stuff and has given me free reign to claim or reject anything else in the house. So tomorrow we’re planning to go through and start weeding. He’s at our house most nights, and we’ve begun using his place as our getaway.
I shift restlessly in my seat thinking about the text Grady sent me this morning after our therapy session: I can’t wait to worship you tonight. I need to be worshiped. I need something beautiful to take this day away. I announce to Jai that we’re leaving at exactly four-thirty and shoot Grady a message: There soon, love.
* * * *
Later that night, Grady holds my hand against his chest, bending and unbending my fingers in turn, tracing the edges of my nail beds, kissing my fingertips with his own. Half an hour ago he was inside me, moving so gently I thought I’d die, and when we collapsed to the mattress we slipped into lovers’ talk. At our therapy session today Adam and Yveta, the only significant others during our years of separation, were discussed tentatively. We were too polite, holding back things we both wanted and needed to say. But it was a start. Here in bed he invites me to go a bit further.
“Anything else you want to ask me?” he murmurs, planting a kiss in my palm and closing my fingers over it, just like he used to when we were kids.
Oh God.
I’d been too nervous to ask the question in the therapist’s office, because even though we’re there to solve problems I feel like sometimes our conversations cause more problems by dredging up old hurts. I’ve told myself probably a thousand times that the answer to this one little question is the key to everything.
And I know I shouldn’t ask it even as the words form in my brain, but I say them anyway.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “Did you fuck Jana Lott?”
Grady whole body stiffens instantly against mine. “What?”
“Jana Lott. In high school. Did you fuck her?”
He’s silent for a moment, and when he speaks his voice is tight, the words clipped. “No, Cassie. I did not fuck Jana Lott.”
Every fiber of me being tells me I should shut my mouth and take the answer, but I push. “You really didn’t? Not even once?”
He sighs and rolls onto his back.
“Because if you did, that’s fine. I mean, no, it’s not fine, but you know what I mean. I just need the truth.”
“You cannot be fucking serious.” He glares at me.
“Just tell me.”
“You’re serious. I can’t believe you’re seriously asking me that.” He’s incredulous, and more than a little pissed off.
“I just need to know,” I say in what I hope is a calm voice.
Cursing under his breath, Grady leaps out of bed, grabbing his pillow and a blanket from the foot of the bed. “I’ll be in Caden’s room when you get your head out of your ass,” he barks.
The way that question sets him off makes me even more afraid he did fuck Jana Lott. And now I’m pissed, too, because instead of staying and discussing it with me like the therapist said we should do, he’s shutting me down and going to the other bedroom. Closing me out.
I shout after him, “Do you swear to God you never fucked Jana Lott?” The words sound unhinged coming out of my mouth, and when I scramble out of bed and go after him I’m surprised to see he’s still standing in the hallway.
When I advance on him he chucks the blanket and pillow aside and stalks toward me.
“Did I fuck Jana Lott? Is that what you really need to know? All the questions in the world you could ask me, and that’s the one you pick?”
I cross my arms and hold my ground.
He shakes his head. “You are the most goddamn ridiculous woman I have ever met.”
“I need to know,” I insist.
“Jana Lott,” he says in a low growl when he reaches me, “is not the issue here. Do you know how I know that?”
“She is the issue.”
“No. Not even close.” He takes my face in his hands and speaks firmly. “Cass, I told you years ago I never slept with Jana Lott. Christ, that date was in eleventh fucking grade and you still can’t let it go.” His eyes burn into mine. “Which tells me this is not about Jana Lott. It’s about you not trusting me. Fundamentally.”
I entertain that thought for about two seconds before I snap back, “I think you did fuck her.”
“No. You don’t think that. You need me to say the words? Fine. I’ll say the words. I didn’t so much as touch another woman between the night I met you and about five years after you kicked me out, except for that one drunken party kiss in 11th grade. Okay? That what you need to hear?”
I’m shocked into silence and he continues.
“Jana Lott was one date. We saw a movie, I held her hand, and at the end of the night I hugged her goodbye. That was it. I barely remember that girl, and if I bumped into her tomorrow I probably wouldn’t even recognize her. I honestly didn’t give two fucks about her then and I care even less about her now.”
I’m thirty-eight years old and I have just chased my ex-husband down the hall shrieking like a banshee about some girl he dated when we were on a break in high school. I’m having a fit. In the nude. I am seriously insane.
I realize this and don’t even try to disguise my horror at my own behavior. “Oh God. And now you’re seriously pissed off.”
“I’m seriously pissed off,” he agrees, but he strokes my cheek with his thumb.
“Okay.” I swallow and sag against him. “I’m sorry.”
He squeezes me fiercely, then presses his lips to my forehead. “Only say you’re sorry if you get me and you mean it. Otherwise we’re going to have this argument again, and I’m already pretty fucking tired of our threesome with Jana Lott.”
I giggle into his neck, more out of relief than amusement. “You wish.”
“Nope.” He nuzzles my nose with his. “She’s not on my threesome list.” Then his mouth is on mine, brushing across my lips. His eyes dance with amusement.
“You have a threesome list?” A little sizzle runs through me.
“Behave and I’ll tell you all about it.”
“Behave?” I feign indignation and he hoists me up over his shoulder, ignoring my shrieks of protest, and fireman-carries me bac
k to his bedroom. He tosses me on the bed and I’m instantly panting for him.
“Behave,” he murmurs as he climbs over me, rubbing his face between my breasts. “I have plans for you if you’re done being a brat.”
“What kind of plans?” I ask breathlessly as his tongue licks a slow path up my chest, to my collarbone.
“The kind of plans that involve you being on your stomach,” he growls. “Flip over.”
I start to move but he flips me himself and presses his body over mine, his distinct cedar and musk smell enveloping me. My neck is suddenly bare as he sweeps the hair to one side, and I shiver when his hot breath warms my skin. He’s not touching me at all, but his heat and weight are close enough to register.
“We done with Jana Lott?” Grady’s tongue makes contact with my spine and where he touches me my skin goes wildly sensitive.
He’s teasing me and I can’t help being bratty in return. “Maybe.”
With an even voice, he asks, “You sure that’s the answer you want to give me?”
“I meant yes,” I breathe. My entire body is throbbing and I feel myself growing slick between my thighs.
“Promise?” He nuzzles the nape of my neck and chuckles at the strangled noise I make in my throat. I feel his erection nudge against me. Adjusting himself so that his cock glides just along the crack of my ass while he kisses my neck, he works his hips and mouth in tandem until every nerve along the length of my back is sizzling.
“Promise,” I breathe, arching into the delicious flame he’s stoking in me. He nips at the precise place on the back of my neck guaranteed to drive me wild, and I cry out in response. But he doesn’t touch me with his hands. Arms on either side of me, he hovers above me so only his cock and his mouth make contact with my skin.
I want his mouth and cock but I also want his fingers and his hips and his chest and every other part of him. I groan in frustration as he kisses his way down my back, pausing to lick and nibble until my entire back is one great pleasure zone.
I squirm against the sheets and -crack!- I’m rewarded with a sharp slap to my right butt cheek. He’s kneeling behind me now, and when the shock fades the unexpected stinging sensation blooms across my backside. He’s never done that before, and I’m immediately interested in where he would’ve learned that particular little move when -smack!- he slaps the left cheek. Oh God.
“Get on all fours,” he murmurs huskily, and the raw need in his voice makes me shiver.
I decide instantly that it doesn’t matter one bit where Grady learned anything as long as he keeps on doing it and scramble to obey.
Strong fingers spread my cheeks wide and then his tongue spears inside me. My knees almost buckle from the sensation. He’s never done this before, either - or at least not in this position - and I’m not sure how I’m going to keep my hips up high enough when my legs are already starting to shake.
“Jesus, Cass, I missed your pussy this week,” he growls into my wetness. He’s feasting on me now, no gentleness to the way he devours me. “All I could think about this morning was yanking up that dress you were wearing and making you come on my face.”
Everything coils inside me, longing for release. His words grow fuzzy as the sensations between my thighs amplifies. I rock backwards, grinding myself against his face, and he moans into me.
Fast as the flame on a detonator, my climax zips down my spine. I can almost hear the sizzling in my ears, the crackle and silence before he sucks my clit, hard. The explosion rocks me and I half-collapse, screaming into the pillow, but his arms are there, holding me together while I break apart.
I whimper behind clenched teeth as he keeps sucking me through the climax, my body convulsing helplessly for what seems like an eternity until I shatter again, a less powerful but more damaging explosion that I feel simultaneously in my back and my womb.
Seconds later there’s an insistent nudge as Grady positions himself at my entrance, and all I can manage is a feeble, “Yes...”
His breath catches as he sinks into me, fingers clutching my hips hard. He’s as rough and demanding with me now as he was gentle earlier. “Ahh, yes. This…” he grunts. “Fuck. You’re so wet. So ready for my cock. Take it, Cass.”
Grady didn’t used to talk to me this way. My twenty-year-old self would have recoiled at this dirty talk, but now hearing his feral appraisal of me only makes me wetter. I take him hungrily, my hips meeting every thrust. With every stroke he’s rocking deep inside me, his thighs slapping against the back of mine, his fingers gripping my ass cheeks hard enough to bruise them. It feels like punishment and that makes me glad. He fucks me without pleasantries or mercy, his cock battering me until I’m begging for him to come because I don’t think I can take much more. My forearms have already lost strength and I’m on my elbows, bracing myself so I don’t collapse face-first on the bed.
Suddenly his thrusts slow and grow shallower. “Come again, baby,” he urges me as his fingers slide against my swollen clit. I’m so overstimulated I don’t think I can, but his cock is hitting me in exactly the right spot, and when his fingers scissor around my clit it takes only a few strokes before my entire body starts to shudder again.
And Grady’s right there with me. He stiffens and growls my name as he releases inside me. I wail into the pillow as I spasm around him, and we collapse, his strong body pinning mine to the mattress. I am his sustenance, and he is my salvation.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
April 1998
Grady
It gets harder and harder to leave them in the mornings and go to class. By the time I’m showered and dressed, Cassie has Chloe in her high chair, music playing faintly in the background to make our little one cheerful while she’s confined. Chloe’s stubborn, insisting on trying to feed herself bits of smashed banana while Cass coos at her with a spoonful of mushy cereal. I nuzzle my daughter’s fine chestnut ringlets and she squeals happily and tries to jam her sticky fingers in my nose. On Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays, I’m away from them from 7:30 in the morning until after 10:00 pm. I take four classes back-to-back and then head to work. Waiting tables sucks, but the tips are good. My internship is unpaid, so even though it’ll help in the long run, there’s no way it could support our family. As it is we’re living partially off the life insurance my dad left. Although I know my dad would be happy about how I’m using the money, I can’t wait till I graduate and find a job so I can support us without it. Cassie keeps asking if she can work, but she’s already away from Chloe enough to take classes and study at the library. We argue about it all the time, but I’d rather work ten jobs than have her work one. Not until Chloe’s in school.
Besides, some guys I met at work need a new bassist for their band. They play a few paid gigs each month, which is pretty great for a local band. The way I’ve calculated it, if we play two gigs a month I might have enough to get us into a nicer apartment. There’s no dishwasher here, and we have to lug the laundry all the way down to the scary community laundry room in the basement. The place I’m looking at has a washer, dryer, and dishwasher right in the apartment, not to mention a separate bedroom for Chloe.
The privacy would be great. I stoop to give Cassie a lingering kiss, and she kisses me back in a way that makes me want to skip class and take her to bed. It’s been too long, and even in pajamas she’s breathtaking. I know she’ll be asleep by the time I get home, but if I’m lucky…
As if reading my mind she whispers, “I’ll wait up for you tonight. I’ll bring the alarm clock out to the living room and if I fall asleep on the couch it’ll wake me up in time.”
My entire body cheers, but I murmur, “If you need sleep, just sleep, baby.”
She shakes her head. “I need my husband.” Her eyes are luminous, and I thank whatever gods of hormones or good moods or whatever are at work here and pray that she’ll still feel this way in fourteen hours.
In her high chair, Chloe bangs her tray, making us both laugh. I kiss my wife’s forehead and I’m off to
school.
* * * *
Grady
Almost a whole month passes of me and Cassie stealing moments, sneaking texts, quietly whispering down the phone line every night before bed. She’s reluctant to tell the kids we’re back together - so reluctant, in fact, that it’s starting to piss me off. They need to know what’s happening so we can move ahead with the plan. Both of them are reasonable kids. Yeah, they’ll be shocked, but they’ll get over it. I have complete faith that in the end they’ll be happy about it, but Cassie can’t seem to get there. It’s a source of tension for us, a common issue hashed and rehashed in Dr. Gaul’s office. I can’t see it her way, and she won’t see it mine.
To be fair, it might be because Chloe and Cass have had their share of mother-daughter strain. Partly that’s because Cassie never really had a mother until mine, partly it’s because Chloe is overly emotional and touchy, and partly it’s because Cassie can be an anxious control freak sometimes with the kids. I try not to say anything to her directly, but there are times when we’ve exchanged some words over our parenting differences, especially the fact that she treats Caden like a baby.
“I appreciate that you and Carl had to be the men of the house,” she said to me the first time I brought it up. “But Caden is not a man. He’s my fourteen-year-old son, and he’s still a child. When he’s a man, I’ll treat him like a man. But his manhood is a long time coming.”
“Not that long,” I grinned at her, remembering myself when she and I met. Yeah, I was sixteen, but I was also working, playing football, taking care of my mom, and giving my girl orgasms every chance I got. If that’s not a man, I’m not sure what is. I reminded her of that, but she was not amused.
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